A Private View Read Online Free PDF Page B

party, or to parties, for he had been aware of a very late return, somewhere around four in the morning, just about the time when he woke briefly before succumbing to that irresistible warm sleep that presages the dawn.
    ‘She said she was suffering from jet lag,’ Mrs Lydiard’s voice went on. ‘Apparently she came here straight off the plane. America, she said. The West Coast. Quite a nice sort of girl. Nicely spoken. But I don’t like to ask her in. Silly of me, I know.’
    ‘If she says she’s staying in the Dunlops’ flat she must know them better than we do. What worries me is that the Dunlops might be away. I saw them just before I left, and they didn’t mention that anyone was coming to stay.’
    ‘I
think
it’s all right. She seems quite above board. It’s just that … Oh, I know you’ll think me silly, but she is rather carelessly dressed, like they all dress these days, with those jogging shoes, you know …’
    ‘Trainers.’
    ‘That’s right. And she seems to have no luggage. Just a nylon holdall.’
    ‘I’ve just come back from France myself,’ he said, as mildly as possible. Already he regretted leaving Nice so precipitately. These petty matters hardly concerned him. At the same time he saw his quiet day slipping away from him. And his bath was getting cold.
    ‘I mean, and I hope I’m not being too silly, but don’t you think it sounds a little unusual?’
    ‘That would depend on how well she knows the Dunlops.’
    ‘She says they’re old friends. She says they said she could stay in the flat whenever she’s in London.’
    ‘Whether they’re there or not?’
    ‘So she says.’
    ‘Well, I don’t think we can interfere with their arrangements.’
    ‘But if she’s sitting on the stairs that must mean that the Dunlops
are
away, Mr Bland.’
    ‘Yes. They do tend to go to America at about this time of year. She probably saw them while they were all there. The fact that we weren’t told about any arrangement they might have come to is neither here nor there. I wonder they didn’t give her a key, though.’
    ‘Yes, I thought that odd.’
    ‘Of course they may not have another key to give her. I have their spare keys. They sometimes ask me to post on their mail when they’re away, although they didn’t this time. But of course I’ve been away myself.’
    ‘Oh, I see.’ In Mrs Lydiard’s dwindling tones he could sense a growing lack of conviction. There was a brief silence.
    ‘Where is she now?’ he asked finally.
    ‘Still sitting on the stairs. I don’t quite like to ask her in, you see. I dare say I’m being silly, but living alone …’
    ‘Why don’t you bring her down here? If she says the Dunlops invited her I can give her the keys, and that’ll be the end of it.’
    ‘Do you think that’s wise?’
    ‘No, I don’t. But we can’t have her camping out on the stairs. And strictly speaking she’s the Dunlops’ problem, not ours.’
    ‘Oh dear, I don’t like it. And Hipwood won’t like it, you know.’
    Bland was well aware of this. If anything it made him more determined to take matters in hand.
    ‘Why don’t you both come down and have some coffee with me? We can introduce ourselves, find out a little more about her, and if possible persuade her to go somewhere else.’
    ‘What a good idea! So very kind! Shall we say five minutes?’
    ‘Five minutes will be fine.’
    When the telephone was at last silent, he went into the bathroom, drained the bath, then, with no time even to change his shirt, he retied his tie, and slipped his watch back onto his left wrist. In the kitchen he filled the kettle, measured out the coffee, and put three cups and saucers onto a pretty japanned tray. He wished he had some biscuits: he was suddenly powerfully hungry. Almost immediately the doorbell rang.
    Mrs Lydiard had arrayed herself for this informal visit in her usual finery. As was proper she had dressed as if for the street, in a navy skirt, a navy and white jacket,