The Affair of the Thirty-Nine Cufflinks

by James Anderson

  'I suppose working as a fashion journalist in New York for ten years does that for you.'

  'I do enjoy her stories.'

  'Yes, she's a wonderfully entertaining girl. I love her sense of humour. I'm sorry her magazine went broke, of course, but I am glad it brought her home.'

  'But she seems to be doing just as well with this London magazine.'

  'Don't suppose she earns as much, though. She's a very ambitious girl, and I wouldn't be surprised if she moved on fairly soon. Ah well, we'll see. Or at least you will.'

  'She's the granddaughter of Margaret, your husband's younger sister, is that right?'

  'I sometimes think you know my family better than I do. Yes. Margaret was pretty cool at first, but she came round in the end. We became quite good friends. And it's nice that her grandson keeps in touch, as well as her granddaughter.'

  'Stella and Tommy are first cousins, aren't they?'

  'Yes. I'm fond of Tommy - even though he's not the brainiest lad you could hope to find.'

  'He's so charming, though. And funny. He really makes me smile with all those tales of his pranks.'

  'Bit too funny and charming sometimes, perhaps, but his heart's in the right place.'

  'He's such a good listener, too. He always seems really eager to hear the little stories I am able to tell him about communications with the Other Side.'

  Florrie strongly suspected that Jean's little stories were secretly a source of great amusement to Tommy. But she said nothing.

  * * *

  The richly carpeted and gracefully appointed car showroom had the hush of a great cathedral. Here and there among the multicoloured and glistening graven images, elegant and expensively attired young men, the priests of this secular religion, conversed in low and earnest tones with equally well-dressed but clearly timid acolytes. Occasionally a single word or phrase wafted, like a mantra, above the low hum: 'torque,' 'compression,' 'power-to-weight ratio.'

  Tommy Lambert, an exceedingly tall and slim young man of twenty-three, with a pink complexion and a mop of unruly sandy-coloured hair, stood gazing out through the plate glass window at the sunlit bustle of London's Park Lane, his normally amiable expression replaced at this moment by one of profound gloom. No eager enquirers after truth had approached him that morning, perhaps sensing that he was as much a noviciate as they themselves. And no enquirers, to be promptly converted into cash-paying customers, meant no commission this week. And no commission meant no - what? Champagne cocktails? Tickets to the new Rodgers and Hart musical for himself and Ginny or Susie or Joanie? No afternoon at Epsom on Saturday? He could put up with that, though, if it wasn't for the other business. The day suddenly darkened as he thought of it again. What the deuce was he going to do? For the moment Benny seemed reasonably content with ten shillings a week. But that was just interest. It could only be a matter of weeks at the most before he demanded payment in full. And when he didn't get it he'd probably turn very nasty. Confound the fellow who'd given him that 'sure-fire' tip. Nothing seemed to have gone right since.

  'Hello, Tommy,' said a soft and slightly breathless voice behind him.

  Tommy spun round and his face lightened. 'Penny, old bean, what a surprise!'

  The girl standing there was a few years younger than himself. She had bobbed, platinum blond hair, done in lots of tight curls, and enormous pale blue eyes, set wide apart. She was wearing a cream cotton suit with peak lapels and patch pockets, and perched slightly to the side of her head was a light green Tyrolean hat, decorated with a pheasant tail. She looked extremely fashionable and very pretty. She was smiling rather tentatively at him.

  'How are you, Tommy?'

  'Oh, spiffing, really, you know.'

  'I saw you through the window. You were looking a bit in the dumps'

  'Was I? Well, suppose I am, really.'

  'Oh?' She stared at him sympathetically. 'Something wrong?'

  'Nothing more than usual. It's just that I think that Lagonda might be exactly the car you're looking for, madam. Let me show it to you.' He ushered her towards a scarlet two-seater Tourer.

  Penelope Saunders looked somewhat bewildered. 'I'm sorry, Tommy, I didn't really come in to buy a car.'

  'I know, but the Lord High Sales Manager was approaching. Got to pretend you're a customer.' He stopped by the Lagonda. 'Look at the car, not me.'

  'Oh, right. I thought I'd just pop in and see how you were getting on at the new job. Sort of cousinly interest.'

  'Jolly decent of you. That is the trouble, really. I'm not much good at it. I've only sold three cars in four weeks.'

  'Is that bad?'

  'Well, they don't expect you to be a super salesman in a month, but I am starting to get some rather old-fashioned looks.'

  'Oh, I am sorry. I was hoping this time you might have found something that really suited you. I mean, you've always been keen on cars, haven't you?'

  'Keen on driving them, not selling them.'

  Penny was staring intently at the sleek lines of the Lagonda. 'It is awfully pretty, isn't it? I wish I could buy it.'

  'It's not all that expensive,' Tommy said hopefully.

  'It is for me. Daddy keeps me most horribly hard up. My allowance is positively laughable. Only I don't laugh. You'd think he'd want me to have a good time. But no. And it's always 'don't do this, don't do that.' He doesn't like me smoking in public. He won't even let me paint my toenails. And he thinks night clubs are dens of iniquity. He's like one of those Victorian fathers you read about.'

  'Well, I suppose he is, really, isn't he? Victorian, I mean. How old is he?'

  'Forty-six.'

  'Well, there you are. He was born in the nineteenth century, so he is Victorian.'

  'But he doesn't have to behave like it. It's the 1930s now.'

  Tommy said: 'Get in the car - look as though you're really interested.'

  He opened the driver's door and Penny got in. Tommy went round to the far side, gathering up a couple of brochures from a nearby stand on the way, and sat in the passenger seat. 'I'll pretend to be going through all this technical stuff with you.'

  'It's really comfy,' Penny said, leaning back in the seat. 'You'd think he'd let me have a car, wouldn't you? I mean, just because I gave his Daimler the teeny-weeniest dent the only time he let me drive it, he uses that as an excuse - says he's frightened I'd have an accident. It's the money, really, I'm sure.'

  'He must have oodles, too.'

  'He's absolutely rolling. And it's not as though he's got anyone - or anything - else to spend it on.'

  'So, what's he do with it?'

  'Just invests it. I think he gives a lot to good causes, as well.'

  'Well, I'm a good cause. Wouldn't slip a few quid to me, would he? I've got all sorts of ripping ideas that just need a bit of capital.'

  'There's not a chance of that, darling.'

  'He doesn't like me, does he?'

  Penny wriggled awkwardly. 'It's not that he doesn't like you. But he doesn't really approve of you. Thinks you should have trained for some proper profession.'

  'It's all very well for brainy geezers like him. Can you see me as a lawyer or doctor or architect or something?'

  Penny tried for a moment and failed.

  'I think I'll turn to crime,' Tommy said gloomily.

  'Don't be silly.'

  'I'm not being silly. I've seriously thought about it. Oh, not anything that would hurt anybody, but where would be the harm in pinching something from somebody who'd never miss it? Just to put me on my feet.'

  'You mustn't say things like that. I know you're joking, but other people wouldn't - people who don't know how you're always kidding and playing pranks and practical jokes. That's something else which puts Daddy off you.'

  'That's just fun! They never harm anyone.'

  'I know that. I think some of them are screamingly funny. But Daddy's got no sense of humour at all.'

  'I say, I brought off an absolutely terrific wheeze a couple of weeks ago. This old chu
m of mine was working for a company owned by an absolute bounder. Name of Hodge. Frightfully rich, and he and his wife are the most appalling snobs. Anyway, he had an application for a job from the son of some marquis or other, old Etonian, and all that, but totally useless. Old Hodgepodge, though, couldn't resist having a gen-you-ine aristocrat on his staff, so to make room for him, he sacked my pal. No excuse, no apology, just a month's salary and out on his ear.'

  'How rotten.'

  'As you can imagine, he was pretty browned off and wanted to get his own back. He asked me if I had any ideas. So I put the jolly old brain-box to work and made a few enquiries. These people have got a big place in Sussex, swimming pool, acres of grounds. And it's on a main road to the coast. I found out they were planning a big garden party for the next Saturday - lavish open-air buffet, marquee, and so on. Asking all the toffs of the county. So I went to a sign writer and got a lot of big placards done. The Saturday was a super day and my pal and I drove down. We got there just before the party started and we stuck these placards up about every fifty yards at the side of the road for the quarter of a mile leading to the house. They had things on them like 'Open Day,' 'No Charge,' 'Everybody Welcome,' 'Free Refreshments,' 'Beautiful Gardens,' 'Swimming Pool,' 'Bring the Kiddies.' And the ones nearest the house had big arrows, pointing through the gates. Then we beat it, pronto.'

  'What happened?' Penny asked, wide-eyed.

  'I found out all about it later, from a johnnie who was at the party. As you can imagine, on a beautiful Saturday, the roads were jam-packed with people on their way for an afternoon at the seaside, and within minutes cars started to roll in. The Hodges didn't realise what was happening at first, thought they were invited guests. The climax was when a charabanc, with about forty people on board, arrived. They twigged then, but it was too late. There were already about twenty cars parked on the drive, people were helping themselves to grub and drinks from the buffet, kids were trampling all over the flower beds, changing into their bathing costumes in their cars and jumping in the swimming pool. Some people actually went in the house and started poking round all over the place, using the bathrooms, what have you. The butler was trying to get rid of them, which led to a lot of nasty arguments. And the most topping thing of all was that one of the real guests was an eccentric old baronet, who always dresses in the most disreputable togs and hardly ever shaves or has his hair cut. The butler thought he was one of the gate-crashers and forcibly ejected him. By which time, most of the toffs were pretty fed up, and started to leave, en masse. Hodge was running round in circles, trying to get them to stay and the intruders to leave, all at the same time. Mrs Hodge was having hysterics in her boudoir. I'm delighted to say that their great day was totally ruined. And serve them bally well right.'

  Penny gave a sigh. 'Oh, Tommy, you're so clever! To think of that!'

  Tommy endeavoured unsuccessfully to look modest. 'I do seem to have a flair for that sort of thing.' Then he became gloomy again. 'Good to have a flair for something, I suppose. Certainly haven't got one for selling cars.'

  'What would you like to do?'

  'Dunno, really. Used to think I'd like to be a reporter. Must be terrific fun, going round interviewing film stars and racing drivers. I'm not much of a writer, but that doesn't really matter; you just put down what they say. It was Stella getting her first job in that line that put the idea into my head. Incidentally, I hear she's back.'

  'Stella who? Back from where?'

  'Stella Simmons. Cousin Stella. Home from the US of A. A pal of mine ran into her. Seems she's working for some fashion mag, but I don't know which one and her number's not in the phone book, so I haven't been able to get in touch with her. I thought she might have given me a call, actually. I used to have quite a crush on her, when I was about thirteen.'

  Penny gave an almost inaudible sniff. 'Really?'

  And she was jolly nice to me.'

  'Really?' said Penny again. The temperature in the Lagonda had dropped a degree or two.

  'Girls of that age haven't usually got much time for young lads.'

  Penny frowned. 'What do you mean: 'that age'?'

  'Well, she must have been twenty-three or more then.'

  'Oh.' Penny's face cleared. 'Then she's quite old?'

  'Mm, that was ten or eleven years ago.'

  'I see.' The atmosphere was suddenly warmer again. 'She sounds very nice,' Penny said condescendingly.

  'You never met her, then?'

  'I've never even heard of her. And I don't understand. If she's your cousin and I'm your cousin, she must be my cousin, too, mustn't she?'

  'You're not my cousin.'

  'Don't be silly, Tommy, of course I am.'

  'Not my full cousin - first cousin, nor even second. We're different generations.'

  Penny looked quite blank. 'How do you mean?'

  'Well, let me see. Your grandfather and my father were first cousins. So I'm second cousin to your father. I think that makes you my second cousin once removed.'

  'Removed where?'

  'That's just what they call it. Means a generation younger.'

  'I'm nothing like a generation younger than you, only three or four years.'

  'That's got nothing to do with it. But if we were looking at the family tree, you'd be one level lower down.'

  Penny was looking totally bewildered. 'I don't know anything about the family, really. Daddy never talks about them. So where does this Stella girl come in?'

  'Ah, well, my father and her mother were brother and sister. So she is my first cousin. And you're her second cousin once removed, too, as well as mine. Aren't you a lucky girl?'

  'Mummy had some first cousins. I used to call them Auntie or Uncle.'

  'Oh, that's just an old convention. You needn't call me Uncle.'

  'I wasn't going to,' Penny said blankly.

  'We'd better get out. Can't sit here all day.'

  'Tommy, you were joking, weren't you? About taking up crime.'

  'What? Oh yes, of course. You know me. Here, take these.' He handed her the brochures. 'I'll give you my card. Look at it, say loudly: 'Thank you, Mr Lambert. I'm very interested in the car. I'll come back and see you when I've had a few days to think about it."

  'Say that again.'

  Tommy did so, and Penny carefully repeated the words under her breath.

  He got out, hurried round the car, opened the driver's door for her and with a flourish handed her his business card. 'Please don't hesitate to contact me, if you have any further questions, madam.'

  Penny concentrated furiously. 'Thank you, Mr Carr,' she said in a loud voice. 'I'm very interested in you. I want to think about you for a few days and see you again.'

  Chapter Seven

  'I suppose Clara will let the girls come,' Florrie said.

  'Surely she will! And come herself, I should hope.'

  'Hypocrite if she does. But be criticised if she doesn't, I suppose. Unless she could claim pressure of work.'

  'Work? What do you mean, dear?'

  'I told you what Agatha told me about Clara's nasty little money-making scheme. I put in a guarded reference to it when I made those little changes to my will last month. Anyway, Agatha should be here again any day now. I must find out if it's still going on.'

  * * *

  Clara reached forward and took the rough-skinned hand of the plump young girl, who was sitting on the edge of the hard upright chair in the coldly furnished and immaculately tidy drawing-room, an expression of acute doubt on her pale, unattractive face. Clara's claw-like fingers tightened in what was meant to be a reassuring, clasp, but which only made the girl wince slightly. Clara hastily let go.

  'Now, Martha,' she said gently. 'I know you're a good, loyal girl. But when you learn of some terrible deceit, you do have a duty to make sure the truth comes out. It's not right that your master should deceive your mistress in this way. Don't you think she should know about it?'

  Martha nodded.

  'Then can you tell her you
rself?'

  'Oh no, madam, I couldn't.'

  'But she'll never find out unless somebody tells her. You tell me and I'll make sure she learns just what's been going on.'

  Martha twisted her hands together. 'I don't know, I'm sure.'

  'You came to me, remember, my dear, not the other way round. All you've told me so far is that your employer is deceiving his wife with another woman, but you haven't even told me his name. Why did you come, by the way? We've never met before, have we?'

  'It was Lily suggested it, madam, Lily Watson. She was in service with Dr. and Mrs Forbes-King.'

  'Ah yes, of course. And in that case, it was the mistress who was carrying on.'

  'That's right, madam, and Lily said that after she told you about it, it all came out. They're divorced now, of course, and Lily had to look for another position, but she said that wasn't your fault.'

  'Of course it wasn't. How can it ever be wrong to tell the truth? Now, I can see you're an honourable girl and you hate carryings-on. They go against everything your mother ever taught you, don't they?'

  'Yes, madam.'

  'And she was a good woman, wasn't she?'

  'Oh yes, madam. She still is. She's still alive.'

  'I'm so glad. The world can ill afford to lose women like your mother. Now I'm sure you want to be a credit to her - speak up fearlessly and uncover all this lying and deceit.'

  'Oh yes, madam, but . . .' Martha ran her tongue round her lips. 'Lily did say as how you made it worth her while, like.'

  'But of course. Virtue should always be rewarded.'

  She opened her clasped left hand to reveal the crisp £5 which was folded in her palm. She made it crackle temptingly. 'Well.' Martha took a deep breath. 'The master is Mr Terence Leigh.'

  Clara's eyebrows shot upwards. 'The novelist?'

  'Yes, madam.'

  'Really? Right, now tell me exactly what happened.'

  'Well, it was Wednesday last week. That's me usual half-day — the mistress changed it this week. Anyway, the mistress had gone to visit her parents and wasn't expected back until late and the master was going to be working in his study. Now, he'd said he'd go out for a meal in the evening and told cook she could have the afternoon off, as well, which was very unusual. She went out about one. I went out about quarter past, and I noticed this big red and white American car parked a little down the road, with a lady sat in it. I didn't think nothing of it, really. I 'adn't gone very far when I found I'd left me purse behind, and I 'ad to go back. The car was still there, but the lady weren't in it. Well, I went in through the servants' door at the back and started up to me room. But when I was passing the main bedroom I heard voices coming from it.'