The False Inspector Dew

16

Lydia reached for a slice of toast and started to butter it. Without looking up, she said, 'By the way, if you're going to the surgery today, you'd better give that nurse a week's notice. I've sold the practice.' She had kept this piece of news for breakfast on Monday morning to avoid a weekend's bickering. Walter was so insufferably possessive about his tooth-pulling.

'You've what?' His voice was shrill with disbelief.

'Sold the practice, darling. We did discuss it, if you remember. It's gone to a Mr Edwards, Simon Edwards, a charming and attractive man who happens to be the brother-in-law of my friend Maggie. The poor darling has been doing nothing but gold crowns for Jewish tailors in the Mile End Road for the last ten years. He's absolutely thrilled.'

Walter pushed his plate aside. His face was purple, i haven't even met this man. He hasn't seen the surgery.'

'Oh, but he has, Walter. I took him there on Friday afternoon. You weren't there. The nurse said you had telephoned to cancel your appointments. Were you feeling ill, or something? Anyway, Simon adores the place and is quite prepared to take it over from next week. The point is that he doesn't need Nurse Tung, or whatever she is called, because he is bringing his own assistant.'

'You don't appear to understand, Lydia. I can't consign my patients to a man I haven't even met.'

'Darling, he's perfectly respectable. He went to Charterhouse, which is more than we can say for you. You'll meet him soon enough. He wants to go through the files with you on Wednesday. He's taking over the lot — the furniture, the dental equipment, even your forceps and things.'

'He can't have my instruments! Damnit, I shall need them in America.'

Lydia chipped at the varnish on one of her fingernails.

'I've used them ever since I trained,' Walter went on, his outrage increasing by the second. 'This won't do, Lydia. It's like depriving a musician of his violin.'

By Walter's standards, this was quite ah eruption. Lydia said evenly, 'Not really, darling. I think you ought to know that I have changed my mind about what you will do in America. You won't need your instruments after all, because there is some- thing much more important to be done. I shall need an agent to negotiate my contracts with the film companies. It's obvious that you should do it. I can't entrust my future as a film star to some American I have never met, so the job is yours.'

He stared at her like a trapped animal. He was speechless. He was shaking his head.

'Come now,' Lydia appealed to him, 'this is important to me. You've had years of pleasure finding holes in people's teeth, and now it's time for a change.'

'I don't propose to change,' Walter said in a voice so low it was almost threatening.

Lydia was not used to being defied. She had been about to tell him that he would earn a good commission if he worked for it. Instead she said, 'You have no choice, Walter. You couldn't set up as a dentist in America without money. They don't pull teeth in the street any more.'

'I'll have the money from the sale of the practice. How much is Edwards paying us?'

'That money belongs to me.'

'I built it up. I'm entitled to something back, for God's sake.'

'Not according to my solicitor, darling. Be sensible, Walter, We both have an interest in my future.'

He stood up and shouted, 'What future?' He stormed out of the room and out of the house. The front door slammed.

For a moment Lydia wondered whether Walter was the right person to be her agent. Then she reflected that it didn't matter because she only wanted him for window-dressing. Everyone in Hollywood had an agent. Walter would be answering the telephone, but she would decide which offers to accept.

She went upstairs to attend to her face. She was seeing the solicitor this morning. And she would be buying more new clothes for the voyage. She needed at least three full changes for each of the six days at sea.

While she was putting up her hair, the telephone rang. She let Sylvia pick it up. In a moment she was at the bedroom door.

'It's for you, ma'am. A lady.'

'Who is it?'

'She didn't say.'

Lydia said over her shoulder as she went downstairs, 'Really, I don't know what I pay you for.' She picked up the earpiece. 'Lydia Baranov speaking.'

There was a slight hesitation at the other end, then: 'I want to speak to you about your husband.'

'Who are you?' said Lydia.

'Someone who cares what happens to him.'

'What do you mean? You'd better tell me who you are.'

'Never mind that, Mrs Baranov. I want to appeal to you as one woman to another to treat him fairly. He doesn't want to go to America with you. He's happy here. You've treated him generously in the past. I wouldn't ask this if you loved each other, but you know that isn't so. Please be generous again and let him remain in England with the one who does love him.'

'What? I don't know who you are, but I think you must be mad. You're not that nurse of his, are you?' Lydia pressed the instrument harder to her ear. Before she hung it up, she wanted to be certain who this woman was. There was something in the voice that sounded familiar.

'I appeal to you, Mrs Baranov. Let him have his freedom.'

'This is utterly ridiculous.'

'I'm trying to be reasonable, for all our sakes. God knows, I love your husband.'

'He's never mentioned you. Are you claiming to be his lover?'

'If you wish. Would you agree to a divorce?'

Lydia began to laugh. 'My dear, whoever you are, and I've got my suspicions, you've gone a bit too far. I know my husband. He wouldn't know what a mistress is, let alone what to do with one. So own up, and let's both enjoy the joke.'

'It is not a joke. You wouldn't know my name if I told you. You'd better ask Walter. He can decide how much to tell you. But don't under-estimate him, Mrs Baranov. And don't think you've heard the last from me.' The line went dead.

Lydia sat by the telephone for a long interval. She was trembling. She got up and went to the cocktail cabinet and poured herself a brandy. She drank it at a draught.

She said, 'You animal, Walter. You stupid, rampant beast!'