Chapter Eight
EIGHT
Iris woke up not recognizing the room she was sleeping in. It was not the first time that had happened, but there was no one else in the bed beside her, so that particular category of blackout adventure could be ruled out.
Her clothes from the previous day were neatly laid out on a chair by the bed, which further eliminated the possibility that she had allowed herself to be picked up by a man. She sat up, wincing as the hangover made its presence known, then swung her legs over the side of the bed.
The first clue to bring her back were the pyjama legs, which unrolled several inches past the bottoms of her feet.
Gwen, she thought. I’m wearing her pyjamas.
She rolled them up past her ankles, then lowered her feet to the floor.
The windows were shuttered. She ignored the frantic warnings of the hangover and opened one.
The view was of the rear gardens of Gwen’s house with the greenhouse in one corner, beyond which a gate let out onto a common garden, available to the lucky ones who lived around it, hidden otherwise from the less fortunate denizens of the area.
There were even birds singing, which she might have appreciated had not the hangover, already shrieking like a vampire in the daylight, begun to pound on the inside of her skull with one of those giant mallets from a high striker game.
It took a few seconds for the pounding to resolve itself into a gentle knocking on the door from outside.
‘Come in,’ she called.
Millie entered with a breakfast tray.
‘Good morning, Miss Sparks,’ she said. ‘I’ve got aspirin and bicarbonate available should you need them.’
‘Both, please,’ said Iris. ‘What’s the hour?’
‘Seven thirty. Mrs Bainbridge wishes to know if you would like to join her for her workout?’
‘Not today, Millie. Thank her for asking.’
‘Of course. There’s a spare toothbrush on the dresser.’
Millie placed the tray on the bedside table, then slipped out, closing the door quietly.
The application of tea, toast and medicaments quelled the hangover down to a muffled sob. She grabbed the toothbrush and headed to the bathroom, then returned and changed.
My turn for the same outfit two days in a row, she thought. Serves me right for teasing her. And I didn’t even have the fun to justify it.
Another rap on the door, a different rhythm this time and higher up.
‘Yes, Gwen, I am alive and decent,’ she called.
‘Good morning,’ said Gwen, opening the door. ‘Do you need to borrow any make-up?’
‘Let me take a look,’ said Iris, stepping over to the mirror. ‘No, I think I can pass for a human female today.’
‘Do you want to swing by the Cecilia and change?’
‘I don’t want to be late,’ said Iris. ‘I’m setting you an example, after all.’
‘I learn so much from you,’ said Gwen. ‘In that case, let’s go.’
They headed downstairs, pinned on their hats, then walked out.
‘How much did you learn from me last night?’ asked Iris when they reached the relative anonymity of Edgware Road.
‘Enough to consider a course of investigation,’ said Gwen. ‘If this were about avenging Nancy’s death, then it would most likely be someone who was close to her. A family member, a friend, or a lover. Anyone come to mind?’
‘I can’t think of any man at Cambridge who would fit those descriptions,’ said Iris. ‘She wasn’t in any serious relationships other than with Kevin, and that was over after that weekend.’
‘What about women?’ asked Gwen. ‘Friends at Newnham?’
‘She had friends, but there are regular friends, and there are the avenging-your-death sort of friends. I don’t know that she had any of the latter at Newnham. Prior to Cambridge, I have no idea. Would you avenge my death if circumstances required it?’
‘I would,’ said Gwen with no hesitation. ‘You?’
‘Yes, darling. The difference being your method of vengeance would be to catch my killer and turn him over to the police, while mine …’
‘Would be worthy of a Greek tragedy,’ Gwen finished.
‘I was leaning more towards the dinner scene in Titus Andronicus, but that’s probably the hangover speaking.’
‘I saw that play once,’ said Gwen. ‘The actress playing Lavinia was atrocious. We were all secretly relieved when they cut out her tongue.’
‘And everyone thinks you’re the nice one.’
‘Hopefully, I’ll keep on fooling them. All right, if it’s not someone from Cambridge, then it may be someone from her family. Did you know them?’
‘Not really. I met them a few times. They lived in Holland Park, but I don’t know if they’re still there.’
‘Were they upper-class?’
‘I think so, though I don’t know where the money came from.’
‘Then they may be out of town for the summer,’ said Gwen. ‘So there’s her family to locate. And there are two other possible sources of information. One is Tony.’
‘If he’s up to speaking to me,’ said Iris. ‘Lord, an old friend is at death’s door, and instead of offering comfort I need to interrogate him about an old tragedy while setting him up for further investigation as a possible spy. I am truly a despicable person.’
‘Or you’ll be saving him on two different fronts,’ pointed out Gwen.
‘Maybe. You mentioned a second possibility. Who?’
‘The housekeeper at the Pickard house. Any idea if she’s still there?’
‘The Pickards loaned out the place during the war. It became a convalescent house for badly wounded soldiers. I don’t know if she remained with it or not.’
‘Well, I do have some connections to that area,’ said Gwen. ‘We stayed at Kimbolton Castle back in the thirties for a rather dreary ball or two. Thor, my brother, was friendly with Manchester’s younger son from his first marriage, and—’
‘Manchester?’ interrupted Iris. ‘Manchester’s nowhere near Kimbolton.’
‘I know, it makes no sense, but Lord Montagu was also the Duke of Manchester. I remember his second wife. Half his age, of course, and although she professed to have been an actress, I heard that her career consisted of exactly one small role in a West End comedy years before. She had come up as a tango dancer, though, and danced rather scandalously with one of the younger men while Manchester beamed proudly from the sidelines.’
‘I wonder if Bruce Cater was at that party.’
‘Maybe he was. Maybe I danced with him. Who knows? Manchester kept going in and out of bankruptcy, ending up in Wormwood Scrubs for pawning some jewels that actually belonged to the estate before the Lords of Appeal let him off. I heard he recently sold Kimbolton Castle for debts. In any case, let me do my aristocratic magic on the telephone and track down the Pickards. You said there was a sister named Lucinda?’
‘Yes. I slept in her room.’
‘Then that should be enough for me.’
As they turned off Oxford Street towards the building holding their offices, Gwen spotted a familiar figure standing by the doorway.
‘That’s Miss Lowle,’ she said.
‘I see her,’ said Iris.
The younger woman waited for them, her expression perturbed.
‘Miss Sparks, may I have a moment of your time?’ she asked.
‘Do you need me?’ asked Mrs Bainbridge.
‘No,’ said Sparks. ‘Go on up. I’ll be with you soon.’
Mrs Bainbridge went inside. Sparks waited until the door closed, then turned to Miss Lowle.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘Could we walk while we speak?’ Lowle requested.
‘Fine,’ said Sparks.
Lowle no longer had the overconfident air of their previous encounters. Her face, despite the make-up, looked drawn.
‘They told me you were going to ask Tony if he’d see me,’ she began.
‘You may refer to him as Mr Danforth with me,’ said Sparks. ‘Yes. I was told that last night. If I see him, I will make sure to ask him. Oh, and I had to give your name and number to the investigating detective, so expect a call from him today. Is that all?’
‘Yes. Well, no.’
‘What else?’
‘Did we do this?’ Lowle blurted out. ‘I mean, did someone from–from our side do this to him?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Sparks. ‘I’m not in that particular loop.’
‘But do you think— is that the sort of thing that they would do?’ asked Miss Lowle.
‘“They”?’ echoed Sparks. ‘You’re one of them now, remember? Yes, Miss Lowle, they are fully capable of doing something like this. Or even worse. And they may call upon you to do things of a similar nature. Was this not explained to you when you joined up?’
‘Did you ever do anything like this?’ she asked.
‘What I did is classified,’ said Sparks.
‘You did do something, then,’ said Lowle. ‘How did you get through it? How did you live with it afterwards?’
‘Who says I did?’ asked Sparks.
‘Miss Sparks, please,’ said Lowle. ‘I’m asking for your advice. As someone who’s been there.’
Sparks looked at the younger woman. Lowle looked on the verge of tears. Sparks thought back to the disasters in her own career, how they had nearly destroyed her. And she had been about Lowle’s age when they happened.
‘Get through this assignment,’ she said, relenting.
‘The worst part has already happened, and it had nothing to do with you. When it’s over, take a good, hard look at what you did, and whether it was worth doing.
This fight will be fought whether or not you’re going to be part of it, but you don’t have to be the one sacrificing your happiness for it.
Because that’s what you’ll be doing. And if you decide it’s not worth the price, you’re still early enough in your career to take a different path. ’
‘Thank you, Miss Sparks,’ said Lowle, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. ‘I don’t know if I’m ready for this.’
‘No one is the first time,’ said Sparks.
‘I guess if it doesn’t work out I’ve already signed up for you to find me a husband,’ she said with a sad laugh.
‘Mr Lonsdale may still be available,’ said Sparks.
‘Anyone but him,’ said Lowle. ‘Thank you, Miss Sparks. For everything. I’ll await your call.’
She walked away. Sparks watched her, then turned and headed for The Right Sort.
Gwen was on the telephone when she got to their office. She waved Iris in.