The Avenue of the Dead by Evelyn Anthony Page A

scene,’ he said. ‘You’ve had enough to drink already, you can have an early night tonight and tell the Harrises we’re not available.’
    â€˜It’s not surprising!’ she shouted suddenly. ‘I only do it because I’m lonely and you’re so cold and cruel to me and I’ve nobody to talk to – and I’m scared …’
    He knocked the glass out of her hand. It happened so quickly that she stood staring at him, the whisky and ice splinters spattering the wall behind her as the glass shattered. He didn’t hit her; he didn’t dare because he knew that once he did he wouldn’t be able to stop. He pushed past her, and she staggered. He turned at the door. ‘I’ll call them,’ he said. ‘You can stay home and get drunk for a change.’
    She put her hands to her face and began to cry. She was shaking. Neil had said she must stay calm. Neil had been full of good advice and comfort, insisting that she must take hold of herself and not provoke a situation. She’d felt calmer and come home determined to persuade her husband to go out to dinner and have a relaxed evening. Maybe Neil was right. Drinking didn’t help. He had been very tactful about that. But he wasn’t living in the house with a man who looked at you the way Edward Fleming did, when you woke in the night and thought he was leaning over you in the dark …
    There was a knock on the door; she wiped her face hastily, smearing eye shadow. It was Ellen, the maid. ‘What time would you like dinner, ma’am? Mr Fleming says he’ll have something to eat on a tray in his office.’
    Elizabeth saw the quick glance at the broken glass and stains on the carpet.
    â€˜I had an accident,’ she said. ‘I dropped my drink. Could you sweep up the glass, please, Ellen? Be careful not to cut yourself. I won’t bother about dinner. You just give Mr Fleming what he wants. I may be going out.’
    I’ll go, she said to herself, I’ll call Nicky Harris and say can I come alone because Eddie’s full up with paperwork. I won’t stay here.
    The maid came back and began sweeping the broken glass into a dustpan. The telephone rang. Elizabeth hesitated; it must be the Harrises calling to find out if they were free.
    She picked it up and an English voice said, ‘Can I speak to Mrs. Fleming, please?’
    â€˜Speaking,’ she said. She didn’t recognize the voice. ‘Who is that?’
    There was a pause and the voice said, ‘It’s Mousey Graham, Liz. Remember me from Highfields? I’m in Washington – I thought it would be fun to meet.’
    â€˜Oh, what a surprise –’ She sat down, hugging the receiver with both hands. Mousey Graham – they’d been at school together. Had she liked her? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t be sure. ‘Why, how lovely! When did you arrive? Where are you?’
    â€˜I flew in yesterday,’ Davina said. Peter Hickling, the principal intelligence officer, was listening in on a separate receiver. Neil was beside him.
    â€˜I’m staying at the embassy. With the Hicklings actually, they’re old friends. When can we meet?’
    Elizabeth Fleming hesitated; Ellen had finished clearing up and had just gone out of the room. ‘Well, what are you doing tonight?’
    Davina glanced quickly at Hickling. He shook his head. Not to be too eager or too available. A visiting Englishwoman wouldn’t have been free at a moment’s notice as soon as she arrived in the capital. American welcomes were intensive.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ Davina said. ‘I’m busy tonight. But I could make lunch tomorrow. Why don’t I take you out? You’ll have to choose the place.’
    â€˜Don’t be silly, Mousey,’ she said quickly. ‘You’ll be my guest. We’ll go to the Unicorn. I can get a table if I use Eddie’s name –