Fog of Doubt by Christianna Brand Page B

nobody to ask the way of, and the fog like a sort of veil of wet Jaeger corns all over one’s face.’ Cheered by this vivid metaphor, he went through to the drawing-room and crashed about among Matilda’s carefully arranged bottles, mixing himself a drink He came back with it in his hand. ‘When did this message come, do you know?’
    â€˜Darling, I tell you I don’t know anything about it; but if Melissa took it, it must have been before one, because she wasn’t on duty after that.’
    â€˜Well, I think I ought to eat something now and do my ’phone calls and go. If I hang about for this French chap of yours, it’ll be a couple of hours before I see the child.’
    â€˜If it’s had its D. and V. for three days, would that make much difference?’
    â€˜It might,’ he said. ‘Anyway, they must be getting worried, waiting all this time. No telephone number of course, so I can’t ring them up. And no name. Trust Melissa!’
    â€˜Harrow Gardens off the Harrow Road doesn’t sound very private-telephoney,’ said Matilda.
    Rosie’s voice called softly on the stairs in an unwontedly melodious pipe. ‘Tilda! Anyone here yet?’
    â€˜No, come on down,’ called Matilda. She added, warningly, however, ‘Only Thomas.’
    Rosie appeared in the kitchen doorway. She looked excessively smart in a gay little hat and bright scarlet coat and a pair of very high heels held on by a sliver of sole and a couple of thin leather straps. ‘Well, hallo and good-bye, chaps. I’m off.’
    â€˜What, in this fog?’ said Thomas. ‘Where to?’
    â€˜Just—out,’ said Rosie, shrugging.
    â€˜Aren’t you staying in to see this wonderful Frenchman?’
    â€˜No, thanks very much,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m not. ’
    Thomas raised his eyebrows. ‘Aren’t you? Why?’
    â€˜Oh, lor’,’ said Rosie, impatiently. ‘Because I don’t want to, that’s why.’
    â€˜As it’s my hand he’s coming to hold, why should she?’ said Tilda quickly. ‘Look, you two, how do you think anyone can cook a dinner in a kitchen this size with three people milling around in it? Rosie, if you’re going out, darling, go; and Thomas, you’d better have something on a plate now, because he’ll be here any minute and then it’ll be sauve qui peut, as far as I’m concerned.’
    Rosie started off with alacrity but Thomas, unusually persistent, followed her out into the hall. ‘It doesn’t seem very polite.’
    â€˜Well, I can’t help it if I’ve got an appointment, Thomas.’
    â€˜You did know this man in Geneva?’
    â€˜Yes, I knew him,’ acknowledged Rosie, reluctantly.
    â€˜But not very well?’
    â€˜If you want to know, I knew him a great deal too well,’ said Rosie, bursting out with it, irritably. ‘Now may I go, please, as I happen to have an appointment and I’m late for it already.’ Tilda heard the bang of the front door as she flounced off down the steps. Thomas opened it again to call out after her: was it she who had taken this message about a case in Harrow Gardens? Her denials floated back to them, muffled already by the fog. There was a rattle as she struggled with the little gate. The faint clip-clop of her high heels whispered of her uncertain progress through the impenetrable grey. Thomas wandered back into the kitchen looking thoughtfully into the glass in his hand, apparently not much edified by what he saw there. Matilda, glancing anxiously at his face, served some food from the saucepans on to a plate with a great banging of spoons against china, and put it on a corner of the kitchen table. ‘Eat this, darling, and I’ll just run upstairs and take Gran hers.’ Mrs. Evans usually ate with the rest of the family but she was too unpredictable a member to be trusted when there were