For a minute she glared at him.
‘Yes, I did,’ she hissed. ‘I wrote every word of it. Can’t you understand that I love him? I love him!’ And she collapsed, sobbing hysterically, into the arms of a policewoman.
A great sigh went through the court. For a minute the Jury conferred. Pendle was about to call his next witness. But the Foreman of the Jury forestalled him. If it so pleased His Lordship, they felt they had the evidence required.
‘What witness were you about to call, Mr Mulholland?’
‘A handwriting expert, M’Lord.’
The Foreman consulted with the Jury again.
‘M’Lord we have reached our verdict already. We are unanimous in returning a verdict of Not Guilty.’
‘Always thought she was a fast piece,’ said my neighbour, disconsolately, upending the empty red Malteser packet.
The Judge in his summing up congratulated Pendle on his handling of the case, admiring his tenacity, if not his slightly reprehensible methods of obtaining information. The moment he swept out in his scarlet robe pandemonium broke out. Fiona Graham was led away by the police and the Press made a most indecent dive for the public telephones outside. Across the court Pendle was being congratulated by a stunned Canfield contingent. His hands were shaking as he gathered up the papers. I knew he was dying for a cigarette. Looking up, he caught my eye over the crowd and waved. I made a double thumbs up sign. Then he mouthed that he was a bit tied up, but he’d pick me up at the flat at 8.30.
I took a bus to Sloane Square, and then walked home. I wanted some fresh air and time to think. Women in tweed skirts were raking up leaves in Chelsea gardens. An aeroplane trail was turning pink in the setting sun. Inside the houses, people were switching on lamps and lighting fires. A group of children were throwing sticks into a goldfish pond; a black spaniel ran round them barking with excitement. It all seemed so normal after the dramas in court. I was haunted by Ricky Wetherby’s stricken face. He had been so God-like and self-confident that morning. I kept thinking of Pendle, cruel and as merciless as Torquemada, turning and turning the thumbscrew on Fiona Graham. In a kinky way, though, the whole day had been so erotic. Fiona’s feverish craving for Canfield had been uncomfortably near to my own feelings for Pendle. If he didn’t make a pass at me soon, I should burst. I had been rattled too by Jimmy Batten’s comments. Perhaps Pendle
In fact we had a heavenly evening; all my fears were lulled. Pendle took me to Parkes and we sat in a secluded corner, guzzling champagne and Mediterranean prawns fried in garlic, and gloating over the evening papers. Canfield had been vindicated at great length, with the most sensational headlines.
‘How on earth did you get that diary?’ I asked, holding out my empty glass absently. Pendle filled it.
‘I spent the last fortnight chatting up Fiona’s flatmate.’
‘Is she pretty?’ I said, bristling.
‘No.’ Pendle flipped my nose teasingly with his finger. ‘She’s a cow and absolutely eaten up with jealousy where Fiona’s concerned. She pretended it wasn’t quite cricket to hand over the diary. Actually she was frightened Fiona’d find out she’d nicked it.’
‘When did she finally give it to you?’
‘Lunchtime today.’
I whistled.
‘I did run it a bit close, I admit. That’s why I had to abandon you to Jimmy’s blandishments. You made a conquest there.’
‘Did I? How lovely.’
‘He rang up when I got back to the office, ostensibly to congratulate me, actually to ask us both to dinner next Friday.’
‘Ooh, can we go?’
Pendle was silent for a minute, fidgeting with his lighter. That was odd; I’d never seen him fidget before. Then he took a deep breath.
‘I’m thinking of going home for a few days next week. I was wondering if you’d like to come too.’
For a few seconds I couldn’t believe my ears. I was so overwhelmed I couldn’t speak.
‘I’d adore to,’ I finally squeaked.
Relief seemed to flood over him.
‘It’s a long way. My family live in the Lakes, but it doesn’t take that long up the Preston Motorway. I’d like to leave on Thursday afternoon, and probably come back on Sunday night. Can you get the time off?’
‘I’ve still got some holiday left,’ I said. ‘And I can always blackmail Rodney by threatening to tell Jane terrible things about him.’
‘Good. We’ll try and make it in time for late dinner then.’
‘It’ll be such heaven getting out of London,’ I said.
He smiled rather ruefully. ‘I hope you’ll enjoy it. They’re all rather formidable, particularly my mother.’
I went whooping into the flat, dying to tell Jane all about it and barged into the drawing-room. In the dim light, I could just distinguish two people locked on the sofa.
‘Get out!’ shrieked Jane. She must have picked up someone at the party she’d been to. How crude, I thought loftily, as I made myself a cup of coffee. How much more sensible Pendle and I were conducting our affair. I’d obviously destroyed their mood, for a few minutes later I heard voices, and the front door bang. Jane came into the kitchen looking ruffled.
‘You look jolly smug,’ she said sourly. ‘Has he asked you to marry him?’
‘Not quite,’ I crowed, clutching my happiness to me like a hot water bottle, ‘but he’s asked me to stay with his family next week.’
For a second her face fell. However much one likes one’s flatmate, one can’t bear their love-life to go too well, but Jane is basically a nice person, and she smiled almost immediately.
‘Pru, that’s marvellous! When? For how long? What on earth did he say? Tell me all. He must be serious, to take you home to meet his mother.’
I muttered something about chickens before they’re hatched. But I found it difficult in the next few days to keep my mounting elation in check, and wrote Prudence Mulholland all over my shorthand notebook.
Chapter Four
Jane became very bossy.
‘If Pendle says his mother is formidable, she must be a tartar. She’s bound to go through your things when you and Pendle are striding over the Fells, to see if you’re a slut or not. You’d better buy some new underwear — I counted two safety pins in your bra — and a new nightie, in case Pendle comes stealing down those dark passages after lights out.’
‘You must be joking,’ I said, but I could not suppress a shiver of excitement.
In the end, she did my packing for me.
‘Tissue paper always impresses people,’ she said. ‘And lots of little polythene bags for your sweaters.’ She insisted that I bought a pair of lace-up shoes.
‘But I’ve got a perfectly good pair of boots,’ I wailed.
‘Kinky,’ she added darkly. She lent me a silk dress, but refused to let me take any of my more outrageous clothes.
‘You want to borrow them while I’m away,’ I grumbled. ‘I’ll look such a frump, Pendle won’t recognize me.’ But I managed to sneak in my green culotte dress when she wasn’t looking.
‘Now remember,’ she warned me, ‘lots of housework, clean the bath, don’t wipe your make-up off on the
