picture which were gathering like a storm in his head. She was dazzling; could it be that funny girl, could it really be that girl he had taken to the fight that night? Her cheeks were flushed, the rest of her pale skin translucent. Her dark eyes, like the sea, looked even more green because of the rich colour of her satin gown. The emeralds and diamonds glittered, but it was her hair that outshone everything, like gold, so simply done, a single braid to below her waist.

Freddy looked at Primrose with beseeching eyes, but she refused to look at him, afraid David would do something embarrassing. Under the table he felt for her foot, but she pulled her satin-clad feet back beneath her chair, giving him a cool, tight look of disapproval. She found it hard not to stare at the girl, who stood head and shoulders above her. It was obvious to everyone there that Sir Charles was smitten. Only Primrose knew how very strange this was, as she had heard family rumours about him … well, she thought, they must be wrong.

‘May I propose a toast to my dear friend Evelyne, ladies and gentlemen, will you raise your glasses?’

Dewhurst had filled their champagne glasses, and they all toasted Evelyne. Sir Charles gave the hovering waiters a discreet signal to begin serving then slipped an arm around Evelyne’s shoulders and whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t be nervous, just follow me, do whatever I do.’

Again he was close to her, and she smiled into his piercing, unsettling eyes. He was a strange kettle of fish — she never knew where she stood with him. She would never have believed he could be so familiar, but it did give her confidence. At one point he made her turn her head so that he could straighten one of her earrings which had become entangled in a stray curl. His fingers brushed her neck and he allowed his hand to linger for a second too long, then he turned his attention back to his guests. They sat quietly, not sure how to react to Sir Charles’ ‘lady’. Seeing him so intimate with her made them even more uncomfortable.

Occasionally Evelyne shot a sidelong glance at David. He seemed oblivious to everything, even to his food now, and was staring, stony-faced, at the wallpaper. His only gesture was to lift his wineglass to his lips, his movements neat and delicate. When the next course arrived Evelyne had to pay close attention to Sir Charles, it was a thick lobster bisque. She watched as he used the big, round spoon from the right-hand side of his place setting, and Evelyne followed suit, using the same outward strokes, and did not once scrape the plate. The dinner seemed to go on for ever, the conversation stilted and extremely strained, David’s withdrawn silence affecting them all. Lady Primrose battled on, trying to encourage the party spirit, and told them funny little stories about her two sons, Clarence and Charles, or Charlie, as he was known.

‘We named him after you, didn’t we, David darling? David?’

Lady Primrose smiled, but her quiet voice had an edge to it.

‘David, I just said we call him after cousin Charles … you really must come and see the boys, will you be here long enough?’

Ignoring her question, Sir Charles signalled to Dewhurst to serve the main course. Primrose gave David a kick beneath the table. She was trying so hard, and in their precarious financial situation they really needed to keep on the right side of her rich, if rather distant, relative.

When the main course was served, Evelyne had to hide her smile as she saw Heather eating like a horse, everything before her vanishing at great speed. She made unconscious little ‘mmmm’ sounds of appreciation, which irritated Freddy. He frowned at her, making her peer around the table like a guilty child. Freddy’s fork clattered on to his plate when Sir Charles spoke out of the blue.

‘Any of you read about this gypsy chap, the one on the murder rap? Very interesting case, I have a personal interest in it.’

This game was partly at Evelyne’s instigation, although it saddened her. She was being used as a pawn, and she waited expectantly to see what the outcome of the evening would be.

The port and brandy decanters were placed on the table, and the ladies withdrew to the sitting-room.

‘Very nice dinner, Mother always says this is one of the best hotels … oh, coffee, and mints, tres bon.’ Heather gave a toothy smile as Evelyne poured the coffee. ‘I didn’t catch where you were staying? Evelyne?’

‘I have a suite here.’

Primrose began a slow dance across the room, swaying, moving closer and closer until she stood directly

before Evelyne.

‘Can you do the Charleston? No? Want me to teach

you? Come on, try it.’

She backed away flicking her heels out and humming the tune. Evelyne sensed that Primrose was laughing at her, the baby blue eyes were spiteful, glittering.

‘Thought your sort of woman had to know the latest steps.’

Evelyne continued pouring the coffee, held a cup out to Lady Primrose, who waved her hand. ‘No sugar, sweet enough, be-boop-be-doo.’

She. danced past Evelyne, whose cup went over and spilt down the glittering, sequinned dress. Lady Primrose didn’t shriek out, she didn’t move; the coffee made a dark brown stain, spreading and dripping over the beads. Her little delicate hand shot out and slapped Evelyne’s face. ‘I believe my husband should have done that to you a long time ago.’

The port went round for the third time, the cigar smoke swirled around the men’s heads. They were relaxed, enjoying the many witty anecdotes with which Sir Charles regaled them. He played the evening like a poker game, finally delivering his winning hand, card by card. He began by moving first the decanter, ashtray and his port glass to one side, and with the table cleared he leaned on his elbows on the table. ‘Gentlemen, now to the business of the evening, the reason I asked you both here.’

David leaned back, smiling, the drink had eased him. Freddy, sharper and more alert, had been waiting for something. His heart beat faster.

‘I want you both to stand as witnesses to Miss Evelyne Jones’ statement in court next week. You were, I am led to believe, both present at a certain boxing match on Highbury Hill. The fighter was a gypsy called Freedom Stubbs.’

Freddy leaned forward, pushing his glass away. ‘I am aware of the case, a murder case, but perhaps I did not make myself clear to Miss Jones. I really feel that my presence in court, particularly in such an appalling case, would be most distasteful, I have already stated my feelings on this …’

Sir Charles interrupted, ‘Rubbish, man, your word is essential. You both instigated the evening’s outing, am I not right? Miss Jones had no prior knowledge of this boxing match?’,

Freddy stubbed out his cigar. ‘I really couldn’t say, but judging by what I know of her she’s a little tramp, and the public outcry surrounding these murders would be frightful. The gel is a blackmailer, David here can tell you more … David? How much money did she demand from you?’

Sir Charles banged the table. ‘I don’t call twenty pounds a large sum, especially as the girl was more than likely owed twice that from her share of the Collins’ house.’

Nonplussed, Freddy turned to David.

‘You told me she had demanded more than a hundred, good God, I gave you over fifty towards it, David?’

David downed the remains of his port. His manner changed, he became surly, giving Freddy a foul look. ‘The way you carry on, old chap, I’d say you owe me a hell of a lot more, you think I’m blind as well as sick? Do you? Do you?’ He rose to his feet and lurched against the table, glaring at Freddy. ‘Not your money anyway, you don’t have a penny to your name, so what are you bleating about?’

Sir Charles poured more port. He spoke in a calm, conversational voice that was not raised in the slightest. ‘Now, now, let’s not get into a nasty argument, let’s just take things easy, shall we? Whatever marital problems you both may have they certainly wouldn’t look good spread across the Cardiff Herald … all that is required of you both is a simple statement saying you escorted Miss Jones …’

David turned his anger on Sir Charles. ‘Exactly what are you implying? None of your bloody business! What marital problems? Eh? What? What’s he talking about?’ He was on his feet, blazing, moving round to Freddy’s chair with his fist up and looking foolish and inept.

”Sit down, David! Sit, please, let’s not raise our voices, we don’t want the ladies upset… and I really don’t want to drag my cousin into any adverse publicity.’

David sat down again like a lamb, reached for his port and downed the remainder of the glass in one gulp. Freddy looked at Sir Charles. ‘The girl was brought to the fair by David, that is all I know, I had nothing to do with

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