same kind of clarification session with Aldermann, ending with those suggestive words,
That had to be that, he thought. It had come as a complete surprise when, on the Sunday afternoon, Daphne had rung him in a state of some agitation, wanting to talk. He'd been planning to go down to the cottage the following morning to compensate for a weekend largely given over to company matters. He had suggested they meet in the car park and drive down together. She had hesitated, then finally agreed. He hadn't really been certain she would turn up until the moment she climbed into his car with the look of an apprentice spy.
They talked generally on the drive down. She was no longer certain why she had come, and he could see that. He didn't push, just let her talk. He showed her round the cottage, then they walked on the beach. The sky was overcast, the water a still grey. A straightforward seduction scenario would have had Elgood suggesting a nude swim, but today the script was still unwritten. He heard with puzzlement that Aldermann still seemed completely optimistic about his future. In a strange way, his presence was with them; his certainties, his placidity, his contentment moved with the gigantic understrength of the quiet sea against which their own doubts and worries and dismays, no matter how large and solid they seemed, stood with only the delusory resistance of the soft-stoned cliff.
Before midday, Elgood suggested they ate. Talk had sputtered out, they needed something to do. There was cold chicken and salad and white wine. They ate little, drank a lot. He didn't set out to get her drunk, he prided himself he had never needed that, and he stopped topping up her glass while she was still well this side of inebriety. But she was more relaxed than she had been since arriving. There was still tension there, he felt as he took her in his arms, but it was the tension of resolve, the nervous novice knowing she can do her duty.
They made love. It hadn't been great but it had been promising. There was a deep sensuality there waiting to be tapped, and afterwards they drank brandy together, she chattering away in the reaction of release, he content to wait quietly for his strength to return so that he could really sample the goods he had just begun to unwrap.
Outside a wind had blown up off the sea. A rambling rose, sadly neglected and full of insect life, grew up the side wall of the cottage and the strong gusts set it tapping against the window. Daphne stopped talking and let out a startled little cry.
'What's up?' asked Elgood.
'Nothing. Just the noise,' she said tremulously. 'For a moment I thought it might be Patrick!'
'Disguised as a rose-bush? Aye, that'd be just about what I'd expect,' mocked Elgood.
'Why do you say that?'
'Well, he's a bit obsessed, isn't he? He's got more rose catalogues than company records in his filing cabinet, so they say.'
He hadn't meant to start talking about Patrick again. Absent husbands held a very low place in his list of post- coital topics.
Elgood didn't like the way the conversation was turning.
He said, 'But surely the way he's poured all the money you've ever had into Rosemont . . .'
'And us, too,' corrected Daphne. 'Neither the children nor I have ever wanted for anything. So it's not obsessive, it's just rather
'Uncanny, then,' said Elgood, feeling himself almost ready for the second course, and wanting to be shot of this unseemly topic. 'All right, he's got magical powers protecting his fairy castle. Another drop of brandy, love?'
'No, thanks. Yes, it does sometimes seem like that, doesn't it? I mean, he's always said 'don't worry,' and I've always worried, and yet he's always turned out to be right. Obstacles just seem to get out of his way. I mean, four years ago he hadn't even got a job after he finished with Capstick's and look where he is now without hardly any effort. It's hardly surprising he can still be so sure of getting on the Board, even though you say not, is it?'
There was no guile in her tone, nothing but an honest desire to understand her husband, yet Elgood felt it not only as an atmospheric intrusion, but as a threat. For some reason the memory of the desk lamp came into his mind. He caressed Daphne's breast, massaging the nipple between finger and thumb, but the gesture did as little for him as it seemed to be doing for her and when a little while later she said she ought to be getting ready to leave now if she were to be in time to pick up her daughter from school, he made no protest.
He had dropped her back at the car-park entrance, driven back to the office, sat and looked at the desk lamp, finally laughed at his foolishness and got down to some work. Later he had driven to his flat and put the car in the garage without any difficulty. He had passed a rather restless night, full of menacing dreams in which Bulmer and Eagles figured large. But a good breakfast had seemed to put him right.
Then he had descended to his garage, tugged at the up-and-over door which could normally be moved by a little finger's pressure, jerked at it when it appeared to be stuck, and next moment was flinging himself backwards as the whole heavy structure came crashing down.
Well, perhaps he had overreacted. But it was understandable. And all was well that ended well. He was back in charge now. Indeed things were so normal that he found himself inwardly assessing the chances of persuading Daphne to have one for the road.
Down boy! he warned himself. That was the way to trouble. And in any case, he doubted if she were the type. Her next words confirmed this.
'I'm not really cut out for this kind of thing,' she said. 'I had to see you face to face to make sure you understood. It's just not my cup of tea. I was in real agony when the police came round to ask questions about my car. I kept on remembering those boys hanging around the car park and wondering if they'd remember seeing me there.'
'Like I told you when you rang,' said Elgood easily, 'they likely didn't even notice. And if they were the ones as did the scratching, they're not going to volunteer to chat with the cops, are they? In any case, it was just a bit of vandalization, hardly the crime of the century!'
'But they did send that ugly CID man round to see me,' objected Daphne.
Elgood couldn't contradict this except by telling her what he imagined the real reason for this visit had been.
