'Is there anything behind us?'
Audley fiddled with the mirror again. 'Not as far as I can make out.'
'There was a motor-cyclist… The maps are under your seat.'
'Yes. But I think he was more interested in that pretty girl in the Laura Ashley dress.'
They were over the brow of the hill. And, sure enough, there was a sign-post coming up.
Funny that David had noticed that the girl had been pretty, when she hadn't. And funnier still that he had identified what she was wearing - David, of all people! Did Faith wear Laura Ashley dresses - or little Cathy? A bit old and a bit young, respectively, she would have thought. But they were all the rage, of course. But funny, all the same - David, of all people! Screamingly funny, even.
And now she could read the name on the sign-post - and that was funny too - Hell's Bottom 2 - and funnier still, again, that the road to Hell's Bottom wasn't as broad and wide as the road to hell ought to be, it was a narrow, pot-holed track. But she had better not start laughing, just in case she had hysterics, with everything being so funny.
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She decided against Hell's Bottom. 'You're sure it was a Laura Ashley dress, David?' she said instead.
He looked up from a map, which he had found, first at her, then in his mirror again, and then back at her. 'How was he dead, Elizabeth?'
She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt, one after another. 'Heart attack, it looked like.'
Audley stared at her for another moment, and then bent over his map again, studying it intently. 'Along here, about a mile, on the left - "Lower Hindley", it should say on the sign.
And that'll put us on the Winchester road, sooner or later.'
Her own wing-mirror gave her a sudden long view back, of a reassuringly empty road.
'We're going to Winchester, are we?' But she couldn't decide where she would feel safer: alone in this empty countryside, unprotected, or lost in a busy city, still naked.
'No.' Then he shifted awkwardly. 'Well…'
'What?' Another sign-post was silhouetted on the next rise. 'Well what?' But then she understood. 'You mean - you mean I'm supposed to be in charge. Is that it?' She snapped at him, although she had not intended to do so.
'No…' He bridled. 'Or… yes, I suppose so.'
It was ridiculous - Elizabeth Loftus pretending she was in charge of David Audley. It had always been… if not ridiculous, then mischievous, Latimer's strategy. But Latimer had never envisaged what had happened in the King's Arms, Fordingwell. Because what they both knew was that the odds against Major Turnbull having a heart attack to order at a rendezvous were even more ridiculous.
'Hah - harumphl' Audley cleared his throat. 'You are … absolutely sure… that he was - that he is, that is to say… dead, Elizabeth?'
Elizabeth felt herself hardening as he forced his words out: they were all the bloody same -
Paul and David, Father and Major Birkenshawe - all the same, the bloody same, when it came to their man's world: all the bloody, bloody same, notwithstanding all the evidence to the contrary, from Queen Boudicca to Mrs Thatcher.
Lower Hindley. Touch the brakes - accelerate - there was a little more loose gravel on the silly road than she'd bargained for, but her little beauty was equal to it any day - any day!
'You're not scared, are you, David?'
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He steadied himself. 'Yes - just then, I was - ' He reached down for the map, which had fallen off his knees ' - but before that I was merely frightened half out of my wits. Because what I don't understand always frightens me - ' The road twisted unexpectedly, and he rolled against her ' - as it should do you equally, Elizabeth dear.'
The road straightened - Lower Hindley 5 - and Elizabeth finally straightened herself out with it. Perhaps she should have been terrified - and ought to be frightened still. But there was a difference between being terrified and merely horrified, she decided: or, only briefly horrified, but then momentarily irresolute, faced with the unexpected. And then (which was now the exact opposite of funny, whatever the opposite might be) - sickened, maybe - ?
Those teeth - those dreadful false teeth in her hand - slimy-hard! And that mockery-of-a-kiss, almost a French-kiss, against that toothless mouth, and those toothless gums -
But even that wasn't quite the truth. 'I broke the rules back there, David. Doesn't it say,
"When a contact is compromised - " - what does it say? "Run like hell", is it?' That was it, paraphrased. 'You were a long time in the yard, getting the cases out. So I didn't know quite what to do.' But there was still something in the back of her mind, which she couldn't reach.
Audley sniffed. 'As it happens… I was stretching my legs, trying to get some feeling back into them.' Sniff. 'This isn't a very comfortable vehicle.' He kicked out at the car irritably.
'What did you do, for God's sake?'
What was it, that she couldn't reach? 'He wasn't breathing - he had no pulse.' Those lessons in the First Aid class, which the Headmistress had made compulsory for every mistress, obliterated everything for an instant. ' Whatever you do, don't give up' , the St John's man had said. ' Not until the doctor comes.'
Audley turned towards her, but wordlessly.
'If you must know, David, I tried to revive him. Only I didn't try for very long, and you're supposed to keep trying. But then, by our rules, I shouldn't have tried at all. I should have left immediately, shouldn't I!'
There were times when Audley's ugliness became brutal, almost Neanderthal, and this was one of them. 'I see. So you did the wrong thing both times - is that it?' He started fiddling with the wing-mirror again, but gave it up in favour of turning round. Not that he could see much that way. 'Damn car! Can you see anything behind?'
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'No.'
'Neither can I. So we may be lucky. Or they may only have wanted Major Turnbull.' He looked at her again. 'So now you have to do the right thing, that's all.'
He wasn't going to help her. 'I want to report in, David.' That was easy. 'And I want protective back-up.' That was prudent as well as according to the rules, even if poor Major Turnbull had only succumbed to natural causes: nobody could fault her for any of that.
'Fine. So we want a telephone, short of the new technology we ought to have. And a phone in a Police House would be ideal. But I doubt that Lower Hindley boasts a policeman of its own.' He peered ahead. 'Just keep going.'
Just keep going, thought Elizabeth automatically. But then she thought why Major Turnbull?
'Why should anyone want to kill Major Turnbull?'
'God knows!' He smoothed the map on his knee. 'But he went to the Pointe du Hoc. So maybe they picked him up there.'
'Major Turnbull was researching Mrs Thomas's death, David. And you said that was above board - back in 1958 - ?'
'Uh-huh?' He couldn't deny the most obvious implication. 'Meaning what?' There was an unnatural note to his voice. 'Meaning I missed something, back in the deeps of time?
Perhaps he did have a heart attack.'
Elizabeth remembered what Paul had said about David Audley and Debrecen, when they came together. 'You don't believe that, do you?'
'No,' said Audley. 'I can't say that I do.'
'No.' She felt suddenly outraged at the flatness of his reaction. 'Neither do I.'
Audley pointed ahead, to the left, without warning. 'Over there, Elizabeth - pull in there.'