Red Crystal (43 page)

‘Marie—’

She raised a hand to her husband. ‘No, Leonard, it doesn’t make any difference now. And I don’t want people to think she’s our daughter any more. Not when she
isn’t
…’ She looked at Nick again, and continued in a firm voice, ‘She’s not our child at all. She was my sister’s. My sister was what you might call –
wild
. Just like Linda. Very impressionable. She had a boyfriend, just before the war. A German called Schroeder.’ She spoke the word ‘German’ as if it were distasteful. ‘He was a writer, an intellectual. Rose, my sister, was quite bowled over by him. She had … a strange fascination for those sort of people. Always hanging about them, making a fool of herself. She went to Germany with – this person. But then, in ’38, I think it was, there was trouble – he was almost arrested.’

‘Why?’

‘Why? Oh, I’m not sure—’

‘For being a damned communist!’ interrupted Wilson.

Mrs Wilson folded and refolded her hands. ‘Anyway, he came here as a refugee. When war broke out he was interned. Rose – well, she never stopped making scenes about it. Trying to get him freed. Hysterical, she was. She took a job near the camp in Scotland. He was allowed out in the day to work on a farm. She’d sneak out to – see him. Then – she became pregnant.’ She shook her head. ‘It was out of the question for her to keep the baby. I mean, she was quite hopeless as a person. Irresponsible. She would never have looked after it. Besides, she didn’t
want
the child. She was frightened that the German would drop her. And of course he
did
. After the war …’ She bristled with righteous indignation.

‘Go on,’ prompted Nick.

‘Well. We decided to – take the child. We couldn’t have children of our own, you see.’

‘But you never actually adopted Linda?’

Mrs Wilson assumed a look of high moral standing. ‘No … We didn’t want there to be the slightest stain against her name. If anyone had discovered that she was – born out of marriage. Well, we felt it would be terrible for her.’

Or for
you
, Nick thought.

‘We decided to make her ours immediately. Rose had the baby in Scotland, in the cottage where she was living. The doctor didn’t know Rose at all. It was wartime. People were moving all over the place … When we told him her name was Marie Wilson and the baby was to be called Linda, well … He took us at our word. And so – we brought Linda up.
Properly
. Much better than Rose could ever have done. Anyway – Rose died a few years later.’

Wilson said firmly, ‘But the wildness was in her blood. She was just like her mother.’ He shook his head. ‘Nothing we could do.’

There was a long silence. Nick felt empty and hollow.

Wilson said in an icy voice, ‘I suppose this will mean prosecution.’

For a moment Nick couldn’t think what he meant. ‘For what?’

‘For the false birth registration.’

Nick sighed. ‘Quite honestly, I have no idea. It was a long time ago.’ These people were incredible, he reflected. All they could think about was protecting themselves from something which happened more than twenty-five years before.

‘Just tell me,’ Nick said heavily, ‘how did Linda find out? About her parents?’

Mrs Wilson wrung her hands. ‘She discovered a letter. From this – Schroeder man. He’d – written to me, asking about her. I thought he was
dead
. It had been so long … And I’ve no idea how he
found
us. It was awful.’

‘When was this?’

‘Oh … In 1962. Thereabouts. From then on she could think of nothing else. She romanticized him. Saw him as a knight in armour, fighting for freedom … A martyr. She became
obsessed
by the story. And as for
us
– well,
we
became monsters. And after all we’d done for her!’

‘One last question. Why would she call herself Gabriella?’

Mrs Wilson’s mouth pulled back in a grimace of pain. ‘That’s what the Schroeder man called her. At least,
Gabriele
. In the letter. He seemed to think it was her name. Rose had promised him. That she would call the child by that name. But then Rose always made promises she could never keep.’

Nick stood up to go. Automatically Wilson began to get out of his seat, but, changing his mind, paused and sank back into the cushions. Nick left them sitting in the dark oppressive room, staring at the walls.

Victoria sat in up bed, feeling awful. She’d slept very badly. She remembered waking several times in the night and being unable to get back to sleep. Now, astonishingly, it was ten.

The other side of the bed was empty.

She pulled on a dressing-gown and went to the door. She opened it. There were voices in the living-room. As she went in they ceased.

Giorgio and the woman sat there, looking at her.

Immediately Giorgio rose to his feet and came towards her. He put his arm round her. ‘Did you sleep all right?’

She blinked at him. ‘No, as a matter of fact … I didn’t.’

‘Ah,’ he said without interest. Then, more warmly: ‘I make you some coffee.’

He disappeared into the kitchen. Victoria was left with the woman. She was not quite as beautiful as Victoria had thought. There were dark circles under her eyes and in the light of day her skin looked rather sallow. At the same time, there was something magnetic about her, a forceful energy that made it difficult to take your eyes off her.

Victoria immediately felt inadequate.

The woman said, ‘We were just talking about you.’

‘Oh.’

She uncurled herself from the sofa. Her movements were cat-like. ‘You see,’ the woman said smoothly, ‘you’re the only one who can help.’

Victoria sat down in a chair. ‘Me? In what way?’

‘This awful business with the van. And those people who slipped in the explosives—’

Victoria closed her eyes. Just the mention of those dreadful bundles made her depressed.

‘You see, Giorgio knew nothing about them. You realize that, don’t you?’

Victoria nodded.

The woman reached down to the floor and took a cigarette from a packet. She lit it slowly and deliberately. She had what Victoria’s mother used to call poise.

‘These people have used Giorgio. And of course
you
,’ she continued. ‘And now they want the stuff. We have to decide whether to give it to them.’

It was like a nightmare. Victoria shook her head. ‘No, no. That must be wrong.’

‘I agree.’

Victoria smiled with relief. ‘Thank goodness. We’ll give the stuff to the police, won’t we? And explain.’

‘Well, I don’t think it’ll be quite as simple as that.’ The woman’s gaze was very penetrating. ‘They’ll almost undoubtedly arrest us.’

‘Oh God!’

Victoria couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to be arrested on a serious charge. After the business with Mel and the farm, and the violence at the demonstration, it seemed that her life was staggering from one horror to another, each worse than the one before.

Giorgio came in with the coffee and put it down beside her. He sat on the arm of the chair and stroked her hair.

‘Can’t we
go
to someone?’ Victoria asked plaintively.

The woman shot a glance at Giorgio, then smiled. ‘Why, yes. That was exactly what we thought—’

‘Oh good!’ Victoria felt the first glimmerings of hope.

‘But it must be someone who can put our case –
properly
,’ the woman said. ‘Someone with legal knowledge that we can trust absolutely. And someone with
influence
. You know how it is – the old-boy network and all that. It’s
who
you know that’s important …’

‘There’s my solicitor.’

There was a slight pause. ‘No, Vittoria, my love,’ Giorgio said softly. ‘Not important enough. We need someone who can give the best advice. Someone like your friend.’

Victoria felt a small twinge of alarm. ‘Who do you mean?’

‘Your friend … Sir Henry. Now he would
really
know how to handle it.’

Victoria shook her head vehemently. ‘Absolutely not. I couldn’t possibly. He’s been so kind. I couldn’t
involve
him—’

‘But you wouldn’t be involving him,’ the woman said in a soft persuasive tone. ‘Just
asking
him. That’s all. Surely he wouldn’t mind giving a bit of advice. And it would make all the difference. Then at least we’d know we were going the right way about things. After all, we’re talking about the rest of our lives. We don’t want to make any mistakes.’

Victoria stared at her. Suddenly, for no particular reason, she noticed that the woman’s hands were shaking.

She looked up at Giorgio. He squeezed her shoulder. ‘Please, Vittoria. It would mean a lot. To you and me. And to Gabriele.’

Gabriele leant forward. ‘If you just phone and ask if you can see him. We wouldn’t come in at all. Just wait outside—’

‘Go and
see
him?’

‘Of course.’

Victoria felt weighed down with responsibility. Whatever she did would be wrong. She tried to put herself in Henry’s place. Would he mind terribly? He was bound to be busy. The last thing he needed was to hear more about her troubles.

And yet – he was understanding, kind. And, as Gabriele had said, they
were
talking about the rest of their lives.

She sighed and heard herself say, ‘All right, but – I must go and see him on my own. When he’s got a moment. I don’t want to
embarrass
him in any way at all.’

Gabriele’s eyes flashed. ‘Then it’d be best to see him at home, wouldn’t it? Quietly. So no one will know.’

Victoria looked at her. Perhaps she’d misjudged her: she was obviously a considerate person. She breathed, ‘Yes.’

In a burst of shaky optimism, Victoria thought: Everything’ll be all right. It
had
to be.

‘Oh yes, that’s her all right.’

The car dealer stared at the photograph. His name was Bisley and he looked rather flash, befitting someone who dealt in the more expensive sort of car.

‘Rather a sexy sort of number.’

‘Yes?’ asked Nick painfully.

‘In a cool businesslike sort of way, that is. Knew exactly what she wanted. No mucking about.’ He whistled through his teeth. ‘Boy, did she take me for a ride!’

Nick thought: I know the feeling.

‘And all that cash. Thought it was my lucky day.’

Nick gave him a knowing look. Doubtless none of it was destined to go through the books.

They walked towards the door. The rain was pouring down the showroom windows.

‘It was a day just like this,’ said Bisley. ‘She rather brightened it up, I thought.’ He shook his head. ‘Boy, was I taken for a ride.’

Nick paused at the door. ‘Anything more you can add to your statement?’

‘To be quite honest, I can hardly remember what I told your colleagues at the time.’

Nick nodded. He hadn’t expected anything else really. It was just another bit of the jigsaw that had to be checked. And Manchester was only a few miles on from Chester.

He said, ‘Thanks,’ and went into the downpour. He got into the car and shook his head at the others. They weren’t surprised either.

Without a word, the sergeant started the car and headed for London.

H
ENRY PUT DOWN
the phone and went thoughtfully into the hall.

‘Jenkins?’ he called.

A chair scraped in the kitchen and the Special Branch man appeared in the doorway. ‘Sir?’

‘I’m expecting a caller. At about seven. A Miss Danby.’

‘Right, sir, I’ll answer the door, shall I?’

‘Oh, thank you. That’d be most kind. Lady North-cliff won’t be back till eight or so.’

Henry returned to his study and closed the door. He sat at his desk and wondered what on earth it was that Victoria wanted this time. It was a bit unreasonable of her, asking to see him like this. Surely nothing could be so urgent that it couldn’t wait until a more convenient moment. He felt a little resentful. Particularly since, from the sound of it, the problem was serious. Not that she’d said a great deal. But if she couldn’t even go to her own solicitor … He dreaded to think.

A boyfriend in trouble? Drugs again? Some people were doomed to attract disaster, and she was obviously one of them. Yet in a way he was rather curious to find out what it was. During his many years at the Bar he had never failed to be both amazed and fascinated by the difficulties people managed to create for themselves.

In Victoria’s case he must try to be charitable. She was still finding her way in life. It was all too easy for him to mix with successful confident people all the time, and to forget that, for many others like Victoria, life was treacherous and riddled with false turns.

Still, this couldn’t go on. She really had to learn to manage on her own.

He would see her. But this, he firmly decided, would be the last time.

Detective Constable Jenkins returned to the kitchen. He wondered whether to make himself another cup of coffee but decided against it. He’d already had five cups that day and they said it did terrible things to your blood pressure. But then the problem was really his weight. He was rather fond of his food.

He sat down at the table and picked up the
Financial Times
. It wasn’t something he normally read, but he’d already digested his own copy of the
Mirror
from cover to cover, and Lady Northcliff had kindly left the
FT
and some of the other more serious newspapers out for him in case he got bored. She was a very thoughtful lady. Charming and kind too. And obviously very happy in her marriage. Mind you, what a nice man
he
was. He was everything Jenkins thought an upholder of the law should be: fair-minded, extremely learned, and very hard-working. Jenkins was proud to have been assigned to him.