He took hold of one of her hands. “I’m beginning to wonder where I’d be without you.”
She flushed and stood up, with a slight smile. “Flattery will get you nowhere. If you want to work for your keep, you can clear the table while I go and see about the car.”
The door closed behind her and he sat there for a while, finishing his cigarette and thinking about her. He stood by the window and watched her go down the steps and walk along the sidewalk and suddenly, there was a hollow ache in his stomach and he knew that she had become important to him.
He cleared the table and had just finished washing up when she returned. “That was quick,” he said.
She smiled. “Oh, they know me. I’ve done this several times since I’ve been living here. I’ve checked up on Dell Street, by the way. It’s near Regent’s Park. Allowing for the traffic, it shouldn’t take us more than twenty minutes to get there.”
He frowned and gripped her arms tightly. “There’s no need for you to come. I don’t even know what I might be running into.”
“The car’s in my name,” she said calmly. “And according to the insurance, no one else is supposed to drive. I’m in this up to my neck now, Matt. You’ll just have to get used to the idea.”
He sighed. “Okay, Anne. You win. Let’s get going.”
The car was a small Morris saloon, just the thing for the heavy London traffic and she handled it expertly, nosing her way into the main traffic stream of the Bayswater Road and turning into Marylebone Road towards Regent’s Park.
They found Dell Street with little difficulty, a quiet backwater near the park, tall Victorian town houses in their own grounds.
Professor Soames’s premises were certainly imposing and the flat-roofed extensions at the rear of the house looked as if they had only been recently completed.
The large double gates stood open and Anne drove past and parked the car in a small cul-de-sac a few yards along the street.
Brady looked out through the rear window to the gold-painted board fastened to the wall by the gate. It said Deepdene Nursing Home and underneath Professor H. Soames — Naturopath,
“Quite a set-up,” he said.
Anne nodded and switched off the engine. “What now?”
He shrugged. “I’ll just walk in and ask to see him. Pretend to be a prospective patient. It’s the only way to handle it.”
“And then?”
Brady grinned. “I think he’ll see reason. If he’s running a place like this, scandal’s the last thing he’ll want.”
She shook her head decidedly. “It’s no good. Perhaps he isn’t available today. He may even be out of town.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
She shrugged. “It’s obvious. I go in first and ask for an appointment. If he’s available, then there’s no harm done. If he isn’t, we can come back later.” He opened his mouth to argue and she stopped it gently with one hand. “The less people see of your face, the better.”
She got out of the car and closed the door. As she started to move away, she paused and took the car keys from her purse. “Here, you’d better have these,” she said. “Just in case you have to move in a hurry.”
After she had gone, Brady lit a cigarette and settled back in his seat to wait. She was quite right, of course. There was no sense in his simply walking in, taking the risk that someone might recognize him and all to no purpose. Certainly there could be no danger for the girl in simply asking for an appointment. At least he would know whether Soames was available or not.
There was an old newspaper in the glove compartment and he worked his way through it systematically, killing time as he waited.
He only really started to feel uneasy when an hour had gone by. He lit another cigarette and looked back through the rear window at the gate, but there was no sign of her and he cursed and turned back to check the clock on the dashboard.
Which ever way he looked at it, something had obviously gone wrong. He gave her another twenty minutes and then got out of the car, locked the door and slipped the keys into the ticket pocket of his pants.
The street was quiet and deserted as he crossed to the gates and entered. There was still a fine drizzle falling and he followed the broad sweep of the gravel drive and mounted the steps to the front door.
It opened to his touch and he passed through into a pleasant, carpeted hall. A low, contemporary desk stood in one corner and a young woman was absorbed in sorting a card index.
She was extremely attractive, with red-gold hair swinging shoulder-length, and wore a white medical smock which gaped at the neck as she bent over, revealing the deep valley between her breasts.
She glanced up and smiled professionally. “Yes, sir?”
“I wonder if I might see Professor Soames?” he said.
“I’m afraid the professor only sees patients by appointment, sir.”
“I realize that,” Brady told her. “But a friend of mine recommended me to try him. I’ve had a history of back trouble and severe pain for several years now since an old injury.”
“I’m afraid the professor is booked-up for today,” she said. “However, we do have several other perfectly competent naturopaths on our staff.”
“It must be the professor,” Brady said emphatically. “He’s the only one who can help me. I’m convinced of that after what my friend told me.”
She sighed and made a note on a pad. “If you’ll give me your name, sir. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Harlow,” Brady said. “George Harlow.”
She wrote it down and then swivelled in her chair, uncrossing her silk-clad legs, and got to her feet in one fluid movement. “Please take a seat, Mr. Harlow. I shan’t be a moment.”
She walked across the hall with an easy, confident grace and opened a door. As it closed, Brady grinned and sat on the edge of the desk. If she was a sample of the staff, this must be quite a place.
There was an appointment register lying open beside the card index and he turned it round quickly and ran a finger down the page. There was no sign of an appointment in Anne’s name and he frowned and turned the register round again.
“Will you come this way, Mr. Harlow? I think we can fit you in.”
The girl had approached soundlessly, her footsteps deadened by the thick carpet. She gave no sign that she had seen him examining the register and yet she must have done.
Brady smiled. “It’s very kind of you to go to so much trouble.”
She led the way along a narrow corridor which led into the extension at the rear and opened a door. Brady walked in and found himself in a small, comfortably furnished dressing-room.
“Someone will be with you in just a moment, Mr. Harlow. Perhaps you’d like to get undressed. You’ll find a bathrobe behind the door.”
“Undressed?” Brady said. “Is that really necessary?”
“Professor Soames prefers patients to be completely relaxed before an examination,” she explained. “You’ll spend a little time in the steam room and have a relaxing massage. The professor will see you afterwards.”
The door closed behind her and Brady shrugged and took off his coat. If this was the only way open to him of getting to see Soames then he had no choice.
He wrapped a towel about his waist and put on the bathrobe and waited. A few minutes later, the door opened and another young woman wearing a white medical smock tightly belted at the waist, came in.
She was, if anything, even more attractive than the receptionist. The smock was damp with moisture and clung to her figure, moulding each curve.
She pushed a tendril of dark hair back from her forehead and smiled. “Mr. Harlow, will you come this way, please?”
As he followed her along the corridor, Brady wondered just how relaxed the professor expected his patients to be. The girl opened a swing door and they passed straight into a long tiled room, thick with steam.