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He gave me a flat smile and lengthened his strides, only to stop at the base of the front steps of the clubhouse. The major’s assistant was coming down them, carrying a clipboard, and Harry asked if we could go inside and speak to Major Leavey.
“I’m sorry, he left,” Watkins said.
“When will he return?”
“He didn’t say. You could try again tomorrow. He’ll be busy, it being Saturday, but he should be able to spare a few minutes. That’s if he doesn’t throw you out again.”
Harry touched the brim of his hat in thanks and watched as Watkins passed us and walked off towards the lake and ground staff working there. “I suppose there’s nothing more to do here now.”
“We should plan our next course of action,” I said.
“Why not come to my office after your picnic and we can talk at length then?”
“I’ll have to get ready for a dinner party after the picnic. Harmony hates it when I don’t give her enough time to do my hair. We can talk on our way home now.”
“Right. Of course.” He spoke stiffly. His shoulders were rigid too, and he stared straight ahead as we walked towards the gates.
“Is it really the case you want to discuss, Harry, or is it our earlier argument?”
For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he suddenly turned to me. “I want to clear the air between us.”
“It’s clear.”
“It’s not. You’re still cross with me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to. I can tell.”
He was intuitive, I’d give him that. “If anyone is still cross, it’s you, Harry. Look at you. You’re wound up tighter than a spinning top.”
“That’s not because I’m cross. It’s because—” He cut himself off with a shake of his head. “Never mind. We’ll talk again tomorrow. About the case.”
“I have to go on a picnic in the countryside tomorrow. I’ll try to see you before we leave. Or we can talk now.”
We didn’t talk. Not then and not on the drive back to the hotel, which felt interminably long. I wished the ice hadn’t thickened between us, but it had, and I had no idea how to thaw it. The longer our silence stretched, the more worried I became that our easy friendship might never return, and the more I worried, the heavier the silence became.
It was a relief when we parted.
I was usedto Frank not smiling at me when he opened the front door of the hotel, but his complete silence was new. He didn’t even respond when I greeted him. I passed through the doorway into the foyer, but waited by one of the large vases and watched. He didn’t smile or speak to anyone who came or went from the hotel. It was one thing to ignore me, someone he thought of as an equal with my humble upbringing, but it was quite another for him to ignore the guests.
I rejoined him outside. “Is something the matter, Frank?”
“You could say that, Miss Fox.”
I waited but he didn’t go on. “What is it? Is it Cobbit’s plight? Are you worried about him?”
“I am worried, yes, but that’s not why I’m doing a go-slow.”
“Go-slow?” I watched as he reached for the door to open it for a couple entering the hotel. “Your pace seems the same to me.”
“It’s a figure of speech. It means I’m doing the minimum I’m employed to do, no more. When a factory worker protests, they can work slowly and limit production. I can’t do that, so I had to think of another way to get my point across to the Bainbridges. So I’ve stopped greeting folk and am merely opening the door for them.”
“I see. Do you think your go-slow will have the desired effect?”
“We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”
“Has my uncle said anything to you? Given you a warning, or asked why you’re doing it?”
