‘What about the third friend — Mansel Price?’

‘Try his address as well. Find out where he is. If you can’t reach him this morning, leave a message to the effect that we’d like to speak to him. By the time he gets it, he’ll know why.’

‘Yes,’ said Keedy. ‘This will be on the front page of the evening’s paper. Everybody in London will know.’ An image of Superintendent Chatfield popped into his mind. ‘When he gave his statement to the press, I hope that Chat asked for any witnesses to come forward. Somebody may have seen something.’

‘It’s a long shot but you never know.’

‘I take it that you’ll have use of the car.’

Marmion grinned. ‘It’s a privilege of rank.’

‘When do I get my own transport?’

‘When Sir Edward retires and you succeed him as commissioner.’ He slapped Keedy playfully on the arm. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift to Hambridge’s house. It’s on my way to the bakery. Then I’ll see you back at Scotland Yard. The superintendent will want a report on the progress we’ve made so far.’

Keedy raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t know we’d made any.’

‘Then you should remember just how much information we’ve gathered. Lots of it may be irrelevant but I fancy that we’ve already made one or two crucial discoveries.’ He gave a chuckle. ‘The trick is to work out which ones they are.’

When she heard a vehicle drawing up outside the house, Ellen Marmion hoped that it might be her husband, returning for a late breakfast. In fact, it was her daughter who climbed down from the lorry she’d been driving and used her key to let herself into the house. Ellen was delighted to see her.

‘Alice!’ she cried, embracing her. ‘What a lovely surprise!’

‘I can’t stay long. I came to scrounge a cup of tea.’

‘I’ll put the kettle on at once.’

Alice followed her into the kitchen and watched her fill the kettle under the tap before setting it on the stove and using a match to ignite the gas. Ellen turned to appraise her daughter with a mixture of pleasure and disapproval.

‘I can never get used to you in that uniform,’ she said, clicking her tongue. ‘Khaki is such an unflattering colour.’

‘It cost me two pounds,’ said Alice, defensively, ‘and I like it.’

‘I preferred it when you worked as a teacher and wore your own clothes.’

‘There’s a war on, Mummy. I’m far more use working for the WEC than I would be keeping a classroom of noisy children in order. Even you must realise that by now.’

‘Frankly, I don’t but I’m not going to argue about it.’

‘Thank you.’

Alice Marmion was a comparatively tall, slim, lithe woman in her early twenties with attractive features and bright eyes. Against her mother’s wishes, she’d given up her job at a nearby school in order to join the Women’s Emergency Corps, one of the many women’s organisations dedicated to helping the war effort. It was interesting work that confronted her with a whole range of problems but it involved long hours and kept her at full stretch. Ellen noticed the signs of fatigue.

‘You look tired,’ she said, anxiously. ‘Are you getting enough sleep?’

‘Who cares about sleep when there are so many jobs to do?’

‘I do. It’s important.’

‘So is helping people in dire circumstances.’

‘Oh, I do wish you still lived at home so that I could take care of you.’

‘I can cope perfectly well on my own, Mummy.’

‘I worry that you don’t get enough food.’

Alice laughed. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve put on weight.’

‘Then you’re not getting the right kind of food.’

‘Stop worrying about me. I’ve been in the WEC for well over six months now and I’ve looked after myself all that time. Living on my own gives me the kind of freedom I could never enjoy here.’

Ellen was hurt. ‘You make this house sound like a prison.’

‘I didn’t mean to. I was very happy here — when I was younger, that is. I just felt too old to be living with my parents.’

‘We miss you dreadfully. At least,’ added Ellen, ‘I certainly do. Your father is hardly ever here so I miss him as well. They got him out of bed around five o’clock this morning for the latest crisis. I probably won’t see him again until it’s time to turn in.’ She pulled a face. ‘Who’d marry a policeman?’

‘Daddy must have warned you what it would be like.’

‘He was just a bobby on the beat in those days. I didn’t like him working shifts but at least I knew when I’d see him again.’

‘Do you regret that you married him?’

Ellen gasped. ‘What a terrible question to ask!’

‘Well — do you?’

‘Don’t be silly. I love your father. I’d just like to see more of him.’

‘It may be better when the war’s over.’

‘That’s what I keep telling myself,’ said Ellen. ‘We live in hope. But I can see why Joe Keedy never married. Working at Scotland Yard is much easier when you don’t have a family to worry about.’

‘Joe does have a family.’

‘Yes, but they’re up in the Midlands somewhere. He has very little to do with them. He can live a bachelor life and do as he pleases.’

‘Not exactly,’ said Alice. ‘He’s in the same boat as Daddy. They’re never off duty. The call can come at any time of day or night.’

‘Don’t remind me.’

The kettle was starting to boil. Ellen turned to reach for the teapot before emptying its contents down the sink and rinsing it out. When steam began to billow out of the kettle, she switched off the gas then poured a little hot water into the pot to warm it up. Spoonfuls of tea followed, then she added the hot water, put the lid back on and slipped the cosy over the pot. When they were side by side, the resemblance between mother and daughter was very clear. The difference was that Ellen was twice Alice’s age and had greying hair, a lined face and a spreading midriff. She struggled hard to master her intense concern for her children. Her son had joined the army and was somewhere in France. Her daughter had left home, ostensibly to join the WEC but, in reality, to spread her wings as well. With her husband absent for long periods, Ellen was bound to feel sad and neglected.

‘What are you doing today?’ she asked.

‘I’ve got to drive to the station to collect another batch of refugees. It’s some more Belgians this time. Just as well I’ve picked up so much French,’ said Alice, cheerfully. ‘Being in the WEC is a real education. I’ve learnt how to drive any kind of vehicle and can get by in French and German. More importantly, I’ve learnt how to look after myself so that I’m not a burden on you and Daddy.’

‘What a ridiculous idea!’ protested Ellen. ‘You never were a burden.’

‘There were times when I felt that I was.’

‘Well, I never felt that. As a matter of fact-’

‘I’m sorry, Mummy,’ interrupted Alice, ‘but I’ll have to go soon. Could you pour that tea now, please?’

‘Yes, yes, of course.’

After putting two teacups on the table, Ellen used a strainer to pour tea into them. They sat either side of the kitchen table, taking it in turns to add milk and sugar to their respective cups before stirring with a teaspoon. Ellen regarded her daughter through troubled eyes.

‘Is this what you really want, Alice?’

‘Yes, it is. I love working for the WEC.’

‘Vera Dowling doesn’t. I spoke to her mother yesterday. She said that

Vera is finding it too demanding and expects her to give it up soon.’

Alice shook her head. ‘Vera would never do that. She has a good moan at times but so does everyone else. We joined the WEC together and we both admire what it’s trying to do. Mrs Dowling is wrong, honestly. Vera’s like me — she’ll see it through to the end.’

Ellen sipped her tea and ventured a smile. ‘It’s so good to see you again,’ she said, ‘if only for a short while. Your father will be so annoyed that he missed you.’

‘Give him my love,’ said Alice, sipping her own tea.