âRosie saw the secretaire in the hall and she asked me if youâd brought it for her to keep her things in and I said you may very well have.â
After a recent and ideologically very dubious spat between Ellie and her daughter about the state of her room, Pascoe had asserted his paterfamilial authority with the promise of a large gin and tonic for his wife and a large storage chest for his Rosie. He had in mind something in puce plastic, but the little girlâs refined taste could sometimes be as surprising as her occasionally fluorescent language.
âYou like it, do you?â said Pascoe.
âOh yes. I think itâs bloody marvellous,â she answered very seriously.
He caught Ellieâs eye again and she gave him an I-donât-know-where-she-gets-it-from look. Since going to school Rosie had moved up a linguistic gear and like Caliban, her profit on it was she now knew how to curse. The problem was to stop her from cursing without letting her know that she had been.
Pascoe said, âIt belonged to Granny Pascoe and she wanted you to have it.â
âGranny whoâs dead?â
âThatâs right.â
âIs she a ghost?â asked Rosie uneasily.
âYou know thereâs no such thing as ghosts, so she canât be, can she?â said Ellie briskly.
âNo,â said Rosie without conviction.
Pascoe put his mouth to her ear and said, âAnd if she is, sheâll be a ghost down in Warwickshire, because everyone knows ghosts have got to do their haunting round the place where they died.â
The little girl looked greatly relieved though he saw Ellie grimace at this betrayal of rational principles. But she was as pleased as he was at this solution to the problem of Adaâs writing desk.
âTold you it would find its place,â she gasped as they collapsed on Rosieâs bed after lugging the secretaire upstairs.
âClever old you,â he said, grinning, and the truce might have been sealed with more than a loving kiss if Rosie hadnât demanded their help in tidying away all her dolls, toys and other impedimenta into her new store cupboard.
At seven oâclock with Rosie safely stowed in bed and Ellie making ready for her party, Pascoe was in the kitchen pouring himself a lager when the doorbell rang. He heard Ellieâs footsteps on the stairs and her voice calling, âIâll get it.â
Wendy Walker again? he wondered. No. Sheâd just said she wanted a lift back. Or this time, perhaps it was the Fat Man, come to see for himself that heâd got safely home. Bastard!
But when Ellie came into the kitchen she wasnât wearing her Apocalypse Now face, though she was wearing a silk dress which struck him as being a touch showy for such a proletarian celebration.
âChap called Hilary Studholme to see you,â she said.
âEye patch, one arm, and a limp?â he asked.
âOr grey hair, his own teeth and a nice smile,â said Ellie. âCould it be the same guy?â
âNot in court, it couldnât,â said Pascoe. âLetâs see.â
The major was standing by the fireplace looking rather ill at ease.
âNice to see you again,â said Pascoe remembering to offer his left hand. âDo sit down. I was just pouring myself a drink. Can I get you anything?â
âOrange juice, anything non-alc. There are those of your colleagues who feel I shouldnât have a licence. Mustnât always help the police, must we?â
He smiled his nice smile. From the doorway Ellie said, âIâll get the drinks.â
Seating himself opposite his visitor, Pascoe said, âSo what brings you into my neck of the woods, major?â
âDining out this way with friends. Was going to ring you in the morning, but thought face to face better. Especially as I wanted to show you something.â
He picked up a large envelope which he had set down on a coffee table, flicked the flap open with his thumb and shook some photographs out.
They were all of soldiers in Great War uniform. Two were formal groups, the other was informal, showing four men resting against a gun limber. Their clothes were mud-stained and their efforts to look cheerful sat on their fatigued faces like prostitutesâ smiles.
âAnyone you recognize?â said Studholme.
âGood lord,â said Ellie whoâd returned with the drinks which she was setting down on the table. âThere you are again, Peter.â
This time, even Pascoe couldnât deny the resemblance between himself and one of the exhausted soldiers. It was less clear in the group pictures, but Ellie went with unerring accuracy to a face which had Studholme nodding his agreement.
âSo whatâs your point?â said Pascoe. âYou think this is my great-grandfather, is that it?â
It didnât seem to him a particularly exciting discovery, certainly not one to bring Studholme even a short distance out of his way.
The major said, âYou mentioned a photograph you had?â
With the perfect timing she had inherited from her mother, Rosie pushed open the door and came in, barefooted and nightgowned, carrying the photograph from Adaâs secretaire.
âLook what I found, Daddy,â she said.
âGood God,â said Pascoe, taking the photo. âI was twice your age before I learned how to open that drawer.â
âGirls mature quicker,â observed Ellie. âBut that doesnât mean they donât need their sleep. Come on. Back to bed with you, Lady Macbeth.â
âBut why is Daddy wearing those funny clothes?â asked Rosie who had learned early on that the way to delay her mother from any undesirable course of action was to ask as many questions as possible.
âItâs not me, darling,â interposed Pascoe. âItâs your great-great-granddad, and he just happened to look a tiny little bit like me.â
âHe looks the spitting image of you,â said Ellie. âDoesnât he, dear?â
âFucking right he does,â agreed Rosie.
Pascoe winced and glanced an apology at the major whose one visible eyebrow arched quizzically. Ellie caught the girl up in her arms and said, âOff we go. Say good-night.â
There was a momentâs pause which had Pascoe wondering if his daughter was rifling her word-horde for one of the less conventional valedictory forms such as, âDonât let the bastards grind you downâ or âUp yours, arseholeâ, but she contented herself with a long-suffering âGoodnight thenâ over her motherâs shoulder.
âShe is making surprising progress at school,â said Pascoe when the door had closed.
âIndeed,â said Studholme dryly.
He took the photograph from Pascoeâs hand and studied it, then set it alongside the ones heâd brought.
âMight be doubles,â he said. âSuch things happen. Anything can. But chances are theyâre the same. Wouldnât you agree?â