Charmian made her slow way out of the room and upstairs.
‘See the lawyer?’ said Mrs Pettigrew.
‘It’s damn cold,’ said Godfrey.
‘You saw the solicitor?’
‘No, in fact, he’d been called away on an urgent case. Have to see him some other time. I say I’ll see him tomorrow, Mabel.’
‘Urgent case,’ she said. ‘It was the lawyer you had an appointment with, not the doctor. You’re worse than Charmian.’
‘Yes, yes, Mabel, the lawyer. Don’t let Mrs Anthony hear you.’
‘Mrs Anthony has gone. And, anyway, she’s deaf. Where have you been all afternoon?’
‘Well, I called in,’ he said, ‘at the police.’
‘What?’
‘The police station. Kept me waiting a long time.’
‘Look here, Godfrey, you have no evidence against me, you understand? You need proof. Just you try. What did you tell them? Come on, what did you say?’
‘Can’t remember exact words. Time they did something about it. I said, “My sister has been suffering from this man for over six months,” I said. “Now he has started on me,” I said, “and it’s high time you did something about it,” I said. I said —’
‘Oh, your phone call. Is that all you have to think about? I ask you, Godfrey, is
He huddled in his chair. ‘Damn cold,’ he said. ‘Have we got any whisky there?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘we haven’t.’
He silently opened Charmian’s door on his way to bed.
‘Still awake?’ he said in a whisper. ‘Yes,’ she said, waking up.
‘Feeling all right? Want anything?’ ‘Nothing, thank you, Godfrey.’ ‘Don’t go to the nursing home,’ he said in a whisper. ‘Godfrey, I made my own tea this afternoon.’ ‘All right,’ he said, ‘you did. But don’t go —’
‘Godfrey,’ she said. ‘If you will take my advice you will write to Eric. You will make it up with Eric.’
‘Why? What makes you say that?’
But she would not say what made her say this, and he was puzzled by it, for he himself had been thinking of writing to Eric; he was uncertain whether Charmian knew more about him and his plight than he thought, or whether her words represented merely a stray idea.
‘You must promise,’ said Olive Mannering, ‘that this is to be treated as a strictly professional matter.’
‘I promise,’ said Alec Warner.
‘Because,’ said Olive, ‘it’s dangerous stuff, and I got it in strictest confidence. And I wouldn’t tell a soul.’
‘Nor I,’ said Alec.
‘It’s only for purposes of research,’ said Olive.
‘Quite.’
‘How do you make your notes?’ Olive inquired. ‘Because there mustn’t be names mentioned anywhere.’
‘All documents referring to real names are to be destroyed at my death. No one could possibly identify my case-histories.’
‘O.K.,’ said Olive. ‘Well, goodness, he was in a terrible state this afternoon. I was really sorry for him. It’s Mrs Pettigrew, you see.
‘Suspenders and all that lark?’
‘No, oh no. He’s finished with that.’
‘Blackmail.’
‘That’s right. She has apparently discovered a lot about his past life.’
‘The affair with Lisa Brooke.’
‘That and a lot more. Then there was some money scandal at the Colston Breweries which was hushed up at the time. Mrs Pettigrew knows it all. She got at his private papers.
‘Has he been to the police?’
‘No, he’s afraid.’
‘They would protect him. What is he afraid of? Did you ask?’
‘His wife, mostly. He doesn’t want his wife to know. It’s his pride, I think. Of course, I haven’t met her but it sounds to me that she’s always been the religious one, and being famous as an author off and on, she gets all the sympathy for being more sensitive than him.’
Alec Warner wrote in his book.
‘Charmian,’ he remarked, ‘would not be put out by anything she learnt about Godfrey. Now, you say he’s
