He held up a staying hand. ‘No, don’t go. I shall mourn the admiral later and in my own way. Which is to say with targeted vigour.’ He shot a glance of such deadly intent in her direction that Lily looked aside. ‘Now you’re here, come on over and let’s renew our acquaintance.’
She approached the desk, ignored the chair set in front of it and stood to attention as she’d been trained. Feet a precise eighteen inches apart, straight back, shoulders down, palms to the rear. All very correct. To salute or not to salute? Joe realized she was questioning the protocol. She hesitated for a moment, then, apparently deciding he merited the gesture, gave him a perfect salute.
He managed a grin. ‘Returning mine of the fourteenth, I take it? Thank you. Do sit down and we’ll start again.’
Puzzlingly, the girl stayed on her feet.
Wrong footed by her silence and rigid stance, Joe re-launched the conversation in a welcoming and very English prattle.
‘Looks as though it’s going to be hot again today.’
‘We’ve had the hottest summer for twenty-seven years, I understand, sir.’
‘Yes … When will it end? Pigs keeling over with heat stroke at the county show …’ he offered with a bland smile.
‘Reckless swimmers getting into difficulties in the Serpentine.’
‘But there’s some good news. We have our Prince of Wales back home safe and sound at last.’
Her voice was tight with strain as she returned yet another answer in this tedious sequence. ‘After eight months touring India, he will be acclimatized to this heat.’
‘Well, that’ll do for our review of the papers,’ Joe said, and fell silent.
In pursuit of his brief he began to pace about the room again, noting for the record, in what he hoped was an unobtrusive fashion, her height, weight and general deportment. He was relieved to see he’d remembered correctly the trim figure, the modest height. He couldn’t be sure about the face. With the downcast eyes and the large-brimmed hat, she could have been anybody.
A closer inspection was now essential. He went to perch on the front edge of his desk, eyes on a level with hers, improperly close. This overbearing male behaviour was calculated to disturb, to test the subject’s mettle. It was a crude ploy he’d had much success with in the interrogation of male prisoners, military and civilian. The scar skewed his face and Joe had learned to use the sardonic twist with its suggestion of pain survived to intimidate his subjects. He’d noticed that even the tough nuts were unable to hold his eye. Their gaze faltered and slid to one side. They began to fidget and tell him their lies with less confidence.
If the girl ran whimpering from the room or kicked him in the shins at this point, he wouldn’t blame her but that would have to be the end of it.
She responded by staring calmly at a spot on his tie, a slight twist of disdain on her lips.
Perfect.
‘Now then, Miss Wentworth … er, Lilian? That your given name?’
‘I’m usually called just Lily, sir. By those who know me. “Constable” by those who don’t.’
His scrutiny had been over close and over long. And perhaps it was unfair to expose her to blood-spatter and bristle at this hour of the morning. When she caught him inspecting her feet he muttered: ‘Those boots are a disgrace. Not your fault. Poor quality leather. Won’t take a polish. The men wouldn’t put up with them for two minutes. I’ll have a word in the right ear.’
‘It will go straight out through the left, I’m sure, but thank you for the thought, sir.’
Was the tone rebellious? Joe frowned. Not yet. Just this side of acceptable. He’d push her further. He peered playfully under her brim, questioning. She went on looking straight ahead, impassive.
‘Why don’t you sit down? I don’t want to conduct this interview standing. We may be here some time.’
She sank uneasily on to a chair.
‘You’re smaller than I remembered,’ he remarked.
‘Tall enough to satisfy the height requirement.’
Joe picked up a pencil and scratched a note for himself: 5′6″?
‘And younger.’
‘I lied about my age. Sir.’
A swift glance into the unblinking, innocent eyes told him she was certainly lying now. Personal details of recruits were meticulously checked. Joe knew when he was being needled. He wrote again, taking his time: 26, could pass for 18. Insubordinate?
‘And your weight, miss? You would appear to be … er … not exactly well covered in the flesh department.’
He’d clearly touched a nerve at last. The nostrils flared and her voice when she replied was glacial: ‘After eight years of privation, sir, are we surprised? There’s been a war on.’