Authors: David Roberts
‘Or married to rich husbands,’ Verity said with sarcasm.
‘V! Wash your mouth out. It doesn’t always come down to sex.’
‘Huh! It does with the men I know,’ she said. ‘Money and sex.’ Seeing his face fall, she added, ‘Not that I mind that, poppet. There are some men . . . no,
one
man I like having money and . . .’
‘Be that as it may,’ Edward went on hurriedly. ‘The fact is, I think Georgina is a lesbian.’
‘Now who should wash their mouth out?’
‘No, I do, V. I’m serious. All the chat in the clubhouse suggested it was an accepted fact. You know, “I didn’t expect to see you here with a man” sort of stuff. What’s more, I think her lover was, or maybe is, Miss Hawkins, Desmond Lyall’s secretary. They live close to each other and Mrs Westmacott – quite innocently – gave me the impression they were more than just “chums”.’
‘I see where you’re going! Miss Hawkins killed . . . No, I don’t! Continue to expound, master. I am metaphorically – and in fact – at your feet.’
‘Jane Williams, the junior secretary to Miss Hawkins, heard Westmacott having a row with Lyall just before he was murdered.’
‘When was this exactly?’
‘About six weeks ago. She heard Westmacott saying, “Why should I? What you are telling me to do is wrong.” Then Miss Hawkins turned up and stopped her hearing anything more, unfortunately. And Mrs Westmacott said he was worried by papers he brought home, one of which she happened to catch sight of. It pertained . . .’
‘”Pertained”? What sort of word is that?’
‘She saw the address on a letter. It was the address of a secret defence establishment which Lyall might have known about, but not Westmacott.’
Edward felt guilty. He knew he could not be quite frank with Verity. She was a Communist and she was a journalist and he could not trust her with any details about the nature of the work done at Bawdsey. It saddened him but there it was.
‘So what was Westmacott doing with these papers?’
‘I think he had found them on Lyall’s desk and had jumped to the conclusion – probably correct – that he was passing them on to . . . well, I don’t know . . . a foreign power, let’s say.’
‘So what had Lyall told Westmacott to do which he didn’t want to?’
‘That’s the question! We can only guess. Miss Hawkins gave me some anodyne hogwash which I did not believe for a moment. She said they were arguing about the accuracy of Westmacott’s reports but I would say Lyall was asking Westmacott not to report him to Vansittart or the police.’
‘Perhaps, but Miss Hawkins may have been telling the truth and you may be jumping to conclusions. Your theory doesn’t hold water. If the file in question was Westmacott’s only evidence against Lyall it doesn’t amount to much. Lyall had a right to read this file, according to you. Westmacott certainly didn’t. Surely, it was Lyall who could have . . .
should
have reported him for leaking secret stuff to Churchill?’
‘He may not have known Westmacott was leaking information.’
Verity thought for a moment. Then she asked, ‘Would Churchill have wanted to read the file – the top secret one?’
‘No. I happen to know that the information in the file wasn’t the sort of stuff Churchill was after. It wasn’t facts and figures about the strength of the RAF or the Luftwaffe, which is what Mr Churchill needs. Furthermore, I happen to know that he already knew what this file contained.’
‘How?’
‘From other sources.’
‘And you can’t tell me what the file was about?’
‘Sorry, V, but no.’ Surprisingly, she did not challenge this. ‘Perhaps there was some other evidence Westmacott had that we don’t know about,’ he suggested.
‘So Lyall murdered Westmacott to save his own skin after Westmacott threatened to expose him?’
‘I think so, V, but I admit I’m only speculating.’
‘But the hanging . . . Could Lyall have done that himself?’
‘I don’t think so. We have to trust Spotty on that. It was our enemy, Major Stille. One, or maybe two, of his men hanged him at Lyall’s request.’
‘You mean Lyall alerted Stille, to whom he was passing secrets, that his position was threatened and so Stille killed Westmacott?’
‘Yes.’
Verity shivered.
‘Are you cold?’ Edward inquired solicitously.
‘No, I was just remembering what Stille did to my little dog. Poor Max! No one is safe until the Nazis are . . .’ She stopped and then asked, ‘But I don’t understand why Stille should make such a song and dance of it. I don’t mean that,’ she said hastily – a vision of Westmacott’s body twisting in the wind underneath Chelsea Bridge coming into her mind – ‘I mean, why make his murder so showy?’
‘Well, I can only think the Nazis were making it clear to others how they would deal with their enemies. Frighten people – after all, that’s why they killed Max.’
‘Well, they didn’t frighten me – the bastards.’ She stopped again, as if trying to eradicate the memory of her dog lying on her bed with its throat cut. ‘And the powder compact you found?’ she said, trying to put the picture out of her mind.
‘It belonged to Lyall’s wife. I think he must have been torn by curiosity or even – let’s give him the benefit of the doubt – remorse. He went to see where Westmacott was murdered and left the powder compact there by mistake. It must have fallen out of his pocket.’
‘Two questions: why did he carry around his wife’s powder compact and why are you sure it was only after the event that he went to Chelsea Bridge?’
‘To answer your second question first: Chief Inspector Pride’s men are thorough. If the compact had been there when they took down the body, they would have found it. As to why he had the thing on him in the first place, I think it was part of a very special present – a wedding or anniversary present – he had given his wife. After she died, he wanted something to remind him of her – to have by him all the time. I can understand that.’
He looked at Verity and wondered, if she had been killed at Guernica instead of or with Gerda, what he would have had to remind him of her. He realized he had nothing – no ring, nothing.
She may have read his thoughts because she hurried on. ‘So Georgina found out somehow, perhaps through Miss Hawkins, that Lyall was the murderer and she persuaded Miss Hawkins to poison his cigarettes and revenge her brother-in-law’s death?’
‘That’s what it looks like.’
‘Do you think Lyall knew about Miss Hawkins being a chum of Westmacott’s sister-in-law?’
‘I have no idea but it doesn’t affect things one way or the other. Pride has checked up on how Miss Hawkins and Westmacott were employed. They were both working in the Foreign Office when Lyall’s department was set up and there is no evidence in the files that, when they were transferred to this new department, the fact that they knew each other ever came up. I think it suited both of them to keep it quiet. They are – or in Westmacott’s case were – reserved, private people who would hate gossip of any kind. Neither of them socialized outside office hours, but, of course, Lyall
may
have known. Did I tell you, Jane Williams was appointed because her father was a friend of Lyall’s?’
‘No, you didn’t. It’s all too . . . matey. I bet you would find that most people in the Foreign Office – and I may add in all government departments – are where they are because they “knew” someone. Pulling strings! There ought to be proper examinations and interviews open to anyone.’
‘Oh, come on, V! You can’t mean that. People need to trust each other. You have to recruit people you know . . . who play by the same rules . . . who won’t betray . . .’
‘Tosh! According to you both Lyall and Westmacott
did
betray the secrets they had been entrusted with.’
‘
Touché
,’ Edward said. ‘But still, you know what I mean. There are always rotten apples but, on the whole, people . . . you know, from our class . . . well, they don’t betray.’
Verity looked at him strangely. ‘Do you really believe that? You call me naïve but that’s . . . For a start, I thought you believed all we Communists were . . . Oh, forget it. Let’s get back to the murders. One thing you’ll never make me believe is that Miss Hawkins murdered Lyall, the boss she obviously adored, because she knew he was responsible for the death of her friend’s brother-in-law. She might have been torn by conflicting loyalties but she would have needed a much stronger motive for killing.’
‘No one is suggesting that.’
‘So, you have got it all wrapped up, nice and tidy?’
‘I thought I had but now I’m not so sure. It’s the chrysanthemums that worry me. What do they signify and why was one found in Georgina’s car?’ Edward told her what Barney, Georgina’s mechanic, had said.
‘If Georgina had killed Lyall to avenge her brother-in-law, might she not have left it there to mislead you?’
‘It’s possible, V, but what was the chance of me ever seeing it unless she thrust it under my nose? I got the feeling she had no idea that the dead chrysanthemum meant anything at all – and perhaps it doesn’t. Oh, hang it all . . talking it through with you has left me more confused than before.’
‘Thanks a lot!’
They were silent for a moment, meditating. At last Verity said, ‘What
is
the significance of the chrysanthemum? I mean, are there myths and legends associated with it? I remember once, when I was a little girl, my father gave me a book called
The Meaning of Flowers
– or something like that. I’m afraid I never read it.’
‘I looked it up,’ Edward said smugly. ‘Chrysanthemum, of course, comes from the Greek word meaning golden flower.’
‘Of course!’ Verity said ironically.
‘In Japan, the imperial coat of arms contains a golden chrysanthemum. The Japanese legend – well, it’s also a Chinese legend – tells of a terrible storm. A bamboo boat is blown on to an island. The boat’s full of golden chrysanthemums tended by twelve maidens and twelve boys.’
‘It’s that sort of story, is it?’ she interjected. Edward ignored her.
‘They had been sent to trade the chrysanthemums for the secret of eternal youth but the island proved to be uninhabited so they settled down and built the Japanese empire.’
‘But you said it was also a Chinese legend.’
‘Patience! The aforementioned maidens and boys were Chinese. The chrysanthemum originated in China where it was so highly prized by the nobility that peasants were forbidden to grow them.’
‘Is that it then?’
‘No, actually. There’s another Japanese myth about there being so many gods that some were sent down to earth. The god Izanagi strayed into Black Night. He managed to get back to earth and went for a bath to purify himself. The jewels he wore turned into flowers – specifically, his necklace was transformed into a golden chrysanthemum.’
‘How confusing. Which legend do we go for?’
‘I haven’t a clue. None of them, probably.’
‘What do we do then?’
With great difficulty, Edward refrained from smiling. It was just as he had hoped. Verity’s naturally curious mind had taken charge. Instead of dwelling on the terrible events of the past weeks and the frustration of seeing her account of the massacre at Guernica ignored or dismissed as an exaggeration, she was concentrating on this new puzzle.
‘We go to Brooklands on Saturday and keep our eyes open. My instinct – and it is rarely wrong,’ he added to annoy her, ‘is that Things are Coming to a Head.’
The gleam in his eye as he capitalized coming-to-a-head seemed to satisfy Verity and she smiled.
‘Now, V, you must rest. I will telephone you tonight.’ He kissed her on the forehead.
He felt at peace. Verity had been badly wounded but she was alive and she was safe. Europe might have begun its slide into the abyss but in England it was still safe.
It was, Edward thought as he parked the Lagonda and strolled into the crowded clubhouse, very much like Goodwood or the Epsom Derby. Although no one wore top hat and tails – suits were the order of the day – it was what
Tatler
referred to as a ‘glittering occasion’. Society was well represented. Lord and Lady Mountbatten and their ‘fast’ set adored Brooklands though today, Edward noticed, Mountbatten was not with his wife but a startlingly pretty young actress whose name Edward could not remember. He raised his hat to the Kents – the Duchess elegant as ever in a silver fox tippet – and again to the Marlboroughs arriving in their Rolls with Margaret Whigham, top debutante of her year, shortly to marry the US golfer Charles Sweeney. As
Tatler
remarked after the last race meeting, ‘Brooklands could hardly be called dowdy if Miss Whigham is there.’
As promised, Percy Bradley, the Clerk of the Course, had arranged for Verity to have a special seat on the roof of the pits where she could watch the parade and the races in comfort. These new ferro-concrete ‘pits’ had just been completed – the first of their kind in Britain – and provided drivers with the most modern facilities for repairing faults, changing tyres and generally getting their cars back on the track in the minimum of time. It was an added bonus that privileged spectators could watch the racing from the roof.
A steward went back to the Lagonda with Edward and escorted Verity – who had firmly refused a wheelchair – up the stairs while Edward and Fenton danced attendance. The Hassels were also coming but in their own car with Mrs Westmacott and Alice. As soon as Verity was seated, she was quickly surrounded by friends and Edward was touched by the affection and respect with which she was greeted. Her reports from Spain had made her famous and her account of the razing of Guernica had drawn as much attention as George Steer’s in
The Times
. The
New Gazette
was now acknowledged to have one of the finest foreign desks in Fleet Street.
Leaving Fenton to look after Verity and make sure she did not exhaust herself – this was her first social outing since returning from Spain – Edward went to stretch his legs and admire the real stars of the day – the cars, particularly those driven by the ladies. Many of the cars were having their final polish in preparation for the parade. Doreen Evans was surrounded by admirers in her special bodied single-seater MG. Jill Thomas in her Frazer Nash-BMW 328 and Margaret Allan in her husband’s 4.5-litre Bentley which, she informed Edward, was much faster than his Lagonda, also drew crowds. It struck him again that so many of the ladies were tiny compared with the machines they drove and sometimes they had difficulty reaching the pedals or seeing over the steering wheel without artificial aids. Kay Petre, for one, looked quite unable to control her powerful car but Edward knew she was as effective and fast on the track as all but the very top male drivers. Georgina looked quite tall beside her. She was standing beside the Napier Railton she was to drive in the parade and talking to Barney. She seemed pleased to see him but was, understandably, preoccupied with the parade and her race which was to be the first of the day. He did not stay long but thanked her for introducing him to Percy Bradley who had made Verity’s outing possible.