Dennis Wheatley - Black August

It occurred to him that he ought to ring up the Party Office and see if they had decided on any job for him. If they had, Carter would have to run Veronica down to Banners; but the man he wished to speak to was not in, and the secretary had no message for him.

Restlessly he wondered now if Ann would turn up, even if she had meant to in the first place. He could not expect her before seven anyhow, but would she come at all in this state of crisis and with transport breaking down? He began to hatch fresh plans in case of her non appearance, but he needed Veronica's help and she had not yet returned.

It was nearly six, so he switched on the wireless to hear the latest bulletin. The Sappers had performed miracles with the wrecked bridge and the trains were running to Glasgow. Negotiations were proceeding which it was hoped would pacify the sailors. There was now reason to hope that the United States would lift their embargo as far as Britain was concerned, and extend further credits to ensure an adequate food supply. The Government were taking active measures to cope with the situation.

Kenyon turned off the instrument in disgust. Why was there no news of Cardiff or of the trouble in the East End that morning? The Government were trying to stay the panic by suppressing the most vital facts. Impatient now for Veronica's return, and unable to settle down to anything, he went out on to the front doorstep to watch for her.

A low built powerful Bentley roared out of Carlos Place at a hideously dangerous speed, but the driver, catching sight of Kenyon, pulled up a few yards past him with screaming tyres. Kenyon knew the car and ran down to meet him. It was young Bunny Cawnthorp, dressed as an officer of Greyshirts. There was a nasty gash across his forehead and his face was smeared with blood.

'I say! Are you bad?' Kenyon asked.

'No, nothing serious; we're having hell in the East End with these ruddy Communists. I can't stay though, only stopped to tell you to get out; London will be Red tomorrow.'

'I'm off first thing in the morning.'

'You go tonight, my boy I am!'

'But aren't you still on duty?'

'Duty be damned, Kenyon. I've slogged a few of these blokes and I'll slog a few more before I've done; but you know my mother is a cripple, and she's the only thing in the world that matters two hoots to me. My first duty is to see her safe out of it then I'll come back to the other if I can take care of yourself, old scout. So long!'

As the Bentley roared away Veronica pulled up in her two seater. Kenyon hurried over to her. 'Where the deuce have you been all the afternoon?'

'With Klinkie Forster; the poor sweet's due to shed an infant this week. Ghastly for her, isn't it?'

'Yes, filthy luck. I'd forgotten about that, and you're paying for the nursing home, aren't you?'

Veronica went scarlet. 'How the hell did you know that?'

'Oh, her husband told me, ten days ago. The poor devil was almost weeping with gratitude, and I know they've been down and out for months. I don't wonder you're always broke!'

'Well, that's my affair,' she snapped, angry and embarrassed as she fumbled with the door of the car.

'Steady on,' he soothed her. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of, and I meant to offer you a bit myself towards it, only I've been so busy I forgot; but don't get out. I want you to run down to Gloucester Road and pick up Ann.'

'She's coming, then? I had no answer to my note.'

'I think the post has gone groggy, like everything else; there's been no delivery yet today!'

'She may not have meant to come, anyway?'

'Perhaps not, but I simply must know what has happened to her, and if she is there I thought you could persuade her into coming back with you. I'll wait here in case she is already on her way.'

'My dear! You have got it badly!'

'Yes,' said Kenyon grimly, 'so badly that I've made up my mind to take her with us.'

'What! To Banners?'

'That's the idea; why not?'

Veronica exclaimed, protested, and talked wildly of Juliana Augusta's possible reactions to his project, but finally agreed to assist her brother when he had fully outlined his plans.

'But say she doesn't want to go with us; you can't keep her here all night against her will?' was her final protest.

'Got to,' said Kenyon tersely. 'You get her for me if she's there and think up some idea to delay her departure once she's here till nine o'clock; I'll do the rest! Off you go!' A quarter of an hour later Rudd showed her up to the sitting room in Gloucester Road.

Ann was there, and with her the Pomfrets who, apparently oblivious of the crisis which was shaking Britain, were busy addressing postcards to their friends asking them to get Pomfret's new book, The Storm of Souls, which was to be published next day.

Veronica sailed into the room, her small neat head tilted in the air. 'Miss Croome?' her smile was almost bewildering, 'I do hope you don't mind my coming in, but I've been simply dying to meet you because I've heard so much about you from my brother Kenyon. I spent the afternoon with friends in Queen's Gate, and as you were so near I thought I could give you a lift back?'

Ann was taken completely by surprise. She had decided not to go to Grosvenor Square but to write a letter of apology. 'How… how very nice of you,' was all she could murmur, a little breathlessly.

'Poor child,' thought Veronica. 'It must be horrid for her to have me butting in like this with these squalid people about.' Mentally she wiped the Pomfret’s from her consciousness like flies from a window pane: the girl hadn't meant to come, of course a stubborn little piece, but damned good looking, all the same. Yes, Kenyon knew his oats all right, and like it or not she was coming back Veronica meant to see to that.

'Ye Gods! what marvellous eyes you've got,' she exclaimed. 'I don't wonder Kenyon is crazy about you. Am I being terribly personal? I've got into such an awful habit of saying just what I think; do you mind if I smoke?' She whipped out an onyx cigarette case and dropped on to the settee.

'Oh, no; please do.' Ann's eyes showed interest and a flicker of amusement.

'Isn't that fun?' Veronica rattled on, thrusting the case at Ann.' 'Carter, my dear Miss Croome, I mean an American gave it to me; sheer blackmail, of course, but I simply had to have it.'

'I think it's lovely, and so are you!' Ann riposted neatly, as she returned the cigarette case.

Veronica launched swiftly into a series of incidents which had occurred to her during the day. Things always happened to Veronica that never happened to anyone else absurd, trivial things, but in the quick dramatic telling, punctuated by bursts of infectious laughter, they gained the status of incredibly humorous adventures.

It was impossible to be mulish in the face of Kenyon's magnetic sister if she laid herself out to charm, so when, after ten minutes' incessant talking, she exclaimed: 'My dear! It's a quarter to seven we must positively fly!' Ann found herself standing up too.

She had been laughing uproariously only a second before and the attack had been so sudden, so swift. How could she possibly say now that she did not wish to go, and begin an argument with the listening Pomfret’s in the background; two minutes later she was sitting beside Veronica in the car.

The stream of chatter flowed on. Veronica had no intention of allowing her captive time to think of belated excuses to make on the doorstep. The body of Ann Croome must be handed over to Kenyon in good order and good humour. Veronica took a pride in her achievements.

'Looks like a doss house, doesn't it?' she cried, as they entered the wide hall now stripped of its old masters. 'But we shall all be murdered in our beds, I expect, so what does it matter?'

Kenyon came down the stairs to meet them. 'Well, Ann,' he said, 'it is nice of you to come with all this upset going on.'