As if by Magic (25 page)

Jack looked sharply at his friend. ‘That's absolutely right. Why?'

‘It's all a bit awkward. You see, Jack, I'm sure there's nothing in it but if it got out I can see how things could be misinterpreted.'

‘What on earth's happened, George?'

George sighed. ‘The only reason I'm telling you is so you won't hear it from someone else. It must be all right and quite honestly, if I was the only one involved I probably wouldn't have said anything.' He hesitated, then plunged on. ‘The four of us, myself, Stella, Anne and Dr Maguire, walked round the side of the hangar and . . .' He paused once more and his voice sank to a whisper. ‘Well, we saw Mrs Culverton and my Uncle David. They didn't see us right away. He had his arm round her and they were completely absorbed in each other. Then she looked up and they sort of sprang apart. Mrs Culverton looked horrified. Anne said “Sorry” and we all pushed off.'

Jack mentally kicked himself. He should have guessed. After lunch on Sunday he knew there was something he had missed and this was it. When Peggy Culverton heard the police were searching for anyone with a motive she'd looked stricken. She'd accused herself but that was a deliberate blind. She'd put herself forward, dragging a broken wing across the trail to protect David. She knew exactly what the police would think if they knew she and David Lassiter were having an affair.

‘I could see that beggar, Maguire, putting two and two together, working it out,' added George unhappily. ‘This could mean trouble for Uncle David somehow or other, but it can't be true, Jack. He can't have bumped off Culverton. I like him, really like him, but I know what it looks like.'

‘It looks as if he had a motive,' said Jack quietly.

‘This is my uncle we're talking about,' George hissed fiercely. ‘I don't care if he did have a motive. He wouldn't hurt a fly.'

Jack looked at George. ‘Didn't you tell me he once tried to throttle Nigel?'

George's face twisted. ‘Good God, Jack, he thought Nigel was responsible for his son's death. Can you imagine how he must have felt? He'd been provoked beyond endurance. This is different.'

Jack was silent. Peggy Culverton hadn't simply disliked her husband, she'd been terrified of him. That alone could be enough provocation for David Lassiter. And Peggy Culverton had lied about how she spent the night Culverton died. He'd never really believed in Peggy Culverton acting alone, even when her alibi was shown to be false, but if she was working with David Lassiter? That was different.

Anne glanced round and saw the two men. ‘Come and join us,' she called, with a wave of her hand. She brushed her brown hair away from her face. ‘We're talking about cats.'

‘Cats?' asked George with assumed cheerfulness. ‘What about cats?'

Stella Aldryn's smile faded as George and Jack walked towards them. George wasn't particularly good at concealing his feelings and his supposed jollity wouldn't have fooled anyone. ‘Never mind about cats, George,' she said accusingly. ‘You haven't told Mr Haldean, have you?' George didn't answer and she looked at Jack. ‘Do you know what happened? With Mrs Culverton, I mean?' Jack nodded. ‘That's rotten of you, George,' she said indignantly. ‘It's none of our business.'

George looked acutely uncomfortable. ‘I'm sorry, Stella.'

Stella tossed her head. ‘I don't think it's fair.'

‘What's this about cats?' asked Jack, trying to smooth things over. Cats were a safer topic than David Lassiter and Mrs Culverton.

Maguire pointed up to the board-walk, eighty feet above their heads. ‘We're wondering if there's a cat on the roof.'

‘I can't see it,' said Anne. ‘I really should wear glasses but I don't need them all the time.'

Jack looked upwards. The low autumn sun glinted through the glass roof making it difficult to see. He narrowed his eyes in a squint. ‘I can't see it, either.'

George gave him a puzzled look. ‘Can't you? The poor creature must be terrified.' He swung himself on to the iron-runged ladder. ‘Don't worry, I'll get it down.'

Stella looked up anxiously as George swarmed up the ladder. ‘I hope he's all right.'

‘He'll be okay,' said Jack reassuringly. After all, if George wanted to impress the girlfriend by saving cats, that was his affair. He just hoped he actually found an animal to save, otherwise he'd look pretty silly.

George reached the top and gave them a cheery wave from the platform at the top of the ladder. The board-walk, guarded by a handrail, ran above the chains of the crane-hook to the operator's cab at the other end. Stella Aldryn drew her breath in anxiously. ‘I hope he's all right.'

‘Relax,' said Jack easily. He knew George had a good head for heights and chasing cats was probably as good a diversion from David Lassiter and Peggy Culverton as any other. ‘It's perfectly safe up –
My God!'

For as he watched George slipped, stumbled, and, with a despairing scream, fell.

George's scream ripped out, echoed by a gasp from the people below. Arms flailing, he clutched air and found the chains of the crane. Hanging by one hand, he swung above their heads.

For a fraction of a second Jack stood frozen with shock, then, with an explosion of movement, raced up the ladder, ran along the board-walk and flung himself out at full length on the walk above George, looking into his friend's white face. He stretched out, trying vainly to touch him, but the distance was too great. George was a full three fingers out of reach. ‘Get your other hand on to the chain,' Jack commanded.

‘I can't.' George's voice was a thin whisper of despair. Jack looked at the clutching hand so frustratingly close. George's hand only just encircled the link of the chain. To get his other hand up would mean shifting his weight and if he did that he would certainly fall. George's fingers tightened convulsively on the link. ‘I'm going, Jack.'

‘No, you're not.' Jack wrapped his legs round one of the metal struts of the guard-rail and flung his body out from the board-walk, his fingers clawing forward. He grabbed George's wrist with both hands. George's body swung forward. Vaguely Jack heard the shouts from below and then with a rattle the chain started to move. George clutched at his arm with his other hand. With a feeling of sick horror Jack felt himself being pulled over the edge. His leg screamed a protest as he tried to force the tortured muscles to obey him. His arm was cracking, but it was his leg, his damned useless damaged leg, that was giving under the strain. Underneath him flash-bulbs flicked like lightning as the press caught the agonizing moment. He shut his eyes, trying to hold on by sheer willpower, when a voice, calm and controlled, sounded beside him and the intolerable weight was gone.

He hung limply for a moment then with a shudder clutched on to the guard-rail, heaved himself back on to the board-walk and, eyes shut, lay without moving. Gradually the noise of his harsh breathing was replaced by other sounds and he flickered his eyes open. In a sharp focus that filled all his world he saw the dust and the grain on the wood of the planks, and beyond them, a pair of boots. A hand awkwardly encircled his shoulders, helping him to sit up. It was Benson, the foreman, a large, kindly man. Jack slumped against his rough jacket, deriving enormous comfort from the man's solid bulk. ‘What happened?' he managed to say at last.

‘It was Mr David who did it, sir. He got up the other ladder to the cab of the crane and was coming with a rope, when we saw that you'd got Mr George's hand off the links. So Mr David stood on the hook of the crane and I sent him along underneath Mr George and he was able to catch his legs and take the weight off you. I think we were just in time as well, sir. Begging your pardon, sir, but do you think you can climb down the ladder? I'll help you, of course.'

Jack nodded, and with a hand from the foreman, stood up, clutching the guard-rail. The man looked critically at Jack's dragging leg. ‘Done some damage to that, haven't you, sir?' Jack tried to take a step forward and his knee buckled. The foreman caught hold of him. ‘Hold up, lad! Let me help you.' He put his arm under Jack's shoulders and helped him limp to the ladder.

With Benson below him he made a slow and jarring descent, wincing every time his foot touched metal. As he reached the ground, he turned and faced the circle of people crowding round the foot of the ladder, screwing up his eyes to avoid the jabs of light from the flash-guns.

Mr Lassiter, his face white, shook his hand. ‘Major Haldean, thank God you're in one piece. That was one of the bravest bits of work I've ever seen. If you hadn't held on to George I dread to think what would have happened.' He stopped and swallowed. ‘Thank God you were able to get to him in time.'

Jack took a deep breath. ‘It was just as well David came along when he did, sir. He deserves a good deal of the credit.'

‘He's getting it, don't you worry. He showed marvellously quick thinking.' Mr Lassiter turned to the foreman and held out his hand. ‘And you too, Benson. I saw what you did. Thank you.'

The foreman smiled shyly and shook the outstretched hand. ‘It wasn't anything really, sir. Not put against what this gentleman did.'

‘It won't be forgotten, Benson, I can promise you that. Can I get you anything, Major Haldean?'

‘I'd like my stick, sir,' said Jack tightly. ‘I don't usually need it, but just now I could do with it.'

Mr Lassiter picked up the stick Jack had flung at the foot of the ladder in his dash upwards. ‘Here you are.' He turned to the crowd pressing round them. ‘Make a bit of room there, please. George is over here, Major. If you come this way, you can sit down.' The crowd parted and, leading the way, Mr Lassiter took him over to where George, nursing his arm, was sitting with David Lassiter. Mr Lassiter beckoned to a waiter, took a drink and pressed it into Jack's hand.

Jack held the glass and raised it in salute to George and David. He took a sip but the reaction had set in and the alcohol made him feel slightly sick. Flash-bulbs flared again as the pressmen caught the moment. He held up his hand to ward off the barrage of questions from the reporters. ‘I'll talk to you properly later. We all will.' He saw Joe Hawley and motioned to him. ‘Joe, call off the pack, will you? I promise I'll give you all a lovely quote for tomorrow's paper but just give us some time, will you?'

‘Gentlemen?' said Mr Lassiter.

The pressmen grinned. ‘Very well, sir.'

Jack put the glass down as the crowd thinned out and looked up to see Stella Aldryn and Peggy Culverton. Habit made him try and stand.

‘Don't get up, Major Haldean,' said Mrs Culverton quickly, ‘When I think what could have happened . . .' She broke off, sat down beside David and shot him an anxious glance. David smiled reassuringly at her.

Stella Aldryn put her hand on George's arm. Her eyes were frightened.

‘I'm all right,' he said awkwardly, constrained by his grandfather and the crowd around them. ‘Honestly, I'm all right.' He tried to cover her hand with his and gave a sharp intake of breath.

‘What is it?' asked Stella anxiously.

‘Nothing much. I've crocked my arm, that's all.' He gave a covert glance at Mr Lassiter. ‘I'll see you later.'

Stella swallowed, followed his glance and nodded in understanding. With a deep breath she let go of his arm and pushed her way back into the crowd.

‘What happened, George?' asked David. ‘Why were you up there in the first place?'

George raised his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘It sounds stupid, I know, but there was a cat stuck on the board-walk. It never occurred to me there was any danger. After all, the workmen are up there all the time. Even now I don't know what went wrong.'

‘You slipped,' said Jack.

George put his hand to his mouth. ‘My feet just seemed to go from under me. There might have been some oil spilled up there or something.'

‘Oil?' David Lassiter's eyebrows rose. ‘Someone's going to hear about it if there was. Are you sure, George?'

‘No, I'm not. I wish I was sure but it was over so quickly it's hard to pin down exactly what did happen. I know I was treading on solid ground and then it all seemed to open up in front of me. I just managed to grab that chain in time.' He smiled ruefully at Jack. ‘And then you came along. Thanks, old man.'

Jack offered him a cigarette with a grin. ‘I feel as if my arm should be as long as an orang-utan's after having you dangling off it.' George laughed and Jack looked at David. ‘Thanks for the way you weighed in there. I couldn't have held him much longer.'

David Lassiter shook his head. ‘It was the obvious thing to do.' He stood up and offered his arm to Mrs Culverton. ‘Nigel was about to make a speech. I think we'd better go and listen to him.'

Followed by Mr Lassiter, David and Peggy Culverton walked away, the crowd drifting after them.

Across the room a hammer banged on the table for silence and Nigel Lassiter started to speak. George leaned forward and, nodding towards Nigel, lowered his voice. ‘He's a bit of a contrast to his brother, isn't he? The plane's fantastic, Jack, but I can't say I like Nigel much.'

‘Me too,' agreed Jack. It seemed to be a long time since Nigel had snubbed him yet it could only be half an hour or so.

‘I think he's a bully,' said George unexpectedly.

Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘Why?'

‘It was what he said to Stella. When I got down from the crane everyone was fussing over me and David. Nigel was speaking to Stella. She'd come forward to see how I was. Nigel looked at her and said something – I couldn't catch what – and then he added, “Bloody fool.” He was furious, Jack. You should have heard him.'

‘Bloody fool? That's a bit rich. If it makes you feel any better, I imagine he was talking about you. There's no doubt which story's going to be headline news and he probably resents his press coverage being taken over.'