‘Yes, for the most part. As you might remember, they were very militant back then. There was the romantic idea of the true revolutionary hero, the proud worker standing on the barricades brandishing the red flag, not the bloke you see by the roadside leaning on his shovel and having a cup of tea every time you pass by some roadworks. Establishing the true workers’ state. It was a very powerful idea. Very real.’
‘Mostly I remember the power cuts,’ said Banks. ‘Why did Gavin Miller telephone you after all this time?’
Lady Chalmers let out another breath and said, ‘He wanted to touch me for some money, for old times’ sake. A few hundred pounds, just to get him on his feet. Apparently he’d fallen on hard times.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘No, of course.’
‘And how did he react?’
‘Well, there wasn’t very much he could do, really, was there? He tried to bring up old times, how “fantastic” we were together, and he actually got a bit weepy. That did it for me. I think he was drunk or on drugs or something. In the end, I just told him quite firmly not to ring me again and put the phone down.’
Banks leaned back in his chair. ‘I don’t really understand any need for secrecy about all this. Why didn’t you tell me right from the start and have done with it? You could have saved us both a lot of trouble.’
‘Because I didn’t want to get involved, all right?’ said Lady Chalmers. ‘If you must know the truth, I was ashamed. I know that sounds like a cliché, but I had nothing whatsoever to do with Gavin Miller’s death, and I didn’t see why I had to answer all sorts of prying questions about my past and my personal life and open myself up to suspicion by admitting I knew him, even if it was years ago.’
‘But you opened yourself up to more suspicion by lying.’
Lady Chalmers gave Banks a brave smile. ‘I know that now. I really believed that you’d simply give up and go away. I thought I could hide behind who I am, what I am, my title, my status in the community.’ She gave a harsh laugh. ‘What a betrayal of those youthful ideals, don’t you think?’
‘If we all remained true to the dreams of our youth,’ said Banks, ‘it would be a very strange world indeed.’
‘But a better one, perhaps,’ Lady Chalmers whispered, almost to herself.
Banks sometimes wished he had followed Schiller’s advice himself. He had let some of those dreams go far too easily. But this was no time to get maudlin. ‘Had you ever seen him around town? Did you know he was living here in Eastvale?’
‘I wouldn’t have recognised him if I had seen him. Look, Mr Banks, we slept together for a few weeks a long time ago. I’m sure it was very nice, but I don’t remember it. We were kids. We were stoned most of the time. I don’t even remember seeing him around during the rest of my time at Essex, to tell the truth. Why would I know him here forty years later? It’s not as if we moved in the same circles, and I don’t mean to sound snobbish by saying that, but it’s true. And I certainly had nothing to do with his death.’
Banks imagined she might be telling the truth, or something close to it. By the time Ronnie Bellamy and Gavin Miller had ended up in Eastvale, they had both changed a great deal, and both had moved on. Ronnie Bellamy even had a new name, two if you counted her pseudonym. She was no longer the lovely young activist, Ronnie Bellamy, but Lady Chalmers, wife of multimillionaire Broadway and West End producer. Perhaps Gavin Miller had seen her about town and recognised her. It was possible. He was the one who had been in love, after all, and the unrequited lover has an entirely different perspective on the affair. But he certainly hadn’t had the courage or desire to approach her, and she had probably not recognised him, as she claimed, even if she had seen him. Perhaps that was the end of the story, if only Banks’s scar wasn’t itching, and he wasn’t convinced there was something he was missing.
Though Banks had told the truth about not sleeping with a lot of girls at college, there were still old girlfriends he wouldn’t recognise if he saw them in the street. So why did he find it so hard to accept that Lady Chalmers and Gavin Miller had managed to live in the same town for nearly three years or so without one knowing of the other’s existence? Miller’s grand passion had been a young man’s infatuation, no doubt quickly burned out once he had been rejected. Gerry had told him that even Judy Sallis had said Gavin had moved on to someone else fairly quickly. And Lady Chalmers hadn’t given a thought to the whole thing since. Why should she? She never had any shortage of suitors. Miller had simply been one in a long list of conquests.
So let it go, he told himself. You have your answers.
But he couldn’t. Because if Gavin Miller’s phone call was as innocent as Lady Chalmers made it out to be, why had she been so troubled for the whole of the following week, as Oriana had said she was? And why did she also appear to be frightened of something after Gavin Miller had been murdered? Because when he looked at her, even now, with the Valium or whatever it was dulling her anxieties, he could still see that she was troubled, and he realised that whatever she had told him, however much it had cost her pride, it was all calculated to get rid of him as soon as possible. She had told him nothing he didn’t already know. ‘What are you frightened of, Ronnie?’ he asked, staring into her cloudy green eyes.
She held his gaze for several moments, holding her head high, but obviously with difficulty. ‘Nothing,’ she said finally, turning away. ‘Now, I think you should go. I’ve told you everything you need to know. As far as I’m concerned, this whole business is over. I won’t say anything about this conversation to anyone. I’m sure you know what I mean. But if you keep pestering me, things might be different.’
Banks nodded. Dismissed, then. Behind her, on the screen, Oriana in a bikini came around again, but the real Oriana wasn’t around to show him to the door.
Just as Banks was about to get into his car, a silver E-Type Jaguar pulled into the drive and blocked his way. A man got out and walked towards him. Even without the clue of the customized JEM 1 number plate, Banks knew who he was. He got that sinking feeling. Shit. Still, he supposed, he would have to talk to him sometime.
‘Are you Banks?’ Sir Jeremy said.
Banks reached for his warrant card.
‘No need for that. Are you Banks?’
‘Yes.’
Sir Jeremy gestured with his thumb to the passenger side of his car. ‘Get in.’
Annie and Gerry Masterson didn’t talk much on the way to Leeds. Gerry kept her attention on the road, especially when they got close to the city itself, and they half-listened to talk shows on local radio. Annie said it was a relief not to have to suffer Banks’s musical tastes for a change. Gerry admitted that she didn’t understand half the pop-culture references he made. Annie said it was an age thing.
They had settled their differences the previous evening, when Gerry had given Annie a lift home from Newhope Cottage, both of them ending up laughing over what they imagined Banks’s reaction would be when they’d left. A sigh of relief, no doubt, Annie had guessed, probably followed by a large Laphroaig and some loud atonal music. Annie had apologised for getting too steamed up over the Lady Chalmers investigation, and the things she had said, and Gerry had apologised for losing her temper and getting personal. Secretly, Annie had been glad to see a spark of fire in Gerry, whom she had thought rather insipid until then, but she wasn’t going to tell her that. She was also dismayed to find out that the whole station knew about her and Banks, but she realised she should have expected that, given that the place had more grapevines than a vineyard.
Gerry drove through Otley, then on through Bramhope and Lawnswood towards Headingley. It was difficult finding somewhere to park near the university, but she managed to find a spot just large enough to squeeze the Ford Focus into on a side street of dark old brick houses with basements and dormers, all converted into student bedsits. They would have lunch in Leeds before going back, Annie said. Somewhere nice like that little Italian restaurant she remembered from a previous visit with Banks. Or even a nice country pub on the way home. That was one of the perks of a day out in the field. They might not be able to recoup expenses for it, but what the hell.