‘Perhaps they’d raise my pay if I did some special undercover work. Work where I can use my brain, Phyl.’
Phyllis looked at her niece with pity and understanding. ‘Those upper-class bosses of yours expect you to keep your brains in your boots, love. They don’t expect a common or garden girl like you to think or reason, whatever learning she’s done. They’d say you were getting above yourself if you started to use all that matriculation stuff you’ve got in your head. Your mother isn’t often right but when she warned your father that it was asking for trouble getting you educated she might, for once in her life, have hit the nail on the head.’
‘Well, I’m going to surprise you, Phyl. I’ve had an offer — a serious offer, I think — of some plain-clothes detective work! This JS was, in fact, quite pleased to discover I could think for myself. Let me tell you why he’s really interested in me, shall I?’
Phyllis listened to Lily’s account in disapproving silence. ‘An unofficial boss? Can’t say I’d be happy with that arrangement. When you’re dealing with a man you should always agree terms and get things down on paper.’ Catching a quizzical glint in Lily’s eye she pursed her lips and admitted: ‘All right! I’m one to talk. The Awful Warning if your mother’s to be believed. Arrangements don’t come more informal than my own.’
Lily smiled and hurried to murmur: ‘I never know when it’s the right moment to ask but I’m always wondering, Phyl … the Slip-up? How’s he doing?’
Phyl grinned. ‘There are times even I’d rather not hear … but for the moment he’s doing well. Going up to university next term. Hardly seems possible, does it? Little Teddy at the London School of Economics? Doesn’t seem ten minutes since you were teaching him to count to five, love, with conkers in a jam jar. He was just asking about you before he set off for Florence. We’ll have a party when he gets back and you can check him over yourself. I’m more concerned about you at present.’
‘And next you’ll be telling me never to sign anything until you’ve taken a look at it.’
‘Good advice! Did I ever say that? Well, listen now to the voice of experience. I say again — this man’s after something. It’s all here,’ she said, tapping the card. ‘Choice of flower first. What do we read into that? Lilies for a Lily, eh? Bit bloomin’ obvious, isn’t it?’
‘Well, the lily’s my birthday flower — May. He’d have known that from the notes. And it signifies purity. But that I’m sure he would not have any information on!’
‘Loverish whimsy are we thinking? Can you be sure he chose them? We can’t assume that — not of a man with a secretary to do the domestic for him. Still, if she’s the supercilious cow you describe, you’d have ended up with a bunch of daisies from the back garden. I’m calculating he chose them to flatter and amuse. Now let’s read these runes. They look like runes. Black … chiselled … bossy. Mmm … I don’t much like what I’m seeing. These message cards are very small. Most men, in their excitement, run over and finish the message on the back, have you noticed?’