On the Edge [= Dead Gorgeous]

22

When she left at half past three she was wearing the dreary green tweed overcoat that she meant to replace at the first opportunity, but under it the snazzy black and white dress she’d made for the Oldfield Gardens party on VE Day. And her new silk undies.

There was a worrying suggestion of fog in the afternoon air. She considered what to do if a real pea-souper came down. Hector might see it as a God-given excuse for her to stay the night in Park Crescent. If so, he was in for a disappointment. She’d feel like death in that great mausoleum of a bedroom surrounded by Antonia’s things. And she wouldn’t be any happier in a hotel room if he suggested it. That would be ghastly. She couldn’t face it anywhere else but home.

She hailed a taxi in Vauxhall Bridge Road. The driver reckoned that in a couple of hours London would be at a standstill. Rose said she’d known fog to lift in a matter of minutes. He laughed.

‘Lady, I won’t argue with you, but don’t ask me to come and fetch you. You’re my last fare today.’

She didn’t answer. She was thinking ahead. She would persuade Hector to drive her back to Pimlico, whatever the conditions.

She was sure it was no thicker by the time they pulled up outside Antonia’s house. She paid the fare and took the key from her purse. She walked calmly up the steps and let herself in, resolved not to give way to the jitters. She was going to apply herself to the cooking.

She switched on the hall light.

‘There you are, my flower!’

The voice hit her like a snapped violin string. Antonia was standing halfway up the stairs leaning languidly on the banisters as if she had been home all day. She was in a black sweater and slacks, manifestly relishing this moment.

Rose stared, speechless, her brain whirling.

‘I see you left some shopping on the kitchen table, darling. Was that for Hector? I must settle up. I say, you look absolutely shattered. Is anything the matter?’

The words penetrated faintly to Rose’s brain, as if she were buried under rubble. She wasn’t listening anyway. She was thinking about her white nightie from Liberty’s draped across the bed at home. And the champagne waiting in the sideboard.

She made an effort to say something intelligible. ‘When did you get back?’

‘Half an hour ago, no more. A little bird told me it was safe to come back, so I did.’

‘Safe?’

‘Hector.’

‘What about Hector?’

‘Darling, you did brilliantly.’

Her heart thumped. ‘Did what, Antonia?’

‘Rosie, dear, you don’t have to put on an act for me. You know he’s lying dead in the bathroom.’

She felt the blood drain from her face. She would faint any minute. She fought against it, letting her handbag drop and propping herself against the wall. ‘He can’t be. I don’t believe you.’

Antonia was cruelly casual. ‘I suppose something didn’t agree with him. Could it have been your curry by any chance?’

‘He didn’t have any.’

‘What?’

‘I threw it away. We went to Reggiori’s.’

Antonia stared at her for perhaps five seconds. ‘For a quiet one, you’re a fast worker.’

‘Hector insisted on taking me.’ Rose heard her voice thicken with anger. ‘He ate none of that stuff you left in the fridge.’

The green eyes flashed. ‘Why not, for God’s sake? You really thought you had a chance, didn’t you? Who the hell do you think you are, sneaking off to a restaurant with my husband? I gave you instructions. I went to the trouble of writing them down.’

‘I don’t believe he’s dead.’

Antonia made a sound that was something between laughter and scorn. ‘Come up and see, then. We’ve got to move him to the bedroom.’

‘Then you killed him yourself.’

The voice took on a harder note, reinforced by a wagging finger. ‘Watch what you say, darling. We’re in this together. Sisters in crime. Remember? You’d better.’

‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘Try telling that to the police.’

‘You’ve called the police?’

‘Idiot. They’ll be onto us if we don’t do something about the body. It’s got to be carried up to the bedroom to look more natural when the undertaker comes. In case you’ve forgotten, I happen to possess a blank death certificate.’

Rose wetted her lips and tried to summon some inner strength. She didn’t see how it was possible for Hector to be lying dead up there, but she had to find out. She stretched out her hand to the banister rail and started up the stairs. It felt like climbing out of a tar-pit.

‘That’s more like it, chérie.’

Antonia went ahead. She reached the top of the first flight and stepped to the room at the end talking like a ward sister dealing with a student nurse. ‘This is no picnic, I grant you, but it could be worse. We’ll manage easily between us.’

When Rose reached the bathroom, Antonia was already inside, talking. ‘It must have been quick. He couldn’t have suffered much.’

The link in Rose’s mind with hospital was reinforced by a pungent smell she distantly remembered from years ago, when she’d had her tonsils removed. She took a step into the bathroom and looked around the door. There was no corpse in there.

She jerked towards Antonia to protest and several things happened quickly. At the edge of her vision she caught a glimpse of something white flying towards her face. Her neck was seized from behind. She flung up her arm defensively and knocked the white object upwards. It reeked of the smell she’d noticed. She was being chloroformed.

Her neck was clamped in the crook of Antonia’s arm. She was forced to gasp for air just as the pad was thrust towards her face again. This time she couldn’t push it away. She succeeded in deflecting it slightly and turning her face aside. It missed her mouth and nostrils and made stinging contact with her cheek. She dragged it off with both hands and fought for possession of it. She wasn’t as strong as Antonia, but with her two hands she prised some of the fingers away.

Antonia removed the arm that was around Rose’s neck and made a grab for the pad. She wasn’t quick enough. Rose seized it from her and flung it into the bath. Momentarily Rose had the advantage. Antonia had reached out like a tennis player retrieving a serve and she only needed a push to lose her balance.

Rose supplied it.

Antonia crashed between the side of the bath and the wash basin, bringing down a glass shelf. If she was hurt it wasn’t apparent. She recouped immediately.

Rose had turned to escape, but she was grabbed by the ankle and fell on her hands and knees. She was hauled in like a hooked fish. She kicked out with the free leg and caught some part of Antonia, possibly her chest.

There was a yelp of pain.

Rose’s left ankle was given a vicious twist that forced her to roll on her back. At once Antonia hurled herself forward. She was unquestionably the stronger of them. Rose squirmed against the side of the bath to avoid being pinned down. They wrestled head to head. Then her hair was grabbed and her head forced against the floor. Antonia pressed down on her, tugging viciously at her hair while she manoeuvred herself into a sitting position by bringing her knees up to the level of Rose’s shoulders and forcing them down. Her thighs flattened Rose’s breasts.

Rose looked up into the wildcat eyes. She felt a hand at her throat, forcing the collar apart and she believed she was going to be strangled. But the pressure came on the back of her neck. Her pearl necklace bit into her flesh and snapped as Antonia jerked it from her throat, scattering beads across the room.

‘Cheap imitations, ducky.’

The face came closer. The blonde hair brushed Rose’s cheek.

‘What’s that scent you’re wearing? It stinks.’ Antonia slapped her hard across the face.

She stared back and bore the pain in silence. Then she was conscious of a shift in the weight. Antonia was reaching behind her into the bath, groping for the pad of chloroform. Rose sensed an opportunity. Although her head was held and her shoulders were flat to the floor, her hips were still slightly angled against the bath. She flexed, raised her knees and got enough leverage from her feet to buck forward. Some hair was torn from her scalp in the process, but she managed to tip Antonia off completely and drag herself free.

She got off her knees, stepped clear of Antonia’s flailing arms, and rushed out of the bathroom and along the corridor. She’d lost her shoes, which was an advantage in taking the stairs at speed. Antonia was up and in pursuit, but Rose was quicker. She jumped the last few steps and dashed across the hall to the door and dragged it open. The inrush of foggy air gave her hope. She lurched into the street and ran blindly.