He didn't mention that he'd made a fortune out of the book – enough to make him financially independent for life. Jennie grabbed Gaunt by the arm.
'Don't forget the parking ticket. They check the cars here regularly.'
'What are you waiting for, then?' Gaunt asked in his most imperious manner. 'You know where the machine is.'
I'll come with you,' Paula said.
She hadn't taken to Jennie up to that moment, but Gaunt's treatment of his girl friend aroused her ire. She asked the question as Jennie fed the machine with coins.
'Why do you put up with him?'
'Oh, he's utterly impossible,' Jennie replied. 'Then he turns on the charm and is utterly irresistible. You must have found out,' she continued as they walked back to the Land-Rover, 'that men are not perfect, to say the least.'
'He's pretty damned imperfect, I'd have said.' Paula looked at Jennie as she went on: 'Incidentally, have you two been taking the fresh air this morning – roving round on the moor?'
Was it her imagination or had Jennie's expression frozen for several seconds? Were these two putting on a big act? Jennie lifted her hand to push back a wave of golden hair from her face and glanced sideways at Paula. She made a throwaway gesture with both hands.
'Floating round the back streets of Padstow. His lordship is trying to kid me he'll buy me a flat here. I don't believe a word of it. What's he on about now?'
'Come on!' Gaunt barked. 'I've just invited our friends to a drink. The Old Custom House. Best bar in town.'
'I can't wait,' Jennie said savagely as she attached the ticket. 'Now you can drink all day.'
'Makes me sound like a real boozer,' Gaunt roared. 'One of the great leg-pullers, my Jennie.'
'Your Jennie,' she said sweetly, 'would like to pull a leg off you. And this time you can buy the drinks for a change.'
'She's a joker, a real joker.' Gaunt slapped her on the rump. 'Likes to make out I'm mean and God knows what else. I like a woman I can cross swords with.'
'If I had a sword I'd stick it in you…'
Gaunt had gone, waving his arm in a dramatic gesture for everyone to follow him. Cardon joined him inside the entrance on the South Quay side. Newman paused until Paula and Jennie had entered. Beyond the doorway Jennie waited for Newman, looped her arm round his.
'Let's get to know each other better.' She gave him a wicked smile. 'I think you and I would make a wonderful team.'
'If you say so,' Newman replied neutrally.
She doesn't waste any bloody time, Paula thought, reverting to her original opinion of Jennie. Paula examined the bar with interest. An inviting place, it had an oak-beamed ceiling, a long bar to her right, and the main area in front of the counter had plenty of tables with comfortable chairs. To her left there was an elevated split-level section behind a wooden railing. Two steps led up to the entrance to the upper level.
The walls were cream-washed stone and the spacious room was illuminated by wall sconces with milky glass shades shaped like bells. A number of customers were already drinking and the atmosphere was warm and welcoming.
'What are you drinking, Paula?' boomed Gaunt. 'And you, Philip,' he said, turning to Cardon. 'And our distinguished foreign correspondent,' he went on booming. 'I suppose you'd like something too, Jennie,' he added as an afterthought. 'This is my round.'
'A gin and tonic,' Jennie snapped. 'If it won't break the bank.'
Her expression suggested she was amazed – that this was the first time Gaunt had stood a round of drinks. Newman frowned at the fair-haired girl behind the counter. He knew she was about to say, 'Your usual, sir?' He did not want Gaunt to know he was staying at the Old Custom House. Quick-witted, the girl kept silent.
'I'll have a Scotch. No water,' Newman decided.
'Make that a double!' Gaunt ordered.
'Very good, Squire…'
That was the first hint Paula had that Gaunt was a well-known customer. She had to admit he cut an impressive figure. Doffing his deerstalker, he turned, spun it across the rail where it landed in a green button- backed armchair in front of a blazing log fire.
He swept off the sheepskin coat he had been wearing and underneath was clad in a check hacking jacket. Very much the country gentleman, Paula thought. He handed her the gin and tonic she had ordered and Paula passed it to Jennie. He frowned, shrugged his broad shoulders, collected another one, handed the second glass to Paula.
'Thanks,' Jennie whispered to Paula. 'He's in one of his roguish moods. I'd have been left to the last. Cheers!'
'Now, this way, ladies,' Gaunt commanded when they all had their drinks. He grinned impishly at Newman. 'You chaps come too – if you must. But I assure you I can cope with two exceedingly attractive females by myself…'
Before Newman could reply Gaunt had marched up the steps, bellowed out cheerful greetings to people at several tables, stood by the armchair where his hat rested and pointed.
'Jennie, you take that chair. Paula, my dear, come and sit by me…
The instructions continued but Jennie outmanoeuvred him. Grabbing Newman by the arm again she led him to one of the green leather couches for two. Gaunt clapped his hand to his high forehead in mock frustration.
'Can't get people organized. I had it all planned so you'd enjoy yourselves. I'm pretty good at assessing who will get on with who.'
'The cool bags are still in the Land-Rover,' Jennie reminded him. 'Shouldn't they be put aboard? And I'm not carting them.'
Gaunt's expression changed. He looked furious. 'Haven't you realized it's like the Arctic out there? They'll be all right for the moment.'
'Aboard?' Paula chipped in. 'You mean aboard your super cabin cruiser, Mayflower III?. Going somewhere in her?'
Gaunt looked ready to explode. 'Who told you that?' he barked at her. 'About my vessel?'
'One of the locals.' Paula gazed steadily back at him. 'I couldn't even identify him now.'
'That's the trouble with a place like Padstow.' Gaunt had lowered his voice. 'So parochial, so incestuous – they know all your business. I couldn't afford to own a vessel like that,' he went on more breezily. 'I just lease her for short trips. Down to Plymouth or up to Watchet.'
Paula nodded, not believing him. She stared at a shelf above the front of the bar. It was crammed with old suitcases, attache cases and several ancient trunks. All pre-Second World War. She glanced towards the door.
Tweed was standing there. He gestured for her to join him.
'Excuse me,' said Paula. 'Back in a minute…'
'I'm going to phone Howard again,' Tweed told Paula as she joined him outside in the bitter cold. 'I'd like you to hear how he reacts. And there's someone else I want to try and contact afterwards… Later, tell me how you got on at Five Lanes. Too much happening at the moment…'
Squeezed up against Tweed inside the phone box Paula waited while he dialled the Surrey mansion. She had one ear close to the receiver. The operator put Tweed straight through to Howard. His first words were not reassuring.
Tweed, I've never known a situation like this. I just don't know what the hell is going on.'
Tell me why you say that,' Tweed suggested quietly.
'I've been trying to get through to the PM ever since we last talked. No dice. Always before he's taken my calls immediately – even in the middle of a Cabinet meeting.'
'Exactly what happens when you call Downing Street?'
'I get that bloody private secretary. Excuse my swearing, but this is crazy. The secretary always says he's busy, in the House or away. Anywhere except at
Downing Street. He said I should cease all operations until I do hear from the PM. Ruddy sauce!'
