Deadheads

'Rather to your surprise, you mean?' said Daphne. 'What did you do? Watch three Party Political Broadcasts as a penance?'

'There, that's one of the reasons,' said Ellie, risking a grin. 'You're sharp! And, all right, if there was a touch of political condescension in it to start with - you know: Fancy little activist me liking someone like her!  can you deny that there wasn't a bit of social condescension in your reaction? Hey, look at good old moderate tolerant me passing the time of day with an anarchist!Right?'

Daphne said sourly, 'You say I'm sharp. I'm sharp enough to see you're avoiding the main point of the question.'

But she had relaxed perceptibly in her chair.

'Clearing the decks, merely,' said Ellie. 'All right. When you told me your name and mentioned where your husband worked, yes, I realized that Peter had a professional interest. I didn't do anything about it because all I could have done was nip our acquaintance in the bud and I wasn't about to do that. Why not? You want yesses and noes and all I give you is a multiplicity of reasons! I'm sorry, but here's three more. One, because I don't let my husband's concerns affect my own freedom of choice; two, because what he'd told me about his interest in your husband made it all sound like a bit of a joke anyway; and three, because I'd taken a fancy to you. Liberty, equality and human rights you can fight for, but friends are much harder to come by and you've got to grab them fast when they come along.'

'Now, that's very moving,' said Daphne in a hard clear tone, then she paused and when she resumed her voice had softened and become more hesitant. 'I'm sorry, I meant that to be sarcastic, but really it's not, I don't think. It is very moving what you've said, about friends and everything. You know, I haven't sat and talked about being friends with anyone since I was a schoolgirl and all those awful childish loyalties and loves and feuds meant such a lot! What I don't understand is how, if you're my friend, you could sit and listen to your husband talking about Patrick and . . . and . . .'

'And what?' said Ellie.

'I don't know what, do I?' burst out Daphne. 'You tell me. Just precisely what did you do when Patrick's name came up again? His name did come up again, didn't it?'

'Yes, it was mentioned,' said Ellie. 'Perhaps it shouldn't have been, but look, Peter trusts me. He talks about his work, I want him to. Sometimes I think it's a pretty shitty and disgusting trade but he's not a shitty and disgusting person and I know that a police force with Peter and a few more like him in it is going to be a damn sight better than one without him. So yes, he has mentioned your husband, and yes, I have mentioned you. I can't really tell you what was said about your husband, can I? Except that nothing's been said to me which has seemed to put our relationship in any difficulty, please believe me. As for what I said about you, I talked about you as a new friend and one I hoped would grow into an old friend.'

'And nothing more?' persisted Daphne, undiverted by this sentimental flourish. 'You mean nothing of what I told you about myself has been passed on in detail?'

Ellie recalled uneasily her late-night vinous discussion of Daphne's background, courtship, character and finances, crossed her fingers mentally, and said 'Nothing I wouldn't have said about any close friend.'

It was a Jesuitically vague response but it seemed to have substance enough to blunt the keen sceptical edge of Daphne's questioning. Or perhaps the frowning introspective silence she now fell into was merely a mustering of resources for a second assault.

Ellie decided a quick counter was the best tactic.

'Daphne, I'm sorry. I've let myself get into a situation where I'm bound to be wrong, and I admit it, and I'm sorry. But what's brought all this on? Something must have happened to bring you round here breathing fire. How did you find out about Peter's interest in your husband for a start?'

'Can't you guess?' said Daphne bitterly. 'After all, my private life must be an open book to you.'

'I've no idea,' said Ellie. 'Honestly. I'll cross my heart if you like. I can't think of any other way of convincing you I'm honest!'

Daphne looked at her doubtfully, then said, 'I wonder if I could have a drink? I know it's a bit early, but I feel rather shaky. I'm not very good at quarrels. I wasn't brought up to it.'

'Sure. Scotch OK?'

Ellie took her time preparing the drinks, going to the kitchen in search of ice and polishing the glasses on a clean towel before pouring the Scotch. Her intuition was proved right when she heard Daphne begin to talk even though her back was still to her.

'I heard from Dick Elgood. I mentioned your name to him, making a joke about your being a policeman's wife. And that's when he told me.'

'About what?' said Ellie, pouring the whisky drop by drop as though adding olive oil to a mayonnaise.

'About that stupid complaint he made to the police. And about your husband being in charge of the investigation. He also said that after I told him about that odd-looking CID sergeant coming round to the house to ask questions about my car, he'd let your husband know he'd made a silly mistake and didn't want things to go any further. But they have gone further, haven't they? Haven't they?'

Now Ellie turned.

'Yes,' she said, 'I believe they have. But why or how far I've no idea, believe me.'

She handed over the drink. She'd poured one for herself, well-diluted, to be companionable. She didn't want it - once this trying scene was over, the rest of those scripts would still require a clear head and a sharp eye to glean the wheat out of the chaff.

'You keep on asking me to believe you,' said Daphne, sipping at her Scotch.

'I realize I'm not very credit-worthy at the moment,' said Ellie. 'But I'm puzzled. Why did Dick Elgood tell you this? Or, going further back, why should you have told Dick Elgood the police had visited you about your car?'

'You don't know? You really don't know?' said Daphne.

'No!' said Ellie with sufficient emphasis to turn the baby's head again. 'I've said so!'