‘You think we have a chance?’
‘Not really. Not the party. But you do, and that’s the main thing. That constituency of yours is going to see a big swing. There are many more working-class voters than there were, Tom, it’s all yours for the taking. When’s that baby due?’ asked Herbert, suddenly.
‘Early April.’
‘Hmm. So Alice won’t be much use to you until the end of April earliest, then?’
‘Not out on the stumps, no, ’fraid not.’
‘But maybe a few crucial appearances towards the end. All constituents love a wife, and if she’s got a baby, she’s double value. And a new baby – well, beyond price.’
‘I’ll talk to her,’ said Tom, ‘but it really will have to be a very few. She won’t be very strong.’
‘If she can get out on just the last few days, knock on a few doors with you, be there at the count . . .’
‘Oh, I’m sure she can do that,’ said Tom. ‘She really wants to help.’
‘Of course. Bad timing, the whole thing, but it can’t be helped. Well, look, I must get home, promised Christine I wouldn’t be late.’
He stood up, pulled on his coat and held out his hand to shake Tom’s.
‘You’re off home now, are you?’
‘Yes,’ said Tom, slightly surprised by the question. ‘Of course.’
‘OK. Best wishes to Alice. One last thing,’ said Herbert suddenly, taking him completely off his guard. ‘This is no time for scandal, Tom. One hint of it and you’d be done for.’
‘Of – course.’
‘Yes. Just thought I’d mention it. Word gets round horribly fast, as you must know. It’s not worth it, Tom, not at the moment at any rate. Night, then . . .’
And he was gone. Tom sat down abruptly on his chair again; his heart was racing, he felt he might be sick. Christ. Donald obviously knew – something. And if Donald knew – Jesus. Well, he’d have to finish it now. The new incentive would get him through.
Diana would not be pleased, though. To put it mildly.
Chapter 44
‘What’s this?’
‘What’s what?’
‘This sold note on the little dressing table.’
‘Well, I hate to state the obvious, but it’s a sold note.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me about it?’
‘Sorry, Julius, I forgot.’
It wasn’t worth getting cross with her; she would just get crosser back.
‘Who did you sell it to?’
‘To Jillie Curtis.’
‘Jillie Curtis? Was she here?’
‘Yes. She was. She just walked in, one morning when you’d gone out, and wanted to buy something for her mother’s birthday.’
‘But – she must be waiting for it. You should have told me.’
‘I forgot. Sorry.’
Julius went into the tiny office and dialled Jillie’s number. Since it was midday and she was mid-operating list, the only answer he received was from the housekeeper. Having met Mrs Hemmings and hugely enjoyed her cooking, Julius was able to leave a friendly and fairly coherent message for Jillie. He then returned to cataloguing a series of prints he had bought that morning, while wondering, in his fantasy-prone way, if it was possible for a human being to actually explode with anticipation.
She finally called him back that evening at home at seven. She sounded wary.
‘Hello, Julius?’
‘Yes. Hello, Jillie. How are you?’
‘I’m very well. A bit tired. And you?’
‘Very well. Not a bit tired. Or is that annoying?’
‘No. No, of course not.’
‘I sometimes think it’s really annoying if one is exhausted and nobody else is. Well, anyway, Jillie, I am so sorry not to have got back to you about the dressing table that you bought. And of course that I wasn’t there, that I missed you.’
‘It doesn’t matter at all,’ she said. ‘Honestly. It was only two or three days ago.’
‘Well, it’s very nice of you to be so forgiving. When would you like me to deliver the dressing table?’
‘It would have to be a weekend and preferably this one, as my mother’s away and so no danger of her seeing her present.’
‘Well, I’ll bring it up on Sunday. Sunday morning, if that’s all right?’
‘Wonderful. You do your own deliveries, do you? Because a driver could—’
‘Even if I had a driver, which I don’t,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t dream of sending him to your house. I want to see you.’
Her. He wanted to see her. Oh, stop it, Jillie, where do you think this is going to get you?
‘And your mother’s bedroom, of course. It’ll be fun.’
‘Well – fine. Marvellous. Come for coffee. And of course,’ she added, in infinitely careful tones, ‘bring Nell.’
‘Can’t do that. Sunday is her great working day. I’m not allowed near her on Sundays, really.’
‘Well,’ said Jillie and suddenly she didn’t feel tired any more, she felt rather wonderful, as if she had just woken from a very long, very refreshing sleep. ‘Well, in that case you and I will have coffee. But – we may have to hide the dressing table for a bit.’
‘We’ll put it wherever you wish,’ said Julius. ‘About eleven, then?’
‘About eleven.’
By a quarter to eleven on Sunday morning, Jillie had changed four times – dress: too dressy; skirt and blouse: too dull; jeans: too casual; capri pants, oversized white shirt, red sweater slung round her shoulders: just right. She had laid coffee in the morning room and was positioned – pretending to read the Observer – in a window seat on the landing, that being prime position to see anyone coming into the drive.
By a quarter to eleven, Julius was sitting four roads away, in his vintage Austin van, the dressing table carefully stowed in the back, knowing he shouldn’t be early, reading the Sunday Times and checking his watch every alternate minute. At five to eleven, he decided it was all right to be slightly early, and drove carefully into the drive of number five. Pausing to look up at the house, he saw a blurry figure at an upstairs window and moments later, the front door was opened by someone who could have been Audrey Hepburn, had she not been more beautiful.
He felt quite odd, contemplating her; after days and hours of remembering her, thinking about her, anticipating her. He jumped down from the van and said, ‘Hello,’ and she said, ‘Hello, Julius, this is so kind of you.’ Adding, ‘What a glorious van.’
Julius patted its pale blue bonnet and said, ‘Well, I think so. She’s not exactly practical, always breaking down, but she suits her cargo so well, I couldn’t bear to turn up with something like – well, your dressing table – in a l950s Ford.’