beard, both shot through with gray.
“Stirling,” she said, her voice starting to sound slurred. “Stirling Blackman, may I introduce Dickie Field, my . . . cousin, or . . .”
“Nephew,” Field corrected.
Blackman offered his hand and they shook. “Richard,” Field said.
“Stirling.”
“You two should talk. Stirling is a reporter for the
“Not taking my name in vain, I hope.”
“Oh, Geoffrey was, but you know how hard he finds it when people won’t see the big picture. Dickie is in the Special Branch.”
Blackman tilted his head to one side. “Always interested to—”
“You should talk, but not now. I need to go home. Come on, Dickie.”
“I’m not sure . . .”
“Please. Be a gentleman.”
Field nodded at the reporter and followed Penelope. “Perhaps we could have lunch,” Blackman said.
Field wanted to tell the reporter to back off, but Penelope had already gone through the doors into the ballroom and was weaving her way through the crowd inside.
He followed her, skirting the edge of the dance floor. A drunken woman lost her balance and crashed into him. Field picked her up and took her arms from around his neck. He lifted his head and froze.
They were standing at the top of the staircase.
Lu had the same bodyguards in tow. Charlie Lewis and Hayek were part of the group that surrounded them. So was Natasha, though she managed to remain remote, staring into the middle distance.
Field took a pace toward them as she turned. Her eyes locked on his for a split second. Her face was frightened and hostile and her eyes flashed a warning. Charlie Lewis raised his head and gazed idly in Field’s direction. Field thought he was laughing at him, and had been all along.
Lu gesticulated slowly with his hand. Hayek listened intently. Lewis straightened, put his hands in his pockets, and turned to talk to Natasha, almost obscuring Field’s view of her.
Field knew he had to move. The Chinese had not acknowledged him, but Field sensed that was deliberate.
Lu edged forward, and the group moved with him. Natasha was now directly in front of Field. She wore a long silver dress, and as he watched, she raised her arm and pulled her hair back from her neck, gathering it to one side and letting it fall again. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and then back again. Her shoes were thin and elegant, a single strap above the ankle.
Lu shook his head curtly, as if dismissing something that Hayek had said, and broke away. Natasha stayed by his side. Field watched as Lu raised his arm to allow her to place her own within it. She was so much taller than him that the effect was both ridiculous and grotesque.
Field fought back a wave of revulsion. He wiped his forehead and forced himself to walk slowly down the stairs.
Penelope waited at the bottom, fumbling in her purse for some cigarettes. She took one out and offered him the lighter. “You want one?” she asked as he lit it for her.
“No thanks.”
She was drunk now, but so was he. Drunk and disoriented and angry.
A car pulled up and she led the way out to it. As he climbed in after her, Field could not help looking up toward the Happy Times block. There was still a light on in Natasha’s apartment. Would Lu go up there later?
Penelope placed a hand on his leg. “Be a dear and open your window.”
Field sat up straighter, trying to prompt her to take away her hand, before leaning forward to do as she had asked.
She slipped off her shoes, swept her feet around and placed them on his lap. She smiled at him. “Be a love. They get so sore dancing.”
Field found himself taking two of her toes between his fingers and massaging them gently before moving down to the base of her foot. The skin was soft, her nails neatly painted. She leaned back and groaned. “Dancing in those shoes is bloody agony.”
Penelope’s head was on the armrest beneath the window, her eyes shut, as she slid her other foot against his groin. Field tried to push himself farther back into the seat.
As they pulled up outside the house in Crane Road, Penelope picked up her shoes. “Come on.”
“I’m bushed. I think I’ll—”
“Don’t be silly. Geoffrey will be very disappointed not to see you.”
Field hesitated for a second before stepping out after her. The number one boy opened the door as they climbed the steps of the veranda.
“Let me take your jacket,” she said.
“No, I’m . . .”
