Dead Man's Dinner - Una Gordon Page 0,18

best thing for everyone. When he later looked at himself in the washroom mirror, he finally admitted the truth. He was a coward. If he left Diana there would be such a hooha he wouldn't be able to cope with it. He'd have to live with it. How shall I react to the child, he thought? And to Diana? These questions went through his mind again and again, but he knew he was in a one way street – he couldn't reverse or turn. He would just have to wait to see what happened. Eventually he reached a kind of peace of mind, immersed himself in work and felt all he could do was wait to see where the prevailing tide washed him up or where the one way street led.

Chapter Six

The row in the Dewey household almost equalled the one in the Pather flat. Peter had been made a fool of and he didn't like that one little bit. What was sauce for the gander was most certainly not sauce for the goose. He had thought Derwent was a friend and all the time Derwent had been laughing at him behind his back. Derwent had been more than repaid for all his loans. Derwent knew perfectly well about Peter's jealousy and temper, but he had played his cards well and closely. I could murder him, thought Peter and wasn't even mildly amused when he remembered that Derwent was already dead. There was no way of getting his own back now and all his hopes of a nice, fat sum from Derwent's will had been blown sky high. Derwent had been paying him in hard cash for services rendered.

Bianca denied Peter's accusations again and again, but he didn't believe her. She'd always been a lying bitch. He would never have admitted it, but who had she learned that from? “You slut, you scrubber, you prostitute, you low down no good.” He called her every insult he could think of. Eventually Bianca gave up arguing and packed a case.

Before she left she came into the sitting room where Peter was slumped in a chair with a glass of whisky in his hand. She looked at him for a long time.

“You know,” she said, “despite all your faults, all the debts, all the tantrums, I loved you. I was willing to put up with it all, but one breath of suspicion and I'm damned. No trial – no defence. Guilty because a louse like Derwent Mollosey says so. If that's all you think of me, you'll be glad to see the back of me. I shan't tell you where I'm going because I don't know, but if I never see you again it will be about a week too soon.”

The door didn't slam as she left, but closed with a quiet click which seemed more final than any bang would have done.

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Marcus opened the door of the flat. As he had guessed Perry was still up. He said nothing, just raised his eyebrows in question. Marcus threw him the card. As he read it, a smile spread over Perry's face – a smug smile. His voice became higher pitched and his manner became more affected when he was in this sort of mood. “Well, now you know.”

“Yes, now I know,” said Marcus wearily.

“You surely don't mind.” Perry moved over to the mirror and patted his hair and adjusted his collar. “You were so pleased when you got this invitation, but I've had the last laugh.”

Marcus suppressed his temper. He had not been pleased when the invitation arrived and Perry knew it, but he could always twist things to suit his own ends. “I'm going to bed,” sighed Marcus. “I'm tired.”

“On your own?” The smug look was still on Perry's face.

“On my own,” said Marcus quietly.

The next morning Perry's mood had not changed at all. He was obviously going to get as much mileage out of this situation as he could. Marcus metaphorically girded his loins and prepared to deal with the situation as best he could. There seemed nothing else he could do. One or two customers in the gallery asked him if he was feeling all right and to a couple of close friends Perry confided that Marcus was piqued because someone else fancied him, Perry.

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Graham awoke the next morning with the worst headache he had ever had. He made himself copious cups of coffee, had a cold shower, but he couldn't look at any food. He was decidedly vague about