Lamplight in the Shadows (23 page)

The following day greeted the inhabitants of Bishopsworth with an overcast sky and slight drizzle, causing the usual mutterings about the elements from those attending the morning surgery. Not that there were many. It never ceased to surprise James how many patients miraculously improved in time for last-minute shopping on Christmas Eve morning. From experience, he knew that the town would be empty by midday, with many of the shopkeepers resigned to an enforced early closing through lack of customers.

That said, the main surprise of the day had thus far been an envelope left unopened in his mail tray. Usually, one of the junior admin clerks opened all the mail. However, on this occasion it seemed that the words ‘Strictly Private & Personal' above the address put them off, as did the further imposing declaration (where a stamp would traditionally be placed) that the envelope was to be delivered ‘By Hand', and the rather splendid heraldic badge of the Sherriff of Lincolnshire on the reverse. James sliced it open with a scalpel blade he kept in lieu of a letter-opener, withdrew a stiff white card and read:

Lady Winsonby-Folcroft

At Home

25
^th
January 1992

18.00hrs

Cocktails and canapés

Lounge Suits

RSVP

Helliton Hall,

Helliton,

Lincolnshire

The top left-hand corner had the line ‘Dr & Mrs James Armstrong' appended in a delicate handwriting, in an ink of an equally delicate lilac hue.

‘I guess I underestimated Sir Edward last night,' said James aloud to the empty room. Thoughtfully, he pocketed the invitation, already composing in his mind the letter of apology he would need to write. He could not possibly run the risk of taking Janice and yet he so wanted to keep in the company of the likes of Sir Edward. Making a mental note to consult his battered copy of Debrett's
Correct Form
for advice on the matter, he picked up his overcoat and walked out into the crisp air of a deserted high street.

The Georgian-fronted building presently housing the dental practice of Messrs Craven, Dark and Fawcett had seen a previous existence as one of the town's barber shops. The red-and-white-striped pole still hung above the entrance, retained by George Craven's father when he first started the practice. He had taken a liking to the pole, thinking it a befitting tribute to the historic connection between 16
^th
-century barber surgeons and the modern-day dental surgeons. It still fooled the occasional male newcomer to the town, who popped in for a quick trim only to find himself offered a scale and polish instead.

For many years, it had been the custom for the dental practice to invite the doctors and their staff to a Christmas Eve lunch. It was a simple affair of buffet-style finger food and some cheap wine; nonetheless, it served the purpose of thanking the medical practice for all those dental abscesses the doctors treated over the year at times when there was no urgent appointment available at the dental surgery.

James disliked occasions such as this. An annual ritual of false bonhomie that he would have happily boycotted if it had not been for the persuasive nature of the practice's staff. As he entered the building, the familiar unpleasant aroma of mouthwash and drilled enamel made his nose twitch in mild disgust. Suppressing an auditory hallucination of the whining noise made by high-speed dental drills, he headed for the staff room at the back of the long downstairs corridor. A blanket of noisy chatter greeted him at the door, as the staff from the two practices exchanged some of the juicier gossip that fell outside the boundaries of confidentiality by virtue of already being in the public domain.

James caught sight of Anna and Jackie standing to one side and squeezed his way through the crowd towards them.

‘I was beginning to think that we hadn't been persuasive enough.'

He laughed. ‘Not at all; I wouldn't want to suffer the combined post-Christmas wrath of you lot.' He deposited a large bundle of keys on a nearby filing cabinet. ‘Which is best – the red or white?'

‘No idea, but avoid the rosé; it will be reconstituted dental gargle.'

He squeezed through a nearby gaggle of nurses, pausing only to acknowledge the middle of the three dental partners en route to the buffet table.

‘Hello, Jonathan. Thanks for the invitation. Quite a crowd.'

‘Thanks for coming; it's nice to see you, James, especially as I hear you have to drive to Shropshire this afternoon. It's good of you to spare the time.'

‘Gosh, does nothing escape the gossip train round here?'

Jonathan laughed. ‘I actually heard it from a mutual acquaintance this morning. Someone who was with you at last night's concert. They said you had to spend Christmas with your in-laws.

‘Hmm, I am afraid so. Difficult to get out of that one.'

‘They also told me all about your speech and how you made that rascal Mark Allerton squirm with embarrassment.'

‘I hadn't meant to. The concert was a great success; he deserved the praise. So who did you have pinned down in your torture chamber this morning?'

Jonathan's face took on a conspiratorial look. ‘That is a matter of professional confidence, James. You will just have to suss that one out for yourself.'

‘Dark by name, dark by nature.'

The dentist laughed, handed James a paper plate and reached for a wine glass. ‘Red or white?'

I'll risk the red, please.' James selected a sausage roll and mince pie, before accepting the drink from Jonathan. ‘Thanks. Happy Christmas.' He raised the glass in salute and retreated through the throng to where Ian McGarva and Fiona Fawcett were now chatting with Jackie and Sandra. Behind them, Anna was toying distractedly with the keys James had deposited on his arrival.

‘James, have you met Fiona?'

‘Not before now, although we have spoken professionally a few times on the telephone, usually about stopping someone's aspirin before an extraction. All riveting stuff. Pleased to meet you.' James put his wine glass down on the filing cabinet and extended his now free right hand.

The introduction was, however, short-lived. Fiona Fawcett was an attractive woman. Single and thirty-something, she had a variety of outside interests, every one of which McGarva had seemingly discovered a shared liking for. Within minutes, her attention was again monopolised by his avaricious charm. Meanwhile, Jackie and Sandra drifted across to a group of dental nurses and became engaged in a conversation about Christmas stockings and the season's must-have toys. He turned, retrieved his glass and grimaced as he sipped the inferior contents.

‘I think that is probably best kept for cleaning paint brushes.' He put the glass down again and took a half-hearted bite of a sausage roll, before abandoning that for the mince pie. ‘You're quiet.' The observation was made in Anna's direction. ‘It's not like you to be a wall-flower. A penny for your thoughts?'

‘I was just thinking how repetitive these things are. The same year on year. Everyone seems to be having fun, then home to a few days of misery until we all return on the 27
^th
, pretending to all and sundry that we've had a great time.'

‘Well, I can't say that I am enjoying this any more than I am looking forward to the next two days. In truth, I am only here now as an excuse to delay leaving for Shropshire.'

‘Is Janice coming here to meet you or have you got to drive back to Barminster to collect her?'

‘Neither. She drove herself down to Shropshire this morning.'

‘Oh.' Anna toyed again with the keys, carefully selected a brass Yale key and extended it away from the rest. Running her finger slowly along the key she glanced towards James. ‘Am I right?'

His gaze hovered on the front door key to his flat, whilst he mentally processed the powerfully received sense of innuendo. ‘Only half correct.'

Anna laughed and took a sip of wine, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. ‘How did last night go?'

The change of subject was slick. ‘The concert at Helliton?'

‘Yes, unless you went somewhere else and didn't tell me.'

‘Actually, it was most enjoyable. I sat in the same pew as the High Sherriff. His wife this morning sent me an invitation to a cocktail party in January. Not that I met her last night. Sir Edward appeared to be accompanying someone called Mrs McPhearson.'

‘Of course. Apparently, Lady Winsonby-Folcroft does not go to many things with him. However, rumour has it that the three of them get along well enough.'

‘You mean she knows about his affair with Mrs McP?'

‘Knows and accepts it, apparently. Ask Jonathan Dark; he gets to hear it all first-hand from Mrs McP herself when she comes for her monthly polish.'

James smiled and slowly nodded, realising who had been the source of the dentist's gossip that morning. ‘That explains a few things.'

‘Are you going to accept the invitation?'

‘I'm not sure. I'd like to, but I can't see Janice wanting to go and it might seem strange going alone.'

‘I could come with you.'

James laughed. ‘Now, that would really get the tongues wagging.'

‘Why not?' She toyed again with the Yale key. ‘I think I would very much like to come with you. I think we would be good together. What's stopping you?'

The seventh commandment probably should be
, thought James, reflecting on the double entendre that he detected in Anna's facial expression. Strangely, the concept of breaking one of the Old Testament laws no longer seemed as powerful as he might previously have expected. Try as he might, he could not even recollect the exact chapter of Exodus in which they appeared.

‘If I am reading you correctly then, somewhat surprisingly, nothing at all.' He reached across to the keys and placed a chrome Chubb key alongside the Yale key. ‘I said you were only half correct.' Picking up the previously rejected glass of wine he emptied its contents in one go, replaced the glass on the cabinet and, without a further word, turned and left the room.

Taking time to finish her own drink, Anna watched his retreating back, a small smile on her lips. A few moments later, she picked up his keys and followed him out into the cold December afternoon.