A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [161]
Yet he had also found much to admire in his mother-in-law. He liked her poise and her directness. Nor was she such a terrible snob as Fifi claimed. She reacted to bad manners with horror, but her attitude was the same whatever social group the ill-mannered person came from. She turned up her nose at people eating in the street, she thought the journalist asking her age was rude. Yet she treated people with lowly jobs, like the chambermaid in the hotel, waiters or taxi drivers with appreciation. In the Rifleman she had been charming. Even when Stan told her he was a dustman she didn’t bat an eyelid and later remarked what a gentleman he was.
Clara had of course banked on her daughter marrying a professional man, and why shouldn’t she? Her husband was one. But Dan realized now that it was Fifi who had created the frightening image of him in Clara’s mind by being so secretive. If she’d only taken him home immediately, Dan felt Clara might still have been stiff and stand-offish at first, but her innate good manners would have demanded that she look for his good points.
He knew this because he could see it happening now. When the three of them went back to Dale Street early on Saturday evening, he had made tea and sandwiches for them, and he saw her watching in surprise when he laid the table. She clearly expected him to put the sandwiches and tea on the floor and tell them to ‘dig in’. He might have done that once, but Fifi had trained him well.
Later Clara admired several things he’d made. ‘You’ve made these with a lot of love, Dan. And a great deal of skill,’ she said approvingly. ‘Harry is hopeless with his hands.’
It wasn’t an apology for judging him so hastily at their first meeting, but then he neither wanted nor expected one. It just pleased him that at last she was finding things in him to like.
The waiter brought their drinks, and when Dan got some money out of his pocket Clara waved it away. ‘I’ll put it on our bill,’ she said.
They sipped their drinks in silence. Clara was looking at a group of American tourists at the next table. They had very loud voices and even louder clothes.
‘London used to be full of very elegantly dressed people,’ she said quietly. ‘Even during the war everyone made an effort. But I haven’t seen one smartly dressed person this weekend.’
‘I have,’ Dan said. ‘There’s you.’ He meant it, she looked so neat and feminine in a navy blue costume with a white frilly blouse beneath it. He’d felt proud to introduce her in the pub as his mother-in-law.
She gave a weary little smile. ‘I feel a wreck,’ she said.
‘Well, you don’t look like one,’ he said. ‘Just very tired.’
She looked at him long and hard, and Dan braced himself for a sharp retort.
‘I misjudged you, Dan,’ she said softly and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m so very sorry.’
He was so taken aback that he was tongue-tied, but as tears trickled down her cheeks he involuntarily moved forward in his seat, picked up a paper napkin and gently wiped her tears away as if she were Fifi.
‘The past doesn’t matter,’ he replied, but Clara’s eyes were so like Fifi’s that it brought a lump to his throat.
‘We’ll have no future either if we don’t get her back unharmed,’ she said, catching hold of his hand with urgency. ‘Tell me honestly, Dan, do you think she’s already dead?’
‘No, of course not,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m sure I’d know if she was, and besides, if they’d killed her, the police would’ve found her body by now.’
Clara’s face relaxed for a minute, then tightened up again.
‘Whatever could have gone on in that house?’ she asked. ‘It had to be something much more than just the one little girl being killed by her father.’
Dan nodded. ‘I can’t work out what though,’ he said. ‘Fifi was always saying that she found it puzzling that anyone would want to play cards with Alfie.