yours. I’ll send you my bill.’
He hadn’t sent me a bill for years.
We arrived back home at about ten thirty, far too late to go out to eat, as I had planned.
‘Package for you, Mr Halley,’ said the night porter as we arrived. Derek had gone off duty.
The package was, in fact, a brown manila envelope about seven by ten inches. It had ‘SID HALLEY — BY HAND’ written in capital letters on the front.
‘When did this arrive?’ I asked the porter.
‘About five minutes ago,’ he said. ‘It came by taxi. The driver said he had been paid to deliver the package and that you were expecting it.’
‘Well, I wasn’t.’
I opened the flat envelope. There was a single sheet of paper inside. It was a newspaper cutting from Monday’s
‘Listen to the message. Someone could get badly hurt’ was written across the bottom of the picture in thick red felt-tip.
And a big red ‘X’ had been drawn across Marina’s face.
CHAPTER 10
When in trouble, seek sanctuary.
I decided we should go to Aynsford.
Marina had become very agitated on seeing the newspaper cutting. She was sure that we were being watched and I agreed with her. She packed a few clothes whilst I rang Charles.
‘What, now?’ he asked. Charles was old-fashioned in that his house telephone stood on a table in the hallway and I could imagine him glancing at his long-case grandfather clock. It would have told him that it was after ten thirty, almost his bedtime.
‘Yes, Charles. Now, please.’
‘Physical or mental problem?’ he asked. He knew me too well.
‘Bit of both,’ I said. ‘But it’s not me, it’s Marina.’
‘Marina?’
‘I told you about her last week,’ I said. ‘She’s Dutch and beautiful. Remember?’
‘Vaguely,’ he said.
Was he trying to make me cross?
‘I suppose it’s all right,’ he said without conviction.
‘Look, Charles, we won’t come. Sorry to have bothered you.’
‘No,’ he said, sounding a bit more determined. ‘Come. Does this Dutch beauty need her own room or are you two… together?’
‘Charles,’ I said, ‘you’re losing your marbles. I told you last week. We’re together.’
‘Right. So it’s one room then?’
‘Yes.’
Suddenly it didn’t seem to be a good idea any more. Charles was being very reticent and I certainly did not want to abuse his hospitality. Perhaps bringing a new girlfriend into the house of my ex-father-in-law was not, after all, very prudent.
‘Charles, perhaps it would be best if we didn’t come.’
‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘I’m expecting you now. Looking forward to it. How long will you be staying?’
‘Only for the weekend, I expect.’
‘Jenny and Anthony are coming on Sunday.’
Ah, now I understood. Jenny, my ex, had always put her father in a spin. In the Navy, he had been at the centre of command and control but he could be reduced to a gibbering wreck by the cutting tongue of his only daughter. Just the thought of her imminent arrival had sent him into a fluster.
‘What time on Sunday?’ I asked.
‘Oh, for dinner, I think. Mrs Cross has the details.’
Mrs Cross was his housekeeper.
‘We’ll be gone by then.’
It would save a scene that Jenny would have relished. Not my injuries this time but my girlfriend’s. How delicious, she would think. The former Mrs Halley, the current Lady Wingham, would have had a field day.
‘Oh, right. Good.’ Charles, too, could see that it was an encounter best avoided.
‘We’ll be there in an hour and a half,’ I said. ‘Leave the back door open and I’ll lock it when we get in. No need for you to stay up.’
‘Of course I’ll be up. Drive carefully.’
As if I wouldn’t. Just because someone says ‘drive carefully’, does it make people actually drive more carefully? I suspect not.
We left the lights on in the flat and went down through the building to the garage. Marina lay down on the back seat of the car as I drove out on to Ebury Street. Anyone watching would have thought I was on my own and assumed that Marina was alone upstairs.
I jumped two sets of red lights and went round Hyde Park Corner three times before I was satisfied that we weren’t being followed.
I drove, very carefully, along the M40 to Oxford and then cross-country to Aynsford, arriving there soon after midnight. Marina, having transferred to the front passenger seat, slept most of the way but was finally woken by the constant turning of the narrow lanes and the humpback bridge over the canal as we approached the village.
‘Nearly there, my angel,’ I said, stroking her knee with my unfeeling hand.
‘My bloody mouth hurts.’
‘I’ll get you something for that as soon as we get in.’
Charles was not only still up but he was still dressed, and in a dark blue blazer and tie.
No one could ever accuse Charles of being under-dressed. He had once worn his dinner jacket to a ‘formal’ dinner for his great-nephews. The formality of the dinner meant that the great-nephews had to use a knife and fork rather than their fingers, and Charles had looked a little out of place in Pizzaland in his bow-tie. He hadn’t cared. Better to be over than under, he’d said, better than wearing a lounge suit to a Royal Naval ‘Dining In’ night, better than wearing a sweater to church.
He came out to meet us as I pulled up in front of the house and fussed over Marina. He was genuinely shocked that anyone could have hit a woman, especially one clearly so beautiful as Marina. Her face didn’t look very beautiful at the moment with a badly swollen lip and two blackening eyes. I knew it would look worse in the morning.
‘It’s outrageous,’ he said. ‘Only a coward would hit a woman.’
Charles was a great believer in chivalry. He didn’t care that many of his ideals were out of date. He had said to me once that, at his age, people expected him to have old-fashioned views so he didn’t disappoint them.
Charles found some painkillers and a sleeping pill for Marina and she was soon tucked up in bed. He and I retired to his small sitting room for a whisky.
‘I hope I’m not keeping you up,’ I said.
‘You are,’ he replied, ‘but I’m happy to be kept up. What’s this all about?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘It’s a long night.’
‘Do you remember Gold Cup day at Cheltenham?’ I asked.
‘Difficult to forget.’
‘Huw Walker was murdered over something to do with race fixing. Murder seems to be a bit of an over-
