âIsnât that a wifeâs duty, lying for her husband, vertically and horizontally?â
âWell, yes, of course,â said Pascoe. âTell me, how dutiful are you feeling?â
Before Ellie could reply the doorbell rang.
âShit,â said Pascoe. âIf itâs him, tell him Iâm still fiducing.â
âAnd your car came back by itself? Good trick.â
Through the frosted panel of the front door, Ellie could see at once it wasnât Dalziel. With a bit of luck it would just be a Jehovahâs Witness who could be told to sod off with utmost dispatch. She was feeling pleasantly randy and there was a good hour or more before she needed to think about picking up Rosie from school.
It wasnât a Witness, it was Wendy Walker, looking like a good advert for the afterlife.
âHi, Ellie,â she said. âSpare a mo for a chat?â
âYes, of course,â said Ellie brightly. âCome in.â
Wendy moved past her and stopped by the secretaire.
âNice,â she said.
âMake me an offer,â said Ellie. âCome into the kitchen.â
They sat opposite each other at the stripped pine table.
âCoffee?â said Ellie.
âNo thanks. OK if I smoke, but?â
There were several reasons why it wasnât, each of them absolute.
On the other hand, to be asked permission by someone who would have lit up in Buck House without reference to the Queen was a flattery it seemed churlish to deny.
She said weakly, âAll right but Iâll open a window.â
It was a counterproductive move, merely adding the risk of primary pneumonia to that of secondary cancer.
Drawing a curtain to cut down the draught, she said, âSure you wouldnât like a coffee?â
âTo sober me up you mean?â said Wendy aggressively.
âNo, I didnât, actually. But do you need sobering up?â
âNo. Sorry I snapped. Did have a couple at lunch time but that doesnât make me a drunk.â
âNo, of course it doesnât. Was there something particular â¦?â
âWe went on a raid last night.â
âWanwood House? Was that you?â
âYou know about it?â
âOnly what I heard on the news and that wasnât much.â
âYeah, I think that fat bastardâs put the muzzle on.â
âThat wonât please Cap.â
âGoose feather up the arse wouldnât please her.â
âIâm not sure it would do much for me either,â said Ellie. âThere was something about a body â¦â
Wendy told the story quickly, dismissively, scattering more ash than Etna.
Ellie said, âGood God, Wendy, no wonder youâre shook up.â
âWho says Iâm shook up?â demanded the smaller woman.
âWell, if youâre not, you ought to change your make-up,â said Ellie spiritedly.
âWhat? Oh yeah.â She managed a faint smile, then went on, âNo it wasnât that, something else ⦠when they took us inside and Cap ran riot ⦠look, Ellie, I need an ear ⦠someone to tell me if Iâm being stupid or what ⦠and you said, anything came up, I should let you know, right? Or was that just one of the things you lot say to keep us lot happy?â
âWendy,â said Ellie dangerously. âThat you lot crap only works when youâre up in the fighting line and Iâm with a bunch of noncombatants shouting encouragement from the back. This is about friendship or itâs about nothing.â
âYeah, sorry,â said Wendy. âItâs just with your man being a bobby ⦠heâs not at home, is he? Iâm not ready â¦â
As if in answer the door opened and Pascoe appeared.
âPeter,â said Ellie brightly. âYou remember Wendy, donât you? Wendy Walker, from Burrthorpe?â
Burrthorpe. Where heâd almost lost his life down a mine. And almost lost his wife to a young miner.
âYes, of course. Hi. Keeping well, I hope?â
âFine,â said Wendy Walker. âHey, look at the time. Iâd better get going.â
She stubbed her fag in a saucer and stood up.
Pascoe said guiltily, âDonât rush off on my account.â
She said, âNo, my timingâs bad today. Ellie, are you going to the party tonight? Thought I might cadge a lift home afterwards if you were. Buses stop at ten and the bikeâs a menace when youâre pissed.â
âParty?â said Pascoe.
âYou know, the Extramural Departmentâs do.â
âBut I thought â¦â He changed his mind about uttering the thought.