‘You’ll have to tell Archie all this as soon as he gets here,’ Josephine said.
‘Yes, of course.’ Marlene sat down and lit a cigarette, staring at Barbara Penhaligon through the smoke. ‘You seemed very anxious to know about Reverend Hartley just now,’ she said, as the pause became uncomfortable. ‘Is there something bothering you?’
‘He’s dead. Of course I’m bothered.’
Barbara lit her own cigarette, gesturing with it like a weapon, but the effect wasn’t quite the same without the film star’s cool self-assurance. ‘No other reason?’ Marlene persisted.
‘Like what?’
The actress shrugged. ‘Perhaps you’re wondering if your friend really did go back to the mainland?’
‘Just what are you suggesting?’
She was prevented from answering by Alex Fielding, who was shown in by the butler. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Lancaster demanded, and the tension that had been building between the two women shifted seamlessly to a different part of the room. ‘We were told that everyone had to gather here immediately, so what’s so special about you?’
Fielding ignored him and went straight over to the fire. His shoes and the turn-ups of his trousers were soaked through, and he was obviously chilled to the bone. As he rubbed the life back into his arms, Josephine noticed the moss stains and cobwebs that had dirtied his mackintosh. ‘I’ve been up that bloody tower,’ he said, when he was finally beginning to get warm. He gestured to the camera that he had dumped on the table as he came in. ‘Penrose wanted me to take some photographs. Believe me, Lancaster, I’d much rather have been sipping coffee here with the rest of you. Get off your high horse.’
‘So you’ve seen his body?’ Barbara said. ‘What exactly happened to him? No one will tell us anything.’
Fielding glanced at Josephine, and she wondered if he would have been less discreet if Archie’s friends hadn’t been in the room. ‘I can’t tell you anything either,’ he said. ‘Sorry. Strict orders from on high to keep schtum.’
More coffee arrived, and once again Marlene did the honours. Fielding took a hip flask from the pocket of his coat and poured the last of its contents into his cup. Josephine noticed how badly his hand shook as he drained the coffee in one go and accepted another. Although he had kept his promise to Archie, the ordeal of what he had witnessed – presumably in intimate detail, if the photographs were to be used as evidence – was written all over his ashen, haunted face, and Josephine’s sadness for the Hartleys only deepened.
Fielding seemed lost in his thoughts, isolated from the rest of the group, and she tried to think of something to say to distract him, but Marlene beat her to it. She got up and disappeared briefly into the library next door, returning with a pile of the week’s newspapers that Hilaria was keeping there as a record of the Mount’s recent publicity. ‘I have been meaning to congratulate you,’ she said to Fielding. ‘There was a picture of yours that I so admired in here, and I wanted to talk to you about it.’
The photographer seemed pleased but a little apprehensive, as he always did when the film star singled him out for attention. ‘Which one is it?’
‘The river at dusk,’ Marlene said, flicking through the pages. ‘That was you, wasn’t it? With the trams and the skyline and the reflection of the lights on the water?’
‘Probably. We have to take so many, especially at this time of year. And with an assignment like this on the horizon, some of the more run-of-the-mill stuff gets forgotten.’
She smiled. ‘Mr Fielding, do not be so modest. You should be proud of such a picture.’ She found what she was looking for and beckoned him over. ‘See? You have composed it very well, but lots of people can do that. It’s the light that brings it to life, those things that we were talking about last night.’ They looked at the photograph together, and Josephine was struck again by Marlene’s kindness as she tried to replace the recent, traumatic images in Fielding’s mind with a different, more innocent picture. ‘Such a lovely interplay of soft lights and shadows and half-tones that you could almost believe it was colour. The sky was a deep blue, yes?’ He nodded. ‘I thought so. The best time to photograph a city. In film, we call it the magic hour, just before everything fades to black. And you?’
‘The same,’ Fielding said, becoming more animated. ‘That’s exactly what it feels like when you get it right – magic.’
‘Well, you most certainly have got it right here. Look at the light trails on the bridge. A fast shutter speed, I suppose?’
‘Of course. As you said, it’s the magic hour, and an hour isn’t long to get what you need.’
‘Indeed.’ Marlene nodded thoughtfully, still looking at the picture. ‘I hope your photographs of me turn out as successfully, Mr Fielding.’
The room fell into silence again, and Josephine was beginning to wonder where the next minor skirmish would erupt when Archie appeared in the doorway. He gave a cursory glance round the room to make sure that everyone he expected to see was there, then sat down at the end of the table nearest the fire, refusing Marta’s offer of coffee. ‘As you will all know by now, Richard Hartley was murdered …’
‘What we all want to know, Penrose, is how quickly you can get us off this fucking island.’
Archie glared at Lancaster. ‘I’m afraid no one is leaving this island until the circumstances of Reverend Hartley’s death are more firmly established.’
‘But that’s outrageous!’ Barbara argued. ‘What will my father say? You can’t keep us here against our will.’
‘Actually I can, Miss Penhaligon, but even if I couldn’t, I think you’ll find there’s little point in arguing when the tides are running in my favour. Now, it would save us all a lot of time if you co-operated with these inquiries rather than obstructed them. I’m sure your father would give you exactly the same advice, and I’m more than happy to check with him as soon as the telephones are working again. In the meantime, perhaps you’d be kind enough to give me the benefit of the doubt and tell me where you were late last night and in the early hours of this morning?’
‘In bed, of course, like everyone else.’
‘Except two people, at least. So you went straight to bed after leaving the drawing room?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And you didn’t leave your room again until this morning?’
‘Only once, to go to the bathroom.’
‘Thank you.’
Marlene spoke next, repeating everything that she had told them earlier. ‘Did he say something or someone from his past?’ Archie asked when she had finished.
‘I don’t know that he was specific. If he was, I don’t remember.’
‘Did you bring any Christmas decorations here with you?’ The change of subject came from nowhere, and Marlene looked at him curiously. ‘No, of course not.’
‘Not even something small and sentimental? A toy you’ve had for a long time, or something to remind you of your daughter?’
Most of the people round the table were looking at Archie as if he had lost his wits. ‘No, nothing like that,’ Marlene insisted. ‘I have a lucky doll called Zola, and she travels with me everywhere, but she is not a Christmas decoration.’