Stephanie (38 page)

‘All the more reason –'

‘But so what? It's another hazard in life, that's all, to add to those that exist already. You or I might have a coronary tomorrow – or a stroke or what you will. There's always things waiting round the corner that you close your eyes to and hope to dodge. This is just another, and the chances are you'll dodge it. If it would make you happier to marry – and I think it would – and I'm sure Mary would like it, don't dither about, take it on board without any more hesitations. D'you know what old George Hoskins said to me the other day?'

‘I couldn't guess.'

‘He said, “When you get to seventy-five any pleasure you have after that is like having a picnic in a graveyard.” He was always a miserable old bugger but he had a point. So what are you? – a bit younger than I am – not yet sixty-six? With luck we shall have a few interesting and constructive and enjoyable years before we reach George Hoskins' eminence.'

James crossed his ankles, which for once had been comfortable today.

‘What's happened to that Indian – Nari Prasad?'

‘Oh, they found him in the ambulance – as I told you – a bit knocked about, but he's all right. The police have got him in protective custody until after the trial.'

‘And then they'll ship him back to India?'

‘I don't think so. Some sort of a bargain was struck. He'll get a new name, a chance for a fresh start.'

‘In England?'

‘If they said that. Chief thing is for him to go to some place where he can merge into the landscape.'

‘When is the trial?'

‘Oh not yet. Trouble is, of course, most of the main villains are out of reach. You topped two, and the head of it all topped himself.'

‘The tumour will grow again.'

‘Of course. But it'll leave a huge gap that'll take time to fill. John Peron is the biggest fish we've caught, but there are a dozen others. The drug squad are delighted.'

It was a warm day, and the scent of new-mown grass wafted in the breeze.

‘But the case of Stephanie's death can't be reopened?'

‘Depends on Arun Jiva. He'll be closely questioned for a long time. On the face of it it seems unlikely he will ever say enough, but one never knows. He has a tremendous arrogance, and he might be cleverly led on.'

James frowned. ‘Did your students cut this lawn?'

‘Yes. Chap called Harrington. Reading PPE. Quite a good job, but he left the machine in rather a mess.'

‘Most things are left in rather a mess,' James said. ‘I hope I'm not a specially vindictive man, but I'd like somebody to be tried for the murder of Stephanie. Not just to see him get a few more years in prison but to clear her name.'

‘I think Death by Misadventure has been pretty well accepted by everyone now. What did you do with the suicide note?'

‘Burned it. But Anne Vincent might talk.'

‘She won't. I had a long session with her.'

After a silence James said: ‘ The stigma remains. A girl who killed herself because she'd been rejected by her lover. Or a girl who drank so much that she didn't realise she'd taken an overdose of sleeping pills.'

There was not much Henry could say, so he said nothing. There was another long silence.

Eventually James said: ‘Well, I suppose Brune's self-disposal lifted the problem of the Encaenia out of Alistair's lap. And out of the Chancellor's too.'

‘It was a near thing.'

‘If Errol had taken up with some other girl none of this would have happened.'

‘Indeed. Which could devoutly have been wished.'

‘Probably Brune would have received his doctorate and the University some further big donations. And no one the wiser. And perhaps no one the worse.'

‘I don't know. I wouldn't say that.'

‘Brune certainly would.'

‘Nemesis followed him,' Henry said.

‘What?'

‘Nemesis. With you in the title role.'

‘I would have been happy not to have played it.'

‘Of course.'

In the distance four ladies were walking in the garden: the two rich spinsters and Evelyn and Mary.

Henry said suddenly: ‘Colton and Apostoleris were rubbish – better out of the way. But I would have liked to hear what Peter Brune had to say for himself, how he could have explained everything –
anything
– apart from what little he said at that last dinner party. A personal friend I've known for upwards of a quarter of a century … Fortunately I never talk to anyone on security matters … Although no one has accused Brune of being connected with terrorism, one never knows where one criminality ends and another begins.' He stooped to pluck up a thistle which seemed to have grown overnight. ‘But we have talked often of college problems and the like – life in London, charitable ramps, police discipline, Welsh miners, grubby politicians, Middle East madness; you know, the sort of things
we
talk about. He's even advised me on investments, usually very well. I would have trusted him as much as I have trusted you. Yet he has, it seems, not only been head of this organisation but instigated – or condoned – Stephanie's death. That is the most horrifying thing of all.'

‘I too would have liked to talk to him,' James said.

Henry looked down at his invalid friend. ‘Perhaps it's as well you did not.'

A pack of clouds obscured the sun. They had drifted up unnoticed like an unexpected frown. The four ladies were approaching. Evelyn, wearing a shapeless frock, hair lifting in the breeze, was talking animatedly and making Mary laugh. A shaft of sun pursued the women with deliberation like an arc light on a stage.

James looked up at the broken sky. He did not cavil at the thought of the life ahead of him, if only he could have forgotten the past. Memories of Stephanie would never go away. No more, for years, had thoughts of Janet. Yet one could only try to live for the day.
One moment in annihilation's waste, One moment of the well of life to taste. The stars are waning and the Caravan starts for the dawn of nothing. Oh make haste
. For the relatively short time left, would the well of life always be sour? He did not know. But he had one charming daughter and an agreeable son-in-law, and a first grandchild expected next week. And a housekeeper called Mary who seemed resigned – even willing – to be his wife. Even if one couldn't be happy oneself, was it not a pretty thing to try to make others happy?

Henry gave the chair a push towards the ladies. ‘Right ahead?' he asked.

‘Right ahead.'

First published in 1992 by Chapmans

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