glanced back into the room. ‘Marvellous to see everyone together like this. I’m sure good old Jack would really have approved.’
Lawrence snorted and indicated the chair on the other side of the hearth. ‘Take my advice, Guy, save the sentimentality for the hustings. Jack Rees would have stuck his nose round the door, found a damned good excuse why he had to leave early, and then gone off to shag one of the waitresses.’
Guy coloured slightly.
Lawrence rolled the dregs of brandy round in his glass. He couldn’t help wondering why Guy wasn’t snuggled up alongside Alicia and Edwin. He wasn’t sure he had the patience for the long trawl through the social niceties to find out. Guy was about to speak when Lawrence got to his feet.
‘If you’ll excuse me, my daughter and son-in-law are having a drink downstairs in the club bar. I promised them I’d go down and meet them after the dinner.’
Guy swallowed down his prepared sentence. ‘You’re leaving, Lawrence?’ he said in astonishment. ‘But, I thought –’
‘Not leaving, think of it as a short sabbatical.’
‘I’ve been thinking –’ Guy began again.
Lawrence beaded him with ice-blue eyes. ‘I wouldn’t make a habit of it, Guy. Leave it to those of us who have the knack. Alicia, I’m sure, will handle all your serious thinking for you.’ He stood the brandy balloon down on a side table. ‘I’m surprised they haven’t ordered up a circle of simpering acolytes for you yet.’
Phelps looked uneasy. ‘My wife is over there with Mrs Hewitt and the other ladies. Jack Rees was a loner, I prefer to model myself –’
Lawrence leant forward and patted Phelps gently on the shoulder.
‘Jack Rees was a man in a million, Guy. If he hadn’t been, he’d have been Prime Minister years ago. Take my advice, take all the sycophants and hangers-on Alicia can dig up for you. And make sure they find you a good political agent. Politics is a lonely business, you can do with all the support you can buy. Now, if you’ll excuse me I really have to go downstairs and talk to Sarah and Calvin. Why don’t you have another brandy?’
Lawrence was pleased to be outside on the landing; the air was cool and surprisingly clear. Our Lady Margaret, rendered in oils by a member of the local art club, stared down at him from the oak-panelled wall. In certain lights she appeared to have very long canine teeth peeking provocatively from under her top lip. Tonight she wore a Mona Lisa smile.
Lawrence slipped a hand casually into the pocket of his dinner jacket. He had no great desire to see either his daughter, Sarah, or Calvin Roberts, but he had even less inclination to spend any time with Guy Phelps. He walked slowly down the stairs. He had seen the selection lists from party headquarters. There were at least four stronger candidates than Mr Phelps.
He could still hear Alicia Markham’s insistent voice at the selection meeting. She’d railroaded the rest of the committee.
‘What we need is another local man, someone who understands the Fens,’ she’d snapped waspishly as the other names were offered up.
Lawrence shook his head; what they needed was Jack Rees. Alicia had thrown Phelps’ CV onto the table.
‘Guy comes from a well-known local family, he’s happily married, his children all go to local schools. His interview went very well.’
They’d fallen like skittles – Harry Dobbs, Celia Heath, Elizabeth Hewitt …
The noise of the club bar rose up the stairwell like smoke, breaking Lawrence’s train of thought.
Calvin Roberts was in the foyer hanging the phone back into its cradle. He smiled up at Lawrence as he descended. ‘Evening, Lawrence, just a quick business call. No peace anywhere these days, you know what it’s like.’ Calvin spoke far too defensively for there to be any truth in what he said. ‘How are you this evening?’
Lawrence nodded. ‘Fine. Sarah in the bar?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. Calvin fell into step beside him and they walked in through the double doors, shoulder to shoulder like a pair of gunslingers.
Sarah Roberts smiled when she saw them both and got to her feet.
‘Daddy, I’m so glad you came down. How did the dinner go? Did Calvin tell you his office was broken into?’
The two men stood either side of Sarah, eyeing each other up like dogs contesting territory. It was an old battlefield, the lines well drawn. Sarah slipped her arm through Lawrence’s.
‘I wanted to thank you again for a lovely day on Sunday. Lunch was wonderful, as always. The girls had a super time. I was saying to Calvin it was a shame he had to miss it.’
Lawrence wasn’t looking at his daughter, but at Calvin, who in turn held Lawrence’s gaze. Sarah talked on and on, her voice a delicate silken thread that bound both men together.
‘Would you like a drink?’ said Calvin, cutting across her.
Lawrence nodded. ‘Brandy.’
Calvin was the first to turn away. Sarah guided her father to a table. Instantly, the atmosphere lightened and he smiled down at his precious child.
‘So,’ he said, ‘what are those girls of yours doing tonight?’
Sarah leant closer and rested her head affectionately on her father’s shoulder.
‘I’m hoping that they’re sound asleep by now. We’ve got a new au pair, she …’ Lawrence listened with half an ear, comforted by trivia.
Across the room, Calvin was sharing a joke with the barman.
In her flat in Gunners Terrace, Dora took one final deep breath and opened the door for Jon Melrose. He stood on the dimly lit landing, hands stuffed in the pockets of his casual jacket. His hair was longer, it suited him. She smiled, feeling a peculiar little flutter of excitement in her stomach.
‘Hello, why don’t you come in, I’ve just put the kettle on.’
He stepped into the little hallway and grinned, running his fingers through his hair. ‘I hope you didn’t mind me dropping in. I recognised your name on one of the report sheets –’
‘No, not at all. It’s really nice to see you after –’ Dora stopped, not daring to count up how many years. ‘I heard you’d been transferred.’
Jon nodded. ‘That’s right. Sold down the river. But only as far as Keelside. Rationalisation, they call it. What it really means is that all our officers and most of the crime reports end up sitting on a desk half way across the county.’
Silence closed over the two of them like a heavy fog. Dora rubbed her hands uneasily on her sweater. ‘Why don’t you go into the sitting room, I’ll bring the tea in.’
Jon nodded. ‘No sugar for me.’ He paused. ‘You’ve been painting.’
Dora grinned, tugging at a magnolia streak in her hair. ‘I didn’t like the design job my uninvited interior decorator did. Bit radical for my tastes. I’ve just given it another coat, mind you, if you squint you can still
