Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 7: Off With His Head, Singing in the Shrouds, False Scent

‘I’ll be the cold death of any one of you that tries,’ he said violently.

A stillness fell upon the company. Ernie blundered out into the dark, carrying his dog.

His brothers scraped their boots on the floor and cleared their throats. His father said: ‘Damned young fool, when all’s said.’ Trixie explained that she was as fond of animals as anybody but you had to draw the line.

Presently Ernie returned, alone, and after eyeing his father for some moments, began to complain like a child.

‘A chap bean’t let ’ave nothin’ he sets his fancy to,’ Ernie whined. ‘Nor let do nothin’ he’s a notion to do. Take my case. Can’t ’ave me dog. Can’t do Fool’s act in the Five Sons. I’m the best lepper and caperer of the lot of you. I’d be a proper good Fool, I would.’ He pointed to his father. ‘You’re altogether beyond it, as the doctor in ’is wisdom ’as laid down. Why can’t you heed ’im and let me take over?’

His father rejoined with some heat: ‘You’re lucky to whiffle. Hold your tongue and don’t meddle in what you don’t understand. Which reminds me,’ he added, advancing upon Trixie. ‘There was a foreign wumman up along to Copse Forge. Proper old nosey besom. If so be – Ar?’

Camilla had tugged at his coat and was gesturing in the direction of the hidden Mrs Bünz. Trixie mouthed distractedly. The four senior brothers made unhappy noises in their throats.

‘In parlour, is she?’ William bawled. ‘Is she biding?’

‘A few days,’ Trixie murmured. Her father said firmly: ‘Don’t talk so loud, Guiser.’

‘I’ll talk as loud as I’m minded. Us doan’t want no furreignesses hereabouts –’

‘Doan’t, then Dad,’ his sons urged him.

But greatly inflamed, the Guiser roared on. Camilla looked through into the Private and saw Mrs Bünz wearing an expression of artificial abstraction. She tiptoed past the gap and disappeared.

‘Grandfather!’ Camilla cried out indignantly, ‘she heard you! How could you! You’ve hurt her feelings dreadfully and she’s not even English –’

‘Hold your tongue, then.’

‘I don’t see why I should.’

Ernie astonished them all by bursting into shouts of laughter.

‘Like mother, like maid,’ he said, jerking his thumb at Camilla. ‘Hark to our Bessie’s girl.’

Old William glowered at his granddaughter. ‘Bad blood,’ he said darkly.

‘Nonsense! You’re behaving,’ Camilla recklessly continued, ‘exactly like an over-played “heavy”. Absolute ham, if you don’t mind my saying so, Grandfather!’

‘What kind of loose talk’s that?’

‘Theatre slang, actually.’

‘Theatre!’ he roared. ‘Doan’t tell me you’re shaming your sex by taking up with that trash. That’s the devil’s counting-house, that is.’

‘With respect, Grandfather, it’s nothing of the sort.’

‘My granddaughter!’ William said, himself with considerable histrionic effort, ‘a play-actress! Ar, well! Us might have expected it, seeing she was nossled at the breast of the Scarlet Woman.’

Nat and Andy with the occasional unanimity of twins groaned: ‘Ar, dear!’

The landlord said: ‘Steady, souls.’

‘I really don’t know what you mean by that,’ Camilla said hotly. ‘If you’re talking about Daddy’s Church you must know jolly well that it isn’t mine. He and Mummy laid that on before I was born. I wasn’t to be a Roman and if my brother had lived he would have been one. I’m C. of E.’

‘That’s next door as bad,’ William shouted. ‘Turning your back on Chapel and canoodling with Popery.’

He had come quite close to her. His face was scored with exasperation. He pouted, too, pushing out his lips at her and making a piping sound behind them.

To her own astonishment Camilla said: ‘No, honestly! You’re nothing but an old baby after all,’ and suddenly kissed him.

‘There now!’ Trixie ejaculated, clapping her hands.

Tom Plowman said: ‘Reckon that calls for one all round on the house.’

The outside door was pushed open and a tall man in a duffle coat came in.

‘Good evening, Mr Begg,’ said Trixie.

‘How’s Trix?’ asked Wing-Commander Simon Begg.

II

Later on, when she had seen more of him, Camilla was to think of the first remark she heard Simon Begg make as completely typical of him. He was the sort of man who has a talent for discovering the Christian names of waiters and waitresses and uses them continually. He was powerfully built and not ill-looking, with large blue eyes, longish hair and a blond moustache. He wore an RAF tie, and a vast woollen scarf in the same colours. He had achieved distinction (she was to discover) as a bomber pilot during the war.

The elder Andersens, slow to recover from Camilla’s kiss, greeted Begg confusedly, but Ernie laughed with pleasure and threw him a crashing salute. Begg clapped him on the shoulder. ‘How’s the corporal?’ he said. ‘Sharpening up the old whiffler, what?’

‘Crikey!’ Camilla thought, ‘he isn’t half a cup of tea, is the Wing-Commander.’ He gave her a glance for which the word ‘practised’ seemed to be appropriate and ordered his drink.

‘Quite a party tonight,’ he said.

‘Celebration, too,’ Trixie rejoined. ‘Here’s the Guiser’s granddaughter come to see us after five years.’

‘No!’ he exclaimed. ‘Guiser! Introduce me, please.’

After a fashion old William did so. It was clear that for all his affectation of astonishment, Begg had heard about Camilla. He began to ask her questions that contrived to suggest that they belonged to the same world. Did she by any chance know a little spot called ‘Phipps’ near Shepherd’s Market – quite a bright little spot, really. Camilla, to whom he seemed almost elderly, thought that somehow he was also pathetic. She felt she was a failure with him and decided that she ought to slip away from the Public where she now seemed out of place. Before she could do so, however, there was a further arrival: a pleasant-looking elderly man in an old-fashioned covert-coat with a professional air about him.

There was a chorus of ‘Evenin’, Doctor.’ The newcomer at once advanced upon Camilla and said: ‘Why, bless my soul, there’s no need to tell me who this is: I’m Henry Otterly, child. I ushered your mama into the world. Last time I spoke to her she was about your age and as like as could be. How very nice to see you.’

They shook hands warmly. Camilla remembered that five years ago when a famous specialist had taken his tactful leave of her mother, she had whispered: ‘All the same, you couldn’t beat Dr Otterly up to Mardian.’ When she had died, they carried her back to Mardian and Dr Otterly had spoken gently to Camilla and her father.

She smiled gratefully at him now and his hand tightened for a moment round hers.

‘What a lucky chap you are, Guiser,’ said Dr Otterley: ‘with a granddaughter to put a bit of warmth into your Decembers. Wish I could say as much for myself. Are you staying for Christmas, Miss Camilla?’

‘For the Winter Solstice anyway,’ she said. ‘I want to see the swords come out.’

‘Aha! So you know all about that.’

‘Mummy told me.’