Sidney Chambers and the Perils of the Night (34 page)

‘I understand,’ Cartwright replied. ‘We work as a unit. We share the same house, the same ideas, and have a common outlook. We put everything into one pot and stir it up into some kind of marital soup.’

‘Yes, ideally there should be no secrets and complete transparency.’ Sidney had been careful not to use the word ‘money’, and had waited to see if either of them brought up the subject. Now Amanda did so.

‘I’m not worried about money or anything like that,’ she answered, turning to her fiancé. ‘All that I have is yours.’

‘Ditto,’ Cartwright replied.

Sidney thought that Amanda’s future husband should have made an effort to be more romantic (he could do better than ‘ditto’ for a start). He looked directly at them both. ‘You are aware that Amanda is wealthy.’

‘I am.’

‘Money can influence a marriage in many ways.’

‘I imagine it’s better to have it than not.’

‘And you won’t resent sharing it, Amanda?’

Anthony Cartwright cut in before his fiancée could answer. ‘I do earn money of my own. I am not a sponger.’

‘I wasn’t implying that you were. Sometimes, however, a man can feel diminished if a wife has more money than he does.’

‘I think I have enough self-confidence to protect me from those kind of feelings, Canon Chambers.’

‘I’m going to fund Tony’s research,’ Amanda explained. ‘I can’t think of anything more important than doing that. You can hardly accuse me of being frivolous if I do, can you, Sidney? What could be more wifely and supportive? And that’s what I’m going to be.’

She rose, reached for Cartwright’s hand, and leant across to kiss Sidney on the cheek. ‘Happy now?’ she asked.

A week later, Sidney was dining in Corpus and took the opportunity to talk to Professor Meldrum once more. It was, however, difficult to get a word in over the braised lamb and Neville’s conversation was full of his recent experiments into the gas content of interstellar space and the strong dependence of opacity on wavelength.

‘You’d be better off discussing the gas content at High Table,’ the Professor of English joked. ‘There’s plenty of opaque conversation here.’

While Professor Meldrum thought he had as good a sense of humour as the next man, his equilibrium was easily tested. ‘I think it’s important,’ he pronounced, ‘that we monitor solar influences, the behaviour of high-energy particles, and examples of gravitational collapse. It is a pity that those of you working in the humanities expect scientists to familiarise themselves with early medieval poetry but know nothing of the current developments in cosmic-ray research.’

‘It’s far too difficult.’

‘Nonsense. Even Canon Chambers understands it when he tries.’

Sidney had drifted off and was thinking about Hildegard. He worried, on waking, to think that he would have to remember Meldrum’s previous conversation about the study of elementary particles and their behaviour at high energies. He changed the subject as quickly as he could and asked his friend whether he had discovered anything more about Anthony Cartwright’s marital status.

‘I’m glad you’ve brought that up,’ his companion replied, ‘since I have had rather more success in these investigations than I have had in my laboratory. I am beginning to see the attraction of having a sideline, Sidney. The results are more immediately rewarding.’

‘They can be a distraction, of course.’

‘Although, in this case, I think the diversion is definitely worth pursuing. There is still a Mrs Cartwright living and she has a house in King’s Lynn.’

‘It couldn’t be a different woman?’

‘It could, but this one has the same line of business as the Mrs Cartwright I remember hearing about. Perhaps you could go and see her on the quiet?’

‘Perhaps I should . . .’

‘You’ll need an excuse, I imagine. You won’t be able to find out what you need to know from a telephone call and you obviously can’t just turn up and ask impertinent questions; however, I have already thought of something that should be able to yield the necessary results.’ Meldrum took a sip of Beaujolais. He was expecting Sidney to be pleased with his idea. ‘You remember that I told you she bred dogs?’

‘And how is that relevant?’

‘You’re being unusually slow, Sidney. Don’t you see? You could take Dickens. He could be your cover.’

Sidney worried how, with his severely limited expertise, he could get away with talking to a Labrador breeder with any authority. He could ask Agatha Redmond for advice, he supposed, but he was keen to give that particular family a wide berth.

Neville suggested that Sidney could have a niece or nephew who wanted a puppy. Sidney could offer Dickens’s ‘services’ to one of Mrs Cartwright’s bitches in exchange.

‘And what if I don’t actually need a puppy?’

‘You don’t have to go through with it all. You can just discuss the matter and change your mind afterwards.’

‘I don’t like to lead people on.’

Neville was tempted to pick Sidney up on this but let the remark pass. ‘It was only an idea,’ his colleague continued. ‘After all, you’re the detective.’

Sidney had already arranged to meet Amanda on her own in the American Bar of the Savoy to discuss matters and he decided to stick with their plan before even thinking of making any sortie to Norfolk. He wondered if a bit of close questioning might make his friend aware of his reservations, but Amanda had already anticipated his doubts, immediately joking that she hoped Sidney wasn’t planning to persuade her to call the whole thing off.

She insisted on champagne and regaled her friend with stories surrounding her preparation for the great day. Her dress had been ordered from John Cavanagh’s Mayfair salon, there were going to be three bridesmaids and two pages, and Jennifer was to be the maid of honour. She had paid Henry Poole on Savile Row for Tony’s morning suit and her mother was going to wear peach. Sidney was inwardly appalled by the implications of all this expenditure. He replied that he was greatly looking forward to the whole thing, it was sure to go well (the church was marvellous and the vicar was a good man), and he was convinced that the happy couple were going to have a wonderful honeymoon. He only wanted to ask Amanda, and he knew it was none of his business, whether she was happy with the idea that she and her husband planned to spend so much time apart so soon after marrying.

‘But that’s the beauty of it,’ Amanda insisted. ‘We have all the benefits of wedlock without giving up any independence. Tony says our marriage will be like a fulcrum; we are either side of it and connected to it. It doesn’t matter whether it goes up or down, we will always be joined.’

Sidney could see that he was going to have to be blunt. ‘Are you sure you want to go through with this, Amanda?’

‘Of course I’m sure.’

‘What will you do about money?’

‘What do you mean? We’ve already discussed this. I’ve got loads and Daddy likes Anthony very much. He says it’s time we had some brains in the family. He thinks Tony’s going to win the Nobel Prize!’

‘But how will you manage? Who will be in charge?’

‘Of the money? Why, Tony, of course.’

‘You’ll have a joint account? How much have you given him already?’

‘Really, Sidney, that’s none of your business. I don’t know why you’re worrying about it. There’s plenty of money to go round.’

‘I’m sure there is, but I think you should retain some control.’

‘Are you saying that I shouldn’t trust my husband?’

Sidney had to backtrack. ‘I think it would be good if you had some kind of independence.’

‘Do you mean a running-away fund? Mummy has one of them. That’s the only piece of advice she has given me. “Make sure you have enough to do a moonlight flit if it all goes wrong. Every woman should have a year’s supply and time to find someone else.” She’s still got hers. Why don’t you like Tony?’

‘I do,’ Sidney began. ‘I admire his intelligence and I’m glad that he’s so keen on you.’ Sidney stopped himself from using the word ‘love’.

‘He dotes on my every word. Isn’t that wonderful?’

Sidney was not going to be distracted. ‘Do you know much about his past, I wonder? He hasn’t been married before or anything like that?’

‘You asked about that at our very first session. I can’t imagine the situation has changed.’

‘No, I can’t imagine it either. But I suppose people should know something about their partner’s previous history?’

‘I’m not so sure, Sidney. I think I’d rather keep everything in the dark. I don’t want to have to talk about dreadful people like Guy Hopkins. The only person Tony knows about is you.’

‘I am not a former boyfriend, Amanda.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘This is not about us. Tony is a good deal older than you. I’d be surprised if there wasn’t somebody.’

‘But why do I need to know? Tony doesn’t believe in the past anyway. He says we have to think of time in a completely different way these days: past, present and future are all one.’

‘I seem to remember T.S. Eliot thinking something similar . . .’

‘I am “all women” apparently: “all women for all time”. Isn’t that romantic?’

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

‘Don’t be such a killjoy. What on earth is wrong with you, Sidney? Do you resent my happiness? I wish you’d cheer up. You’re not very good company.’

‘I’m sorry, Amanda, I am trying to help you.’

‘Are you thinking I should call the whole thing off? Is that really why you wanted to see me?’

‘Well . . .’

‘Honestly, Sidney, I thought better of you. You can’t have me all to yourself. Besides, you’ve got Hildegard. I haven’t been at all jealous about her, have I? And if you’re going to keep banging on about “the past” then she’s certainly had one.’

‘There’s no need to bring her into this.’

‘There is, actually, Sidney. You are being a hypocrite. It’s all right for you to toddle off to Germany whenever you feel like it and see your merry widow, but it’s not all right for me to find the one chance of happiness I’ve ever had in my life. Can’t you see that what I am doing is almost exactly the same as you? I will be married to someone who is abroad, just as Hildegard is abroad. I am copying you. You should be flattered. Instead you seem to want exclusive access to both me and Hildegard at the same time . . .’

‘That’s not true.’

‘In fact, you should talk to Tony about it. That’s what he’s always going on about; how things can exist simultaneously . . .’

‘I know. That’s partly what I came to . . .’

‘You’re just jealous because we’re actually getting on with it while you persist in shilly-shallying around.’

‘That’s not the case at all, and well you know it.’

‘I don’t even know why you’ve come here. I’m sure we’ve gone through all my marital arrangements a hundred times.’

‘Twice. It’s only that I think you should consider . . .’

‘What should I consider, Sidney? Come on. Spit it out.’

‘I’m not sure if Dr Cartwright is all that he says he is.’

‘You think he’s some kind of impostor? For God’s sake, Sidney! I’ve been to his offices. I’ve even seen him give a lecture. I KNOW WHO HE IS.’

‘But how much do you know about his past?’

‘As much as I need to know, thank you very much. Honestly, Sidney, I’ve had enough of your conniving little questions. They are mean-spirited and petty and cheap and I don’t think I can put up with them a minute longer. Why do you have to go on and on and on?’

Amanda stood up.

Sidney tried again. ‘I’m sorry if you are upset. I only want your happiness.’

‘That’s very good of you, but I can’t accept what you say when you accompany it with such perfidious and insinuating doubt. Tony loves me. And I love Tony. You can take someone else’s wedding on July the eighth but you can’t take mine. Consider yourself uninvited . . .’

‘But Amanda . . .’

‘DON’T “BUT AMANDA” ME! Leave me alone. Don’t speak to me ever again. I’ve absolutely had enough of this. Everyone, even Jennifer, has cast aspersions about Tony and asked me if I am serious. Well, I am. I don’t care about any of you. I’ve got Tony and I’ve got money and we’ll find a new set of friends and we won’t ever have to see any of you again.’

Amanda picked up her wrap and stormed out into the foyer. Sidney was now aware that the cocktail bar was silent and that everyone was looking at him.

He felt sick.

A waiter approached. ‘Is everything all right, sir?’

‘I think I’d better have the bill.’

Sidney had never paid at the Savoy before and he imagined the price of the champagne they had just consumed would be close to his weekly wage. He was shaking. No one had ever spoken to him in such a way. Now he would have to collect his thoughts and try to talk calmly to someone about what to do next: Jennifer, Keating, Meldrum; even Mrs Kendall.

As the waiter brought the bill, Amanda rushed back into the bar and leant down by the chair she had recently vacated.

‘I left my handbag.’

She looked at Sidney for as briefly as it could be construed polite before leaving once more.