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Back The Dazzle of the Light Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. Praise for Georgina Clarke
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. Historical Note
  52. Acknowledgements
  53. Also by Georgina Clarke
  54. About the Author
  55. Copyright

She can taste the blood in her mouth. Surely a bone in her face is broken. At least one.

She says nothing as she picks up her handbag. Maggs, troubled, steps aside to let her leave.

Ruby shoves the half a dozen leeks off the table and walks out as best she can, staggering only a little, her wounded head high. The men at the bar part, contempt on their faces, to let her pass. Even without turning back to see, she knows that Grace will be on her hands and knees, gathering up the vegetables.

23

23

Friday evening, later

Harriet has never found Arthur MacKenzie an easy man to converse with. He is not as old as her father, but nevertheless speaks to her in paternal tones, explaining everything as if he imagines her barely out of the schoolroom. It irritates her. Most especially when she is required to be polite over the dinner table.

This is a simple dinner – although the cook has found turbot from heaven knows where – and the couples are familiar enough with one another. Gerald, at the head of the table, directs the conversation and the evening passes as such affairs always do. He talks politics, mostly, because that is the world he inhabits. He proffers the insights of a man who devours the Times through the morning, lunches with politicians and other men of influence most days and sits in his club almost every afternoon. His thoughts are the thoughts of every sensible man in England – at least, they are the thoughts of those he believes ought to be running the country. He waxes about the potential for the economy, the need to cut public spending to pay off the war debt and ways to ensure employment. He voices bellicose opinions about Germany, Russia, the trade unions, radicals and anyone else who might ‘upset the natural order’, by which he means his own comfortable place in it.

Inspector MacKenzie, who spends his days enforcing the laws that Ralph and her father’s associates are making, agrees with almost all of Gerald’s opinions. When the conversation turns to law and lawlessness – another of Gerald’s favourite topics – he adds the earthier stories, the real-life examples that support the abstract theory. For every concern Gerald expresses about the increase in criminality, MacKenzie can supply the anecdote, the description, the name, even, of the pickpocket, burglar or beggar that best exemplifies it. His fingers clench when he talks of them, his whole hand bulging with power and fury, as if he would rather be landing his fist into someone’s face at the dog track than sitting buttoned up in an evening suit, contained by politeness, at this Kensington dining table. His own face is currently carrying a bruise, just around his left eyebrow, suggesting he might have been caught up in the sort of violent affray that he claims the gangs engage in.