The Yellow Room Conspiracy by Peter Dickinson

Author:Peter Dickinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
Published: 2015-04-01T21:12:01+00:00

PAUL VII

Spring 1956

One of the still continuing tedia of having been involved in the so-called Seddon Affair is the reaction of strangers as soon as they make the connection. Two questions invariably pass through their minds: Did I meet Sammy Whitstable? Was I one of those who made use of her services? Few people in fact bring themselves to the point of asking either question, but I don’t think I’m being over-sensitive. I am sure that had I been one of these outsiders I would feel the same curiosity. Notoriety has that effect. It is only human to wish to know how far reality coincides with myth.

The answers in my case are (1) Barely (2) No. I was however involved in other ways. Soon after Lord Vereker’s funeral, and before my lunch with Lucy, Gerry telephoned. We chatted briefly and then he said, “Look, I don’t like doing this, but I’m in a minor fix. If you can’t help, or don’t want to, which is much the same thing in this case, forget it. That job you did in Cairo, nursemaiding people like me, finding us things to do in the evenings …”

“Yes?”

“I take it there were some who demanded rather more exotic entertainment than I did … I’m sorry, old man. You may find this deeply unpleasant …”

Old man? I suppressed my amusement with a snort, which he misinterpreted. It was somehow typical of him to be so out of his depth in this kind of thing that his embarrassment should result in such false notes. Not that he didn’t have cause for embarrassment. As he’d suggested, I might well have told him bluntly that I couldn’t help him, but as it happened there was a wartime acquaintance with whom I’d had to get in touch a few months earlier, for the benefit of an unpleasant Dutchman whose help I needed.

“It’s all right,” I said. “I know how you feel. One gets stuck with these things. What does the fellow want? Male or female? Not straightforward, I take it?”

“Yes, that’s about it. Female.”

“Money no object?”

“Not much. I don’t know what the limit might be.”

“The equivalent of shopping at Harrods, say?”

“That should do.”

“Try a woman called Isobel Mudge. You’ll think you’ve got a wrong number—she has one of those Dresden Shepherdess voices and a remarkable command of euphemisms, but she keeps her side of a bargain. Incidentally, you’d better keep yours—she’s got some pretty tough friends. Tell her Mr Charles put you on to her. If she can’t help I don’t know anyone else.”

I gave him the number and he started to thank me.

“Forget it,” I said. “These things happen. Incidentally, why did you need to come to me? I’d have thought in the course of your work with Michael …

“I don’t want to involve Michael,” he said quickly. “But thanks. I’ll pay you back some day, somehow.”

“You can get me a ticket for the Saturday of the Lord’s Test. They’ve made a cock-up over mine.”

“Do my best.”

I barely thought about it again, being almost at once taken up with renewing my affair with Lucy.

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