Most of the things were, however, by now collected, and while Alec Warner, directed by Henry Mortimer, stooped to fish with his umbrella under the car for Dame Lettie’s spectacle-case, Gwen so far overcame her surprise as to say to Mrs Mortimer, ‘I got nothing to do with
‘All right, Gwen. It’s all right,’ said Dame Lettie from the car.
Mrs Mortimer now kept her peace although it was clear she would have liked to say more to Gwen. She had been troubled, in the first place, by the sight of these infirm and agitated people arriving with such difficulty at her door. Where are their children? she had thought, or their nieces and nephews? Why are they left to their own resources like this?
She edged Gwen aside and reached into the car for Dame Lettie’s arm. At the opposite door Henry Mortimer was reaching for Charmian’s. Mrs Mortimer as she assisted Dame Lettie, hoped he would not strain himself, and said to Dame Lettie, ‘I see you have brought the spring weather.’ As Lettie finally came to rest on the pavement Mrs Mortimer looked up to see Alec Warner’s eyes upon her. She thought: That man is studying me for some reason.
Charmian tottered gaily up the path on Henry Mortimer’s arm. He was telling her he had just read, once more, her novel
‘It is over fifty years,’ said Charmian, ‘since I read it.’
‘It captures the period,’ said Mortimer. ‘Oh, it brings everything back. I do recommend you to read it again.’
Charmian slid her eyes flirtatiously towards him — that gesture which the young reporters who came to see her found so enchanting —and said, ‘You are too young, Henry, to remember when the book first came out.’
‘No indeed,’ he said, ‘I was already a police constable. And a constable never forgets.’
‘What a charming house,’ said Charmian, and she caught sight of Godfrey waiting inside the hall, and felt she was, as always when people made a fuss of her, making him sick.
The conference did not start for some time. Emmeline Mortimer consulted in low tones with the ladies of the deputation in the hall, whether they would first like to go ‘upstairs’, or, if the stairs were too much for them, there was a place downstairs, straight through the kitchen, turn right. ‘Charmian,’ said Mrs Pettigrew out loud, ‘come and make yourself comfortable. I’ll take you. Come along.’
Henry Mortimer piled the men’s coats and hats neatly on a chest, and, having shown the way upstairs to the male candidates, ushered the rest of the men into the dining-room where, at the long table, bare except for a vase of shining daffodils and, at the top, a thick file of papers, Gwen was already seated, fuming sulkily to herself.
When Godfrey came in he glanced round at the furnishings with an inquiring air.
‘Is this the right room?’ he said.
Alec Warner thought: He is probably looking for signs of a tea-tray. He probably thinks we are not going to get any tea.
‘Yes, I think this is most suitable,’ said Henry, as one taking him into consultation. ‘Don’t you? We can sit round the table and talk things over before tea.’
‘Oh!’ said Godfrey. Alec Warner congratulated himself.
At last they were settled round the table, the three strangers having been introduced as a Miss Lottinville and a Mr and Mrs Jack Rose. Mrs Mortimer withdrew and the door clicked behind her like a signal for the start of business. The sunlight fell mildly upon the table and the people round it, showing up motes of dust in the air, specks of dust on the clothes of those who wore black, the wrinkled cheeks and hands of the aged, and the thick make-up of Gwen.
Charmian, who was enthroned in the most comfortable chair, spoke first, ‘What a charming room.’
‘It gets the afternoon sun,’ Henry said. ‘Is it too much for anyone? Charmian — another cushion.’
The three strangers looked uneasily at each other, simply because they were strangers and not, like the others, known to each other for forty, fifty years it might be.
Godfrey moved his arm to shoot back his sleeve, and said, ‘This telephone man, Mortimer, I must say, it’s a bit thick —’
‘I have a copy of your statement here, Colston,’ said Henry Mortimer, opening his file. ‘I propose to read each one aloud by turn, and you may add any further comments after I have read it. Does that course meet with approval?’
No one seriously disagreed with that course.
Gwen looked out of the window. Janet Sidebottome fiddled with the electric battery of her elaborate hearing- aid. Mrs Pettigrew laid her arm on the table and her chin on her hand and looked intense. Charmian sat with her heart-shaped face composed beneath her new blue hat. Alec Warner looked carefully at the strangers, first at Mrs Rose, then at Mr Rose and then at Miss Lottinville. Mrs Rose had her eyebrows perpetually raised in resignation, furrowing deep lines into her forehead. Mr Rose held his head sideways; he had enormous shoulders; his large mouth drooped downwards at the same degree of curvature as his chin, cheeks and nose. The Roses must be nearly eighty, perhaps more. Miss Lottinville looked small and slight and angry. The left side of her mouth and her right eye kept twitching simultaneously.
Henry Mortimer’s voice was not too official, but it was firm:
‘. . . just after eleven in the morning … on three separate occasions … It sounded like that of a common man. The tone was menacing. The words on each occasion were …’
‘. . . at various times throughout the day … the first occasion was on 12th March. The words were … The tone was strictly factual… He sounded young, like a Teddy-boy …’
‘… first thing in the morning … every week since the end of August last. It was the voice of a cultured, middle- aged man … the tone is sinister in the extreme…
‘It was the voice of a very civil young man …’ This was Charmian’s account. Godfrey broke in. ‘How could he be a civil young man saying a thing like that? Use your head, Charmian.’
