“Well, what about that?” Toby said, as soon as they were all three in Alasdair’s car en route to his house for a council of war. “What we’ve learned tonight casts quite a different complexion on the whole thing.”
“More reassuring on some counts and infinitely more worrying on others, however, I’d say.” Alasdair, as careful a driver as he’d been as daring a pilot, kept his eyes on the road.
“While I admire the honesty that three displayed,” Jonny piped up from the back seat, “I’m more than a little aggrieved at their spinelessness. I don’t mind ringing Matthew with the news but they could easily have done it themselves. Their hanging fire is hardly the spirit that made Britain great.”
“Quite.” Alasdair snorted. “Although, to be fair, I suppose we all three take working with the police for granted. Being able to have an honest conversation with the officers concerned and freely airing our ideas with them, for example. It isn’t as easy for other folk.”
“It’s also possible they’ve had bad experiences in the past that have affected them. Six of the best for apple scrumping, maybe. My father has always said that visiting my school in his parental role made him feel like a seven year old again and he was often worried he’d be getting the cane once more.” Toby twisted round to address Jonny. “I think you should ring Matthew as soon as we’re home, rather than leaving it until tomorrow.”
“Gladly, although isn’t the hour a tad late?”
Toby chuckled. “He’s quite used to it, poor chap, and the lateness of the hour will emphasise the importance of the information we’ve to impart. He knows full well that we wouldn’t disturb his rest for anything trivial.”
As it turned out, Matthew wasn’t at home. His wife answered the call, or so Jonny reported as he re-entered Alasdair’s sitting room after his abortive attempt at making contact. “He’s out with colleagues celebrating someone’s retirement. She offered to take a message but I felt that was unwise. I mean, I’m sure she’s trustworthy, but I want to speak to him directly or else the importance will get watered down somewhat as it passes through various hands. I said I’ll try to ring him at Scotland Yard in the morning, and asked her to pass on my regards and hopes that he’s passed a pleasant evening and will be in a fit state to take my message on the morrow.”
“Cheeky young scamp.” Toby sniggered. “I hope he appreciates the spirit in which the wishes were made.”
“If I doubted that I wouldn’t have said it. Perhaps it’s for the best he wasn’t there, though. Gives me the chance to sleep on things.” Jonny slipped into one of Alasdair’s eminently comfortable chairs. “If I let my subconscious mind work on the matter, it might produce a more cohesive story, although at least I won’t have to deal with mentioning the so-called special powers, because that would have stymied all credibility. No wonder there was a whiff of theatricality at that meeting last Monday, eh Toby?”
“Exactly. Ah, what a good man you are, Morgan.” Toby beamed as Alasdair’s valet appeared with a tray of bottles, to offer a nightcap, and a plate of small, delicious looking savouries. “You spoil us.”
“It sounds as though you have a case, sirs, so your brains will need feeding and lubricating.”
Once Morgan had ensured everyone had been tended to and had returned to his own domain once more, Alasdair said, “Talking of theatricality, could anyone else detect a whiff of it about that pub tonight? I’d describe it as feeling authentic, only somehow out of place.”
Toby nodded. “Yes, I felt the same. Geographically it was awry—in that it should have been in the centre of London, perhaps—and the same applied chronologically. It wouldn’t have felt amiss back in 1941 if it had been next to an air force base and formed an unofficial mess for the crews.”
“Precisely. But I’ve no idea why the landlord should achieve that feeling, unless they’re trying to recreate an atmosphere for people who miss the camaraderie of those times and who live in the local area.”
“Which suggests that one or more of Moira and her pals could be local, Alasdair,” Jonny said. “I don’t recall any of them saying where they lived, although given their track record anything they told us on the two occasions we’ve seen them is up for scrutiny. It may purely be the pub’s atmosphere they go for, especially if somebody’s recommended it as a place for like-minded souls.”
“The ‘like-minded souls’ aspect keeps raising its head and begs another question or two.” Alasdair twirled his glass carefully, admiring the colours. “Despite everything that came out tonight, I’m not entirely eliminating the possibility that Alexandra made up the story regarding her powers and also perhaps the tale of what she overheard. Or the possibility that Moira et al have exaggerated the importance of what she—reportedly—said she heard because it makes them feel important. Or helps them to impress each other. Richard is rather smitten with Moira, isn’t he?”
“Absolutely hooked, I’d say.” Toby nodded. “Although it’s gratifying to think that almost every theory we batted about with Jonny or the ladies concerning why this bunch pretended to have their powers had some element of truth in it, including the romance one.”
Alasdair sniggered. “Except for your knocking shop idea. I don’t think that came too close.”
“I’d say it did in spirit if not in degree of the romance involved, which seems barely to have got past the admiring at a distance stage. I also have some lingering queries. Awfully coincidental that Lloyd invited me to their meeting, don’t you think, if Moira et al, as you deem them, wanted us to go into sleuthing mode?”
“Actors whom the missing girl was crazy about, to boot?” Alasdair rolled his eyes. “Yes. I know coincidences are an everyday thing, but this one does seem a bit far-fetched.”
“Maybe they all dropped hints, to plant the idea in Lloyd’s mind. That Mr Bowe reminds me awfully of you, Lloyd. I wonder why .” Jonny’s impersonation of Moira had captured the intonation perfectly, although the accompanying fluttering of the eyelids didn’t fit her style. Still, his theory was a good one. “Do you think Lloyd has any idea he’s being conned? I mean, he must have thought his ship had come in, with each new invitee producing an account of their strange power, just as he’d predicted they’d possess. Until you threw a spanner in the works by being the first to suggest he’d got it wrong, of course.”
“I’d imagine he’s totally oblivious. Probably thinks I’m hiding what I can do because Landseer wouldn’t want word getting out.” Toby shrugged. “What next, then? We’ll get on with the fan club connection, you talk to Matthew, young Jonny, and then what? Surely there’s more we can be doing. As Richard rightly said, every fortnight that passes gets us closer to the big event and cuts down the time available to deal with anyone who wants to disrupt it.”
“Agreed,” Alasdair said. “Our job doesn’t end at either locating Alexandra or briefing the police. The more information we can garner, the less time Matthew and his men will waste on potential dead ends. Having said that, it wouldn’t surprise me if—when you report in tomorrow—you discover that all we’re doing is adding to something the police already know and, please God, what we provide will be the key piece of information that helps them throw a spanner in the works. That’s the best case, of course. The worst is that this is all news to them and all hell breaks loose.”
“Do you know,” Jonny said, rather shamefaced, “it hadn’t occurred to me that the authorities might already know about this. Just goes to show how much more experienced you are in this business than I am and how much broader your thinking is. The notion also raises the possibility that Alexandra went to the police herself, is regarded as a key witness and the authorities have put her into hiding somewhere. That would explain all the lack of contact.”
Toby leaned forward to give Jonny and avuncular tap on the knee. “As your aged and learned relative—and his equally learned partner—would agree, you mustn’t rule out any possibility prematurely, not make any assumptions. It’s taken us a while to realise that every idea needs considering before discarding and even then you sometimes have to hoik it back out of the mental wastepaper basket. Your key witness idea has a lot going for it. Alasdair, you’re looking rather pensive.”
“Sorry. I was thinking it would be worth picking Morgan’s brain further, him being the one who supplied the information on Herbert and Chapman in the first place. You don’t need to watch your p’s and q’s with him, by the way.” Alasdair gave Jonny a knowing twitch of the eyebrow. “He knows all about our domestic situation and doesn’t bat an eyelid.”
“I’d already guessed that.” Jonny smoothed back his hair, maybe automatically: Morgan, despite being perhaps ten years his senior, was still an attractive man. “A sympathetic soul?”
“In more ways than one, I believe, although he never says anything. I’ve always suspected him of harbouring a close pal or two at that club of his.” Alasdair grinned.
“Close pal as in the kind of pals Roger and I are?”
“Quite. Although what he does in his own time is no business of mine, so long as it doesn’t bring disgrace on Landseer. He understands who ultimately ensures his wages are paid.” Alasdair rose, then rang the bell.
Morgan entered the room swiftly, with a nod and a willing, “May I be of assistance?”
“Indeed, although not in the supplying food and drink category. That rather squalid firm of solicitors I picked your brains about. Herbert and Chapman . Any further information to impart?” If he’d been talking to anyone else but Morgan, Alasdair might have used the question, “Have you any dirt to dish?” but the manservant—who’d never stoop so low as to be involved in mere gossip—wouldn’t have approved.
“It’s relevant to the case we’ve taken up this evening,” Toby said, “which might simply involve finding a missing person but equally might be about foiling a plot. The woman we’ve been asked to locate may have overheard a conversation she wasn’t supposed to, concerning a threat to national security. With that in mind, we’re particularly interested in anything or anyone to do with the firm who or which might touch on anarchist activity.”
“Anarchist?” Morgan’s eyebrow proved almost as eloquent as his master’s. “The chap who told me about them did describe the whole boiling as an unpatriotic bunch, not to be trusted.”
“Any idea what that opinion was based on?” Alasdair asked.
“I believe—if I’m not mixing them up with another firm—that at least one of the principals was involved with Mosley. A supporter of the British Union of Fascists if not one of the actual Blackshirts.”
Alasdair shared a satisfied glance with both his guests. That was the first possible bit of corroborative evidence for what Alexandra had confessed she’d overheard, albeit a circumstantial piece. Fascists were no doubt still operating in Britain and they might well believe that some of those attending the coronation would be valid targets for furthering their vile aims. The heads of state from some of the countries within the Commonwealth of Nations, for instance.
“My friend has never approved of such men and their beliefs,” Morgan added.
“No sensible British man or woman would,” Jonny said. “Especially in light of the stories which emerged from Germany at the end of the war. Do you have a name for said stinker?”
“Not that I can recall offhand. I may have jotted it down, if I can go and check?”
“Certainly.” As Morgan headed towards his domain, Alasdair grinned. “We make progress, gentlemen.”
“We do indeed. No wonder they don’t have a name plate for their offices.” Jonny eyed the door, as though willing Morgan to return with a whole list of names and examples of nefarious activities. “I’m delighted to be handing the police a Mosley supporter to strengthen our case. Although wouldn’t they be ultra-patriotic, at least on the face of it?”
“To her majesty, perhaps,” Toby said, “although they may take a dim view of certain foreign heads of state, especially when they’re in a position of power but not the correct colour of skin—in their view—so to be. Anyway, when did logic ever apply to people with extreme views? They probably tweak what they believe to justify whatever action they want to take. My father used to call them thugs looking for an outlet for their thuggery.”
“I won’t repeat what my father says about them.” Jonny, twirling his glass, seemed to be more at ease now, having something more concrete to report to Firestone. “The old chap’s description of Hitler would never have got past the censor and into one of your films.”
Before Jonny could divulge said colourful description, Morgan returned, apologetically confessing that his notes hadn’t included names, nor indeed anything he hadn’t already divulged. “However, the chap who gave me all the information is no longer in service—in fact, he hasn’t been for years, so he’s one of the emeritus members at the club, as it were. He runs his own pub and possesses the good sense, for our purposes, to have the establishment on the telephone. Shall I see if I can catch him now and pick his brains?”
“Please do,” Alasdair said, with a wave in the general direction of his own phone. “The more information we can garner tonight, the better.”
Morgan nodded. “Mr Bowe, you mentioned a threat to security. Might I have some further detail on that, if you have it? Not that I’ll reveal anything to my friend: it would merely be useful to have some context before entering into the discussion with him.”
“I have no doubts that we can rely on your discretion. All we know is that it’s possible they—a vaguely defined ‘they’ but connected to Herbert and Chapman —might be targeting the coronation, although in what way we have no idea.” Toby spread his hands. “In fact, what we have is as thin as cigarette paper.”
“I quite understand. Time will be of the essence, then.” Morgan edged towards the door.
“If you could ask him if he knows anything about Charles Carstone, as well?” Alasdair suggested. “Probably nothing to do with this other business, but he keeps coming to mind.”
“Same here,” Toby said. “I’d love to know exactly why he needed their services.”
“I’ll try my best, sirs.” Morgan disappeared into the hallway.
“Shall I close the door?” Jonny asked, tipping his head towards where it had been left slightly ajar when the manservant left.
Alasdair nodded. “Please do. He has his own methods, I’m sure, and as much as I’d be intrigued to hear them in action, a man must be allowed his degree of secrecy.”
“Tell me all about your next film, if you’re allowed to,” Jonny said. “Then we won’t be tempted to try and listen in to his half of the conversation.”
“Excellent idea.” Toby launched into an account of their latest project and how it had been revived from its dormant original.
Alasdair had barely started giving his opinion on the dialogue—which was better than usual, he felt—when Morgan re-entered the room, wearing a satisfied smile.
“There’s no point in asking if you caught your friend nor if he had things of interest to tell you,” Alasdair said.
The satisfied smile turned sheepish. “Is it that obvious, sir?”
“A silent film star couldn’t have portrayed events so beautifully.” Alasdair indicated a seat. “Please join us for a nightcap: you’ve clearly earned it.”
“That would be most welcome. I shan’t pretend I won’t feel the benefit of it. One feels tainted by association, even if it’s at several removes. Thank you.” Morgan accepted the glass Toby had thrust in his direction and took a sip from it. “I told Dennis—my contact—that you were on the trail of someone who used to work for Herbert and Chapman , which is why I’d asked about the company previously. He was glad to help and answered as many of my questions as he could. He’d had all the information from his son, who’d worked there for a short while before he was so disgusted at all the goings on that he found fresh employ. But before we discuss those, let me deal with Charles Carstone. Apparently, he feared he would be named as a correspondent in not one but two divorce cases and he wanted advice. Probably on whether he could avoid being dragged into the mire.”
“Is that all?” Jonny asked. “We’re not living in Victorian times. I know some folk still find it scandalous, but surely not in show-business.”
“He was a Catholic,” Toby said, quietly. “Quite a devout one, irrespective of his extra-curricular activities. I know because we chatted at a Landseer do one day and he spoke about how ironic it would be to have a Catholic called Charles playing a king of the same name who flirted—probably for political ends—with Catholicism. If the women he was involved with were of the same denomination it wouldn’t sit well with the studio.”
“Wasn’t he married, as well? Sir Ian wouldn’t like having such a flagrant adulterer on his books. Even if he were depicting a flagrant adulterer,” Alasdair added. “Thanks, Morgan. It seems like we barked up the wrong tree where he’s concerned. Back to the goings on.”
“Yes, sir. It seems gossip among the employees was that both principals in the firm had been involved in Mosley’s mob and they’re said to have maintained similar sympathies up to the present day, although they clearly keep them under wraps.”
“Matthew Firestone needs to know this,” Toby said, “although I’d hope that it isn’t news to everyone at Scotland Yard and that a quiet eye is already being kept on such folk. Did Dennis have anything to say about this mob’s activities as opposed to their point of view?”
“Oh yes, sir, although nothing that would ring too many alarm bells unless you have the other piece of the jigsaw to attach it to.”
“Then take a seat and tell all, please. Toby will organise some refreshment: the worker has earned his reward.” Alasdair waited until Morgan was settled once more, with a plate of savouries, before asking, “Do you know when Dennis’s son was working there? I’m just wondering if he overlapped with our missing woman.”
“This would be the back end of last year and the start of this. I did ask if Dennis had heard tell of any ladies associated with the firm suddenly vanishing into thin air, but he hadn’t, alas. He said he’d ask his son and report back although we’re not to expect anything.”
“Never mind,” Alasdair said. “It would have been too much to hope that he’d have solved that part of our problem for us. Do carry on.”
“This jigsaw piece that may only work when it’s connected to another part of the puzzle. I don’t promise it’s related to your security threat but it could be.” Morgan took a sustaining nibble. “Do you know whom I mean by Queen Salote?”
“I’ve heard of her,” Jonny said. “Queen of one of the pacific islands, I think. Fiji? Samoa? My geography is hopeless, I’m afraid.”
“Tonga.” Alasdair and Toby spoke in concert.
“Toby, you elucidate while I fetch an atlas,” Alasdair said, “because I’m not a hundred per cent certain where the island is, given how far the Pacific stretches.”
“Thank the lord we only had to fly over the channel,” Toby replied. “Anyway, Sir Ian—the head of Landseer—once had the privilege of meeting her. The conflab was something hush-hush concerning the war against Japan, and he told us all about it, although that ‘all’ was no doubt only what he was allowed to relate. Queen Salote is an impressive woman and not only in strength of character, being apparently even taller than Alasdair.”
“Sir Ian took much delight in telling me that.” Alasdair, holding the relevant page of the atlas so that everyone could see it, pointed to a spot on the map.
“Oh,” Toby said. “Tonga’s even more remote than I imagined.”
“Half the world away.” Alasdair passed the atlas to Jonny.
“Thanks.” Jonny scrutinised the location before handing the atlas to Morgan. “If you held a grudge against this lady and wanted to act on it, better to wait for her to come here than for you to go there.”
“A difficult journey indeed, although one can see the potential geographic importance of such a place in times of conflict.” Morgan, as though this was a children’s party and they were playing “pass the parcel”, gave the map to Toby. “According to Dennis, they—being both Messrs Herbert and Chapman themselves—didn’t like Queen Salote supporting the British and their allies.”
Toby gave a derisive snort. “I dare say they also don’t like the fact she isn’t British. Or a chap. Or the same colour of skin as they are.”
“Indeed, but it’s apparently more than that. Dennis’s son reckoned that pair would rather have had the island—Tonga—overrun by the Japanese. It apparently would have solved a few problems, although he never was privy to what his employers reckoned those problems were.”
“How did Dennis’s son hear this? Alasdair asked. “If it was by applying his ear to a door he shouldn’t have been applying it to, don’t be afraid to tell us: I suspect we’d have done the same had we been in that position.”
Morgan grinned. “I believe it was a mixture of hearing the two principals speak quite openly—for example when they gave their opinion on Queen Salote—and subsequently being told of their pre-war affiliations by one of the secretaries who was a longstanding employee. I don’t think the latter information was for general consumption but said employee was glad of a friendly ear to vent her frustrations into.”
“Morgan, you’re proving a treasure trove,” Toby said. “Anything else?”
“Yes. On another occasion, Dennis’s son heard one of the principles talking about how somebody needed to make a statement and show what they were made of. Given the context of the conversation, and the fact that he didn’t at the time know about the Mosley stuff, he’d believed the man was talking about something relatively innocent like making a speech in parliament. When he mentioned it to the same secretary I referred to earlier, she gave him one of those ‘you poor chap’ smiles and told him he didn’t know the half of it but not to worry his young head over such things. He said he couldn’t not worry, which lead into her telling him that Chapman had a contact outside the firm who got used for unsavoury jobs, some of which ran pretty close to the wind. She had once returned to the office late to pick up something she’d left behind and blundered into a meeting between Chapman and this chap discussing what sounded horribly like an upcoming act of violence.”
“What did she do?”
“Smiled sweetly, grabbed her stuff, left and never referred to it again, apparently. Unfortunately, she hasn’t the capacity Dennis’s son had for finding a new position: a very well-paid job and an aged parent who relied on her entirely.”
“She might be a useful contact within the firm should we need one,” Toby said. “I’d be happy for her to vent into my ears, although God forbid that we should inadvertently be the cause of her losing her position. That’s the most valid reason I’ve yet heard for keeping one’s trap shut.”
While Alasdair sympathised with the viewpoint, the mention of job loss puzzled him. “It doesn’t sound as though she’s been given the boot for what she heard, so why should she lose her job for talking to us if we employ our usual discretion?”
“It was less her being rumbled for snitching to us, than this business leading to the firm closing. I was having an overabundance of conscience.” Toby ran his hand through his hair.
“Was it hearing about acts of violence that made Dennis’s son leave?” Jonny asked. “By the way, does he have a name and I missed it due to the excellence of this port?”
Morgan inclined his head, probably in lieu of a shrug, which he’d no doubt have felt was beneath his dignity. “He must have a name but Dennis didn’t use it and I didn’t press him. He may have his reasons for not divulging it.”
“Quite.” Alasdair would have loved to know what they were.
“To answer the other part of the question,” Morgan continued, “I believe all these things built up. The final straw was when he discovered what kind of clients they liked to defend. Apparently he was only privy to that when he’d been through a probationary period.”
“We may need to speak to Dennis’s son if all else fails on the missing person’s front,” Toby said. “The timings may work out that he and Alexandra overlapped.”
“I’m sure Dennis would be pleased to facilitate that, sir. The same would no doubt apply if you or the police wished to discuss what the son heard. Dennis is a true patriot—in the best sense of the term—and would be horrified if he thought that any mischief was being intended for Her Majesty’s great event.”
“Excellent. It will be a treat reporting all of this to Firestone. Queen Salote will no doubt be attending the coronation, so this all fits together with a possible attempt at disrupting that event.” Jonny raised his glass in Morgan’s direction. “Thank you.”
“Absolutely,” Alasdair chimed in.
“My pleasure to help. An occasional treat and none the worse for that.” Morgan quickly hid a delighted smirk. “Shall I leave you to your discussions, sir?”
“If you wish,” Alasdair said. “I think we’re winding up now.”
Morgan rose, saying that he had things to attend to and wishing them every success in pursuing the business. Once he’d gone, Toby said, “Brilliant idea of yours to pick his brains, Alasdair. I wonder why Dennis wouldn’t give his son’s name, though? Unless he did and Morgan’s been sworn to secrecy.”
“Who knows.” Alasdair shrugged. “Dennis didn’t want to reveal it until he’d checked with the man himself? Feared that Mrs Dennis would scold him for embroiling their boy in our business?”
“Perhaps it’s just an embarrassing name,” Jonny suggested, “chosen in a mad moment of whimsy or patriotism. Gengulphus. Mafeking. Pointless speculating about it, I guess.” He stifled a yawn. “Are we done or is there more to thrash out? I feel the need of my blameless bed.”
Toby pursed his lips. “The last little bit to iron out—for the time being anyway—is how much we say to Mesdames Crouch and Richards when we go in search of Alexandra among their roll calls.”
“We’ll certainly need to be canny, as it were,” Alasdair agreed. “Ignoring anything about the coronation—which I don’t think we should touch on with them at present because that risks starting a panic—it’ll look damned odd if we suddenly start asking after a particular woman.”
“They’ll think that one or both of you fancies her?” Jonny chuckled. “Although maybe that would help with the smokescreen you put up between you and your devotees.”
Toby snorted a loud protest. “It won’t help if she actually fancies one of us, rather than simply admiring our acting ability, because she’ll then be heartbroken when she realises that wasn’t our motive. Hell hath no fury and all that.”
“While I agree, I can’t help thinking that such a drastic strategy could flush her out,” Alasdair said, then raised his hand. “I’m not suggesting we employ it unless all else fails.”
“I think honesty’s the best policy, if you’ll excuse a cliché. Or as much honesty as we can muster in the circumstances,” Toby added. “What if we simply say that one of Alexandra’s friends has lost touch and is worried about her? That carries the air of authenticity and isn’t threatening.”
“Unless Alexandra is told that and assumes it’s Lloyd,” Alasdair pointed out. “If she’s already got wind that you were invited to his Monday meeting, she might smell a rat.”
“Then we say a female friend. We don’t need to mention Moira by name. We could also say that if Alexandra doesn’t want to be contacted, a reassurance to us of her being safe and well, via Miss Crouch or Mrs Richards would be enough. With the proviso that we can be certain said assurance wasn’t issued under duress and came from Alexandra herself rather than someone else covering their tracks. Those two ladies are sensible enough to be told that Alexandra may not want to be found by her old pals, and we also know how much they trust us not to arse about with their precious time.”
“I can imagine they have to be both sensible and strong of character to keep those clubs running without fights breaking out,” Jonny said.
Alasdair produced a mock horrified look. “Fights? Are your crowd inclined to fisticuffs, then, Toby? Mine are far more refined.”
Toby poked out his tongue. “So are mine, but Jonny’s got a point. I’ve heard that petty jealousies can spark over who has accumulated the most time speaking to us or who is the most devoted fan. I’ve seen Miss Crouch nip them in the bud before they can fester—and that’s with me present—so I dread to think what goes on behind my back.”
“You’re no doubt better off not knowing.” Jonny rose. “And now, I really must go.”
“Shall I ask Morgan to drive you home?” Alasdair said.
“Don’t bother him. He’s gone above and beyond already tonight and I can pick up a cab easily enough. I promise I’ll report back anything that needs reporting.” With that assurance, Jonny donned his coat and had reached the front doorstep when he said, “Carstone. His death must have been an accident, if he was a devout Catholic. Mortal sin and all that.” He waved and headed off.
“He’s not daft, that lad,” Toby said, as they returned to their seats after waving their guest off. “Thinking of Carstone and Landseer, there’s yet another job to add to the list. We’ll need to get Sir Ian’s permission to proceed with this, if it turns out there’s any risk to our lives and limbs, which there might be if we’re duelling with anarchists and acts of violence. I’ll need to update him on Lloyd’s group so we can morph one into the other although the permission part needs more urgency.”
“Agreed. We should do it before we speak to Geraldine, as a matter of courtesy, although the fan club stuff can proceed, I’d say.”
“Talking of fan clubs, I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that I often wonder whether—given the membership of these groups seems entirely female—there’s an equivalent group for the male of the species. They’d have to keep themselves undercover, perhaps, for obvious reasons, unless they meet openly with the pretence of worshipping the ground Fiona walks on. Although that would risk attracting members who really do pine for her.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if there was such a clandestine group, perhaps to admire the whole range of attractive male actors rather than just us. If so, they’d no doubt be delighted to know that we have an eye for the same, although in our case a very limited selection. I don’t want anyone but you.” Alasdair left his chair, to sit on the arm of Toby’s. “Filming starts tomorrow, alas and alack for our love life. A chaste kiss and then out the door you go, Mr Bowe.”
“Alas and alack indeed. We can’t have the king looking raddled tomorrow.”
“I’m only the heir to the throne in the scenes we’re filming, so I’m allowed to give off a hint of a young rake, although not too much of one. A night of abandon with you would exceed acceptable levels of debauchery.” They shared a sufficiently passionate kiss to produce a warm glow, then Toby availed himself of Morgan’s chauffeuring duties, leaving Alasdair to mull over all the strange developments of the evening.
What had started with trying to find an explanation for the unexplainable had become something prosaic but much more serious. Alasdair turned to the hall mirror and found himself addressing it as though he were giving a speech to camera. “We should hand this over to the police and then leave well alone, if we had any sense. While we’re not unaccustomed to physical danger in the service of our country, tackling anarchists is different flying a spitfire. But we promised to find a missing woman and I’d hate to break a vow.”
Was he trying to persuade himself or practicing his speech to Sir Ian? And if that danger included a threat to Toby, would Alasdair still be as enthusiastic for the chase?