in the drawing-room the doorbell had rung to signal the arrival of the Highfield church choir come to sing carols. It was the group’s habit, established by long precedent, to make the Maddens’ house the final stop on their round, and as soon as the last notes of ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ died away, Helen had hustled them inside out of the snow for the hot drink she always had waiting for them. Wartime rationing had imposed its own stringencies on this pleasant occasion, but in spite of a much diminished cellar she’d been able to offer their guests mulled wine spiced with cloves, and in place of the traditional mince pies — missing that year for lack of the necessary ingredients — a tin of sweet biscuits sent to them by an old comrade-in-arms of her husband’s, a man who had served with Madden in the trenches more than twenty years before and long since emigrated to South Africa.
Bundled up in their coats and scarves and wearing a variety of headgear, the singers had arrived looking like survivors of a long march, but familiar faces and forms soon reappeared with the shedding of these garments, among them the imposing figure of Will Stackpole, a stalwart of the choir whose rich baritone had made itself heard a little earlier outside. Not having seen Madden for several days, he had greeted him warmly.
‘Is it true then, sir? Is Rob’s ship back? I had it from Mrs Highway just after Miss Helen called in there.’
Stackpole had known Madden’s wife all his life; they had played together as children, and in spite of changing customs and forms of address, to him she would always be Miss Helen.
‘He’ll be here for Christmas, Will. It’s the best present we could possibly have had.’
With the party happily settled before the fire, Madden had drawn the constable to one side and told him briefly about his visit to Southwark and what it had yielded.
‘It was a stroke of luck. God knows if the police would have got on to this man Ash otherwise. He’s as slippery as an eel.’
They were still huddled together when Helen came over to them.
‘You’re neglecting our guests, John. And I want to talk to Will myself. I do wish Ted was here,’ she had added, pressing the constable’s hand. ‘Rob always asks about him. It’s the first thing he’ll want to know. Whether you’ve heard from him lately? I hope they aren’t freezing in that prisoner-of-war camp.’
In the event, and at the urging of both Helen and Madden, Stackpole had remained behind after the others had left to eat supper with them in the kitchen and to listen to the news, which that evening had brought welcome word that the fighting in Belgium was swinging the Allies’ way; that the sudden German thrust into the Ardennes had been blunted and much of their armour destroyed.
‘It can’t go on for much longer.’ Helen meant the war itself. ‘Surely it’ll be over soon.’
When they had finished their meal, Stackpole took his leave, and as Madden closed the front door behind him he heard the telephone ringing. Ten minutes later he joined Helen in the drawing-room. He found her down on her knees with an armful of Christmas presents which she was starting to stack around the tree.
‘That was Angus …’ Madden had stood scowling into the fire. ‘I was hoping this business would be over soon. But it doesn’t look that way.’ Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced down at her. ‘There And I hope Nelly will I was in London. I haven’t had a chance to tell you about it yet.’
The omission was soon repaired, but since Helen had wanted to know all the details, it was not until they had gone upstairs and were getting ready for bed that Madden had completed his account of his evening with Nelly Stover.
‘What you said made me realize we’d been overlooking the simplest explanation of how Alfie Meeks might have come to know his killer. Neither Angus nor I had imagined it might date from so far back in his life.’
Quicker to undress than his wife, Madden had lain under the covers watching Helen make her more leisurely preparations for the night. Although he’d been away for less than a week, he had missed this moment of intimacy which dated from the earliest years of their marriage when they had set aside the last hour of each day to share with one another whatever was in their minds. Unused to such openness — he had been reserved as a boy and the habit had grown into one of silence later in life — Madden had been taught by his wife to hide nothing from her, and of the many blessings his marriage had brought him this was perhaps the most precious.
That evening, however, their conversation had stuck to a single subject. Eager to know everything, Helen had questioned him closely, saying little herself, but shaking her head in something akin to despair when he reached the end of his story.
‘Poor sweet Rosa. To die at the hands of a creature like that.’
To soften his grim tale, Madden had told her about his suggestion that Nelly send her grandchildren down to visit them.
‘They’re a lively pair but, knowing Nelly, probably quite well behaved.’
‘I don’t care how they behave. I’d love to have them.’ ‘Helen had smiled for the first time. ‘And I hope Nelly will come as well. She sounds like a caution.’
Turning away from the window, now she shed her dressing gown and joined her husband in bed.
‘But you still haven’t told me what Angus had to say when he rang. Has some new problem cropped up?’
‘Not exactly.’ Madden’s scowl had returned. ‘But their hopes of picking up Ash quickly seem to have been dashed. He left his digs a month ago. Right after he killed Rosa, in fact. He could be anywhere now. Anywhere in this country, that is.’
‘He can’t escape, you mean. Yes, I see …’
Helen settled down in bed, moving closer so their bodies were touching. She slipped into the circle of his arm.
‘But Angus is worried, and so am I … there’s something here we don’t understand.’
She made no response, but instead drew him down off his bank of pillows until they were lying side by side.
‘I don’t want to think about that,’ she said. ‘I’m too happy knowing Rob’s back safely and won’t be off again for weeks, if then.’
She kissed him and he returned the kiss, more deeply, and took her in his arms. But his brow was still knotted in a frown and Helen saw it.
‘You’re not giving this your attention, John Madden,’ she teased him, running her fingers through his hair, drawing her hand down over his old scar, smoothing out the deep grooves in his forehead. ‘I can see we’ll have to get this settled before we proceed. What is it you don’t understand?’
Smiling himself now, Madden kissed her.
‘No, tell me first,’ she insisted.
‘Well, by rights he shouldn’t be on the run, this Ash. He ought to feel he’s in the clear. He killed the only witness to the murder he committed in Paris and covered his tracks by getting rid of that French girl as well.’
‘But the police know who he is now. Mightn’t he have guessed that?’
‘He might. But I doubt it.’ Madden’s brow had darkened again. ‘It’s possible he’s guessed they’re looking for Marko, especially now that Paris has been liberated, but not Raymond Ash, surely. Yet the opposite seems to be the case. He’s pulled up stakes and gone on the run. So what does he know that we don’t? What have we missed?’
22
It was after nine when Fred Poole got home — more than two hours later than he was supposed to knock off — and he was pleased to find Lily working with her Aunt Betty in the kitchen getting things ready for their Christmas dinner in two days’ time. He knew their niece was going to stay with them over the holidays, but hadn’t been sure whether Lily would arrive that evening or the following morning.
‘Blimey, what a night!’ he exclaimed when he came through the front door still shaking the snow off his heavy policeman’s cape. ‘Thought I’d never get away.’
‘What was the trouble?’ Lily asked as she gave him a hug. She’d come from the kitchen at the back of the small house wearing an apron over her policewoman’s skirt, and Fred grinned at the sight.
‘Don’t often see you in one of those,’ he remarked as he shed cape and helmet and then produced an object wrapped in newspaper from under his arm, which proved on inspection to be a bottle of sherry. ‘Won it in a raffle at the station,’ he announced with a wink when he saw Lily’s questioning glance.
