Not Thinking of Death

by Not Thinking of Death (retail) (epub)

  She was at the door – MacKenzie moving that way, but she beat him to it. Patricia had jumped up, was hurrying after her. Chalk muttered, subsiding, ‘My stupid fault. Never thought – blurting all that—’

  ‘Don’t blame yourself.’ Sir Innes, scowling… ‘Perfectly natural – you felt called upon to explain—’

  ‘Of course you aren’t to blame, Rufus!’

  The endorsement had come from Lady C-G, but Diana cut in with ‘Go and call the poor woman, Rufus, don’t leave her waiting.’ Looking round at the others: ‘Sorry – interrupting you. But if she’s in the same state as Suzie…’

  * * *

  The poor woman, she’d called her. Visualizing her as some old bag, no doubt…

  ‘Zoe. Rufus.’

  ‘At last!’

  ‘I should have tried again sooner, I know. Did try three times. Actually I passed out when I got here – nothing to do with drink, either. Zoe, I’m so sorry. There aren’t words for it. I know there aren’t, I’ve—’

  ‘I’m still stunned. It is real, is it?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. You aren’t alone in that feeling, though.’

  ‘Why couldn’t he have escaped as you did?’

  ‘That’ll need a fairly lengthy explanation. Difficult over the ’phone – if you don’t mind… I’ve a personal message for you, too.’

  ‘From Andrew? So he did know he wouldn’t be getting out.’

  Flat tone. Implication being – you were getting out, he was not… Chalk told her, ‘One reason he didn’t escape – or try to – with me – is he told us he had a weak heart and couldn’t face going through the escape chamber. The main problem’s pressure, mostly on the eardrums. But that was his answer to a man called Random – a commander, who was organizing the first batch to go out – mine – and asked your husband if he’d like to be one of the four.’

  ‘If he did have a weak heart, he never told me about it.’

  ‘He’d mentioned it to me earlier on, though. Toby Dymock was having a shot at getting into the flooded section—’

  ‘He’s dead too.’

  ‘Yes.’ The four-letter man… Was she going to pretend a deep affection for him too, now? Grief – genuine grief – was hard enough to cope with. Susan’s, Mrs Eason’s. But this… He told her, ‘In a reference to what Toby was trying to do – it involved standing up to very high pressure – Andrew said something to the effect that he wouldn’t dream of going through it, and couldn’t anyway because of his heart. If you’re in doubt of it, why not ask his doctor?’

  ‘You sound – hostile, Rufus.’

  ‘I thought you did. As far as I’m concerned, for “hostile” read “defensive”.’

  ‘You say you called three times?’

  ‘Tried to. First time—’ he remembered that he’d been supposed to have her London number, shouldn’t have needed to call Enquiries – ‘was at about three in the morning. No answer. I got through at breakfast time, and your maid told me you’d taken the night train. Then I rang your Helensburgh number and was told you’d been met at the station – or were being met – by the Barlows’ chairman. So I knew you were in good hands. Meanwhile I’ve had other people to see, Zoe. Our engineer’s wife, for instance – that was between two and three in the morning, before I’d even got back to my digs and tried to call you in London. It hasn’t been exactly a rollicking day.’

  A few seconds’ silence… Then: ‘I’m sorry, Rufus, if—’

  ‘Object of the calls was to say how sorry I am. I liked Andrew very much. We had some long talks, and – I am truly very sorry. If I could have got him out, brought him out with me—’

  ‘When will I see you? If you can’t give me his message over the telephone—’

  ‘Sunday? I’ll be driving down to Dunbarton – afternoon or early evening. I could divert slightly to Helensburgh.’

  ‘Can we set a time?’

  ‘Say six?’

  Diana would be taking to the air no later than midday, he guessed, for her flight south. So he’d leave soon after lunch…

  ‘Will you stay to supper?’

  ‘Kind of you, Zoe, but—’

  ‘Not “kind” at all. Only civilized. When you’re breaking quite a long car trip—’

  ‘The thing is I have to get packed that night and make a pre-dawn start for Portsmouth in the morning. I’ll explain it all when I see you… Could have an early supper, I suppose – if the invitation still stands?’

  He thought, hanging up, Not on your life…

  * * *

  This would have been the eve of the great celebration hoolie, he thought, looking round through eyes which had a tendency to close. He had a suspicion that he might have dozed off for a minute, but if he had no-one seemed to have noticed it.

  But – imagining how it might have been. The excitement, and the rush of preparation, Toby Dymock in the middle of it nerving himself to the announcement of his engagement.

  Then, visualizing him as he might be now… And quickly shutting the picture out. He’d definitely been dropping off then. And Patricia had come down, he realized. She was talking about Suzie, telling Alastair he was too thick to understand how hard-hit she’d been. She would not be ‘back to her old self in a day or two’. A tone of contempt – obviously quoting him – and Alastair shrugging: ‘Week or two, then. Can’t mope for ever!’

  ‘She’s been through purgatory, Alastair. Absolute purgatory. Still is… Up there now she’s frightened of going to sleep because of the nightmare she knows she’ll have. Whenever she’s dropped off he’s screaming to her to help him, and she’s reaching to him and can’t make it. And she wakes wishing she’d drowned with him. How d’you like that – for a slight indisposition? Believe me, your little sister’s going to need a lot of support for a long time to come. I agree the flying thing could help – once she can face it—’

  Diana had told Chalk during dinner – had told the others earlier – that she’d discovered there was a flying club near Glasgow with an instructor of very high repute. She’d landed there on her way up and stayed on the ground long enough to meet him, had seen that the set-up looked pretty good, and mentioned Suzie to him. When she was ready, all she’d have to do was give this man a ring.

  When Diana said she’d do something, Chalk thought sleepily, she damn well did it. And she really was a sight for sore eyes. Really startlingly attractive. Everything about her… Seemed to become more so every time he saw her again, after even a brief separation like this last one. His mind boggled at the thought of how stunning she might be by the time she got back from the Cape. Rather a good line that, he thought: try to remember it and tell her, it’ll curl her toes… She was saying, as he tuned in again, ‘I’ll talk to her again tomorrow. Might lure her down to the Moth, if she’s up and about. One wouldn’t want her to feel she’s being pressured, of course – the great thing about it is that it was her idea, that wild enthusiasm…’ Turning to Lady C-G: ‘Am I being frightfully interfering? If I am, I’m sorry. But I said I’d find out for her, and as I’m off so soon I thought I’d better do something about it prontissimo.’

  ‘Very good of you. Not in the least interfering. In fact, as Innes was saying, it could be – what was the word he used?’ Alastair supplied it: ‘Providential?’

  ‘Aren’t we bright.’ Patricia passing behind him, ruffled his hair. She added, ‘Like a parrot’s bright.’ Looking at her mother then: ‘Papa will have to buy Suzie a car, of course, for getting to the airfield and back – and have her taught to drive it.’

  ‘He knows that, Patricia.’

  ‘Thinks she knows everything.’ Alastair jerked a thumb towards his sister. ‘Laying down the law – God help us. Just because the FO’s made the monumental blunder of accepting her. Heard about that yet, Rufus?’

  ‘FO meaning Foreign Office?’

  Patricia told him, ‘They’re taking me on. Had word – unofficially, a friend of Papa’s – day before yesterday. Eclipsed by more recent events, but it i
s rather thrilling.’

  ‘I bet it is. Congratulations. But taking you on for what?’

  ‘Primarily, languages. But I’ve been having interviews, writing exams, Papa pulling every string in sight…’

  ‘Rather a change to have some good news.’ Lady C-G looked over at Diana: ‘Exactly when do you leave us?’

  ‘Leave you, Sunday morning – if you can put up with me that long. Leave Southampton in the flying boat, Thursday.’

  Chalk said, ‘That’s the day I have to report at Blockhouse.’

  ‘But what’s poor Rufus going to do—’ Alastair asked Diana – ‘for however long you said you’re going?’

  ‘Poor Rufus is going to be up to his ears in honest toil – I hope. And I’ll be away until the spring.’ Looking round at him: ‘Shouldn’t poor Rufus be getting an early night?’

  ‘Yes, he should.’ He met her glance, let her see the question in his own: she lowered her eyelids, slightly, shook her head – infinitesimally, but clearly a negative. He’d caught it only because he’d been looking for it – and accepted it philosophically, having wondered anyway whether with so few people in the house, night-sounds more audible and identifiable, discretion shouldn’t outweigh inclination. And – perhaps more importantly – whether in any case he’d be up to scratch.

  He pushed himself up out of his chair. ‘Should, indeed…’

  * * *

  In the morning he tried to get Mrs Eason on the telephone, but her landlord told him she’d left. He’d expected this, but if she’d still been there would have repeated his offer of a lift down to London – knowing now that he’d be going down on Monday.

  He’d be going to Diana’s flat. Her suggestion: and he’d have the use of it while she was away. Which, if they were giving him some job at the Admiralty, would be amazingly convenient. He’d suggested, ‘Better by far if you stayed too. For instance, I could have splendid meals waiting for you when you came back from your trips.’

  She’d trilled, ‘What would the neighbours say?’

  ‘Bugger the neighbours!’

  ‘I’d much rather not… Anyway—’ whispering – ‘we’ll have Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…’

  He’d go down to see Betty though, sometime. Possibly on Wednesday and stay the night, en route to Blockhouse.

  Diana had persuaded Sir Innes to come up for a flight, a bird’s-eye view of the estate and its surroundings. She’d offered it as a silver anniversary present, and Sir Innes was taking it as a great adventure. Almost, Patricia had murmured during breakfast, updating his last will and testament before take-off.

  Suzie had had a good night, Patricia said. No dreams, or none that she remembered. Lady C-G had ordered coffee and scrambled egg to be sent up to her room, and they were hoping she’d make an appearance downstairs before long.

  Alastair asked Chalk – outside, smoking their first cigarettes of the morning – ‘Any ideas what you’d like to do today? After our winged wonders return to earth?’

  He had his answer ready. ‘Walk.’ Pointing at the tops, mist-green against a sky that had been a milky blue but already had less milk in it. ‘Climb. With you as guide. Might take a picnic – sandwiches and beer, or something?’

  ‘Damn good idea. I’ll sound out Pat. Diana’ll come, won’t she? Only snag is Suzie – Pat may want to hang around. Although Mama’ll be here…’

  ‘How about Suzie coming too?’ He saw doubt in Alastair’s expression. ‘Well, why not? Do her a world of good.’

  A shrug: ‘I’ll see what Pat says.’

  Patricia was enthusiastic, and ran upstairs at once to suggest it to Suzie. Her brother called after her, ‘Tell her the rest of us won’t go if she doesn’t come.’ He looked round at Chalk. ‘That might fetch her. She’s a solitary in some ways, but she’s very family-minded.’

  Patricia called from the head of the stairs, ‘She’s gone!’

  A moment’s silence… Then: ‘Try the bathroom?’

  ‘I have, stupid – Diana’s in there. Suzie’s vanished – eaten her breakfast, dressed…’

  Chalk thought of the gun cupboard. He hadn’t had a chance to mention it to Sir Innes. But – reassuring himself – it wasn’t easy to think of Suzie as a potential suicide.

  Besides – in that frame of mind, would she have eaten breakfast?

  The possibility still existed.

  ‘Excuse me, sir.’ MacKenzie. ‘Mr Alastair—’

  ‘Huh?’ Stopping, looking down from halfway up the stairs. ‘Miss Susan’s disappeared, MacKenzie.’

  ‘No, sir. Not entirely.’ A faint smile. ‘Miss Susan is in the paddock. We were pulling the flying-machine out – William and myself – as Miss Villiers requested, d’ye see—’

  Alastair called up to Patricia, ‘Suzie’s in the paddock!’

  Running… MacKenzie called after them, ‘She’s right as rain, sir – right as rain!’

  Chalk slowed to a walk, and Alastair caught up with him. ‘Never understood that expression. What’s right about rain? Unless one lived in the Sahara, of course… Here comes Pat.’

  She caught them up as they went out into the stable yard. Telling them, ‘MacKenzie says she’s perfectly all right. Don’t go dashing up as if she’s some sort of escaped lunatic.’

  ‘You’re the loony. Who raised the roof screaming “She’s gone, she’s gone”?’

  ‘There she is.’

  On the semi-derelict stone wall from which she and Chalk had surveyed the paddock before it had been cut. The blue-and-silver Fox Moth was out there in profile to her, bright and shiny in the early sun, and she was just sitting gazing at it.

  Chapter 14

  He came out of the house and across the terrace towards me with a smile on his face and the old setter at his heels. He told me, ‘Wasn’t a man about a dog, for once. My wife about a grandson.’

  ‘Well, congratulations!’

  ‘Nothing but female grandchildren up till now. Poor little brat, don’t envy him the world he’s been born into…’ He sat down, and the dog leant against his knees. He glanced at the tape-recorder. ‘She’ll be here tomorrow – so we’ve the rest of today and tomorrow forenoon, and that’s it. Where was I?’ Fingering the notes he’d made during the night – having difficulty in reading them, by the looks of it. He woke up several times a night, he’d told me, found his mind and memory clearer then than at any other time. I reminded him, ‘Arriving at the Buchanans’ house at Helensburgh, for what you described as a brief and bloodless interview with Zoe.’

  ‘Oh, yes. And it was, indeed. I’ll admit I wasn’t particularly well disposed towards her, by that time – and such feelings tend to be mutual – but her coldness, considering that in recent weeks she’d given every sign of being in hot pursuit of yours truly – eh?’

  ‘Right.’ I had the recorder running again now.

  ‘Anyway – the major-domo in his striped pantaloons showed me in – into the room in which on my last visit, incidentally, I’d suggested to Buchanan that he might go out in Trumpeter for her acceptance trials: and there she was – the wife he’d have trusted “till kingdom come”…’

  ‘Lieutenant Chalk, madam.’

  ‘Rufus – how good of you…’

  The effusive manner was, he’d assumed, for the benefit of the manservant – Henderson – whom she then sent to bring a whisky and water and a Dry Martini. Still the same Zoe in that respect. She was in black – a very smart, expensive-looking suit of lightweight barathea, with a cream silk blouse and what looked like small rubies in a gold heart-shaped brooch.

  She really was a stunner. No getting away from it. He held both her hands: ‘Zoe – there really is no way of—’

  ‘I know. Don’t try.’ The manservant left them, and her manner became more abrupt. Gesturing towards an armchair: ‘Sit down, Rufus. You must be exhausted.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve recovered.’ He dropped into the chair. ‘But you, Zoe—’

  ‘It must have been hellish… Was it?’

  �
��Pretty bad.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I sounded – tense, on Friday night.’

  ‘In the circumstances, who wouldn’t?’

  She was silent, watching him… Then: ‘Did you say you’re going down to Portsmouth?’

  He nodded. ‘Gosport – other side of Portsmouth harbour, our submarine headquarters. I expect I’ll have to write a report and answer questions. Then there’ll be a public inquiry of some kind. Zoe, I told you some of it – about Andrew saying he had a dicky heart – which obviously he didn’t want you worrying about—’

  ‘I’ve come to the same conclusion, since you told me. But you said he sent a message?’

  ‘Yes. He asked me to tell you that he loved you, and that you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.’

  Staring at him: as if waiting for more… Then her eyes closed, the thick lashes falling like a veil. A murmur: ‘Thank you…’

  ‘Excuse me, madam.’ Henderson, bringing drinks, transferring them from a silver tray to chair-side tables. Chalk waited until the door was shut again, then told her, ‘He also mentioned that you’d complained about Toby Dymock chasing you.’

  ‘I’d what?’

  ‘That you’d told him you’d gone down to London to get away from Toby’s pestering. And you’d promised you’d come back here when he left.’ He went on, not giving her time to comment on it, ‘The point he was making was that he trusted you completely. He also – in my presence – confronted Dymock with what you’d told him, and called him a “four-letter man”. Dymock pretended not to know what he was talking about.’

  ‘Well.’ Looking down at her interlocked, twisting fingers. Then a sigh, and curtain-up, greenish eyes glittering at him: ‘I suppose he would… Is that all, Rufus?’

  ‘Unless you want to hear the technical details – what went wrong, what Jacko Pargeter was trying to do to get the boat up – that was the big hope, you see—’

  ‘I wouldn’t understand it. But – by the time he gave you his message to me, that hope had faded, had it?’