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‘It doesn’t help to keep going over this, Archie,’ she said dismis-sively, and started to get up. ‘You and I will always disagree about it and it just makes it worse for me if . . .’

He caught her arm and gently turned her face towards him. ‘But this time it’s not just my voice. Would you believe it from someone who knew Vintner? Someone who would swear that his suicide was down to something that happened years ago, long before you ever wrote a play or heard his name?’

Josephine looked at him, confused by his words and hardly daring to acknowledge that they hinted at a reprieve for her. ‘But he left a note explaining why he did it,’ she said. ‘It was read out at the inquest. He claimed that losing the court case had ruined him, financially and emotionally, and the papers went to town on it because he blamed me for everything.’ Contrary to the advice of all her friends, Archie included, Josephine had attended Vintner’s inquest, determined to face her demons. Not even in her worst nightmares could she have predicted how unpleasant it would be, though, and she would never forget the anger she had felt when she first heard the contents of that suicide note. Sitting in a swel-tering court room, flanked by Ro

accused her of stealing his work, and the law of sanctioning her theft. What frustrated her most, however, was not the smug, self-righteous tone or the unfairness of the charge but the irrational sense of shame which overwhelmed her then and which had dogged her ever since. Afterwards, despite numerous requests from journalists and several newspaper stories which painted her as the villain of the piece, she had adamantly refused to speak out in her own defence, partly from a determination to guard her privacy but mostly from a fear that she would not be very convincing. ‘It was a masterly piece of prose, that note,’ she added bitterly now. ‘Much more affecting than most of his books. He even asked for God’s forgiveness on my behalf. He could afford to be benev-olent, I suppose, because I’m sure he knew I’d never forgive myself.’

‘Exactly. I’m not saying that Vintner didn’t resent you. He was a spiteful bastard and I’m sure he took a great deal of pleasure in knowing he could go on hurting you long after he was dead, but that isn’t why he killed himself. It was a smokescreen, Josephine.

You were caught up in a deadly game between two powerful men and it was convenient for them both to use you, one more mali-ciously than the other.’ He paused to make sure she was taking in what he was saying. ‘You see, if Vintner had given the real reason for deciding to take his own life, it would have been a confession to murder.’

She listened, at first incredulous and then shocked, as Archie outlined the co

felt sure was still to come, and a deeper, less tangible sorrow for the fundamental cruelty of the world.

‘Are you all right?’ Archie asked gently.

‘Yes and no,’ she said. ‘I will be, but all I can think about now is how sorry I feel for Elspeth. I keep remembering something she said about hoping her real family had some theatrical blood in it.

Never in her wildest dreams could she have hoped to be related to the father of the West End. She would have been so thrilled, and yet it’s the very reason she’s dead.’

‘Aubrey set up a trust fund for her from the profits of Richard of Bordeaux, you know.’

‘That makes sense. Lydia said he’d given money to a charity to help families who’d suffered losses in the war. Fu

‘Yes. In this case, the charity really did begin at home. Elspeth would have come into the money next month when she turned eighteen – and he pla

‘I can understand that. It’s so hard for anyone on the outside to know how families work, but Elspeth didn’t strike me as a girl who’d forget love. There’s no doubt she would have embraced a co

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‘That’s all very well, but are you honestly telling me that if you were in her position you’d rather not be told the truth?’

There was an urgency in his words and Josephine understood that he was asking two questions, only one of which was about Alice Simmons. She thought before answering, realising what was at stake, and said eventually, ‘You’re right, of course. I would have wanted to know – when the time was right. But I’d rather not have had to wait until one of us was on our deathbed.’ Archie had walked over to the window now, and she had no way of knowing if he realised the significance of what she was saying. When he did not speak, she continued, but on safer ground. ‘I wonder what happened to Elspeth’s real mother? Or how much she knew about what happened to Arthur?’

He turned round, and she was sad to see how relieved he seemed to pull back from the conversation he had tentatively begun. ‘I don’t know. Alice Simmons thinks Vintner was capable of finding a way to dispose of her, and she could well be right. I was hoping you might be able to help me there. Did you learn anything about Vintner’s background during the trial? Anything that might help us link what we know about Arthur’s death with the current murders?’

‘Well, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to be impartial about him, but I remember being surprised by how arrogant and manipulative he was. I know hindsight’s a wonderful thing but I can easily see now that he would be capable of murder, and confident of getting away with it. At the time, though, what struck me was how at odds his personality was with the sensibility of his book. It seemed extraordinary that someone so narcissistic – and now, as it turns out, so evil – could have written a novel with such compassion and insight.’ She thought about what Marta had said on the subject, and added, ‘His later books were much more in character – very masculine, almost to the point of misogyny. But The White Heartshowed a real understanding of women. He painted the historical relationship between Richard and A