“Yes,” said Wyman. “Brief ly.”
“Do you visit there often?”
“Whenever I can get away. Theater and film are my passions, so London’s the place to soak it all up. The bookshops, too, of course.”
“Mrs. Wyman?”
She smiled indulgently at her husband, as if rather pleased that he had a childish enthusiasm to fire him. “I’m more at home with a good book,” she said. “A Jane Austen or Elizabeth Gaskell. I’m afraid the dazzle of the footlights and the smell of greasepaint are a bit rich for my sensibilities.”
7 0 P E T E R
R O B I N S O N
“Carol’s a bit of a philistine,” said Wyman, “though she’s not lacking in education.” He had a noticeable Yorkshire accent, but he didn’t use many Yorkshire idioms or contractions in his speech. Banks thought that was probably because he’d been to university and spent plenty of time away.
“Do you teach, Mrs. Wyman?” Banks asked.
“Good Lord, no. I don’t think I could handle any more adolescent angst,” she said. “And the little ones would be too wild for me. I’m a part-time receptionist at the medical center. Would you like me to make some tea?”
Everyone thought that sounded like a good idea. Seeming pleased to have something to do, Mrs. Wyman went through to the kitchen.
“Were many of these London trips made with Mark Hardcastle?”
Banks asked Wyman.
“Good Lord, no! This was the first. And I wasn’t really
“Can you explain?”
“Of course. Ask away.”
“When did you go down?”
“Wednesday morning. I took the twelve-thirty train from York. It arrived at about a quarter to three. On time, for once.”
“Was Mark with you?”
“No. He drove down by himself.”
“Why was that? I mean, why didn’t you travel together?”
“I like the train. We were leaving at different times. Besides, I assume Mark had other things he wanted to do, perhaps other places to go. He needed to be mobile, and I didn’t want to be dependent on him. I’m quite happy traveling by tube and bus when I’m in London.
In fact, I rather enjoy it. I can get some reading done, or just watch the world go by. I don’t even mind when they’re late. I get even more reading done then.”
“You should be doing adverts for National Express,” Banks said.
Wyman laughed. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. But the thought of driving down the M1 in a car . . . well, frankly, it terrifies me. All those lorries. And driving in London . . . Then there’s the congestion charges.”
Banks didn’t enjoy driving in London much himself, though he had A L L T H E C O L O R S O F D A R K N E S S
7 1
got more used to it since he started seeing Sophia. Sometimes he took the train for a change, and she occasionally did the same when she came up north, though she had a little Ford Focus runaround and drove up now and then. “And the purpose of the trip was?”
“The German Expressionist Cinema retrospective at the National Film Theatre.”
“For both of you?”
“Well, we were both interested in it, certainly, but as I said, Mark may have had other things to do. He didn’t say. We didn’t spend that much time together.”
“Can you tell me what you actually
“Yes, of course. We met for a bite to eat at Zizzi’s on Charlotte Street that first evening, about six o’clock, before the showing. It was a pleasant evening, and we managed to get a table on the pavement out front.”
“What did you have to eat?” If Wyman was puzzled by the question, he didn’t show it.
“Pizza.”
“Who paid?”
“We went Dutch.”
“Do you still have your receipt?”
Wyman frowned. “It might be in my wallet somewhere. I can check, if you like?”
“Later will do,” said Banks. “And after dinner?”
“We went to see the films.
