Coffin in the Black Museum. Gwendoline Butler

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СКАЧАТЬ not in trouble, is he?’ demanded Coffin suspiciously.

      ‘If he was he could deal with it himself, he is a lawyer, remember. Anyway, the legal system in Scotland is different from the legal system in England. He would not come to you.’

      Letty paused. ‘I think it is a family matter.’

      ‘Don’t tell me that there is yet another of us. That we are four!’

      ‘No.’ Letty dismissed this idea. ‘I get the impression,’ she went on cautiously, ‘that it is about our mother.’

      ‘He must know as much as I do, more probably. Anyway, she’s been dead for years.’

      ‘Has she?’

      ‘I’m not young,’ parried Coffin. ‘I was her eldest child. If she was alive now she’d be very old indeed.’

      ‘Have you ever seen her grave?’

      ‘No, she died abroad.’ His aunt who had brought him up had told him so. She had told him a lot of other things too, not all of which had been true.

      ‘Or her death certificate?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Then we have to assume our mother may still be alive.’

      Strange how, while energetically if spasmodically pursuing a search for his lost sister and brother, he had accepted without question his mother’s death. Didn’t want to think about it, probably. He still thought she must be dead, though.

      ‘I suppose I’ll have to see him then, if that’s what he wants.’ He hadn’t taken to William on their one meeting in Scotland a few years since. Letty he loved, but not William. A prim, prissy fellow. ‘He’s taken his time raising the question, though.’

      ‘We don’t know what has come to light.’

      Letty could be difficult too, elusive, hard to pin down in argument, of which they had plenty. She probably had the best brain of all three of them.

      ‘I don’t think William likes me very much.’ For that matter, he wasn’t much drawn to brother William himself.

      ‘Oh I don’t believe that’s true.’

      ‘I don’t think he likes anyone very much. I think he’s ashamed of having a policeman for a brother.’

      ‘That’s just his Edinburgh manner.’

      ‘Maybe. I hope he knows what he’s getting into.’ He himself had been so enthusiastic about seeking out his sister once he had known she existed. He had gone to evening classes on genealogy and read books called How to Trace Your Family Tree. In the end, Lætitia and he had found each other almost by accident.

      And then gone on to flush out William. These affairs snowballed. Once you’d started, you couldn’t stop it.

      ‘The one thing you can be sure of about an Edinburgh lawyer,’ said Lætitia, ‘is that they know what they are getting into.’

      ‘I’ll do what I can. When is he coming?’

      ‘I’ll be in touch,’ said Lætitia.

      ‘Letty, where is your husband?’

      ‘In New York. He has a conference there. I might be joining him for a month or two. But of course, I don’t want Lizzie to drop out of school.’

      ‘She’s only six.’ He wondered, as he had often lately, if she was in the process of offloading her current husband.

      ‘It’s a bad habit to get into.’ Lætitia was firm. ‘Especially if the child is clever. Lizzie is outstanding.’

      Naturally, thought Lizzie’s uncle. Poor little beast, she hasn’t got a chance. She’s got to be outstanding. On the other hand, he had to admit that Lizzie did have the appearance of a child who could handle her mother.

      ‘Oh, John, the second flat, the one beneath you, is let.’

      He was instantly on the alert. This could be important news. A neighbour was an important factor in this kind of set-up.

      ‘Yes, Stella Pinero is taking it. Lovely person, isn’t she?’ There was a pause. ‘You like her, don’t you?’

      ‘Oh yes.’ Loved her once. Forgot her. Loved her again. Forgot her. No, never forgotten.

      They needn’t meet much. Probably would not. And after all, it made sense for her to live on the job. He had seen her coming and going, but she had apparently not noticed him. Not that she would stay with the Theatre Workshop for long, Stella always moved on, as who should know better than he did.

      While he was thinking, Lætitia had finished talking and rung off. He had the feeling he was left alone in the room with Stella. Darling Stella.

      She had put on a bit of weight lately, that was why she was pretending not to see him.

      The telephone rang again. This time it was Tom Cowley, the gruff voice was unmistakable. Coffin had heard it frequently as the battle to preserve the Black Museum hotted up. For some time now, Tom, canny about publicity, had been running Open Days for local groups. School parties (if they wished to come and a surprising number did), women’s associations, and other bodies like the Rotarians and the Freemasons. Not to mention the press, whom Tom provided with a good strong drink paid for by funds he seemed able to tap at will. Like a lot of old policemen, Tom usually knew where to go for money.

      There was a strong, if unofficial, linking between all these groups, a kind of seepage of information. Thus the Chairwoman of the Townswomen’s Guild was married to one of the local journalists, Ron Peters, a keen supporter of Tom and the Black Museum. Mrs Peters was a friend of Mrs Lupus, the deputy head of St Luke’s Comprehensive, who on the advice of her friend (‘It’s educational in the best way, Katherine, take the kids, that’s my advice’), had brought two parties to view the museum and who was married to a Rotarian who was also the builder who had constructed the flats where Coffin now lived. This couple in turn were friends of the Lord Mayor of the new Dockland City, Albert Fraser, and his young, appealingly silly wife, Agnes. And all three couples knew, although they had never spoken to, Amelia Marr who ran the small but discreet bawdy house in Petty Poland Street. Amelia had come in on her own, speaking to no one but taking it all in. Mimsie Marker, of course, knew everyone and spoke to and of them with freedom and as it suited her. She liked Tom Cowley. He was a ‘real man’.

      ‘Hello, you there?’ He never stood on ceremony with his old friend, not in private, anyway. ‘About tomorrow. Now I’ve been thinking: two Frenchmen, a Swede and a German, that’s a bit international for me. Do you think they speak English?’

      A group of high-ranking foreign policemen were on a visit to London and the new area of Thameswater was on their visiting list. The Black Museum in Thameswater was to be inspected and a buffet lunch would be served. Not the place one might choose for a luncheon, but the truth was that Coffin’s new area was short of buildings. Architecturally speaking, he was living from hand to mouth. Some splendid new buildings were going up on a cleared area of dockland but would not be complete until next year.

      ‘Sure СКАЧАТЬ