‘It certainly stirred memories for me!’
The man chortled merrily all the way to the exit. Paul hung back, wrestling against the temptation to stand at the stage door again. Hannah had disappointed all of her admirers on the previous occasion by sneaking out of the front door and Paul toyed with the notion of standing on the opposite side of the road in case she reverted to that stratagem. In the end, he was at the mercy of another unseen magnet and it pulled him round to the stage door. Staying well back, so that he couldn’t overhear some of the coarser comments of the waiting suitors, Paul seemed to wait an age for her to appear, each minute charged with remorse and regret. When Hannah finally came, there was a spontaneous burst of applause and the men clustered around her before parting like the Red Sea. Hannah Granville sailed away from the theatre with a sense of triumph but it was not the actress who caught Paul’s eye. It was the handsome young man on whose arm she swept past him. He basked in the envy he was creating and raised his hat to them all in farewell. Paul was both wounded and shocked that it had taken such a short time to replace him. He felt giddy at what he saw as her betrayal. She was no longer his. The last shreds of hope had vanished.
As so often when he was in a state of despair, Jermyn Street beckoned.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Bernard Grocott was among the first to arrive at the Home Office that morning. He was so used to stepping into a room that was spectacularly tidy that he was beginning to take the new servant for granted. Though he was still deeply concerned about Anne Horner’s disappearance, he was more than satisfied with the woman who’d replaced her and, on balance, found Ruth Levitt preferable. Grocott hoped that she might turn out to be a permanent fixture. It was a hope that was shared by David Beyton, though for somewhat different reasons. To spare him embarrassment, he’d wanted Ruth’s predecessor to leave the Home Office altogether. It never crossed his mind that Anne Horner would be forcibly removed and that he would be to blame.
‘Good morning, Mr Grocott,’ he said.
‘Ah, there you are, Beyton.’
‘You asked me to report to you first thing.’
‘I did, indeed,’ said Grocott. ‘The Home Secretary is spending the morning with the Prime Minister and he’s asked me to review the security arrangements for the celebrations in Hyde Park. Mr Yeomans has already seen them and given them his blessing but one can never be too careful about such things.’
‘I agree, sir.’
‘What I need is a sounding board and you have always taken on that role with distinction. That’s why I sent for you.’
‘I’m very flattered.’
In fact, Beyton was feeling rather flustered, struggling to maintain a calm exterior. Ordinarily, he would have felt grateful to be singled out from the other clerks in order to have privileged access to important information concerning the safety of the royal family and the senior members of government. It would be something he could tell his ailing wife to cheer her up. As it was, he was worried about being under Grocott’s scrutiny for some length of time. With so much pain and anguish churning inside him, Beyton was afraid that some of it might show in his face and manner.
‘Our major concern, of course,’ said the undersecretary, ‘is the weather.’
‘One can’t control that, sir.’
‘Alas, no, that feat is beyond even the Duke of Wellington, though you’d never get him to admit it.’
Beyton rose to a smile. ‘His self-belief is legendary.’
‘Battles are never won by doubters.’
‘How true, sir!’
‘Let us begin, shall we?’
Grocott shuffled the sheaf of papers on his desk. Page by page, he went through the projected arrangements for the celebrations of the victory at Waterloo. As well as the great and good of England, foreign dignitaries would also be present and their absolute safety had to be guaranteed. Beyton was only half-listening to the endless recital of names and the disposition of the soldiers. All that he was required to do was to give a series of affirmative nods and an occasional word of approval, yet Grocott seemed to feel that his colleague was being very helpful.
Sitting back in his chair, he studied the clerk for some time.
‘Is anything wrong, Beyton?’
‘Not that I know of, sir.’
‘You have a faint air of distraction.’
‘My mind has been wholly concentrated on the task in hand,’ said Beyton. ‘It’s been an honour to assist you on such an important matter.’
‘I chose you with care,’ said Grocott. ‘Of all the senior clerks, you’re the most industrious and reliable. Every one of the others has his strengths, mind you, but you stand out. In fact,’ he went on, ‘I’m able to confide something that will show you how much I value the quality of your work.’