The Blood Royal(12)
‘It’s all right, I’ve got ’em safe,’ said Stan, appearing with a child firmly in each hand. ‘While the PC’s organizing that piece of filth’s accommodation I’ll just give these two nippers a glass of milk and a cheese sandwich. They look as though they haven’t eaten for a week.’ And, turning to the wide-eyed pair: ‘Welcome to London, kids. I think that’s enough excitement for one day. Come along o’ me and this lady policeman. Naw – don’t you fret about the dog. We’ll see he’s all right. You’re all going to be all right.’
Chapter Four
September 1922
In the warm intimacy of the rear seat of a London cab, Admiral Lord Dedham stretched out his long legs and adjusted the scabbard of his dress sword so as to be sure not to snag the trailing chiffon gown of the woman by his side. It had been a long, hot evening filled with far too many blood-stirring speeches – the most incendiary of them coming from his own lips, he readily admitted. He’d received a standing ovation and that sort of thing always went to the head however tight one’s grip on reality; he’d taken on board too much adulation and too many drinks for comfort. He was longing for the moment, soon approaching, when he could relieve his chest of its cargo of medals and slip out of his much-bedecked dress uniform.
But until that blissful moment arrived, he was more than content with the present one. Even at his time of life – which he thought of as ‘vigorous middle age’ – the admiral still found that the capsule of darkness to be found in the back of a taxi, lightly scented with gardenia, good cigars and leather, sliding secretly through the roistering crowds of central London, had its enlivening effect. It had been even more invigorating in the swaying hansom cabs of his youth but his ageing bones could never regret all that bouncing about over cobbles. He reached out and seized the white-gloved hand left invitingly close to his on the banquette and lifted it to his lips with practised gallantry, a wary eye on the driver.
The observant cabby’s eyes gleamed in the rear-viewing mirror, his shoulders shook perceptibly and he launched into a cheery offering from Chu Chin Chow.
Lord Dedham had seen the musical extravaganza three times. It was his favourite musical comedy. He recognized the sumptuously romantic duet ‘Any Time’s Kissing Time’.
Cheeky blighter, Dedham thought, with an indulgent grin. Typical London cabby. Ought to be keeping his eyes on the road, not spying on his passengers. He wondered if his companion would take offence. Many women would.
His companion responded to the effrontery by leaning mischievously towards the admiral and biting his ear, her aim, in the dark, surprisingly sure. Then she joined in with the song, timing her entrance perfectly, weaving her clear soprano voice into the chorus to sing along with the cabby.
‘Nearly there, my love,’ growled Dedham. ‘Did you ask Peterson to wait up?’
‘As though he’d agree to do otherwise, Oliver! He’ll be there waiting with your eggnog at the ready. But I dismissed your valet. I’ll help you out of that clanking regalia myself.’ And, as though the promise of eggnog and wifely ministrations was not enough to stiffen the sinews, she squeezed his arm as they turned from the hurly-burly of Buckingham Palace Road into the quiet opulence of the streets approaching Melton Square. ‘Oh, it’s so good to have you home again, darling, and I shall go on saying that until you beg me to stop. And when we arrive, you will remember to do as Joe told you, won’t you?’
‘Dash it all, Cassandra, we’re in Belgravia not Belfast!’ he objected.
Lady Dedham quelled her husband’s predictable splutterings by her usual method of putting a finger firmly over his mouth. ‘And thank God for that! But your young friend at the Yard is worth hearing. It’s a very simple arrangement. It makes complete sense. We must prepare ourselves to observe this routine until all the unpleasantness blows over or you and that fire-eater Churchill stop making sabre-rattling speeches, darling, whichever is the sooner. Yo u it was who insisted on dismissing the police protection squad Joe kindly set up for you, and now you must perform your part of the bargain.’
‘Protection squad!’ The admiral spat out his derision.
‘He didn’t have to do that, you know – over and above his duty. You’re an ungrateful piggy-wig, Oliver. You listen to no one. I can’t think why you objected. Those Branch men he sent round were terribly discreet … really, you’d no idea they were there. And the young one was incredibly handsome! I was so enjoying having him about the place. He cheered us all up.’ She weathered his splutter of outrage and sailed on. ‘But you agreed to the commander’s alternative proposals and I for one shall hold you to your promise. I have a part too, you know, and I fully intend to play it. I expect nothing less from you. Now – tell the driver what you want him to do. And don’t cut it short – I shall be listening!’