Choice of Evils (7 page)

‘But how does that affect Rachel?’ Peter demanded. ‘Why should she get excited about it?’

‘I can think of only one possibility,’ Andrew said, 'though it wouldn't mean much unless Mrs Amory was actually a fairly rich woman.’

‘What's that?’

'Simply that Simon Amory wasn't her spouse.’

‘Not her spouse?’

‘No.’

‘But they'd been married for years.’

‘Well, just suppose they weren't really, and Rachel knew it. And if that should be the case, she and not Simon would be her sister's heir. Doesn't it make sense of how she acted just now? And she may have dashed away to
challenge him about it. For all we know a few thousands may mean quite a lot to her.’

‘Andrew, what an imagination you've got!’

‘Anyway, I'd prefer not to get involved in the matter, and if I were you, I'd keep out of it too. I don't see how either of us can help her.’

Presently they walked back to the Dolphin, where Peter had left his car and he drove off in it to Simon Amory's house while Andrew went into the hotel and into the bar, where he ordered a sherry. There was no one else in the bar at the time, but only a few minutes after Andrew had settled in a chair by the window Edward Clarke came in, accompanied by the two people of whom Andrew had had a glimpse the evening before, Magda Braile and Desmond Nicholl. Edward Clarke greeted him warmly.

‘You're staying here?’ he said. 'So are our friends whom you met yesterday. Of course you'll have lunch with us.’ He bought drinks for the three of them and carried them over to the table at which Andrew was sitting. They sat down around it and Magda Braile gave Andrew a charming smile.

‘We didn't really meet yesterday, did we?’ she said. 'There was too much of a crowd in that room. But you're an old friend of Simon'S, I presume.’

Andrew wondered how often he would have to deny this.

‘As a matter of fact, I met him for the first time yesterday,’ he said.

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’ she said. T thought only old friends would have been allowed into that gathering. But come to think of it, perhaps old friends were just the people he wouldn't have wanted. I wasn't welcome, was I, and I'm a very old friend?’

Desmond Nicholl picked up the book that Andrew had
bought that morning, and which he had put down on the table before him.

‘Death Come Quickly/
he observed. The skin stretched so tightly over his cadaverous face looked almost as if it might split if he ventured to smile. T wonder where he picked up that title. There are parts of the country where it's the name local people give to a small wild red geranium, though there are other people who call it Herb Robert.’

‘All right, darling, we all know you're a botanist,’ Magda said. ‘But Herb Robert wouldn't have been much of a title for a book, would it?’

‘Professor Basnett is a professor of botany,’ Clarke told them.

‘Are you really?’ Magda said, as if this for some reason delighted her. ‘And of course you knew where that title came from.’

‘I'm afraid not,’ Andrew said. ‘I'm not that kind of botanist. You could take me for a walk in the most beautiful of woods and I'd hardly be able to name one of the wild flowers I saw there. My work was strictly in laboratories.’

'So you're not really a botanist, and you're not an old friend of Simon'S, so what exactly are you?’ she asked.

‘I'm what's generally called a plant physiologist,’ he answered, ‘and I'm an uncle of Peter Dilly's.’

‘Ah, so it was Peter Dilly you came to listen to - now I understand. What a charming little man he is. I'd like to meet him again. I enjoyed his talk much the most of the three. Do you think he'll be coming to The Duchess of Malfi this evening? And are you?’

‘I don't know what Peter's plans are, but I shall certainly be there.’ Andrew had not made up his mind till just then that he would go to the theatre that evening, but he felt that it would have been discourteous to admit it. He was still finding it difficult, however, to imagine this woman in the sombre character of the Duchess. ‘But it's only by chance I'm here. I didn't know, when I came to
Gallmouth, that there'd be a festival in progress, or that Peter would be on the spot/

‘What brought you then?’ she asked. ‘It seems a pretty dead and alive sort of place to me.’

‘That happens to be what attracts me to it,’ Andrew said. ‘I've been coming here at intervals over several years. It's very restful.’

‘Ah, I see,’ she said. ‘You come here when you want to get away from your hectic life in London. But you're retired, aren't you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you a Fellow of the Royal Society?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘And you probably go to lots of their meetings and banquets and things, so you come to Gallmouth to recover.’

‘Well, I shouldn't say that exactly describes my life in London,’ Andrew said, ‘but I sometimes get tired of my own cooking, so I thought a break in things before the winter begins to close in on us would be pleasant.’

‘Ah, yes, the winter … D'you know, I really rather like the winter, though each time one comes round I say to myself, "How many more of these have you got?" I have a feeling I shall die in the winter.’

‘You don't do anything of the sort,’ Desmond Nicholl said in a quiet, cold voice. ‘You don't think of dying at all. And why should you? You're a quite healthy specimen.’

‘I tell you, never a day goes by without my thinking about it,’ she protested. ‘Being healthy has nothing to do with it. Life is so horribly dangerous. I could walk out of that door when we've had our lunch and be knocked down by a car and killed on the spot. Or our dear Simon could lose control of himself and stick a knife in my back, which is what he'd really like to do, you know. Didn't you see that last night? He hates me, he really hates me. And he's really very violent by nature, though he always
keeps a tight hold on it. Poor Simon, I'm really so sorry for him. And I can't forget how much I loved him once. That's when I was a little girl. You know. Professor, I've known him since I was a child.’

'So really you've known him all your life?’ Andrew said.

‘Very nearly,’ she replied. ‘My father was vicar in Boringwood - that's a village in Hampshire I don't expect you've ever heard of - and Simon's father retired there after he came home from India. I'm not sure what he'd been doing there, but he became great friends with my father. But I didn't see much of Simon then. He was at Winchester, and only came home for the holidays. All the same, we made friends. He was really very good to me, and I worshipped him. He was so handsome and so good-natured. But he had a violent temper even then. Oh, my goodness, yes!’ She gave a little laugh. ‘We had a neighbour who had a son a couple of years older than Simon and much bigger, and if the two of them had the slightest excuse for it, they'd fight. And Simon nearly always came out on top, he was so much the cleverer of the two. And I used to love watching them battering each other, though I was dreadfully frightened too, but that was really all part of the enjoyment. And of course by the time I was about fifteen I was hopelessly in love with him. Did you know that children of that age can fall passionately in love. Professor?’

‘I seem to remember having been through a phase of it myself,’ Andrew answered. ‘But I was rather faithless. I remember a girl for whom I thought I would be ready to die went down with measles, and by the time she came out of quarantine I'd attached myself to someone quite different.’

‘All the same, you understand what I'm talking about,’ she said. ‘Desmond won't believe I was ever in love with Simon. He doesn't like to think I was in love with him during my adolescence, which I was, as I said - desperately. That's just jealousy, of course. He doesn't like to
think I was really in love with anyone till I met him/

‘Oh, for God's sake!’ Desmond Nicholl muttered in a tone of disgust. 'The trouble with you is that you've never been in love with anyone. Now, shall we go through to lunch?’

They finished their drinks and went through to the dining-room.

Edward Clarke was very silent throughout the meal, as indeed it was difficult not to be since Magda Braile kept up an incessant chatter. But he looked as if he had something on his mind.

In one of the pauses in the actress's talk, Andrew asked him, ‘Are you worrying about the show this evening?’

'Somewhat, yes,’ Clarke replied. ‘A kind of stage fright perhaps. But everything's gone so well so far, I don't see why we shouldn't have a success with this too.’

‘Oh, he's dead scared that I'm not the right person for the Duchess,’ Magda said with a titter. She reached out a hand and laid it on one of Clarke's. ‘You poor dear, you really needn't be frightened. When I get to work, I'm very disciplined. But talking of being frightened, I did scare Simon, didn't I? I didn't mean to in the least, but I could see it in his eyes when he first saw me, he was dead scared.’

‘And how you enjoyed it,’ Nicholl said sourly. ‘But you needn't worry, Clarke. She'll pull herself together this evening. She tends to put on this sort of show before a performance. Nerves, I suppose. But sometimes she'll do the opposite and go dead silent. I'm not sure which is the harder to put up with.’

‘How horrid you can be!’ Magda exclaimed. ‘I don't know why I put up with you.’

She went on with her chatter, mostly about Simon and how he had gone to Oxford and later broken her heart by falling in love with a woman whom he had insisted on marrying. She did not make it quite clear whether or not
she had ever met the woman. Andrew found it a relief when coffee had been drunk and the party had broken up.

He went up to his room, intending to start reading the book that he had bought that morning, but making the mistake of lying down on his bed instead of sitting in his armchair, he was sound asleep in a few minutes. The sea and the unwonted exercise had made him very drowsy. He slept until nearly five o'clock when he was woken by the telephone ringing. Peter again, he presumed.

He was right, but he was startled by the tone of Peter's voice. It sounded high and excited, and he spoke very hurriedly, as if he were afraid of being caught at the telephone.

‘Andrew, please come here as quickly as you can!’ Peter said. ‘At once! Please!’

‘But why?’ Andrew asked. ‘What's happened?’

‘I can't explain now,’ Peter said. 'Someone else wants the telephone. But come- ’

He stopped abruptly, and the dialling tone rang in Andrew's ears.

He put the telephone down and stood for a moment, looking at it in a perplexed way. He was quite ready to respond to Peter's anxious demand, but there were several matters to be solved before he could do so. First of all he had to discover Simon Amory's address. When Peter had driven him up to the house the evening before it had not occurred to him to mention its name or the name of the road where it stood. Now, if there was really a need for haste, the obvious thing would be to get a taxi, rather than to walk, though he remembered the distance as not very great. That the hotel people would certainly be able to solve for him. But first he must find the address. There was no telephone directory in his room, so he put a call through to the desk downstairs and asked them to find the address of Simon Amory.

They were slower about it than he had expected, but at last an answer came.

‘I think Mr Amory's number is ex-directory,’ a woman's voice said. T can't find it.’

This, after all, was not surprising, but for a moment Andrew felt completely baffled. Then he said, ‘Oh, hold on a minute. Can you find the number of Miss Todhunter? be able to give me the address I want.’

There was another pause, then the voice replied, ‘Yes, here it is. Gallmouth 850415.’

‘Will you put me through to that number then, please?’ In a moment he heard the ringing tone begin.

It rang six times before the telephone at the other end was lifted and a gruff voice said, 'Mina Todhunter speaking.’

‘This is Andrew Basnett,’ Andrew said. ‘I'm sorry to trouble you, Miss Todhunter, but I need to get Simon Amory's address. It appears I'm wanted there rather urgently, and the fact is that although I was there for dinner yesterday evening, I didn't think of noticing the address. And it isn't in the telephone directory.’

‘That's right, it isn't,’ Mina Todhunter answered. ‘He was always getting bothered by people wanting to inter-view him, or to get money from him for some cause or other, or just to meet him, so that he decided to be ex-directory. I believe it's helped. He's really a very retiring person, and he didn't like the incessant intrusion. But as a matter of fact, he's here now. Would you like to speak to him?’

Andrew felt that he had no desire to speak to Amory until he had spoken to Peter.

‘Oh, I don't want to trouble him,’ he said. ‘But if you could just give me that address …’

‘Yes, of course, it's Barnfield House, Cranleigh Road. If you're going by taxi, it'll only take you a few minutes. But please forgive my asking, is there something wrong
that you're needed so urgently? I mean, your charming young nephew hasn't hurt himself, or anything?’

‘I'm afraid I don't know,’ Andrew answered. ‘I don't think that's the trouble, because it was he who phoned me. But he did sound rather as if something was wrong. Thank you for giving me that address. I'm sorry to have troubled you.’

‘A pleasure/ she said. T hope we may meet again. If you're staying on in Gallmouth for a little while perhaps you could find time to come in for a drink with me. Just call in when you're passing. You would be most welcome.’

Impatience began to grip Andrew. 'Thank you, thank you, I'll do that. Goodbye.’

He put the telephone down, hurriedly put on the shoes that he had kicked off when he lay down on the bed, went out and summoned the lift to take him downstairs. There he asked the woman on the reception desk to call a taxi for him, then he went to wait at the entrance door to the hotel.

As the minutes passed his impatience mounted, with growing anxiety that Peter would never have called him in the way he had unless something truly was wrong. Peter was a person who seemed never to worry unduly. He treated troubles which would have profoundly upset many people with casual acceptance. In his way, Andrew supposed, he had a good deal of courage. He could be casual because he was not afraid. Yet today it really sounded as if something had scared him.