sights on somewhere more glamorous in the future.
Ella stood at a respectful distance and asked, ‘How are you feeling, ma’am?’
‘I am well.’ The Duchess’s eyes were red-rimmed and a vein stood out at her temple. ‘Please go, Ella. I know you mean well.’
‘I saw you, ma’am.’
Wallis frowned. ‘Where?’
‘At Sir Harry’s house. At Westbourne. The night I dropped in to collect funds for the Red Cross. He had a guest there already – Mr Morrell, the man who was stabbed – but I also saw you there.’
‘You are mistaken.’
Ella didn’t argue. ‘I thought maybe you could use a friend right now. Sir Harry’s death must have come as a blow.’
The Duchess sat down heavily on a silk-covered chaise longue. She placed a hand over her eyes, held it there for a moment, and when she took it away they were moist.
‘Don’t be too nice to me, Ella, or you’ll have me in tears.’
‘It might do you good.’
‘No, I can’t afford that.’
‘I hear they’ve arrested his son-in-law.’
‘Yes, poor Freddie. He must be terrified. Especially as the prosecution has secured the services of our best barrister, Sir Alfred Adderley, so Freddie is using Higgs to lead his defence team.’
‘Higgs is very good, ma’am.’
‘Good enough to get him off?’
Ella sat down in an armchair that gave her a sweeping view out over the roofs of Nassau to the wharf below, where two destroyers rode at anchor. ‘I hear talk of Harold Christie being involved that night.’
‘Ah yes, Sir Harry’s good friend.’ The Duchess gave a laugh that seemed to drain the sunlight from the room. ‘Christie had dinner at Westbourne with Sir Harry that evening and spent the night there in a room only two doors away from Sir Harry’s bedroom.’ Her voice was brittle. ‘Yet he heard nothing. Nothing all night.’
‘There was a bad storm,’ Ella pointed out. ‘The wind was howling.’
The Duchess gave a sharp shake of her head. ‘Don’t. Don’t defend him.’
‘I’m not defending him. But no one knows enough to decide who is guilty, and Sir Harry could be…’ she hesitated.
‘Difficult? Yes, of course he could.’ Wallis surprised Ella with a strong smile. ‘Of course he could. Harry Oakes had many enemies because he was a powerful man who spoke his mind and chose his own path, and people hated him for that. But he didn’t give a damn.’ Her eyes shone pale indigo as she repeated, ‘He didn’t give a damn.’
‘I know. But I came here to make sure you’re all right.’
‘Oh, Ella! How much exactly did you see at Westbourne,’ the Duchess asked briskly, ‘the night you came rattling your Red Cross tin?’
‘Nothing really.’ But Wallis’s fine eyebrow was raised in a quizzical arch and so she added with a shrug, ‘Enough.’
Ella had arrived at Westbourne in the evening. She’d decided to call in on the off-chance as she was driving past – to beg further funds for the Red Cross. It was for a project to purchase a couple of houses next to the hospital to provide a room for relatives of patients from the Out Islands.
There was no watchman on the gate. She’d parked and walked up the crescent-shaped drive to the house, but a light was on in one of the downstairs rooms which had French windows open on to the terrace. Ella hadn’t bothered with the front door and headed straight towards the French windows instead. But as she passed one of the other rooms her attention was drawn to it by a desk lamp inside. It gave enough light for her to make out two figures in the doorway. One was the familiar bulky outline of Sir Harry, and the other was a woman. Unmistakably the Duchess of Windsor.
He was kissing her. Touching her. His hand was gripping her tiny buttocks with a familiarity that spoke of habit. The figures drew apart and the Duchess moved away in one direction while Sir Harry turned in another. Ella started to withdraw silently back across the damp grass, but she caught the sound of Sir
David Sherman & Dan Cragg