Impatiently, Joe snatched the phone back. ‘Calm down, man! Cyril Tate? Is that who I’ve got? This is Miss Wentworth’s commanding officer and I’m the one who issues the invitations. Sandilands … I believe we’ve met …Yes, that Sandilands … Feeling’s mutual …Your name’s been mentioned. I have a proposal to put to you. Got the tools of your trade to hand, have you? Can you climb into an evening suit at a moment’s notice?’ In an aside to Lily: ‘He’s already dressed.
‘That’s convenient. Look, meet me and Miss Wentworth in the snug bar of the Red Lion. Yes, just by the Yard in Scotland Alley. Don’t make a fuss! In fifteen minutes.’
He put the phone down.
‘You can forget the champagne tête à tête in the Palm Court!’ He grinned. ‘If we’re to be a threesome with that toad it’ll be a swift half of shandy-gaff in the Red Lion.’
The newsman eased his way through the crowds to their table in the far corner of the pub, relieving ten minutes of stilted conversation punctuated by sips of warm beer. Sandilands had carried back a half-pint of ginger beer shandy for Lily and two pint tankards of pale ale. He’d downed half of one and left the other foaming gently on the far side of their table. Suddenly, the animated and clever face Joe remembered was there behind the glass and lifting it.
‘Cheers!’ Tate saluted Joe, drank thirstily and then turned his attention to Lily, staring and blinking. ‘Lily, my love! That is my lovely Lily? I ride to your rescue! Though how you could possibly expect me to abandon the delights of the Mayor of Clerkenwell’s war memorial dedication supper at the drop of a hat for your, er, entertainment I have no idea. How on earth do you come to be all dolled up and in the clutches of this villain?’
Time to deliver a set-down. Joe spoke frostily. ‘Not sure whom you think you are addressing. This young lady is one of my many Scottish cousins on my mother’s side. Miss Lily Wentworth. What’s more, I think she can be the Honourable Lily Wentworth,’ he embroidered. ‘Second daughter of Viscount Wentworth of Moidart. If anyone asks, that’s the information you can pass on. You can add, confidingly, that she’s a friend and neighbour of Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon who seems to be all the go at the moment. That’s pedigree enough. No one can ever work out the Scottish peerage – some aren’t even aware that there is one – and a mixture of Scots and English geography will surely send the hounds the wrong way. I’ll give a reward to any keen cove who can find Moidart on the map!’
He noted that Tate followed every step of his intervention, nodding his understanding and, it seemed, approval.
‘How very fashionable!’ Cyril said. ‘Another Scottish girl spreading her wings south of the border? I see your compatriot Lady Elizabeth – ninth offspring of the Earl of Strathmore – is cutting a swathe through the English aristocracy. Three times a bridesmaid this season – the on dit is that it can’t be long before she’s a bride … a right royal bride, some go so far as to speculate.’
‘Save that claptrap for your rags, Tate,’ Joe warned. And then, swinging into his role, ‘Now, my dear Lily, you may tell this fellow what he needs to know.’
‘Very well, Joe,’ she responded, according to his instructions. ‘Cyril, it’s your lucky day. You’ll be the only one of your profession there. An exclusive presence. Now, the guest of honour, as I’m sure you will know—’
‘I certainly do. We were all wondering if he’d turn up. In the present agitated political climate the odds were against it. Running a bit of a risk, isn’t he?’
‘… is thought to be about to come in for a little unwelcome attention this evening. And the signs are – can’t tell you more but the authorities seem pretty certain – that the attention will be coming from a woman. A rather pushy female who’s determined to get attention for her cause—’
‘Cause?’ Cyril leapt on the word. ‘Ah! No – sorry. Can’t get involved with causes. I generally try to avoid political entanglements. Bad for business.’
‘Many things are bad for business, Cyril,’ Lily told him quietly.
Joe caught her sideways glance, a glance which said, ‘I’m silent for the moment but you wouldn’t want me to speak out in the commander’s company, would you?’ She had some hold over the newsman, that much was clear. Joe was intrigued and quietly satisfied to know that someone at least had this hound on a lead.
The hound came to heel at once. Cyril shrugged, grinned and spread his hands in a gesture of compliance. ‘As you say. Just tell me which cause, will you – a hint will do. Very well – I’ll take a shot at it … Some enterprising lady from the Emerald Isle? Is that who we’re talking about?’