As if by Magic (19 page)

David Lassiter showed them down the stairs to the car. He clapped a friendly hand on George's shoulder. ‘You get better. I don't want any more shocks like that.'

‘Neither do I,' agreed George fervently. He got into the car, leaned back against the seat and heaved a sigh as Marsh, the chauffeur, started the engine. ‘Look, can I apologize?' he said as the car pulled out of the factory gates. ‘I was really looking forward to this afternoon. I know you were as well, Jack, and now I've spoilt it.'

‘Forget it,' said Jack. ‘You didn't want to keel over.'

‘No,' said George. ‘No, I certainly didn't. It knocked the stuffing out of me.' He gave a small smile. ‘Poor Miss Aldryn. She must think I'm nuts.' His expression softened. ‘I hope I didn't scare her, talking nonsense about her being dead, poor girl.'

‘She'll get over it,' said Anne robustly. Just for once, Anne's sturdy common sense seemed to make little appeal to George.

Mr Lassiter, on the other hand, approved. ‘Exactly, Anne.'

He was about to say more but George spoke first. ‘Has she worked for the company long?'

Anne gave him a quick look. ‘She's been there for about a year and a half or so. Why?'

‘I just wondered,' said George, colouring. ‘No reason, really. I thought she seemed rather nice, that's all. Pleasant, you know?'

Mr Lassiter sniffed in disapproval. ‘She may be pleasant but it's a pity she's not a better clerk. Her time-keeping is appalling.'

‘Well, if Miss Aldryn's been there for over a year she can't be that bad, surely?' said George. ‘If Nigel's happy, that's all that matters. Unless . . .'

He stopped, his face lengthening. Jack knew what was on his mind as clearly as if he'd bellowed it at the top of his voice. There were other reasons for middle-aged men to be indulgent over the foibles of their attractive young female clerks, quite apart from their ability with typing and filing, and George had obviously just thought of them.

Anne shrugged. ‘Nigel wouldn't notice if she was there or not half the time.' George, observed Jack, looked remarkably pleased by this piece of information. ‘What he really wants is to be left alone. He's happier when she's not there.'

‘Then Nigel should be a very happy man,' said Mr Lassiter drily. ‘Anne, leaving aside Miss Aldryn for the moment, do you think we should consider changing the lock on the kitchen door? I said as much at the time but the matter slipped my mind. I know you didn't mean any harm, George, but I wouldn't like to think anyone could stroll in and out of the house as they pleased.'

‘They can't, Grandfather,' said Anne. ‘You needn't worry. That evening was very much the exception. On any other evening at least one of the servants would have been in the kitchen.'

Jack looked at her with interest. ‘So it wasn't usual for them all to go out together?'

‘Of course not,' said Anne. ‘That would be very inconvenient, as you can imagine. No, it was all because of Mrs Nelson's nephew. She's our cook,' she added, smiling at Jack's expression. ‘She has a nephew on the stage. He was appearing in London for the first time and she was terribly excited about it. She asked me ages before if she, Elsie and Pat could have the evening off to go and see him. Mrs Nelson was talking about it for weeks beforehand. She still is.'

‘But they aren't your only servants, are they?' asked Jack.

‘No. There's Marsh,' she said with a nod in the direction of the chauffeur. ‘He sleeps over the garage, though. There's a gardener and his boy, too, but they don't live in. And there's Corby, of course.'

‘Did Corby go to the theatre as well?'

Anne grinned. ‘I don't think it would suit Corby's dignity to go out with the cook. No, he was in bed with a bad cold. It was a real snorter. He was laid up for a few days.'

‘He gave it to me,' said Mr Lassiter with feeling. ‘My chest hasn't been the same since. I remember that evening. I'd been feeling off-colour anyway and the worry about what I thought was an attempt at burglary made it worse.'

‘I am sorry,' said George. ‘When I think about that evening I feel rotten. I hate having caused such a scene.'

‘Well, in the end it all worked out for the best,' said his grandfather. ‘I had to have the doctor and he said your adventure probably saved me from a serious illness. We should have gone to Norfolk for the weekend, shooting with some old friends of mine, the Leightons. The doctor said that if I'd done any such thing, with my chest the way it was, I'd have been courting pneumonia.' He looked at Anne. ‘We must arrange another weekend with the Leightons, my dear. They wanted to meet Maguire and, as Nigel agreed to come with us once, maybe he will again. He could do with a rest. He works far too hard.'

‘I don't think Nigel will leave London until the Pegasus is well and truly launched, Grandfather,' said Anne. ‘Even then, there's a great deal to do.'

‘No,' agreed Mr Lassiter reluctantly. He sighed uneasily. ‘If only Culverton was alive it would all be so very much easier. It's a pity he wasn't spared to us. A very great pity. Sometimes I don't know if we can go on without him.'

The following evening, Jack, resplendent in full evening dress, knocked at the door of Bill Rackham's rooms.

Rackham opened the door. ‘Hello,' he said in surprise. ‘I wasn't expecting you. Come on in. Can I get you a drink?'

Jack followed Rackham into the sitting room. ‘Thanks. I'll have a gin and lime, if you've got it. I was on my way to see a bit of night-life,' he added, taking off his coat. He sat on the arm of a chair. ‘I wondered if you fancied ankling along with me. It isn't mere pleasure-seeking. I was hoping to pick up some trace of Culverton's dodgy club.'

Rackham, bottle in hand, turned. ‘Not really. I'm fairly tired and was looking forward to an evening in. Besides that, we've got some men trying to track it down.' He stopped, staring at his friend. ‘Jack, stand up.' Jack did so. ‘Come into the light for a moment.' Jack obligingly stepped forward. ‘What,' asked Rackham in awe-struck tones, ‘are you wearing, for heaven's sake?'

Jack, grinning broadly, tweaked his tie, picked up his top hat from the table, gave the nap a brush with the sleeve of his coat and twirled the hat on his stick. ‘You've noticed?'

‘Noticed?'
Rackham looked Jack up and down, taking in the gleaming, slicked-down hair, the sparkling diamond shirt-studs and the white tie edged in silver.

‘Well?' demanded Jack. ‘How do I look? The studs are paste, by the way.'

‘You look like a damn dago,' said Rackham bluntly. ‘The sort that gives dagos a bad name.'

Jack laughed. ‘Exactly. I am Señor ‘Aldeanez, ze 'unter of ze clobs.' His dark face grew harsh. ‘I am an Argentine. I am on the prowl,
si usted entiende
?'

‘Just say that again slowly, Jack. You can't expect a Northern boy like me to understand foreign lingo.'

‘I'm an Argentine on the prowl, if you understand.'

‘Oh, I understand, all right.' He came closer and peered into Jack's face. ‘Good God, you're wearing
make-up
!'

‘Theatrical make-up. Just a touch round my eyes.' Rackham breathed in heavy disapproval. ‘Nobody will be able to tell it's false in a nightclub. The lights aren't strong enough. I needed to look a trifle more dissipated than nature intended. D'you know, if I'd been a major in the Romanian army it'd be expected of me to wear make-up? They had to forbid the use of it to junior officers.'

‘Foreigners,' grunted Rackham. ‘What do you expect? If it cheers you up, I think you look perfectly awful and I imagine most men would want to kick you. God knows what most women would want to do.'

‘Well, that's the point, isn't it, old scream,' said Jack, sitting back down in the chair. ‘I went out last night as my usual suave self and the answer was a lemon. I thought if I was hunting for a den of secret vice I'd better look as if I was in the market for some. Vice, I mean.'

‘Our chaps haven't turned anything up yet either,' said Rackham, putting Jack's drink on the table. He sat down, took another look at Jack and shuddered. ‘What did your pal Lassiter have to say about the fancy dress?'

‘He went out before I appeared in all my glory.' Jack drank his gin reflectively. ‘It's probably just as well. I didn't want to explain what I was up to. No,' he added, swirling the liquid round in the glass. ‘George has got a date.'

‘Has he, by jingo.'

‘Yes. He got a letter by this morning's post from the lady in question, a letter written, I may say, on lilac-coloured scented notepaper, enquiring after his health and well-being and asking if he could telephone as she was worried about him. He was on the telephone quicker than lightning and that resulted in supper and a show. He's been like a dog with two tails all day, bombarding me with questions as to what he should do and where they should go. He's settled on
Hurry Along!
followed by that little restaurant off Montague Place.'

‘I've seen
Hurry Along!,'
said Rackham with interest. ‘I enjoyed it. Er . . . who's the girl and why's she so worried about him?'

‘A Miss Aldryn. Stella Aldryn. She's Nigel Lassiter's clerk. George met her yesterday, when we visited the factory. She worried about him because she gave him the dickens of a shock.' He related George's encounter with Stella Aldryn.

Rackham stared at him. ‘He can't be serious, Jack. He dreamt it. There wasn't a girl in the kitchen. We know that.'

‘Well, yes, we do,' agreed Jack. ‘Funnily enough, George thinks so too.'

‘So what does the girl say about it?'

‘She's completely baffled. When Dr Maguire explained things she was no end relieved and, really, it's the only explanation I can think of which holds water.'

‘It more or less has to be, doesn't it? That's if your pal isn't simply making it all up.'

‘He gave himself a pretty nasty scare if he is.'

Rackham frowned. ‘I don't like it, Jack. It all sounds very odd to me. What's the girl like?'

‘A stunner,' said Jack positively. ‘Really something. George was pleased as punch when he got the letter. She's a shy sort of girl, a bit of a shrinking violet. It's obvious he thinks she's the bee's knees and he'd convinced himself that he'd frightened her rigid, talking about this nightmare or whatever it was he had.'

Rackham shook his head. ‘Well, it sounds a little out of the ordinary, I must say. Is he all right? After his relapse, I mean?'

‘Physically he's fine,' said Jack. ‘He was a bit shaken up yesterday, as you'd expect, but he had an early night and was okay this morning. He's as puzzled as we are about what happened, though, and there's a definite atmosphere between him and Mrs Lassiter as a result.'

‘Anne Lassiter?' asked Rackham. ‘Why's she upset?'

‘She rang him last night. She wants George to see the boyfriend, Maguire, to have his bumps properly felt. George dug his heels in and said there was nothing to see Maguire about, that Maguire had given him his opinion at the time and, as far as he was concerned, that was that. What's more, he couldn't afford the fancy fees that a Harley Street loony-doctor would stick him for. Anne said he was just being stubborn and that Maguire had offered to see him free of charge, and so George got het up about the idea of accepting charity and all in all it was a bit of a relief when Miss Aldryn's letter arrived. It stopped him brooding, even if I have had to listen to him on the subject of Stella Aldryn for most of the day. Mind you, she's quite something. She's the kind of girl that makes you want to leap up and open doors for her. Sort of asks to be looked after, you know? She's got lovely smudgy blue eyes with a kind of My Hero expression in them.'

‘That's the second time you've raved about her,' said Rackham with a grin. ‘I thought it was Lassiter she made the impression on. It sounds as if he might have some competition.'

Jack laughed and shook his head. ‘No takers. I could see why she got to George, but she's a bit round-eyed and wondering for me.'

‘What in Manchester we'd call a bit gormless?'

‘Not gormless, exactly,' said Jack, ‘but I'd think you'd run out of conversation pretty quickly. She might have hidden depths. I don't know. Anyway,' he added, ‘despite Dr Maguire's explanation, the whole business puzzles me. To be honest, that's my real reason for calling in. I wanted to talk it over with you.'

‘Why? Dr Maguire's explanation seems likely, wouldn't you say?'

Jack scratched his chin. ‘Yes,' he admitted. ‘When George asked me if I believed it, I said it sounded plausible and it does, Bill, there's no doubt about it. But talking about that night in the kitchen to Anne and old Mr Lassiter threw up some odd details. For a start, on that evening and that evening alone, the servants were out and the kitchen was empty. The cook had taken everyone to see her nephew on the stage and Corby, the butler, was confined to bed with a bad cold. Just assume for the moment George saw what he said he did.'

Rackham shifted uneasily in his chair. ‘He can't have done.'

‘I don't think he could have done either,' said Jack. ‘But don't you see? If Maguire's explanation is correct, then George's girl could be anyone, a passing stranger in a railway station or on the street. However, not only does the girl turn out to be real, she's connected with Lassiter's. And that, when you think about it, is weird.'

Rackham sipped his whisky. ‘Yes,' he said reflectively. ‘It
is
weird.' He looked at Jack. ‘Couldn't it be a fantastic coincidence?'

‘Of course it could,' agreed Jack, ‘but I don't like it, Bill. Look, George said the house seemed creepily familiar. That was partly why he was attracted to it in the first place. He was getting himself all worked up about ghosts and so on, but his creepy feeling had a perfectly natural explanation. I was just wondering if this girl, Stella Aldryn's, appearance in George's nightmare had a rational explanation too.'