appointment with an estate agent.’
‘Are you thinking of selling your house?’ asked Marmion.
‘It’s … a possibility, Inspector. It never does any harm to keep abreast of current property values. I anticipate that our house will be worth a decent sum.’
‘Then why do you wish to leave?’
‘I like to keep my options open,’ said Ingles, evasively. He turned to his host. ‘Goodbye, Reuben. Bear in mind that you have to reach a decision by the end of the afternoon. It’s disrespectful to Mr Kennett to keep him waiting and we need to set arrangements in train. Weigh my arguments in the balance,’ he continued, ‘and you’ll accept that you simply must fall into line with the rest of us.’
‘We shall see,’ grunted Harte.
After trading farewells with Marmion, Ingles was shown out of the house by Harte. When the latter came back into the living room, he was obviously pleased that the other man had finally gone.
‘I’ve had quite an invasion today,’ he said.
Marmion prepared to leave. ‘Well, I won’t bother you any more, sir.’
‘That wasn’t a hint to you, Inspector. Given the news that you brought, you’re very welcome. It’s Brian Ingles’s visit I could have done without. He’s an invasion all by himself.’
‘Yes, he does like to take control, doesn’t he?’
‘I won’t be browbeaten by the likes of him. He was almost manic before you arrived to rescue me. He only calmed down when you told us about Wylie.’
‘I’m glad I was able to pour oil on troubled waters,’ said Marmion. ‘I must say that I find it odd that Mr Ingles is talking about selling his house at a time like this. I would have thought he had more pressing matters on his mind.’
‘It’s not the only thing that was odd,’ observed Harte. ‘My suggestion really upset him for some reason.’
‘What suggestion was that, sir?’
‘I just wondered if we might club together to commission some sort of memorial for the five victims. It needn’t be anything too elaborate but it would preserve their memory. If all five of us put in an equal amount,’ said Harte, ‘then the cost wouldn’t be prohibitive.’
‘Why was Mr Ingles upset by the idea?’
‘I can’t really say but it was decidedly odd. I mean, he has more money than the rest of us put together. I should know, Inspector — he’s a client of my bank.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Having started work early that morning, Alice Marmion came off her shift in the middle of the afternoon. Instead of returning to her flat, she decided to call on her mother. Knowing that Ellen would not be at home, she went to the centre where a group of women were contributing to the war effort by knitting and sewing. They were absorbed in their work when Alice entered in police uniform. Her sudden appearance led to a flurry of concern. It was soon stilled. Delighted to see her daughter, Ellen was glad to be rescued from the tedium of her voluntary work. Over a snack in a nearby café, they were able to chat at leisure.
‘Thank you for coming to my aid,’ said Ellen.
‘I thought that you liked your Sewing Circle.’
‘Actually, we do more knitting than sewing and, yes, I do enjoy it as a rule. I’ve made some good friends there. Some of them are in the same boat as me with sons at the front. Mrs Fletcher, who runs the group, has all three of hers in France.’
‘She must be worried to death,’ said Alice.
‘She manages to hide her anxiety. What she can’t hide,’ confided Ellen, ‘is that she’s hopeless with a pair of knitting needles in her hands. You should see the socks that she produces. The wool is too coarse and the feet are always too small. But she’s a good-hearted woman so we daren’t criticise her.’
‘You won’t need to send any socks to Paul. You can give them to him.’
‘I know, Alice. I can’t wait for him to come home.’
‘Neither can I,’ said her daughter. ‘I just wish that I knew how he felt about me and Joe. I wanted him to be happy for us.’
‘And I’m sure that he is. All he can think about at the moment, however, is surviving the war. Casualties are mounting every day. That’s why I want him safe and sound at home.’
‘It’s only a short leave, Mummy,’ Alice reminded her.
‘Then we’ll have to make the most of it.’
They drank their tea and nibbled at their cakes. Ellen chuckled.
‘When you came through that door, I didn’t recognise you at first. I thought I was about to be arrested for knitting gloves that don’t fit.’ She squeezed Alice’s hand affectionately. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve been consorting with prostitutes.’
When she was told about the new assignment, Ellen was nonplussed.
‘I thought they were called “ladies of the night”. Are you telling me that they come out in the daytime as well?’
‘Don’t look so shocked,’ said Alice, laughing. ‘Apparently, it’s a twenty-four-hour profession. There’s a demand throughout the day.’
‘I’m sorry that you have to deal with such people.’
‘They’re not the sort of women you imagine, Mummy. Very few of them do it by choice. They’re driven into it by poverty or by some cruel person who has a hold over them. Some are still only girls, really,’ Alice went on. ‘One of them told us that she turned to prostitution when her husband was killed at the front. It was the only way she could support herself and the baby. We tried to point out the dangers to her.’
Ellen pursed her lips. ‘It’s such an unsavoury side of life.’
‘That’s why the inspector gave me the job. She wanted to open my eyes.’
‘It sounds as if she wanted to punish you, Alice.’
‘Gale Force does that in various ways every day.’
‘You don’t have to put up with it, you know.’
‘If I’m not in the building,’ said Alice, cheerfully, ‘then I’m out of her range. Also, I’m getting an education, of sorts.’
‘Your father had that kind of education when he was on the night shift. He was a bobby on the beat in those days, of course. To spare my blushes, he didn’t tell me about some of the encounters he must have had. But if you really want to know about prostitutes,’ said Ellen, ‘you should talk to your Uncle Raymond.’
Alice laughed. ‘Why? I didn’t think he’d have any dealings with them.’
‘He doesn’t, in the sense that you mean. But work in the Salvation Army makes him look in the darkest corners of London. He offers help to anyone in need, regardless of how they earn a living.’
‘I’d forgotten that. Maybe I
‘I know that he shielded a prostitute on one occasion,’ said Ellen. ‘She was terrified of being beaten up by the man who tricked her into selling her body. Your uncle let her stay there for the best part of a week.’
It was a sobering reminder of the routine work that the Salvation Army did in the capital. Raymond Marmion was a tireless man with a huge fund of compassion. He gave advice, sympathy and practical assistance to a wide circle of people. A talk with him might well prepare Alice for some of the sights she was bound to come across in the course of her patrol.
‘When are you going to see Joe again?’ asked Ellen.
‘I wish I knew, Mummy.’
‘It doesn’t get any better with the passage of time.’
‘Are you trying to warn me off marrying a policeman?’
‘I’d never do that, Alice. You’ve made the right choice. Stick by it.’
