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Authors: Winston Graham

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BOOK: The Sleeping Partner
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I said angrily: ‘You damned fool, I had to make the move when I did – we were dying of strangulation in the old works – you know it as well as I do! And where you're concerned there's never been any more question here than at the other place of my being boss. As for friendship, I thought you were my friend as well as Lynn's!'

We came to the end of the tarmac and after a few seconds turned back.

I said: ‘When did you write this note?'

‘Four or five weeks ago. Sometime in early July.'

‘Have you ever been Lynn's lover?'

That stopped him again. He looked at me with contempt and then gave a short laugh. ‘You're a little out of your mind this afternoon.'

‘That may be.'

‘The answer's no. I haven't been Lynn's lover. But if you want the bare offensive truth, I gladly will be any time she gives me the opportunity!'

‘She's not likely to now.'

‘She never was likely to. More's the pity.'

I said: ‘Why did you send this note?'

‘She wrote and asked me to meet her in Letherton. I did. I met her several times. Any objections?'

‘Why particularly did she want to see you then?'

He took out a packet of cigarettes but it was empty. I offered him one of mine but he shook his head and fished a half-smoked cigarette out of a matchbox.

‘Was it to discuss my awful behaviour?'

‘You admit it's been bad, then.'

‘She'd reason to feel neglected, certainly.'

He lit a match and put it to the tattered end of the cigarette. The loose edges of the paper flickered into flame before the tobacco caught. He flipped the match away.

‘Did she tell you I was having an affair with Stella Curtis?'

‘There's not much point in being coy about it, is there?'

‘Do you think it's true?'

‘Well … pardon my disbelief …'

I put my hand on his coat. ‘Did you think so before Lynn told you?'

He frowned again. ‘ I think so now.'

‘What
did Lynn tell you, Frank? Did she go into any sort of detail? It's vitally important I should know.'

He shrugged. ‘Oh, God, what's the good of this? If you feel happier denying it all …'

‘So far you've given me nothing specific to deny.'

‘Oh, I can't remember what she told me. Anyway, she no doubt had it all out with you before she left. Personally it's none of my business, but I didn't think it very pretty taking the Curtis girl back to Greencroft when Lynn was out and playing ducks and drakes with her in your own home.'

‘It might not have been pretty if it had ever happened.'

He hesitated and chewed the cigarette. ‘And did Mrs Thing, your housekeeper, imagine what she saw?'

‘Mrs Lloyd? What did she see?'

‘Look, I'm not briefed for either of you—'

‘Frank!'

After a minute he said: ‘According to Lynn, so far as I can remember, you arrived at Greencroft with Stella Curtis one lunchtime – were annoyed to find Mrs Lloyd still there and sent her packing. So Mrs Lloyd being quizzy tiptoed back ten minutes later and looked in at the french windows and saw you'd got the girl on the settee. If it—'

‘Just a minute.' I'd taken out a cigarette of my own but had waited to light it. Now I lit it. I was surprised to see the flame of the lighter wobbling. ‘ Dear Mrs Lloyd. So that's what she thought.'

‘That's what she thought.'

‘I remember the time she means. I'd brought Stella back to the house from Harwell, to pick up your IDA plans. When she got in the house she nearly fainted and had to lie down. I remember bending over her to give her a glass of brandy, and I believe I lifted her legs on to the settee. I suppose Mrs Lloyd chose that moment to look in. It's surprising what a little imagination can do. Anything else?'

There was silence. Dawson said uncomfortably: ‘What about last week when you conveniently got fogged up and spent the night at Brecon?'

‘Lynn left me before that happened. I want to know what else
she
told you.'

‘Oh, that you were with the Curtis girl all the time, that you were out at nights with her and cared nothing for your wife any more.'

‘Was she asking your help in some way?'

His thin face flushed up again. ‘Yes.'

‘And you helped her?'

‘If it's of any interest, no. She's had no direct evidence from me.'

‘Could she have had any?'

‘I don't know. You were always
with
Stella Curtis, weren't you? But spying isn't my line. When a fat little pus-head of a private detective came snooping round I told him to clear out.'

‘Thank you at least for that.'

‘Thank me for nothing. Now have you finished?'

‘Did you tell Lynn you weren't prepared to help her?'

‘Yes, eventually. She didn't like it much, and that's the last time I saw her.'

We'd been walking slowly back towards the buildings and now were less than fifty yards away. Thurston and Holborn had come out and were walking towards us.

I said: ‘ Did it occur to you, Frank, that Lynn might really be in love with somebody else and be trying to collect false evidence against me so that she could get her divorce the right way round?'

‘No,' he said. ‘ I happen to be her friend as well as yours.'

The plane wasn't ready until seven. I went up in her first for a trial run, and then Holborn went up with Rhodes. I knew that on his report depended not merely whether they should install a radioaltimeter and use a bigger plane but whether they should use our equipment in its entirety or his. On it too might depend the future development of the factory, even possibly its survival. But also more important things than that.

About eight Dr Bennett took me aside. He said: ‘Always supposing that Holborn's report is not unfavourable, Mr Granville; always supposing we decide to go ahead and ship your equipment as fitted, for use at once in the desert – is there any chance at all that you would be able to go with it?'

I stared at him. ‘With it? D'you mean to operate it?'

‘Yes. I've been talking the matter over with Porter. He feels very strongly that we can't afford any slip-up in operation. In spite of the claim that this equipment can be operated by non-technical people, the man who uses it must be skilled in the interpretation of the results. And it would be of immense benefit if there were someone there who understood it thoroughly in case of a breakdown. No one knows an instrument like its maker.'

‘Thank you, Dr Bennett. Unfortunately I have a factory.'

‘And no one who could deputise?'

‘I'm afraid not.'

‘It would be interesting work, and would be completed in a few months. It might even be dangerous.'

‘Do you tell me that as an inducement?'

He smiled. ‘On the whole I thought you would have found it so.'

I said: ‘ I have – other problems as well.'

‘It's a pity, because if the decision is a narrow one, the question of operator might influence us in making it. One hesitates sometimes over the unproven instrument, however promising it may seem in trials.'

‘I'm
sorry.' I stared out of the window at the blue of the evening sky over the hills. ‘Anyway, Holborn's report may be highly favourable.'

At that moment Thurston came along the corridor. ‘Oh, you're wanted on the phone, Granville. Somebody in London.'

‘In London? Did they say who it was?'

‘It's a man. I think he said Heppelwhite. Simon Heppelwhite.'

Chapter Twenty-Two

I
T WAS
an ordinary telephone booth, a relic of the aerodrome days. I squeezed in and shut the door. ‘ Hullo?'

‘Hullo. Michael?'

‘Yes?'

‘Oh, this is Simon.'

‘Yes? Go on.'

‘I may say I'm sorry to trouble you, but it happens we have here a visitor who says he's a friend of yours. I'm personally not at all sure whether he's a brilliant man or a lunatic. He says he has your authority to enquire into Lynn's sex life. Why he should come to see me …'

‘What's his name?'

Simon lisped something but the phone crackled madly.

‘What?' I shouted. ‘What's his name?'

‘Curtis. John Curtis.'

‘Where are you speaking from?'

‘My place in London.'

I stared at the phone. ‘ But you can't be – Curtis is a sick man. He's been in bed off and on for weeks. How has he—?'

‘Is that what's the matter? You know him, then?'

‘I know him but I don't understand how he's got up to London. Is he a tall, thin man in his middle forties with very clear deep-set brown eyes?'

‘Yes, that's the fellow. It's not a mental thing he's had wrong with him, I hope?'

‘Anything but …
What
does he want?'

‘He wants to know all I know about Lynn. He says he has your authority to ask these questions. I can't quite understand why he should come to me. You do happen to be her husband!'

The mirror at the back of the phone was cracked. It made me look as if my eyes met over the bridge of my nose. I said: ‘He already knows all I can tell him.'

‘Well, what's it all about? Is he a private detective? I've never seen anyone less like one.'

‘He's just a friend, Simon.'

‘Helping you to collect evidence for a divorce?'

‘No, not even that. I'm – very much with my head in a mousetrap just at this moment, and anybody … What does he want to know?'

‘Details of her past life. Among other things, whether I'd call her a nymphomaniac. If he—'

‘And would you?'

‘What?'

‘Would you call her that?'

There was silence while the three pips went.

He said: ‘No, I should not. And I should have thought I knew her pretty well. But who am I to instruct her husband?'

‘Well, instruct Curtis. He won't put it to any ill use.'

‘Michael.'

‘Yes?'

‘The police were round yesterday asking about Lynn. Apparently she has taken it upon herself to disappear, not merely from you but from everybody.'

‘Yes.'

‘I don't think I should worry too much. Lynn has always had a flair for the dramatic. She'll very likely wait until it gets in the papers and then make a terrific reappearance somewhere.'

I said: ‘ That's highly probable.'

‘You speak feelingly, I'm afraid.'

‘Where is Curtis now?'

‘In the next room talking to Joy Fraser.'

It was on my tongue to tell Simon to keep his redhead out of this, but I didn't. I thought, well, what does it matter, in another day or so Lynn's private life will be front page news.

‘Has Curtis got his wife with him?'

‘No. I think he came by taxi.'

‘Well, if he's not careful he'll …' I stopped; a sudden thought had got itself into my mind. I tried to finish the sentence but couldn't.

‘Hullo?'

‘Hullo … Simon, will you give John Curtis a message for me?'

‘Yes?'

‘Tell him that nothing he does to help me –
nothing at all
will justify him taking risks with his own life. Tell him … yes, tell him that you don't ever solve an equation by cheating, by – by striking out one of the principal symbols. Tell him—'

‘Michael, I'm not a tape-recorder! I'll do my best, but make the rest of the message short.'

‘No,' I said. ‘That's all.'

I banged the receiver down and came out and stood staring at the tattered announcements on the notice-board. The oldest was an advertisement for a concert in Aberystwyth in March 1946. I was fogged and vexed and upset by John Curtis's move. There was no way he could help me by pestering my friends, nothing he could do that the police wouldn't do better; in fact it went dead counter to his own advice to me. I couldn't understand how Stella had allowed him to go, how he had got there … I wished now I'd spoken to him direct. I wished very much that he hadn't gone.

Nothing that happened ever shaped towards understanding or relief. Frank Dawson had cleared up a few points of technical interest but had done nothing to help with the bigger things. John Curtis's rash, lunatic excursion couldn't help any more. It seemed to me it could have only one purpose …

By now dusk was falling and the plane was not yet home. I went back into the phone booth and put through a call to Raglan Cottage. There was five minutes' delay but I wouldn't ring off, and stood in the box trying to overcome the feeling of hopelessness that had got me round the throat.

Someone had drawn chorus girls with large busts on the back wall of the phone booth. They all had the same upturned nose and the same vacant grin.

As I waited I heard the drone of the plane, and then I saw Thurston and Dawson go along the corridor towards the outer door. Neither of them saw me. There was a pause and then Rhodes and Holborn came in, accompanied by the other two, Rhodes taking off his flying jacket and apparently doing most of the talking. I caught sight of Holborn's face and thought it looked more bony and taciturn than ever.

‘The phone's been ringing,' said the operator. ‘Just a minute, I'll try them on another line.'

From where I was standing I could see the door of the room where we had our conference, and I saw Steel go in and then Bennett, and finally Porter and his secretary. After a minute Frank Dawson came out and looked up and down, then he saw me and came across and opened the door of the booth.

‘Holborn's back. They're all waiting for you.'

‘I know. Let them wait.'

He shoved back his black hair. ‘ Have it as you please. I thought you might be mildly interested.'

‘I'll be there in five minutes.'

BOOK: The Sleeping Partner
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