Sobered, Roskill allowed himself to be steered away from the group. The crowning indignity was that the Arab actually covered their retreat.
'These technological people,' Roskill heard him begin deprecatingly, 'experts in their own spheres, but politically naive ...'
By God, it was true enough!
Havergal pushed him gently through the crowd to the wizened waiter's corner.
'Same again, Wadsworth,' he commanded, conjuring up more of the elixir from under the table,
He handed Roskill back his glass. 'Nearly a nasty accident there, Ross – it is Ross or haven't I got it right?'
All the British top brass on the Ryle Foundation were politically respectable – reliable even – except Llewelyn's friend Wilkinson, against whom Audley had warned him. In any case, it was hard to imagine Havergal taking any part in the sort of enterprise he must have fought for most of his military career. And the cat was out. of the bag, anyway.
'Roskill.'
'Roskill?' Havergal tested the name. 'I don't think I've seen you at any of our gatherings before. I take it you're just back from the field. Are you Red Sea or the Gulf or the Med?'
Havergal was far too courteous to say 'Who the hell are you, sir?'
but that was what it amounted to. There would be no putting off a dummy2
wily old bird like him for long, either – it would be far safer to conscript his help. But that could only be attempted after positive clearance, and in the meantime put off he had to be.
'I'm a friend of Sir John and Lady Kyle's.'
'Indeed?' Havergal craned his neck and peered over the heads around them. His intention was obvious.
'Lady Ryle doesn't know that I'm here tonight.' He had known in his bones that his failure to reach her during the afternoon might turn out awkward.
'She doesn't?' Havergal's tone was neutral rather than disbelieving.
'Well, it will be a pleasant surprise for her, won't it? She's coming this way – shall we go and meet her?'
The courtesy was rock-hard now – and the good-mannered gesture allowing Roskill to lead the way was a command.
If you only knew, Colonel, thought Roskill, if you only knew...
He saw her first: the dark head so carefully tinted that only an expert might guess the first grey hairs were being kept at bay, her outward air of confidence and breeding tempered as ever by an equally evident inner warmth and gentleness No wonder all those charities liked to have her on their committees. 'My dear, I believe I've got a friend of yours here,' Havergal sounded less assured now, as though he found the prospect of embarrassing her distasteful.
She saw him. 'Hugh!'
'Isobel.'
Hints and lies about desalination clogged in his throat, even though he knew she'd be quick to pick them up: practice had made that dummy2
second nature for them. Already she was covering her surprise with pleasure.
'Hugh – how lovely to see you!' She turned to Havergal. 'Squadron Leader Roskill and I are very old friends, Archie – it was kind of you to help him to find me. But Hugh – I thought you were up at Snettisham?'
'Snettisham?' Havergal snorted the name as though he knew it, frowning. The rank and the place name added up to an active profession which had nothing to do with desalination, but the beard and the clumsy deception contradicted the addition. Even the fact that he might connect the Ryles and Snettisham wouldn't account for the reason why someone like Isobel Ryle should be so happy to meet so dark a horse. 'I know your C.O., Roskill – or I used to know him.'
'Valentine?' said Roskill. Valentine had flown Hunters in Aden and up the Gulf in his younger days. That placed Havergal appropriately.
Havergal nodded, measuring Roskill speculatively.
'Something came up to change my plans,' said Roskill. And to change my plans this evening, too, he thought. However much he hated to involve her it was unavoidable now. 'Can I see you later tonight?'
He glanced at Havergal, coming to an immediate decision. 'And you, too, Colonel Havergal?'
'Are you going to the dinner after this reception, my dear?'
Havergal asked Isobel.
dummy2
'No, Archie. I've – I've only just got back from holiday. I've got a million things to do.'
'I'm not going to the dinner either,' said Havergal. 'I had a prior engagement.' He looked at Roskill. 'Which I shall break.'
'Can't it wait until tomorrow, Hugh?' Isobel sounded doubtful. 'I really do have a lot to do – and I'm awfully tired.'
'I don't think it can wait, can it, Roskill?' said Havergal. 'And if it concerns both of us, I'm afraid it's something I've been afraid of for a long time.'
VI
IT WAS ONLY after he had actually parked there that Roskill realised he had driven into Bunnock Street from habit, not necessity.
He hated the dingy cul-de-sac, with its blank-faced houses; it always had orange peel and empty cigarette
