The Avenue of the Dead by Evelyn Anthony Page B

it’s the smartest place in Washington and the food’s divine. We’ll have a real girls’ gossip. Come here and I’ll give you a drink first. Twelve o’clock tomorrow. Look forward to it.’ She rang off and clasped her hands to steady them.
    Mousey Graham. Memory came to her rescue. She was taking shape fully now. Not a popular girl at school. Not good at games, sharp-tongued, reserved, and exceptionally clever. She went to St Hilda’s and came down with a first-class honours degree. She had a beautiful younger sister who made the gossip columns. She was still Mousey Graham, so she hadn’t married. It wasn’t surprising, Elizabeth thought. She must have frightened the life out of most men. She took a glass and poured another large measure of whisky. She didn’t want to eat. Edward was shut up in his damned office, hating her and knowing she was too afraid of him to defy him and go out with the Harrises.
    Afraid. Her fear was so real at times. Of course there were days when she could master it, arguing herself into a rational view. Other days when she felt close to panic. Now she would have a woman to confide in. Someone who came from her past, who knew her before she had ever met Edward Fleming or come to live in Washington. She would have to pull herself together. Mousey – what the hell was her real name – something rather esoteric and inappropriate – Davina, that was it. Anyway – she sipped her drink and cuddled the glass, making the ice melt – anyway, it would be a change. She switched on the TV and spent the evening watching it alone.
    â€˜She sounded all right.’ Davina turned to Hickling. ‘In fact she sounded like the perfect Washington hostess. What’s so special about the Unicorn?’
    â€˜The prices,’ a voice said behind her. She had forgotten Colin Lomax. ‘The food is fattening and tastes of ketchup. Even the ice cream tastes of ketchup. Its full of whores and pimps.’
    â€˜Oh, shut up, Colin,’ Peter Hickling said. ‘Don’t take any notice of him, Davina. He can’t find anything good to say about anything. The Unicorn is the in restaurant. All the top politicians and their wives go there.’
    â€˜That’s exactly what I said,’ Lomax remarked. ‘It’s full of whores and pimps.’ He opened the Washington Evening Star and rustled the pages aggressively.
    Hickling smiled at her and shook his head. ‘He’s just jealous he can’t afford it,’ he said. ‘You’re off to a good start, anyway. Everyone will see you and Liz Fleming will make capital out of the old schoolfriend from England.’
    â€˜I’m sure she will,’ Davina said. ‘I can just imagine her doing it. She sounded exactly the same.’
    â€˜Weren’t you friends, then?’ Neil questioned.
    â€˜No. We had nothing in common at all.’ Lomax lowered the paper and glanced at her. The tone of her voice was sharp. Not just not friends, he thought to himself. More like enemies. The situation could be interesting. He hummed a tune and went back to reading.
    Davina lit a cigarette. Hickling produced a jug of iced martini and poured four glasses. He set one down beside Colin Lomax.
    â€˜No Scotch? I hate that rot-gut.’
    â€˜No Scotch,’ Hickling said. ‘Take it or leave it.’
    The glass disappeared behind the paper. It reappeared seconds later empty.
    â€˜Ugh,’ came from the centre pages. Nobody took any notice. It was only Davina who minded his comments. They were designed to irritate. Hickling and Neil seemed to think some of the things he said were funny.
    She turned to Neil. ‘Tell me what she said this afternoon.’ Her expression was chilly. She wanted a serious report. Lomax wasn’t going down at all well.
    â€˜She made an appointment to see me this afternoon,’ Neil said. ‘We went for a drive. Stopped at a motel and