Political Death Read Online Free Page B

with the flowers but was not quite so pleasing. "Darling," it ran, "Forgive me. Flying to Singapore now. Back soon. Love Ned." Forgive Ned Silver, her brilliant mercurial barrister companion, partner, lover with whom she had such a wonderful, passionate semi-attached relationship, when he had to fly abroad on urgent business? Forgive him, of course she forgave him. Forgive him, never, vowed Jemima, kicking her new black suede boot so hard against a chair that the heel broke off.
    That seemed to complete the sense of desolation she had felt ever since she left Hippodrome Square. Jemima had looked to Ned to cheer her up over dinner. They might also, perhaps, have discussed the Faber Mystery again; when making her programme on the subject, Jemima had enjoyed posing problems of evidence to Ned. He would surely be fascinated to hear of her encounter with Lady Imogen. They were also due that weekend to go to a country hotel in Dorset 'to take a real break', something that had already been postponed twice due to professional commitments and was now presumably postponed again.
    "Isn't it lucky that I live alone?" said Jemima aloud, 'and isn't it lucky I am so thoroughly independent and have such a brilliant career? Otherwise I might be absolutely miserable."
    The sight of her cat Midnight gazing at her with dignified reproach from the kitchen doorway surely the first thing any decent person did was to feed a starving cat? stopped this disloyal line of thought. "No, no, Midi, of course I'm not alone. You're never alone with a cat." And that of course took her thoughts back to one person who was undeniably alone, in spite of two enormous cats: Lady Imogen Swain. And the little blue leather Diary in her handbag which did or did not contain a clue to the Faber Mystery.
    There was an odd aspect to all this, thought Jemima, as she opened a bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge with which to wash down the diary, as it were. When she had researched her programme about the Faber Secrets Case a year ago, she had simply not come across the name of Lady Imogen Swain. It was the last programme she had made directly for Megalith, so the mellifluous Byzantine presence of Cy Fredericks had made itself felt on her project. He had performed certain introductions for her, for example, including one to Burgo Smyth himself, even though she had not secured that particular interview.
    Was it possible that Cy had headed her off? It was true that Cy had a notorious weakness for pretty women he could somehow regard as being society figures. Comparisons from Proust sprang readily to his lips, although the social standing of some of the women optimistically found to resemble the Duchesse de Guermantes might have astonished the author. As for Cy'sjeunesfilles enfleurt The range of age and experience of those Cy was still able to regard as maidens was indeed remarkable. (Jemima and Cherry, before they left Megalith, might be two examples of that.) Nevertheless Jemima did not really think that Cy had had a romance with Lady Imogen. It was of course hardly a subject on which anyone could be absolutely certain including, she sometimes thought wryly, Cy himself.
    Yet there had been a fatal air of loss about the house in Hippodrome Square with all its dust and neglect, of a past which had overwhelmed the present and negated the future. Lady Imogen herself was not only a clear loser (that unattractive but evocative modern phrase) but lost beyond rescue. Cy, the ever hopeful and buoyant survivor, thoroughly enjoyed the adventure of rescue (including rescuing himself when times were bad which had happened more than once in Jemima's experience). But someone like Lady Imogen, so utterly desolate, no, Jemima did not think that chivalric Cy would have been tempted to roll his eyes in her direction.
    The truth about Lady Imogen's seeming obliteration from the Faber Secrets Case saga was probably more to do with the unfulfilled nature of some women's lives in the previous