After the Armistice Ball by Catriona McPherson Read Free Book Online Page B

that I could tell she was watching me very intently.
    ‘I see,’ I said, buying some time while I tried to settle on the most diplomatic way I could of asking the questions I needed to ask. It was all I could do not to shout ‘Nonsense!’ and count the lies off on my fingers, for it was the least convincing tale I had ever heard. I began to wonder at her nerve – to think she could get money out of Silas with this rot.
    ‘Did you not worry,’ I said at last, ‘that the thief might go to another room and have better luck there?’
    ‘Oh, don’t think me selfish,’ said Lena. ‘I knew the others would have put their jewels back in the safe after the end of the party. I didn’t imagine anyone else would have anything lying around worth stealing.’
    ‘And why did you not do the same with yours?’ I asked, hoping I did not sound as peremptory as I felt.
    ‘My maid was ill,’ said Lena, ‘and I did not want to entrust them to someone I didn’t know.’
    ‘But didn’t you wonder there and then – when you saw the state of the locks, I mean – about pastes?’ She was beginning to draw herself up again and I saw that we were heading back to sorbet and beyond. This should have to be my last question.
    ‘Such a thing never crossed my mind,’ she said, through pursed lips.
    ‘Well, it wouldn’t,’ I agreed. ‘I shall certainly speak to Daisy about all of this.’
    ‘And Silas too,’ she said. I was beginning to put her down as one of those ladies who, even when past the age to flirt, cannot rid themselves of the idea that the husband is the head of the household and the valve – do I mean valve? – through which all must flow. I am the other kind; I know very well that husbands have all the money and all the say, really, but somehow I never remember to behave as if it were so. (The very strange thing is that if one lives one’s life with this point of view, as though husbands barely exist, they do seem to fade.)
    ‘And Silas too,’ I assured her.
    ‘He needs to be brought to an understanding that although what is lost can never be got back again, and although it may have taken some time to come to light, life does go on and reparation must be made.’ She spoke in a noble tone as though delivering hot tips from an oracle, so I gave the kind of slow nod I thought oracles’ tips demanded.
    There was no chance to talk to Daisy at luncheon (the usual half-hearted luncheon dished up to ladies when their husbands are enjoying lavish picnics somewhere else) but afterwards she and I loitered long enough to let the Duffys settle themselves in the hall again and the bankers’ wives begin an inept game of summer ice in the pavilion while they waited for the croquet lawn to be set, then we lit our cigarettes and strolled down the drive. McSween was up a ladder about a quarter of a mile away towards the gate, lopping industriously at the fresh growth in one of the trees in the avenue, a boy down below catching the clippings, and although they made a plausible object for our walk should anyone wonder why Daisy was neglecting her guests, I certainly wanted to have the conversation done with before we reached them, so in I plunged.
    ‘Silas must be brought to an understanding – this is a direct quote, darling – that although what is lost is gone for ever, life goes on and no matter how much water has passed under the bridge – how did it go? – no matter how many tides have ebbed and waned, he must still, um, cough up in the end.’
    ‘Hmm. Ebbing and waning are the same thing, aren’t they?’ Daisy said. ‘So does she have any proof?’ I drew a large happy sigh; I was looking forward to this bit.
    ‘She thinks she does, but you’ve never heard such a taradiddle in your life, Daisy, I can assure you. Ahem! She was proceeding to take her rest on the night in question,’ I spoke in my best PC Plod, ‘when she was awakened by the sound of an intruder,’ but at this I lost control of my cockney vowels