Coffin Underground

‘It’s because she didn’t say anything. Ever. Not to me, not to her father. That alarms me. Come into the garden.’

And in the mirror Coffin watched Edward watching them.

He turned to Lætitia with a question in his eyes. She shrugged.

‘So that’s really why you came? You’re a kind of a chaperone.’

‘I’m very fond of both Chris and Irene. Edward too, for that matter. And also,’ she added deliberately, ‘of my brother whom I came to see, and who never comes to see me.’

‘Poor coppers can’t travel the globe finding you.’

But it was an excuse, and he knew it. He had not tried hard enough. She had a right to be angry if she wanted to be. He had got stuck into his own life, his own problems, and had not looked outside them.

‘I’m coming back to this country to settle. Bought a house on Chelsea Embankment, with views across the river.’

Did it mean another marriage was unfastening itself? She did step out of relationships so easily. She was more like their mother than he cared to admit.

‘How’s Harry?’

‘He will be there too.’ She smiled. ‘You thought not, didn’t you.’

‘Wondered.’

‘There is a reason. Can’t you guess? I am going to have a child. Since I was born in this country I have kept my British passport; my child, if born here also, will have dual nationality, British and American. We thought it a good idea he should be born here.’ She was serenely sure of herself. ‘The place not to be born if you are a boy is France, then you have to do military service, whoever you are. Or keep out of the country. And that might seriously damage his career. One can’t tell.’

He was pleased. His family was growing. Now there would be three of them and a hidden fourth. ‘It is a he? You are sure?’

‘I already know. It is quite possible to know.’

Her life was so much more sure and full of certainties than his own was. That had to come from her father’s side of the family. Nothing like it seemed to exist on what he knew of his mother’s. He didn’t know much about his own father, except that he had been an unlikely chap. It had been a surprise when Lætitia had turned up in his life, so much younger, prettier and cleverer than he had dared to expect. Also a woman; he had been on the search for a brother. That brother still existed somewhere.

‘Of course, I am already a little old for a first child,’ she said calmly. ‘One can run into trouble, hence all the tests. But all is well.’

A budget of news.

When he turned back into the room, now crowded with people, he saw that Chris Court and Irene Pitt had drawn apart, the MP to talk to a man John Coffin recognized as a television personality, and Irene to supervise the laying out of the food in the other room. His sister was talking to Edward Pitt, who was giving her some wine, then going on to pour some for Court. He did it with a flourish.

Suddenly Coffin felt sorry for the man. Not much fun to lose your wife after years of marriage. If I was him, he thought, I’d feel like dropping poison in Court’s drink.

Of course you’d have to choose your poison, or someone like himself, some eager beaver policeman, would soon be on your trail.

He enjoyed the party, but left early. His sister had left even before he did. She came across to speak to him before she went.

‘Can I drive you home, Letty?’ They were, after all, well out in South London, well away from Cheyne Walk. He felt sure her new house was on Cheyne Walk, nothing less would do for Lætitia.

‘No, I have a car.’

‘Sure?’

‘I am perfectly fit,’ she said firmly. ‘Don’t fuss. There’s something I want to say. You remember the advertisements we have been running in the papers asking about our missing sibling?’

‘I remember.’ He hadn’t wanted the advertisements inserted, it was making public something he still preferred to keep private, but he had deferred to her.

‘We’ve had an answer. Some woman who thinks she may know something. From Glasgow, of all places. Can one of us really have got to Glasgow?’

‘You got to New York.’

‘But I had help.’ She questioned: ‘So what do we do? Do we go to Glasgow?’

‘One of us ought to.’

‘Then I will send you the letter and all the information I have. I think you will find it interesting.’

As he followed her to her car he saw that Court was already standing by it with the door open.

‘He’s in a hurry, isn’t he?’

‘There’s a Division tonight. A three line whip, he has to get back to the House to vote. Besides, better not to hang around.’

‘Perhaps he’d have done better still not to come.’

Letty shrugged. ‘There’s something worrying you. What is it?’

‘I’ve got a nasty murder case boiling up,’ Coffin admitted. ‘It’s on my mind a bit.’ He told her about the discovery of Egan’s body, just hinting at his personal involvement.

‘Is it a very horrible murder?’ She knew that there were certain types of killing that he found hard to stomach.

‘Bad enough. But I’ve known worse.’

‘Then is it you don’t know which way to go? You have no idea who did it?’

‘Oh I think we do. Probably won’t be too hard to prove, either.’

‘Then you’re home. It’s at an end.’

Slowly Coffin said: ‘That’s just it. It doesn’t feel like the end. More like a beginning. And I’ve got the nasty feeling that it’s not the right murder.’

‘You mean the wrong man was killed.’

‘No, I’m sure the killer meant to get Egan. If he hadn’t, Egan would have got him.’

‘Well, then.’

‘Yes, I know I’m being unreasonable.’

He saw her drive off, then made to leave himself. It was a warm evening for the time of year, with a big yellow moon hanging in the sky. He stood for a moment on the doorstep enjoying the evening. The noise from the party floated out to the street, laughter and happy voices mixed with the sound of music. A good party but now was the time to leave it, you should always leave a party while it was still happy. A good recipe for life.

He walked down the street. Just for the moment he fancied he could get a whiff of the old Deller’s smell, but that must be fantasy. Deller’s, once the boast of the district, had not smelt for over ten years now, vanquished, as it had been, by the Clean Air Act.