us through to the moussaka.
'What do you do on your trips to London?' I asked casually.
She looked amazed, then said, 'Oh yes, that wretched Mr West. Gervase was furious with him. Then Gervase was annoyed with me also, and wanted to know where I'd been. I'd been wandering around, that's all.' She ate her moussaka methodically. 'Ferdinand told Gervase and Gervase told Alicia something about a tree stump. What was that all about?'
I explained about the cordite. She nodded. 'Gervase told Alicia he'd had a good laugh when old Fred was knocked flat.'
She seemed undisturbed by the thought of explosives. We finished the lunch, I paid the bill, and we set off on the short road back to Maidenhead. A little way along there, I stopped the car in a lay-by and switched off the engine.
She didn't ask why we'd stopped. After a pause she said, 'Alicia is ruining our marriage, I suppose you know that?'
I murmured an assent.
'I'd known Gervase for only four months when we got married. I didn't realise… She's twisted him from birth, hasn't she? With her awful lies and spite. She sets him against you all the time. Gervase says terrible things about you sometimes… I mean, violent… I hate it. I try to tell him not to, but he doesn't listen to me, he listens to her. She says you sneer at him, you think you're much superior, because you're legitimate. I know you don't. Gervase believes her though. She tells him over and over that Malcolm threw them out and never loved them. She's wicked. And look what she's done to Serena. Gervase says she was a bright girl, but Alicia wouldn't let her stay on at school, Alicia wanted her to be a little girl, not to grow up. And Serena hates all men, and it's Alicia's fault. The only men Serena will let touch her are Ferdinand and Gervase. It's such a waste. Alicia got rid of Ferdinand's first wife, did you know? Went on and on at her until she couldn't stand it and left. I don't know how Debs puts up with her. It's driving me insane, you know, her drip, drip, drip. She's the worst enemy you'll ever have. If it was you that had been murdered, she would have done it.'
'She wasn't always like that,' I said, as she paused. 'When she lived at Quantum, she treated me the same as Ferdinand and Gervase.'
'Then it must have started when Malcolm kept you there on your own, and as she's got older it's got worse. She's much worse now than she was when we got married, and she was bad enough then. She hated Coochie, you know, and Coochie was nice, wasn't she? I was sorry when Coochie died. But Coochie banned all the family from staying in the house except you, and I should think that's when Alicia turned against you. Or let it all out. I bet it was there inside all the time. Like Gervase keeps things in and lets them out violently… so does Serena, and Ferdinand too… they're all like that. I wish Alicia would die. I can understand people wanting to kill. I would like to kill Alicia.' She stopped abruptly, the raw truth quivering in her voice. 'Drive me home,' she said. 'I shouldn't have said that.'
I didn't immediately restart the engine. I said, 'Is it Alicia that's causing Gervase to drink?'
'Oh!' Ursula gulped, the flow of anger ending, the misery flooding back. 'It's just… everything. I can see he's unhappy, but he won't let me help him, he won't talk to me, he just talks to her, and she makes it worse.'
I sighed and set off towards Grant Street. Alicia hadn't quite reached sixty: the worst of the witches could outlive them all.
'I shouldn't have told you all this,' Ursula said, when I stopped at the door. 'Gervase won't like it.'
'Gervase won't know what you've said.'
She fished a handkerchief out of her handbag and blew her nose. 'Thank you for the lunch. Did your mother tell you we've had lunch a few times in London, she and I? She gives me good advice. I can't tell Gervase, he'd be furious.'
I nodded. 'Joyce told me you were friends.'
'She's awfully catty about Alicia. It cheers me up no end.' She gave me a wan smile and got out of the car. She waved as she opened her front door: I waved back and drove away, and covered the few miles to Cookham.
I thought it might be interesting to see what Norman West had made of Alicia, and I searched through the notes until I came to her. West had written:
Mrs Alicia Pembroke (59) refused to speak to me at all on my first visit and was ungracious and edgy on my second.
Mrs Alicia lives at 25 Lions Court, London Road, Windsor, a block of flats. She still maintains she can't remember what she was doing on the Friday or the Tuesday: she was pottering about, she says. 'One day is much like another.' I think she's being obstructive for the sake of it.
Mrs A. drives a big silver/ grey Fiat. Clean, no damage. Mrs A. antagonistic to me personally because of my following her in Mrs Joyce's divorce case, although in the end she benefited. Twenty- eight years ago! She remembers every detail of that time. Can't remember last Tuesday…
I asked her if she had ever engaged me to work for her. She said no. (?)
Mrs A. has changed from the Miss A. I followed. Miss A. was full of giggles, very little-girl. Mrs A. still dresses very young, acts young, but is embittered. Odd how some women flower in love affairs and wither in marriage. Seen it often. Seems as if the spice of secrecy and naughtiness is what they love, not the man himself.
Mrs A. very bitter on subject of Mr Pembroke spending money. Mr Ian's name brought angry looks. Mrs A. turned me out. End of enquiry.
Short and un sweet I thought.
I couldn't face going to see Alicia at that moment. I didn't think her physically capable of carrying Malcolm while he was unconscious, and I didn't think her efficient enough to construct a bomb: good enough reasons for avoiding something I wanted to do as much as jump into a crocodile-infested swamp.
I didn't want to talk to Gervase either, but that couldn't be as easily avoided.
I drove back to Grant Street in the early evening and parked along the road from No 14 waiting for the master to return. It wasn't until I was sitting there that I remembered Norman West's advice about defence. Pepper… paint… I couldn't see myself throwing either in Gervase's eyes, or anyone else's for that matter. Gervase was, goddammit, my brother. Half-brother. Cain killed Abel. Abel hadn't had his pepper ready, or his paint.
Upon that sober reflection, Gervase came home.
His Rover turned into his house's short driveway and pulled up outside the garage. Gervase, carrying a briefcase, let himself in through the front door. Five minutes later, I walked along the road and rang the bell.
The door was opened by one of the children, who called over her shoulder, 'It's Ian.'
Gervase, still in his City suit, came immediately into the hall from his sitting-room, looking inhospitable and carrying a cut- glass tumbler half filled with what I expected was scotch.
'Ferdinand phoned me,' he said authoritatively. 'It's the police's business to look into the bombing of Quantum, not yours.'
'Malcolm asked me to,' I said.
'You'd better come in, I suppose.' He was grudging, but pointed me to the room he'd left. 'Do you want a drink?'
'Yes, please.'
He poured from the scotch bottle into a duplicate tumble rand handed me the glass, gesturing to the matching jug of water which stood on a silver tray. I diluted my drink and sipped it, and said, 'Thanks.'
He nodded, busy with his own. There was no sign of Ursula, but I could hear the two girls' high voices in the kitchen and supposed she was with them. They would tell her I had come, and she would be worrying about her lunch.
'Ferdinand told me about Malcolm's new will,' Gervase said with annoyance. 'It's ridiculous putting in that clause about being murdered. What if some random mugger bumps him off? Do we all lose our inheritance?'
'Some random mugger is unlikely. A paid assassin might not be.'
Gervase stared. 'That's rubbish.'
'Who killed Moira?' I said. 'Who's tried three times to kill Malcolm?'
'How should I know?'
'I think you should put your mind to it.'
'No. It's for the police to do that.' He drank. 'Where is he now?'
