Edmund was not best pleased to be telephoned by Sergeant Trendle and politely requested to come to Quondam Films’ premises on Saturday afternoon for the purpose of viewing the infamous von Wolff Alraune.
He thought it a preposterous idea to screen the film – in fact he had thought the thing had been lost years ago. It had not been lost? It never had been lost? Oh well, Edmund had never bothered overmuch about all those old-fashioned films or books. Still, he would come along if the police really insisted.
He was, in fact, rather pleased at the thought of seeing Lucy again, and it might be intriguing to see her in her professional setting, so to speak. Would she wear a sharp, dark office suit? And would it be possible to have supper with her afterwards? Perhaps she would invite him to her flat again. His mind flew ahead, seeing the two of them seated at the little table in the deep bay window, and then moving across to that deep sofa before the fire…And then…? There was a sudden strong pleasure in remembering how his father had gone to bed with Lucy’s grandmother all those years ago, and in wondering if, on Saturday night, Edmund might go to bed with Lucy herself. There was a symmetry about it which pleased him. I’m not re-creating what you did, he said to Crispin’s image in his mind; I’m really not. No? said Crispin’s voice, mockingly. Whatever you’re doing, the symmetry of it sounds slightly skewed to me. But let’s go for it anyway, dear boy. Lucretia’s granddaughter…Oh yes, Edmund, oh yes, let’s go for it…
Edmund phoned Lucy there and then, explaining about Sergeant Trendle’s call. He was not going to drive up, he said – all that traffic, and parking in London on a Saturday. He would get the twelve thirty train; it got in just before two, and he could have his lunch on the train.
‘But I’m not sure what to do afterwards. Perhaps we could have a meal together. The last train back is at ten, so there would be plenty of time.’
‘Oh, what a shame,’ said Lucy at once. ‘I’m going out later on. But you could easily get the six fifteen back after the viewing, couldn’t you?’
‘I suppose so,’ said Edmund, annoyed. ‘It’ll mean getting home rather late, and not eating until at least half past eight. Still, it can’t be helped.’
Lucy felt guilty at having lied to Edmund about going out, but relieved to have sidestepped any idea of spending the evening with him. He would probably annoy everyone all afternoon by making pointed remarks about his delicate digestion, and how he had only had a British Rail sandwich for his lunch and how he would not get home for his supper until late. Oh, blast Edmund, thought Lucy, crossly. I refuse to feel guilty about him. He can perfectly well have something to eat before getting the train back; Quondam’s smack in the middle of Soho, for pity’s sake – eating-places every ten steps!
And at least there would not be any embarrassingly unfamiliar seduction techniques to contend with, or pounces over the coffee percolator to ward off. Lucy was not sure if she could cope with Edmund being amorous and seeing Lucretia as Alraune all on the same day.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE