‘Will you excuse me for a moment?’ Joe asked, hardly aware of her presence, his face suddenly strained. He took out a sheet of typed writing paper with a very flamboyant heading and read. He read it again.
He looked at Lily. ‘Won’t you sit down? You’ll excuse me if I do. Rather weakening news at the end of a long and tiring day. As this affects you, I’ll summarize the rather surprising contents. It’s from the Home Secretary. He refuses to accept my resignation, which he considers precipitate and unjustified. Ah! Tomorrow’s papers, he assures me, will sport letters to the editors from various highly placed gents, among them a field marshal, the First Sea Lord, members of Parliament and ministers for Ireland, making it clear that they take personal responsibility for requesting the withdrawal of police protection. No blame can possibly attach to any public servant.’ Joe gave her an evil grin and added: ‘I should guess he includes himself in that category. We’re in the clear, Wentworth. Blue Train to the Riviera postponed. You’ll have to put off seeing those palm trees for a bit longer.’
His rush of boyish good humour provoked an answering smile. ‘I’m glad justice has been done, sir,’ she said. ‘Any other outcome would have been a hideous shame. And I congratulate you on having such powerful allies. From what I’ve seen of the task you have ahead of you, you’re going to need them all. I wish you luck with it.’
Joe detected a farewell-and-thanks-for-the-ride flavour to her speech. ‘What’s this? I don’t much care for your tone, Wentworth. What are you trying to say?’
‘Earlier in the day I offered you my resignation from the force. I meant it then and the day I’ve just been through has served to reinforce my decision. I don’t care to go to war, sir. I’ve had enough of bullets and bandages, male mischief-making and female grief. I’m leaving and here’s my letter of resignation.’ She produced it from her pocket.
He was irritated. ‘Don’t be rash. What on earth will a bright girl like you do in the world? Do you have other employment in mind? Jobs are scarce, you know. Ah! Hopkirk scared you off, has he? I ought to tell you — he scares everyone.’
‘Not at all. I’m going to sell hats, sir.’
‘What? Hats? Sell them? Did I hear you correctly?’
‘You did. My aunt Phyllis has a millinery business in Bruton Street. I’m going to work for her. When women try on a hat, they smile at themselves in the mirror. I like to see that. I’m going to take up a position that lets me put a smile on women’s faces instead of a grimace of pain.’
‘Anyone can say “Modom looks wonderful in that”. It takes a special kind of girl to tell a mother her son’s a murderer and he’s about to hang for his crime,’ Joe said quietly.