Philip chuckled as he fiddled with his cufflinks again. The right one always took a little more work, left-handed. His valet could do it for him, of course, but cufflinks were one of the areas where her husband liked to maintain a modicum of autonomy.
She was thrown back to the ambassador’s residence in Paris. The broken chain at the mention of Cresswell Place.
She realised that she was tired, and hadn’t had enough to eat today, and it probably wasn’t Philip’s fault that she felt suddenly dreadful, but something in her cracked. She went over to her dressing table and sat down. She was tearful, which was rare and dreadful, so she turned her head away so he wouldn’t see.
‘What is it, Lilibet?’ He’d stopped laughing. He sounded confused.
‘It’s . . . been a busy day, that’s all.’
‘Do you want me to get Bobo?’
‘No.’
She grabbed a handkerchief and wiped her eyes quickly. Philip rushed over and knelt in front of her, which was the last thing she wanted. She wanted him to go.
‘What’s happened? What can I do?’
‘There’s nothing you can do.’
He smiled nervously. ‘This sounds serious. It’s not like you. Is someone hounding you? More of that bloody plot? I can protect you, you know. It’s what I’m here for.’
He reached out to hug her, but she pulled back.
‘I’m not a frigate, in need of a flotilla.’
His expression clouded. ‘Of course you aren’t. What are you talking about?’
‘I’m your wife.’
She glared at him through tear-filled eyes, feeling that she knew how to say what she didn’t want, but not to ask for what she needed. Wife said it all to her. The vows they’d made, the life they were trying to build. The children.
‘It hadn’t escaped my notice.’
He was gritting his teeth now, clearly offended at being pushed away. The Queen could feel it all falling apart, this tour, herself, them both, everything that was personal to her. She could do the job. She would do it always. But what would it be like if the soul had gone out of it? If she were entirely alone?
‘Lilibet! You’re really crying. You never cry. Has somebody hurt you? I’ll bash the bastard’s head in. I’ll kill him, God help me. Who did this?’
‘You did this!’ she shouted, exhausted and too furious to hold it back. ‘You did this! You lied to me!’
‘When?’
‘You told everyone you were at the palace the night of those murders. You were with a woman. MI5 know all the sordid details . . .’
‘A woman? What woman?’
‘Abigail Pinder. William Pinder’s sister.’
There. She’d said it.
‘What? Abigail isn’t a woman,’ he said, frowning. ‘I mean, she’s a woman. But, you know what I mean. She’s a friend.’
‘Oh, Philip.’
‘I never lied to you,’ he said more gently. He looked hurt and confused.
‘You said you were at the palace,’ she repeated.
‘Yes, well . . . that’s what I told the busybodies who were asking about my whereabouts. It was none of their business. You might have overheard me . . .’
‘You used me as your alibi!’
He frowned and looked less certain. ‘It stopped them prying. You didn’t mind, did you?’
‘Of course I minded!’
‘You should have said so!’
She turned to the mirror and started fixing her tiara in place, to give her hands something to do.
‘I asked you about it at Balmoral,’ she told him, as calmly as she could, looking at his reflection, ‘and you lied again.’
‘Did I? I didn’t think it mattered. It was only to protect a friend. I was doing it out of decency.’
‘Decency? Protecting Abigail Pinder?’
‘Not Abigail,’ he said, frowning. ‘William.’
‘What?’
‘Her brother.’
The Queen turned round to face him properly again.
‘How does he come into it?’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake! All right.’ Philip threw his hands up. ‘If you must know, I met up with Roly Hill at the Artemis. He was called to the phone because Abigail was trying to get hold of him. She said she was with her brother and she was desperate. She wanted Roly to go over and talk to Pinder about the state he was in, but Roly couldn’t. His wife had a new baby and she’d have divorced him if he didn’t get home by midnight. Then he pointed out I knew Pinder pretty well, too.’
‘Did you?’
‘We served together in HMS Valiant during Matapan. Brave man. Exceptional sailor. That’s how I met Abigail. According to what she told Roly on the phone, Pinder’s wife Marion had effectively left him. Abigail was on her own with him and he wouldn’t talk to her. He was threatening to . . . Well, as I said, he was in a bad way. Roly was stuck, so I said I’d go over. It involved a certain amount of subterfuge, of course. Nothing in this life is bloody simple. Obviously, it wouldn’t do for anyone to know I was going to a house at night with a very pretty blonde in it. I took precautions not to be caught in the act. I’m not stupid.’
Oh, if only you knew, the Queen thought. She said nothing.
‘So I gave my security the slip and we hightailed it to the mews in Roly’s Aston Martin. The street was dark and quiet, nobody about. He dropped me off right outside and headed home. Abigail let me in and explained about Pinder.’
‘What about him?’
‘He’d locked himself in the back bedroom with a bottle of whisky and a gun.’
‘What?’
‘Quite. Abigail caught sight of the barrel just before he locked the door on her. An old service pistol. He was being hounded by MI5, did you know that?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’d been working for them for ten years, and they’d got it into their heads, because he knew a couple of Russians socially, that he was the Third Man.’
‘I’d heard.’
‘Preposterous, of course, but they wouldn’t let it go. The poor sod was suicidal. It took me a good hour to talk myself into the room, and three more to talk him into handing over the gun. I took the magazine out, but it wouldn’t clear so I fired into a pillow, just to be sure. The thing went off and practically deafened us. I’m amazed no one else heard it. Anyway, by then it was the early hours. Abigail joined us and we finished the bottle, the three of us, sitting up against the bedroom wall, listening to Grieg on Pinder’s gramophone. Very soothing, Grieg, if you’re in a certain mood. Then I called my equerry, who called his brother in the Grenadiers, reliable chap, who came to pick me up in his car.’ He shrugged. ‘And that’s it. The whole story. Hardly a night of unbridled passion, or whatever you were thinking.’
‘I didn’t know what to think.’
‘No need to think anything.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Philip raised his arms again in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Not my story to tell. Pinder was in a very bad way. He doesn’t want half the country knowing his business.’
‘I’m not half the country!’ she pointed out, raising her voice again.
He looked grumpy, and only slightly apologetic. ‘Officers’ code. I assumed you’d understand.’
‘Well, I didn’t.’
There was a pause. Philip had said that was the whole story, but of course it wasn’t.
‘And what about Abigail?’ the Queen added quietly. ‘You say she’s a friend.’
‘Exactly!’
She looked at him very steadily. ‘What sort of friend?’
‘The best sort! For God’s sake, Lilibet. The sort who’s interested in Jung and Heidegger. Don’t tell me you are too, because unless Heidegger was running in the four thirty at Newmarket, you wouldn’t give a damn. Abigail’s studying psychoanalysis. She’s very interesting on the subject.’ He reached out a hand and laid it on her arm. His voice was softer. ‘I don’t bore you with Jung, Lilibet, and you don’t, thank God, bore me with your breeding programme for the Derby. But I’m yours, you know that. Body and soul.’