“Whether she ever thinks —” Kate broke off, sat up more, and sipped her brandy. “George, do you realise that she’s twenty-five?”
“I try to make myself,” he grimaced. “I still see her in a gymslip and pigtails.”
“I do, too, sometimes. But more often she’s way beyond me, in thinking and in attitudes, and I don’t argue with her too much. I feel that if I argue, I’ll seem to be putting up a sort of barrier. Whereas if I seem to take everything naturally, no matter how outrageous, she won’t hesitate to come to me and talk. In a funny way, she’s the only one I’ve got left, George. The longer the others are married, the more they seem to draw away.”
“I know,” Gideon said gruffly. “Hurt much?”
“Not really. The grandchildren help — but that’s a red herring, George. And you know it! We were talking about Penny.”
“Yes,” Gideon agreed, more heavily. “We were.” He paused, then taking the big pipe from his pocket, got up and went to a Chinese willow-pattern tobacco jar on the mantelshelf, and began to fill the pipe. “I’m not sure I want —” He tamped tobacco down; then glanced up and went on almost exasperatedly: “I’m not sure that I want to think too much about Penny just now. There’s an awful gap between her and Alec. Age gap, generation gap, tradition gap, behaviour gap — I don’t know what to call it, but I know it’s there.” He was looking at Kate with something more than earnestness, and there had seldom been more feeling in his voice: “What do you mean — no matter how outrageous?”
“Is that what you really want to know?” asked Kate.
“I suppose it is, yes.” That came almost as a growl. “What do you mean?”
“George,” Kate said, “I’m not really sure how old-fashioned you are — or I am. I mean — well, I still have doubts about the Pill, even! I’m all for it, in a detached way. For other people. But I don’t know how I would feel about it myself, if I still needed — needed a contraceptive.” When he made no comment, she went on: “Penny knows and takes for granted more about the Pill, about sex, about deviations, about homosexuality, than I’ve ever heard of. Of course, you know, you come across so many examples of perversion and such like through the Yard, but Penny — she takes so much for granted!”
Gideon finished filling his pipe. He put it between his teeth and pressed it down heavily-and almost bit the stem off. There was a box of matches on the mantel-shelf and he picked it up but didn’t take out a match.
“Are you telling me she uses the Pill?”
“She tells me that a lot of her friends do. I think it’s her way of telling me that she does. A kind of: ‘Don’t ask questions, Mummy, but I do want you to know’. I’m not sure,” Kate emphasised, “but it does seem — likely.” When he didn’t speak, she went on almost desperately: “It is a new world, George!”
“And a fine mess it is!” he growled. He was glowering, but he still did not light his pipe. “What do you really feel about it, Kate?”
She spent a long time looking for a word, then said simply: “Resigned.”
He was startled into a smile.
“Good an attitude as any, I suppose,” he conceded. “It’s their world and their life, but . . . I was reading some statistics from the Home Office, the other day. One child in seven is illegitimate; the mothers of three in ten of those can’t name the father, although most can narrow it down to two or three possibilities. There was a sociologist’s report that it is estimated that over ninety nine cent of unmarried woman between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five have had carnal knowledge, often with more than three men. As a statistic, I accept this. But when it comes to my own daughter—”
At last, he struck a match; savagely. The flame flared and he let the fumes disperse, then began to draw at the pipe. The smoke was pungent but pleasant. He hadn’t smoked a pipe for weeks, and now pulled at it as if he wanted to start a bonfire.
Kate — relaxed, and still in his big chair — watched the smoke billow about his head, then slowly disperse. At last, she murmured: “I’ve always hated the phrase ‘carnal knowledge’ — even more than ‘sexual intercourse’.”
“Tell me a better,” Gideon growled.
“Made love to,” Kate suggested, gently.
“Oh, sentimental tommy-rot — whitewash! I — “ He broke off, waving the smoke away; obviously struck by a new, even startling thought. He was silent for a long time before saying: “Do you think Alec knows?”
“Knows what, George?”
“Whether she’s ‘made love’ to all or any of these young men she brings home.”
“George,” Kate looked alarmed. “You can’t ask him!”
“Of course I’m not going to ask him! But if he does know and if he still feels about her as he says he does —” Gideon broke off, with a bark of a laugh, and moved across to her. “Today,” he said, “I really believe it is us middle-aged people who are the babes and sucklings — the innocents! Youth has the wisdom. I was thinking . . .” He stepped behind her chair and placed his hands on her shoulders: “Penny is probably twisting us all round her little finger. But I’ve never seen her happier — or any of the children happier than she seems to be. Have you?”
Kate looked up at him, and for a few moments they were silent. Before she could answer, the spell was broken by the sudden shrilling of the telephone. That was the first time his thoughts really switched: to the murderer who was holed-up somewhere in Hampstead. He put Penny out of his mind.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
For the tenth time, which seemed like the hundredth, a voice boomed out on the loud-speaker. This time it was Henry himself, although sometimes, to rest his voice, he let one of his colleagues call.
“Roche! You’re only wasting time. You are completely surrounded! Come out with your hands above your head.”
There was no answer.
