As the Crow Flies

During 1922 everything seemed to be falling neatly into place and I began to look forward to Daphne’s return from her honeymoon so I could tell her exactly what I had been up to in her absence.

The week after Daphne arrived back in England she invited us both to dinner at her new home in Eaton Square. I couldn’t wait to hear all her news, knowing that she would be impressed to learn that we now owned nine shops, a new home in Gilston Road and at any moment would be adding a block of flats to the Trumper portfolio. However, I knew the question she would ask me as soon as I walked in their front door, so I had my reply ready—“It will take me about another ten years before I own the entire block—as long as you can guarantee no floods, pestilence or the outbreak of war.”

Just before Becky and I set out for our reunion dinner an envelope was dropped through the letter box of 11 Gilston Road.

Even as it lay on the mat I could recognize the bold hand. I ripped it open and began to read the colonel’s words. When I had finished the letter I suddenly felt sick and could only wonder why he should want to resign.

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CHAPTER

20

Charlie stood alone in the hall and decided not to mention the colonel’s letter to Becky until after they had returned from their dinner with Daphne. Becky had been looking forward to the occasion for such a long time that he feared the colonel’s unexplained resignation could only put a blight on the rest of the evening.

“You all right, darling?” asked Becky when she reached the bottom of the stairs. “You look a bit pale.”

“I’m just fine,” said Charlie, nervously tucking the letter into an inside pocket. “Come on or we’ll be late, and that would never do.” Charlie looked at his wife and noticed that she was wearing the pink dress with a massive bow on the front. He remembered helping her choose it. “You look ravishing,” he told her. “That gown will make Daphne green with envy.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“When I put on one of these penguin suits I always feel like the head waiter of the Ritz,” admitted Charlie as Becky straightened his white tie.

“How could you possibly know when you’ve never been to the Ritz?” she said, laughing.

“At least the outfit came from my own shop this time,” Charlie replied as he opened the front door for his wife.

“Ah, but have you paid the bill yet?”

As they drove over to Eaton Square Charlie found it difficult to concentrate on his wife’s chatty conversation while he tried to fathom why the colonel could possibly want to resign just at the point when everything was going so well.

“So how do you feel I should go about it?” asked Becky.

“Whichever way you think best,” began Charlie.

“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said since we left the house, Charlie Trumper. And to think we’ve been married for less than two years.”

“Sorry,” said Charlie, as he parked his little Austin Seven behind the Silver Ghost that stood directly in front of 14 Eaton Square. “Wouldn’t mind living here,” Charlie added, as he opened the car door for his wife.

“Not quite yet,” suggested Becky.

“Why not?”

“I’ve a feeling that Mr. Hadlow might not feel able to sanction the necessary loan.”

A butler opened the door for them even before they had reached the top step. “Wouldn’t mind one of those either,” said Charlie.

“Behave yourself,” said Becky.

“Of course,” he said. “I must remember my place.”

The butler ushered them through to the drawing room where they found Daphne sipping a dry martini.

“Darlings,” she said. Becky ran forward and threw her arms around her and they bumped into each other.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” said Becky.

“My little secret.” Daphne patted her stomach. “Still, you seem to be well ahead of me, as usual.”