Good Friday

Chapter Thirteen

On Monday morning at the explosives lab Jane was told to finish bagging and tagging the victims’ clothes and then get to work on the items of personal property that had been recovered, checking them against victims’ statements. There was a large table covered with items of jewellery, wallets and purses, dropped by victims or torn from their clothing by the explosion. She didn’t find it as traumatic as the first time she handled the bloodstained clothing. She realised she was becoming desensitised to the situation, thanks, perhaps, to Dexter’s advice to put the worst of it out of her thoughts.

As Jane sat taking her break in the canteen she was hoping to see Dexter, but he didn’t come in. Just as she was finishing her lunch, however, Crowley approached her table.

‘We’ve had some worrying news about Mrs Millbank. She was taken down for more surgery this morning. I want you to go over there and see how she’s doing.’

‘Is it her leg?’

‘Yes, there’s been a complication. It’s gangrene, so she’ll need more taken off, which, given her age, could be touch and go.’

Jane felt awful and agreed to go straight to the hospital.

‘Keep me updated… Take her in some grapes… you know, look out for her.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Before going in to see Daphne, Jane waited to have a word with Michael, the charge nurse. He looked tired as he approached, but then broke into a wide smile when he caught sight of Jane. His mood became sombre again when she asked for an update on Daphne’s condition.

‘Well, she’s out of surgery. Her antibiotics have been increased, and so far, she has come through. It was another major operation to remove the infected tissue and thigh bone. All we can do now is hope for the best.’

‘Can I see her?’

‘Of course, but she won’t be very responsive. She’s heavily sedated and on a morphine drip

Jane headed towards the private section. She showed her ID and filled in her name and rank and time of visit on the visitor’s sheet before going in to see Daphne.

The blinds were still pulled down and the room felt cold and clinical. Daphne’s fragile figure was still surrounded by drips and medication. A sheeted cage had been erected over her from the waist down, and Daphne’s upper body was covered by a thick, white blanket drawn up to her chin. What little Jane could see of Daphne’s arms were covered by tubes and drips, and her tiny bird-like hands were horribly marked by dark black bruises from endless injections. As Daphne had said to Jane, ‘I feel like I’m a pincushion, dear…’

Jane pulled a hard-back chair closer to the bed and sat down, hoping that Daphne would wake up so that she could hear her lovely, gutsy voice. But there was just the shallow sound of her breathing and the hiss of the ventilator. Jane sat with her for an hour, watching the nurses come in and out to check her blood pressure. Daphne’s eyes didn’t open.

Jane met Michael on her way out of the ward, and as he was on a break they went to the canteen for a coffee and a pastry. Michael told her that they were short-staffed, still catching up with work after the explosion; they had taken in a lot of seriously injured patients the week before. Jane tried to lighten his mood by asking if he liked spaghetti bolognese.

‘Only, I wanted to ask if you’d like to have dinner at my place this week,’ she explained. ‘And it’s the only thing I can cook.’

He gave her a winning smile. ‘I love it! I’m free on Wednesday night… actually, I’m pretty free for the rest of the week if dinner is on the cards!’

Jane smiled. ‘Why not Wednesday… say about seven thirty? Let me give you my address.’

Jane was about to leave the hospital when Michael’s name was called out on the Tannoy system, asking him to return to the ward immediately. He went to the nearest internal phone and spoke to someone briefly before he gestured to Jane.

‘Daphne’s awake and demanding potted shrimps.’

‘So it’s OK to see her?’

‘Sure. We can go up together.’

‘Oh… I’m going to get her some grapes from the hospital shop.’

‘Fine. I’ll see you up there.’

The shop on the ground floor didn’t have any grapes, just a few rather bedraggled-looking bunches of flowers and endless rows of chocolates, biscuits and magazines. Jane bought a copy of The Times and a packet of peppermint creams.

As Jane went through the security process again, Michael was called to tend to another patient. He left Daphne’s room and gave Jane the thumbs up.

‘Daphne is a remarkable woman, but she’s annoyed I didn’t bring her those potted shrimps!’

‘It’s a bit late in the day for anything fresh from the fishmongers,’ Jane said, smiling.

‘I’ll ask the kitchens to make her a light meal, although I doubt she really wants to eat anything right now. The good news is that she’s breathing on her own.’

Jane waited for Michael to walk down the corridor before she eased open Daphne’s door and went into the room. Daphne’s lower half was still under the cage but she had been given another pillow to raise her head. She was still attached to various drips and tubes, but she looked wide awake.

‘Hello, Daphne, it’s Jane Tennison.’

‘Hello, dear… What a to-do. They’ve had me in surgery again. It’s down to bloody incompetent doctors if you ask me… they should have done a better job the first time around. Now I’m full of morphine, which makes me dippy in the head.’

Jane sat down beside her. ‘You don’t sound dippy to me, Daphne… You are an amazing woman, you know.’

‘I’d really like to have a radio to listen to, instead of having to hear those thumping footsteps up and down the corridor. And I’ve asked that nice male nurse to bring me a drop of gin… I told him that if he couldn’t get me potted shrimps then he can bloody well get me a gin and tonic!’

‘I’ll bring you a pot of shrimps tomorrow, Daphne, I promise. And if I can, I’ll sneak you in a little hip flask of gin.’

‘That’s awfully nice of you, dear… Are you a nurse here?’

‘No, Daphne… I’m Jane Tennison, remember? I’m a detective.’

‘I was a Wren, you know. The uniform suited me but I hated wearing the hat. I need to see Heather as well… I love her so much, and she must be getting anxious.’

‘Is she a friend?’

‘Who?’

‘Heather?’

‘No, silly, she’s my Scottie. I walk her every day, and I think I’d better get up now…’

Daphne started pulling at her drips and pushing the cage away from her bed. Jane hurried out to the corridor and yelled for a nurse, as a loud crash came from the room. Two nurses hurried in and eventually managed to get Daphne settled, but she was shouting and had become abusive. One of the nurses told Jane to leave the room and as she went outside Michael was running down the corridor towards her.

‘She tried to get up… she was becoming hysterical and talking about a Scottie dog. I don’t think she has one though?’

‘That’ll be the morphine talking. I’ll call you later and give you an update, all right?’

‘Thank you.’ Jane waited for a while outside Daphne’s room before she left the hospital. Daphne’s behaviour had disturbed her. Considering her frail condition, the strength and determination she had shown in trying to get out of bed was astonishing.

Jane went back to the Woolwich lab and reported what had happened. It was not until she had returned home in the evening that she received a call from Michael with an update. Although Daphne had quietened down after being sedated and was still breathing on her own, she was in a poorly but stable condition. Michael said he was looking forward to dinner on Wednesday, but explained that he couldn’t talk any longer as he was still doing his rounds.

Pearl was cooking something that made the flat smell like a soup kitchen. She was wearing an old terry towelling robe and had applied a cucumber face pack, making her look like an alien. Jane retreated into her bedroom and was sitting on her bed when Pearl knocked on her door.

‘Sorry, I forgot to mention it… when I got in that woman Natalie rang again. She’s at home and asked if you could give her a ring… something about a frock.’

‘Thank you. Have you finished in the kitchen?’

‘Yes, all clear. Do help yourself to some soup… it’s lentil, potato and chickpea.’

‘Thank you, but I ate in the canteen at work. Oh, there’s something else… I’m having a friend over for supper on Wednesday at seven thirty, so I’d appreciate it if you could give me some space in the kitchen.’

‘Fine by me, I’ll be very unobtrusive. I might see if I can go out to the cinema with Eric.’

Jane waited until she heard Pearl’s bedroom door shut before she went out into the hall to ring Natalie.

‘Hi there, it’s Jane. You rang earlier?’

‘Yes, I did. It’s about the hire place for your big do. The woman who runs it is quite protective of her clients as she buys from all the debs, so you’d have to go to her home in Chelsea. I think it would be a good idea if we meet up for a coffee beforehand, so I can introduce you to her. It’s always good to have someone else’s opinion when you’re choosing the dress that’ll make you the belle of the ball!’

‘Oh, that’s kind of you, but I’m working over at Woolwich this week.’

‘She doesn’t keep to shop hours, so why don’t we meet up after work and I can organise for her to meet you in the evening… say, Wednesday?’

‘I can’t on Wednesday. I have a dinner date.’

‘Oh, I say! Which one of the suitors is that with?’

Jane laughed. ‘It’s the charge nurse… and guess what I’m cooking? Bolognese.’

Natalie laughed. ‘What about tomorrow night?’

‘Yes, why not. Where shall we meet?’

‘There’s a coffee bar on the corner of Sloane Square, by the Royal Court Theatre. I can be there whenever it suits you… at the bank we get off quite early.’

‘How about six thirty?’

‘Terrific, see you then. I look forward to it.’

Jane smiled as she replaced the handset, and took her notebook into the kitchen. She pulled out a stool and sat down at the counter, making a list of ingredients she would need to buy for Wednesday. Although Pearl had left the counters wiped down, the top of the cooker was dirty and needed cleaning, and the pedal bin was full of wrappers and mounds of potato peelings. There was a large pan on the stove containing thick, congealed soup. Pearl had made enough to last her for days.

Jane emptied the bin, irritated that Pearl hadn’t done so. She had to take the rubbish bag all the way down the stairs to the front door. By the time she had deposited it into a bin allocated for all the flats she was even angrier, and went back upstairs to have it out with her.

Jane knocked on Pearl’s bedroom door and waited. When there was no reply she opened the door and looked in. The room was very untidy and there seemed to be even more piles of books than she remembered.

‘Pearl? Pearl?’

‘I’m in the bathroom, taking off my face mask,’ Pearl shouted.

Jane stood outside the closed bathroom door. ‘Pearl, when you fill the pedal bin in the kitchen could you empty it and take it down to the bins outside? I’ve just done it, but in future could you try to keep it clean as otherwise it starts to smell awful.’

‘OK, I didn’t know where the rubbish went… sorry.’ The bathroom door swung open and Pearl stood in the doorway holding the kettle.

‘Do you need to use the bathroom? Only I’m giving myself a steam-cleansing treatment… the face mask draws all the dirt out of the pores.’

‘No, you carry on.’

‘I can get bad acne you see, so I have to really take care of my skin. I pour very hot water onto the flannel, then cover my face.’

‘Well, I’m sure you know what you’re doing…’

‘You should try it… removes blackheads better than anything.’

Jane gave Pearl a condescending smile as she walked back to her own room and closed the door. Too much information… she thought, hoping Pearl’s facecloth was not left hung over the basin next to hers.

The following morning, as Jane was getting dressed for work, DCI Church rang.

‘Just checking in to see how things are going at Woolwich.’

‘It’s quite a schlepp there and back, but it’s OK. I had a fascinating day last week watching Dexter disarm a bomb.’

‘What, a real one?’

‘No, just a fake one, but when I saw the dummy being blown up I thought it was him.’

‘One of these days that risk-taker is going to blow himself up. Use your time there to your best advantage — it’s good experience… Then we’ll have you back on the Dip Squad. In the meantime, we’re just allocating names to the tables for the Good Friday event. You are coming, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good, and will you want a ticket for anyone else?’

Jane could tell from Church’s tone he was being inquisitive. She thought about Dexter, then Michael.

‘No, just one ticket.’

‘Right, well in that case you can come as my guest.’

‘Thank you, but I insist on paying for my own ticket.’

‘Fair enough. For obvious reasons we’ll be getting taxis there and back, but I’ll need to get there earlier as I’m doing the seating plan.’

‘Where exactly is it?’

‘St Ermin’s Hotel in Caxton Street, just opposite Scotland Yard. The invitation is for 7 p.m. prompt, so I’ll arrange for you to be picked up by Stanley and Blondie from home.’

‘I can easily get a taxi straight there.’

‘Up to you. It’s black-tie, by the way.’

Jane laughed softly. ‘Yes, I know… you’ve told me. And long frocks… in fact, I’m sorting mine out this evening after work.’

‘Maybe we could have a catch-up drink on Wednesday evening?’

‘Actually, I’m having dinner with someone on Wednesday… in fact, I’m cooking.’

‘It’s not Dexter is it?’

‘No, sir… it’s the charge nurse from the hospital.’

‘Oh, right. I read the report saying that the old lady’s had a bit of a setback.’

‘Her name’s Daphne… Daphne Millbank… I think it’s more than a setback, but I’ll know more when I’ve talked to Michael.’

‘Michael?’

‘He’s the charge nurse.’

‘Ah, right, I see. Just keep in mind that we do need you to be wary at all times. And make sure we know where you are and who you’re with.’

‘Yes, sir. I’ll make out a report for the office diary so it can be updated every day.’

‘Good girl… well, that’s it for now.’

‘Can I ask, sir, would it be possible for me to take a day’s leave today? I’ve got housework to catch up on and shopping. And I’d like to look at some evening dresses for the do on Friday.’

‘A woman’s work is never done, eh? I can’t see it being a problem. Take it as a yes. I’ll inform Crowley and the lab you won’t be in today.’

Jane replaced the receiver with a soft smile. She found his concern for her very endearing, and noticed how quick he was to ask if it was Dexter who was her dinner guest. She felt excited about meeting up with Natalie to choose her dress and was looking forward to the Good Friday event.

DCI Church perched on the edge of Stanley’s desk, swinging one leg.

‘You know, I don’t think Tennison has really taken on board this situation regarding the Covent Garden suspect. If Daphne Millbank dies, which she was bloody close to the other night, it will leave the bomb squad completely reliant on Jane. As it is, we’ve all been seconded to Crowley’s lot to help find the ASU and Tennison is the only other witness to actually see the bomber.’

‘Yeah, but just his profile, unlike our Daphne, who’s had the balls to say she’d come to an identification parade and is certain she would be able to pick out the scumbag.’

‘But right now we don’t bloody well have anyone… The four suspects from the Balcombe Street siege are waiting to go on trial and are refusing to give up anyone who could be connected.’

‘Is Dexter knocking her off?’

‘What?’

‘I heard you mention his name on the phone to her just now.’

‘I dunno. Crowley did ask him to keep an eye on her.’

‘Well, it’s all gone very quiet.’

Church nodded. He and Stanley both knew that in reality it was too quiet. It was then that Church noticed the memo left on his desk. He drew the single piece of typed paper towards him.

‘What’s this?’

‘Tennison reckons she saw the Hernandez girl getting out of a Jag with none other than Uncle Andres. They were headed into the Playboy Club.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Yeah. She got the reg plate. It’s a top-end car service. They supply chauffeurs, drivers, you name it.’

‘Did you pass this on to the Vice Squad?’

‘Yes, of course I did. That’s why I didn’t bother you with it.’

Church snapped. ‘I’m not bothered, Stanley but I should’ve been informed. How is this Andres still out on the streets?’

‘All I’ve been told, Guv, is that he is a problem. He is a very wealthy guy. He lawyered up the girl and her brother, and the other scrote, as well as himself. And there’s some connection to a diplomat. That’s all I know.’

Jane spent the day resting and watching TV after she had tidied her flat and washed her dirty clothes. She felt relaxed and refreshed when she went to the coffee bar to meet Natalie. She had only been sitting in the coffee bar for a few moments when Natalie arrived and waved across the room to her.

‘Hi there! Have you been waiting long?’

‘No, I’ve only just got here. I haven’t even ordered yet.’

Natalie drew out a chair opposite Jane as a waitress came to their table.

‘I’ll just have a cappuccino, please. What about you, Jane?’

‘Same for me… and a toasted ham and cheese sandwich, please.’ Jane smiled as the waitress walked away. ‘I haven’t eaten since lunch. I just need to double-check that I haven’t forgotten any ingredients for the dinner tomorrow.’ Opening her handbag, she took out her list of groceries for the dinner with Michael. ‘When I get home I’ll make the sauce, and I’ll cook the spaghetti fresh tomorrow.’

Natalie lit one of her Kool cigarettes, pulling the ashtray closer to her side of the table. ‘Just remember to add some wine to the sauce before you heat it up… It always tastes much better when it’s had time to marinade overnight.’

Their order was brought to the table. Natalie shared Jane’s toasted sandwich with her, then checked her watch and said that they should get going as she had made an appointment for seven thirty.

Jane insisted on paying; then they left the café and made the short walk to a grand four-storey house in Sloane Avenue.

‘So, when is the event? You might need to have some alterations made,’ Natalie said, as they climbed up the stone steps to ring the doorbell.

‘It’s on Good Friday, at St Ermin’s Hotel.’

‘Ooh, impressive!’ The intercom phone buzzed and Natalie spoke into it. ‘It’s Natalie Wilde and Jane Tennison.’

The front door opened with a loud click sound and an aristocratic voice instructed them to go straight downstairs.

‘It’s in the basement flat, but there’s nothing dark and dingy around here,’ explained Natalie. ‘This is a very exclusive area… the flats above are huge.’

They entered a thickly carpeted main hallway, where an ornate, gilt-framed mirror hung above a three-legged mahogany table. Circulars and unopened mail were neatly laid out in piles for the various flats in the building. They walked past the wide, red-carpeted staircase and the elegant front door of the ground-floor flat, passing through the open door to the basement flat. At the bottom of a narrow staircase they found an elegant white-haired woman waiting for them. She was wearing a flamboyant kaftan, with a chunky amber necklace and matching earrings. She was well made-up, with deep red lipstick.

‘Long time no see, Natalie. Do come in. I’m Isabelle Hunt.’ She held out a manicured hand to Jane, which was adorned with a lot of diamond and gold rings.

‘Jane Tennison.’

‘Lovely to meet you. Do please come on through. As you can see, I have quite a selection… I’d say you are probably a size ten to twelve so you’ll find quite a lot that will fit you. I’ve just got a very special velvet and satin Valentino in… but I’ll let you have a good sort through everything to see what you like.’

Mrs Hunt went to the end of the corridor where there was a door covered with framed photographs of her younger self, wearing elegant gowns. There were also numerous photographs of other women, with ‘Thank you’ scrawled across them from, Jane supposed, her clients. They were mostly wearing beautiful ballgowns, but a few were in wedding dresses.

She opened the door and gestured for them both to walk through ahead of her. The velvet curtains were drawn but she flicked a light switch on. The vast room was lit with high-powered bulbs from tasteful wall sconces, and from the centre of the ceiling hung a large crystal chandelier. There were five racks of dresses running the entire length of the room. Some were not covered by plastic sheets but hung on covered hangers and attached to them were cards with the sizes, and prices for hire or purchase.

‘Is it a special occasion? I like to make sure that my clients don’t over- or underdress, if you know what I mean.’

‘It’s a black-tie dinner dance,’ Jane said, looking along one of the racks.

‘Well, I always think if you’re sitting down you shouldn’t have anything that shows too much cleavage, or has a tight bodice. I would select something like an empire-line gown… always suitable for dining. If you’re hiring we have rules about food stains. You’d be surprised how many dresses are returned with wine spilt down them, or with hems that have been trailing in mud. We add the cost of dry cleaning to the price, as all the gowns are professionally cleaned by an excellent valet service. The sizes are clearly shown at the end of each rail, and get bigger towards the end. I have a selection of designer labels on rail four — Valentino, Ossie Clarke, YSL, Mary Quant, Balmain, Chanel, and so on. The cheaper range is from some of the major department stores, but none of them have usually ever been worn more than once before. The debutante season brings in a lot of younger styles, and obviously all the hunt balls. I even have clients coming over from Ireland… but I don’t advertise, it’s all word of mouth.’

Jane nodded and smiled. She took a quick glance at some of the prices and knew they were way out of her budget. It shocked her to see that most of them were between £150 and £200 and one even had a price tag of £250, but it was a very beautiful sequinned satin gown with a long train.

‘There’s a changing room with full-length mirrors. Now, shoes… I do have a selection but they’re mostly either dyed to match a gown, or I have them for when you try something on so that you can see what it’s like with high heels.’ Mrs Hunt moved back towards the door. ‘I’ll leave you both to it… just call me when you’re ready.’

As Mrs Hunt closed the door, Jane let out a sigh. ‘My God, Natalie! They’re all far too expensive, even just to hire out!’

‘Don’t worry, we’ve not got to the end rail yet.’

They began sorting through various styles. Natalie kept on selecting dresses and taking them off the rail, whilst Jane constantly checked the price tag to make sure it wasn’t too much. They had eventually pulled out seven possible dresses and Jane took them all into the curtained dressing area to start trying them on.

Jane stripped down to her bra and knickers, then found a pair of high-heeled silver strap shoes to start trying on one gown after another. She quickly discarded the dresses she didn’t like, until she tried on a pale blue chiffon with a fitted bodice and wide layered skirt. She drew the dressing-room curtain aside and stepped out.

Natalie screwed up her face.

‘Oh, no… I think it’s a bit old-fashioned, Jane… and it’s loose over your waist and too high over your boobs! I’ve got some other dresses I’ve picked out that I think are gorgeous.’

After almost an hour of trying dresses on, Jane still hadn’t found one that she liked, or that Natalie approved of and she was beginning to feel tired.

‘Oh, Jane, look at this one… it’s just gorgeous! It’s Chanel… look at the beautiful bodice, and the tiny buttons and bootlace straps. It’s your size, and the skirt has wonderful frilled layers of lace and silk.’

‘How much is it?’

‘One hundred and fifty… It’s worth it. You’ll look stunning… please try it on. And if you do your hair up in a chignon…’

Jane sighed and went back into the dressing-room area, taking off a Mary Quant dress that was far too tight across her chest. She stepped into the Chanel gown and drew it up, putting her arms through the tiny satin straps. She needed Natalie to do the buttons up at the back of the bodice and by the time they had all been fastened she still hadn’t had a look at herself in the mirror. In truth, she felt unsure about wearing black.

‘Oh my God — it’s perfect!’ Natalie exclaimed, clapping her hands and hovering behind Jane as she stood in front of the full-length mirror. ‘Maybe you need a push up bra… but honestly, it fits like a dream and shows off your lovely shoulders.’

Jane chewed her lips, turning backwards and forwards in front of the mirror. It was a perfect fit and the tight velvet bodice showed off her breasts and small waist. The layered frilly skirt was just the right length and moved beautifully as she swayed and turned. She thought she could wear a small pearl necklace, which she knew her mother treasured.

‘All right… I think this is the one. I’ll need Pearl to help me into it with all the buttons.’

It was a further three quarters of an hour before the dress was finally wrapped carefully in tissue paper and packed into a large box. Mrs Hunt had given her a receipt for the dress to be hired out for two weeks, and suggested that she bought a small wrap or bolero jacket to go over it. She made it clear that the dress had to be returned on the date on the receipt, but she always liked her customers to have the dress for a while before the occasion so that they had time to accessorise.

‘It’s not until Good Friday,’ Jane said, hesitant about the cost of hiring it for two weeks.

‘So, you can spend time deciding, and can get used to wearing it. I have to say, you looked quite stunning.’

Mrs Hunt didn’t mention that the Chanel dress Jane had chosen was such a low price because the fragile frilly hem had been repaired a few times and the bodice had been stained under the armpits.

Jane and Natalie walked into Sloane Square together, and Natalie suggested that they could go and have dinner somewhere. Jane declined saying that she felt tired and needed to go to the late-night grocery shop to get all the ingredients for the dinner with Michael.

‘Why don’t you come over at the weekend and I can give you another cookery lesson?’ Natalie asked. ‘I enjoy cooking, but never really bother when it’s just for me.’

‘I’d love to, but let me get back to you… I need to check the duty rota, and I also want to go and see my parents.’

‘OK, just call me when you know. Listen, you made the right decision with the dress… you’re going to knock them sideways.’

By the time Jane had bought all the groceries she needed, and had carried those and the large cardboard box containing the dress up the stairs to her flat, she felt exhausted. She left the box on her bedroom floor, not even unpacking the dress before she went into the kitchen.

Pearl was sitting on one of the stools, eating pasta and reading a thick paperback volume of War and Peace.

‘Hi there. What was in that big box?’

‘My dress for the Good Friday dinner.’

‘Would you like a bowl of my pesto, onion and pasta mix? There’s plenty left.’

‘I’m going to make the bolognese sauce for my dinner tomorrow, then have a long bath. But thanks anyway.’

‘I’ll leave you to it then, and finish this in my room… Not the book, my pasta!’ She laughed as she carried the bowl out to her bedroom.

Jane made the sauce and ate a spoonful just as a taster. It was delicious. She cleared up the kitchen and made a mental note to buy the wine when she came home from work the next day. It was nearly eight and she decided to have a bath before trying some of Pearl’s pasta mix as she was still hungry.

While the bath was filling, she took out the dress and hung it in her wardrobe. She would need to get a strapless bra, a pair of shoes, and some sort of wrap. She was just turning off the taps when the phone rang. It was DCI Crowley.

‘We’ve had information from the Intelligence Services in Northern Ireland that the ASU is possibly holed up at an address in Kentish Town. I’m putting a raid team together and I want you to be there to see if you recognise the man you saw at Covent Garden.’

‘Tonight? Right now?’

‘Yes, right now, Tennison. Get yourself to the CID office at Kentish Town nick ASAP for a briefing.’

Jane replaced the receiver. ‘I don’t believe it.’

She turned and saw Pearl standing in the hallway.

‘Is it all right if I have a bath?’ Pearl asked quickly. ‘Only I’ve been waiting because I thought you were having one.’

‘I’ve just run one, but now I’ve got to go to Kentish Town on a search.’

‘Ooh, anything interesting?’

‘I hope so, I really hope so.’

Jane was no sooner out of her flat door when Pearl came out of the bathroom naked. She was just about to pick up the phone and make a call when it rang. She jumped, hesitating before she answered.

‘Hi — it’s Natalie. Is Jane there?’

‘No, she just got called out to Kentish Town. Do you want to leave a message?’

‘It was just about her outfit for the dinner dance. I’ll call again tomorrow.’

Pearl replaced the receiver. A couple of seconds later she picked it up again and dialled a number.