‘Oh, darling, how absurd!’

  ‘Why?’

  Claudia tried to think why. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘if you were writing a play, you could give her a husband hidden away somewhere, and make it seem plausible.’

  ‘I certainly could. And give him a wife and make it equally plausible. And, good lord, if it comes to that, I could make them married to each other, hating it, agreeing to separate, and then, years after, being drawn together again in spite of themselves—I say,’ he added eagerly, ‘is that a play or is it?’

  ‘Oh, darling, what a wonderful idea!’ said Claudia. ‘And then you could get that line in. You must do it! Promise me!’

  ‘Well, it’s something to start on anyway,’ said Carol thoughtfully . . . John Preston began to give his mind to it.

  3

  ‘Well, he’s dead, and about time too.’

  ‘Harry! You oughtn’t to say such things!’

  ‘Don’t be a fool, Jo, you’re as glad as I am, only you’re afraid to say so. And what’s more, he’s killed another woman.’

  ‘Oh, Harry!’

  ‘She was at the wedding,’ put in Amy.

  ‘Oh, my dear, so she was!’

  ‘What wedding?’

  ‘Ours, Harry, who else’s? She was a friend of dear Claudia’s.’

  ‘Don’t remember her.’

  ‘Yes, it’s all coming back to me. That tall, very lovely woman. And so gracious. I remember her telling me that she had never been to Bournemouth. But of course they may not have been together.’

  ‘If she was very lovely, you may be quite sure they were together. That man would have been sniffing round her——’

  ‘Harry!’

  ‘Don’t you think so, Amy?’

  ‘Men are like that,’ said Amy, with a smile which understood all, and forgave all.

  ‘That man was.’

  ‘Do you think they were going to get married? How strange that she should have come to our house. But then why not get married properly in England?’

  ‘Married! Ha! I should like to know how many wives he’d got already.’

  ‘Harry!’

  ‘She may have been a poetess or an actress.’

  ‘What has that got to do with it, Bibs?’

  ‘Then she’d keep her maiden name.’

  ‘You mean she might have been married, dear?’

  ‘That sounds more like him. Taking a married woman away from her husband and killing her.’ She held up the paper and said fiercely, ‘Look at the great ugly devil! Grinning at the world.’

  ‘Oh, is there a photograph in yours? There’s none in this one. May I see?’

  ‘No!’ She tore the paper again and again, scattering the pieces round her. Then she put her head in her hands, and sobbed, ‘Oh, Jo, Jo, it all comes back so horribly!’

  ‘Darling Harry!’ Jo was by her side. ‘But we have our Carol now, and soon, pray God, dear Carol’s baby.’ ‘But I’m so old I Older than any of you.’

  ‘Harry,’ said Jo gently, ‘you know that’s not true.’ Bibs was far away. Two lines had come into her head.

  Toll for the dead, the dead that are no more!

  For we still live . . . hut they have gone before!

  Amy smiled at them all. They didn’t understand.

  4

  I’m glad I got away from her before. I’m glad I did it myself, not leave it to this fellow or God to take her away from me. I was free a long time ago. Of course I went on thinking about her for a bit. Only yesterday, as it happened. Well, now I shan’t. It’s over. It was never really over before. Anything might have happened. One couldn’t help imagining things . . .

  What was the man’s name? Lord something. Oh, here we are—Sheppey. Who’s he? . . . James Muggeridge. My God, what a name. Who wouldn’t want to be a peer with a name like that? Muggeridge. Sounds familiar. Where have I heard—Oh, of course. ‘I, Carol Muggeridge, take thee, Claudia Mary’—wonder if he was any relation. Wonder if—dammit, that explains it! That’s why she was trembling inside all through the service! I thought it was just the wedding, but it was the wedding and Muggeridge.

  Had she been married to him years ago, and loathed it, and left him? But if the thought of it was so horrible, why did she go back to him? Oh, Chloe darling, these last few days, wondering what to do, trying to make up your mind! Well, you did make it up. It’s the only way, you can’t keep hanging about. I made up my mind. I’m glad I did . . .

  Chloe. The most beautiful woman of the day, and I’m nobody yet, and she let me kiss her. Nothing can take that away. And of course we couldn’t have got married anyway, she was much too old.

  5

  ‘Well, young Maisie, what have you been up to? Good, I could do with a drink.’

  ‘Oh, hallo, Percy! You’re back early, aren’t you? Had a good day?’

  ‘I don’t know what you call a good day. Some bloody feller pushed into my taxi just as I was telling the driver where to go. Had the nerve to say he’d been there all the time and I hadn’t noticed him. I said to the driver, “Was your flag up or wasn’t it? My eyesight’s as good as the next man’s, and I know if a flag’s upside down or not!” You won’t believe it, but he said he was waiting for the lights to change before he put it down, because the other feller had only just got in, and this other feller said, “That’s right!” It was a dam conspiracy. Well, I said to the feller——’

  ‘Is that the evening paper?’ She held out a hand.

  ‘What? Oh, yes. Chloe’s dead, by the way. I meant to have told you.’

  ‘Percy! What do you mean? Dead?’

  ‘Well, you’ll see in the paper, old girl. I’m just telling you. Plane crash.’

  Maisie snatched the paper from him. While she read, Percy mixed the drinks.

  ‘Well!’

  ‘Smells a. bit funny, don’t you think? Our Chloe! No wonder she was confessing to old Wing.’

  ‘I thought you said she wasn’t like that.’

  ‘Like what. Here you are.’

  ‘Thank you. You said she was religious.’

  ‘Who did? Dammit, you don’t even know that they were together, you don’t know that they weren’t going to get married, you don’t know anything, and if it comes to that he might have been her uncle.’ He emptied his glass and filled it again. He wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to be attacking or defending Chloe, nor was he sure which he wanted to be.

  ‘Well, who is he?’

  ‘Sheppey? Higgs, Muggeridge and Higgs, Midland firm, but he’d had a finger in one or two pies in his time.’

  ‘Shady?’

  ‘Oh, lord, no,’ said Percy, and, to be quite fair, added, ‘Not to notice. I only met him once, mark you, so——’

  ‘Oh, you have met him. At Miss Marr’s flat?’

  ‘Never saw them together there, or anywhere. It was a friend of old George’s. George Chater. I was——’

  Maisie said hurriedly, ‘What was he like?’ and on the improbable but alarming chance that he might misunderstand her, explained that she meant Lord Sheppey.

  ‘Ugly little devil, if it’s the man I’m thinking of.’

  ‘How old?’

  ‘Didn’t ask him. About fifty from the cut of him.’

  ‘How old was Chloe?’

  ‘Twenty-eight.’

  ‘You mean thirty-five, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, nonsense, old girl, not a day more than thirty.’

  ‘A man of fifty would be just about right for her. I suppose he had a wife.’

  ‘Suppose so. If he hadn’t at fifty, I should want to know what was the matter with him, not but what there’s a dam lot of that about. According to old George, the stage—well, look at What’s-is-name as an example—it’s fairly riddled with it. Though what they can all see in it——’

  ‘Well!’ said Maisie again, still poring over every word of it.

  So that was that. Good-bye, Miss Marr. Or Mrs Marr. Or Mistress Marr. They were getting a damned sight too fond of her at the Vicarage. Of course Percy had been to bed with her. Dozens of times. Well, you’d expect it if you married a man of his age, but you didn’t want his pretty ladies hanging about him afterwards. Supposing Freddy turned up at the Vicarage, how much would Percy like it? Well, of course he didn’t know anything about Freddy, and anyhow that was different . . .

  She began to wonder where Freddy was now. It would be rather fun if . . .

  A dam strange business altogether, thought Percy. Not quite English. Leaving all her old friends, and cutting off like that. Not like Chloe. A bit sinister, the whole thing. He’d miss her, dammit, they might have got together again later on. Not much sense of humour, of course, but with her looks that didn’t matter so much. A pity.

  He looked at his watch.

  ‘About time for a bath, isn’t it, old girl, if we’re going to this show?’

  ‘What? Oh! Yes.’ She got up, and gave him her little-girl smile. ‘You haven’t kissed me yet, darling.’

  ‘You’ll get all of that you want in a moment, young Maisie,’ said Percy fondly.

  6

  ‘Sweet, isn’t she?’ said Silvie, holding out the paper.

  ‘All right. Who is it? Oh, the girl who got killed in that crash.’

  ‘Poor thing. It doesn’t say much about her. Well-known in London Society. I’ve seen her sometimes in The Tatler, dining with people, you know the way they do.’

  ‘What else did she do?’

  ‘Made some man happy, I expect,’ said Silvie gently. ‘Same as I do you. Or don’t I?’

  Humby went over to her where she lay on the sofa, and put his arms round her, and held her.

  ‘You swear it will be all right, don’t you?’

  ‘What do you mean, you silly? Of course it will be all right. Why, it’s nothing nowadays. Just like having your hair cut.’ She laughed happily.

  He went back to his chair and took up the paper again. Silvie returned to her knitting.

  ‘I wonder what it’s like,’ she said, ‘being as beautiful as that and going everywhere.’

  ‘Hell, I should think.’

  ‘Not all the time. Well, it’s over for her now. Poor thing.’

  ‘They don’t show her legs,’ said Humby. ‘Just as well perhaps.’

  ‘She’d have the finest silk all the time. Always. Wherever she went. That helps more than you think.’

  ‘Still I’m glad I married you.’

  ‘So am I, Humby.’ She gave a sigh of utter content. ‘Oh, so am I!’

  7

  ‘Help yourself, Mrs Maddick. There’s plenty in the pot.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Radipole. I always says there’s nothing like a nice cup of tea.’

  ‘Well, it’s been a nasty shock for you, and well may you want it.’

  ‘That it has.’

  ‘Does she leave you anything, if I might ask?’

  ‘Hundred pounds.’

  ‘No! Well, I never!’

  ‘A hundred pounds, Mrs Radipole. She told me herself the day she made the will.’

  ‘When would that be like?’

  ‘All but the two days before she went off. The lawyer came and we had the whisky out, and when he’d gone, “Ellen,” she says, “I’ve made my will and I’ve left you a hundred pounds, darling”—very loving she was at times. Well, I didn’t know what to say, I was so struck aback; I said, “I’m sure that’s very kind of you, Miss Marr, you’re not thinking of accidents, I hope, because dangerous those flying machines may be, but they’re not as dangerous as some people’s driving;” and she said,” Meaning me, Ellen?” and laughed, and I said,” Well, I’d feel safer with you up there than on the ground, Miss Marr,” and so I would, Mrs Radipole—terrible reckless driver she was. But there, it’s all wiped out now and she’s with the blessed angels.’ She sniffed and blew her nose.

  ‘It was a mercy of Providence, Mrs Maddick, she did make a will—just in time as you might say.’

  ‘I always say that Providence knows best and it’s not for us to question. But now you’ll understand, dear, why I can’t say anything against Miss Marr; though I’m not saying after all the time I’ve been with her——’

  ‘Ah, you’ve been with her a long time.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t more than the five years come August——

  ‘Seemed longer, I wouldn’t be surprised.’

  ‘It did that. I had a lot to put up with.’ She sniffed again.

  ‘I’m sure you did, dear. These society beauties, there’s no pleasing them.’

  ‘Like children they are. First one thing and then another. Up and down. Hot and cold. Can’t make up their minds.’

  Did she——?’ Mrs Radipole made a motion with her hand.

  ‘No, I will say that for her, not secret that is. Nor anything else, though I’m not saying she wouldn’t take something at night to make her sleep. Slept very bad she did.’

  Mrs Radipole nodded.

  ‘What I’ve always said, Mrs Maddick, you can’t sleep if you’ve anything on your conscience. And all that rackety life dancing till goodness knows when. Stands to reason.’ She brought up her chair a little closer: ‘Did you know she was going off with this lord?’

  ‘Not if you’d come and told me yourself, Mrs Radipole, I wouldn’t have believed it. Sir Everard Hale Baronet, that I could have believed, or His Grace the Duke of St Ives, or even that Mr Walsh, though he hadn’t been married above a few months——’

  ‘Ah, you’ve seen some fine men in your time, Mrs Maddick.’

  ‘All sorts we’ve had, but this Lord Sheppey, well now I’ll tell you. He used to ring up regular, and no matter when he rang it was always the same, Miss Marr’s in her bath, will you ring later, Miss Marr’s just gone out, she’ll ring you when she comes back; never had a word to say to him, and he’d be going on at her day and night.’

  ‘Wore her down as you might say. He never come to the door?’

  ‘I’ve never so much as set eyes on him. Of course, being yooman I can’t say for what happened when I wasn’t there. Not sleeping there I can’t say for what happened at night.’

  ‘Ah!’ She came a little closer. ‘Would you say she was loose in her habits?’

  ‘I can’t answer yes or no to that question, Mrs Radipole. Loose in her talk I won’t deny, and if it was most of it talk it wouldn’t surprise me.’

  ‘Yooman nature is yooman nature, dear, and she wouldn’t go fighting it all those years.’

  Ellen said solemnly, ‘She didn’t, Mrs Radipole.’

  ‘Ah! Now we’re getting somewheres.’

  ‘It’s my belief, and there’s ways of knowing, she’d had a baby.’

  ‘That’s right, and you’d see better than most, Mrs Maddick. Well, I can’t say you surprise me. I said just now, you heard me yourself, yooman nature is yooman nature I said. Being before you came to her of course.’

  ‘I can’t say for when it was, only being before my time as you say, Mrs Radipole. And I’ll tell you what I think. If you want to look for the man you don’t want to look farther than that aeroplane.’

  ‘Well, that is saying something, Mrs Maddick.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking it over. The way I look at it, it came over him at last to do the right thing by her, but she wouldn’t have no more of him, and who’s to blame her, being left like that; and then she thought, there’s the poor little boy without a name, and he’d be a lord himself if I married his father, and for his sake I’ll sacrifice myself, if you understand me, Mrs Radipole.’

  ‘Well, of course I don’t know her as you do, dear, but I’ve seen her photographs and I’ve seen his, and the first thing I says is, “Fancy a lovely girl like her going off with a horrible creature like him,” and if it’s as you say, then it would be a sacrifice.’

  ‘Well, now she’s gone to her last home, and what’s to happen to the poor little boy, if it is a little boy, the dear Lord only knows. Still, I daresay a way will be found if we leave it to Him.’

  ‘That’s what I always say meself, Mrs Maddick. If there’s a way to be found He’ll find it.’

  Ellen nodded, and then began to cry weakly.

  ‘She was so b-beautiful, and now she’s all b-broken up, and she left me a hundred pounds!’

  ‘There, dear, I know how you feel and does credit to you. Have another nice cup of tea with a little something in it this time.’ She got up and went to the cupboard.

  8

  ‘Such a little while ago she sat here with me, looking at the daffodils,’ said the Vicar. There were no daffodils now, there was no Chloe.

  Essie put a hand on his knee for a moment.

  ‘You mustn’t be unhappy, Alfred. All beautiful things have their day. There is no pleasure in old age for them.’

  ‘That is true, my dear, and Death must have come very suddenly. She was not afraid of death, she told me.’ Yet he sighed, and shook his head, little comforted.

  ‘You are thinking of that man?’

  ‘Yes. I wish I need not.’

  ‘Must we assume that they were together?’

  ‘She said that she was going abroad, that she might not come back. She could hardly have meant alone.’

  ‘They may have been married long ago, and separated. She might have gone back to her maiden name. Then they came together again.’

  ‘Do you believe that, Essie?’ he asked eagerly.

  ‘I haven’t tried. I suppose I could if I wished to. But I just don’t feel that it matters. I can’t believe that the first thing which God said, when that poor unhappy ghost came back to Him, was, “Were they married in 1925?”’

  ‘Unhappy?’ said the Vicar, deciding to overlook the rest.

  ‘Don’t tell me she was happy, Alfred, I shan’t believe you. I should say that the whole of her gay life was an attempt to hide from herself how unhappy she was.’