Part 14 (1/2)

'Well, my life's always been like that, you see. I've always known. The people I've been close to I've never allowed them to surprise me. It's so important, that, isn't it? Otherwise life just becomes a sort of anarchy. It's always been so important to me that I know, for instance, at five o'clock, when I'm just seeing my last client, that Angela is back at home in the kitchen getting ready to put the ca.s.serole on. They're what keep me going, these little certainties.'

'And something's happened to disrupt all this?'

Harry's voice started to quiver. 'I found out that she's being unfaithful to me.'

He took another drink, while his friend leaned forward, put a hand on his arm, and said: 'You'd better tell me the whole story.'

Harry's suspicions had started when a colleague of his informed him, quite casually, that his wife had been seen in the hotel tea room at four o'clock one Wednesday afternoon. Harry knew that this was impossible, because his wife invariably stayed at home in the afternoons, listening to the play on Radio 4. Indeed on that very Wednesday evening she had described the plot of this play to him in some detail over dinner, although he later found out that her synopsis was lifted word for word from the Radio Times. Anyway, at first he did not take the incident seriously; but when his colleague, reluctantly, told him that his wife had been seen with another man, and behaving in a way which suggested intimacy, Harry began to look worried.

'What do you think I should do?' he asked.

'You're in luck,' said the colleague. 'I can put you in touch with just the chap. A sort of detective. Very discreet, and very amenable. Specializes in this kind of work. I'll give you his card, and you can get in touch with him right away.'

Harry was given the address of an office at the top of a mews building at the cheap end of town. The name on the doorbell was 'Vernon Humpage'.

Mr Humpage turned out to be a balding, rather doleful man; he bore a certain resemblance to the character played by Mervyn Johns in Dead of Night. He quickly put Harry at his ease and explained that his work could be divided into two categories research, and surveillance. In this particular case, he suggested, it might be well to consider both. Harry agreed. Mr Humpage then promised to provide him with a full report within the s.p.a.ce of seven days.

Their next meeting took place one week later.

'I've managed to find out a great deal, Mr Eatwell,' said the detective.

'I'm pleased to hear it. Do call me Harold.'

'Gladly. Could I start by asking you a few questions?'

'Fire away.'

'When did you first meet your wife?'

'About two years ago.'

'I see: just after she got back from Berlin.'

'I'm sorry?'

'You know that your wife worked as a nightclub hostess in Berlin for six months?'

'No.'

'She ran away there. Shortly after the divorce.'

'Divorce?'

'She's been married before, of course, but you knew that. Actually my researches show that the marriage was never officially dissolved; but he doesn't get out of prison for another four years, so we don't have to worry about that just yet.'

'Mr Humpage, I didn't know any of this,' said Harry, his face loose with astonishment.

'Well, let's move on to surveillance. Harold, would you say you had an accurate idea of how your wife spends her time during the day?'

'Yes, I would.'

'Based on what?'

'Based on what she tells me.'

'All right, well, let's see now.' He picked up a handwritten sheet of paper from his desk. 'What's the first thing she does in the morning?'

'She, erm, she makes me a cup of tea.'

'That's correct. And then what?'

'And then we have breakfast together, and I go out to work.'

'Also correct.'

'Then she cleans up the kitchen and dusts downstairs.'

'No, I'm afraid she doesn't. The first thing she does after you leave the house in the morning is put her feet up, pour herself a gin and tonic, and have a smoke.'

'A smoke? My wife doesn't smoke.'

'Oh yes she does. Havana cigars. You didn't know that? Well, anyway: it then gets to be around mid-morning. You know what she does then?'

'Well, I've always pictured her having some coffee and biscuits... maybe drawing up a shopping list, watching some daytime television.'

'Wrong, I'm afraid. She phones her stockbroker.'

'Her stockbroker?'

'Yes. She has equity interests in five major light industrial businesses. A lot of buying and selling takes place. She didn't tell you?'

'No.'

'How odd. You know about the lunchtimes, of course.'

'Well, she's on this diet. She usually watches the news and has a light salad with some fruit juice. Doesn't she?'

'Actually she frequents a variety of local pubs. Yesterday it was The Bull and Gate: she had steak and kidney pie and chips and two pints of Yorks.h.i.+re bitter. The day before that it was a wine bar in Dale Street: she had a double helping of chilli con carne and several whiskies. Sometimes she goes on her own, sometimes with friends.'

'But when does she find time to cook dinner? Surely it must take her most of the afternoon to cook those fabulous dinners.'

'Most of them are from packets. She usually pops in and gets them on her way back from the arcades.'

'The arcades?'

'She plays the machines. Three days out of the last four, she's been out working the fruit machines. Not too bad at it: usually comes out with more than she takes in.' He stopped and looked up. 'Is this disturbing you, Mr Eatwell?'

Harry had put on his overcoat, and was standing by the window.