A Woman Unknown Page 0,7
I were your wife, would you tell me then?’
‘Of course not.’
Just as I thought. It would not have worked.
Opportunely, Sykes and Rosie came back into the box. The lights dimmed for the second act.
When the chorus of policemen danced and trilled ‘A Policeman’s Lot is Not a Happy One,’ Sykes, Rosie and I practically fell off our seats with laughing. I nudged Marcus and whispered, ‘Don’t you think it’s funny?’
If voices could scowl, his did. ‘The rot sets in when audiences are encouraged to laugh at policemen.’
‘You’re being pompous again, Marcus.’
He laughed, in an unpompous but rather false manner.
It was not until we all sat down to supper that he asked me would I be free to go with him to York races for the Ebor Handicap.
I agreed, curious about what he was up to, and more than willing to put off following Deirdre Fitzpatrick.
Naturally, I needed a new hat for the races. My favourite milliner has a shop that is part of our top hotel: the Metropole, where Marcus was staying, and where I had arranged to meet him.
Madam Estelle, High Class Milliner, beamed a greeting as she stubbed her Sobranie and picked up The Times, waving it about, to disperse smoke. She is a tiny, slender creature with lined olive skin, her white hair knotted in a bun at the nape of her neck so as not to discommode her hat.
I explained my predicament of being invited to the races at short notice.
She tilted her sparrow-like head and surveyed my outfit. ‘I have just the hat for you.’ She swooped across the shop, opened a curtain and delved, emerging triumphant with a small, dark red hat box.
The hat she held out was an elegant cloche with a swirling pattern in the old suffragette colours of green and violet; its only decoration, a white rosebud. Perhaps it was the rosebud. I loved it in an instant.
Like the perfect saleswoman, she did not reveal the price until the love affair was sealed with a hatpin.
Madam Estelle opened the inner door for me to enter the hotel corridor. Turning left took me to the lobby.
I was a few minutes early, and found a seat that gave me a good vantage point. Marcus and I were not the only ones heading for the races. A woman in flowing silks and spanking new picture hat stepped from the lift, followed by a chap in top hat and tails. In that regalia, they must be going to the Knavesmire too.
An odd pair came down the broad staircase. Two men walked side by side, chatting amiably. The younger man was about thirty years old, slight, with a sweet, boyish face. He wore dark trousers, a beautifully tailored grey jacket and a grey silk top hat. His stout companion, a weather-beaten man in his fifties, wore full highland regalia, with a kilt that could have been the Stewart tartan. Around his neck he carried a brown leather binocular case.
Curious, I made as if to stretch my legs, and to pick up a magazine. I watched the men climb into a chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce. When I turned back, magazine in hand, Marcus had appeared from the direction of the hotel’s telephone booth with the speed of a mouse catching the whiff of chocolate. I felt sure that he must have been there all along.
He looked splendid. There is not a huge difference between the dress of a well-to-do racegoer and that of a handsome bridegroom. For a fleeting second, I thought I must have been mad to turn down his proposal.
‘Kate! Sorry to keep you waiting. You look wonderful. Green suits you.’
‘It’s the nearest I could find to camouflage.’
He offered his arm. ‘Are you all right to set off straight away?’
‘I am.’
If I were not mistaken, he would want to keep the Rolls-Royce and its odd couple in view.
As we left the hotel, a porter stood by a black Alvis saloon. Marcus gave him a nod and slipped him a coin.
I slid into the passenger seat.
The porter cranked the motor to life.
‘Scotland Yard have done you proud. Staying at the Metropole, an Alvis at your disposal. I’m only surprised you don’t have a driver.’
‘Keeps it more discreet this way. Just you and me, enjoying a day at the races.’
‘Marcus, I know you’re working.’ He could be extremely irritating, as if I would give the game way, whatever the game was. ‘I’m surprised that someone who has reached your great heights is on an assignment like this. Isn’t it