George Sims - The Last Best Friend

Originally published in 1967 by Gollancz

Copyright 2017 Estate of George Sims

Introduction copyright 2017 Martin Edwards

Published by Poisoned Pen Press in association with the British Library

First E-book Edition 2017

ISBN: 9781464209017 ebook

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

The historical characters and events portrayed in this book are inventions of the author or used fictitiously.

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Sam Weiss? Mrs Alec Connolly repeated the name thoughtfully but her mind was taken up with other things: she was looking down from the window into Orme Square, idly wondering what the significance of the eagle on the pillar at the front of the square could be, and whether she had asked Barbara about this before; she was also trying to remember who had said I spend my life escaping boredom and if he had left a recipe. While Barbara was in her present impassive, stultifying mood she did not wish to stay, yet there was nothing else she really wanted to do, and there must be six or seven hours to bedtime. She looked surreptitiously at her watch.

Yes, you know him. There was a tone of impatience in Barbara Balfours voice. Little man, about five foot six, slight foreign accent, nice kind brown eyes. You met him here. I can remember you two talked about Viennathe Leopoldstadt area where he lived before the war.

Of course. I do indeed remember him. We share an enthusiasm for Schnbrunn. But what about him?

I said he was dead.

Really?

Its in here. Barbara Balfour handed Ruth Connolly a copy of the Evening Standard folded in half, pointing to a small paragraph on page ten:

MANS DEATH-DIVE FROM 10TH FLOOR

A laundry-man fainted on discovering a death-plunge victim at Bowdon Court, Paddington. The man was later identified as Samuel Weiss, a London jeweller

How awful! Could it be suicide or was it an accident?

No idea. Its just bewildering. I knew about it before I read the papers because the police contacted Neds office. It seems that Sam had one of Neds letterheadings in his pocket with the Corsica address scribbled on it. So the police went round and saw Miss Bowyer, Neds assistant, and she phoned me. I cabled the sad news to Ned and now hes on his way back.

So hes giving up the rest of his holiday then?

Seems like it. He phoned this morning to say he was booked on a flight reaching London early this afternoon. Its a perfect mystery as Sammy suffered terribly from vertigo. I mean if it was suicide why choose to do it like that? And you couldnt know anyone less neurotic than Sammy.

How very sad. Ruth moved to the window again, looking across to Kensington Gardens, at once puzzled that she felt so little and anxious that the subject should be changed. It was a shock to hear of Mr Weisss death but she did not want to go on discussing it or brooding on the subject; it was the second death she had heard of in one day and while this one, being an accident, did not really count, it seemed that her generation was now reaching the depressing stage when news of heart attacks and inoperable cancers became fairly frequent. On the other hand time passed by without anything really interesting or exciting developing; she would have to strain her memory to recall any moments of intense pleasure in the past few months; she spent her life waiting for something that never happened. She wanted quite desperately to enjoy herself today. With Barbara generally apathetic and now this depressing accident, the prospect at Orme Square was gloomy indeed. She looked down with a tiny jolt of pleasure at the blackish-green python shoes which had been such a find at Pinetsthey went perfectly with her very light, subtly touched with white, stockings and the new Molyneux dark green silk suitit really was a rather attractive outfit but it had not aroused any comment from Barbara who would probably only come to life when Toby returned from his tea-party. She thought suddenly, with sharp annoyance, of Alec: no doubt he was enjoying himself all right in San Franciscohe was never bored and perhaps his most irritating habit was flaunting this. Oh God, she thought, you made some of the days too long.

Wheres Tobys party, or did you say?

Hes playing with the Fielding children. Helga took him but I promised to go at about six and collect. We had, by the way, a delightful little holiday in the Scillies. A real Tiny Tots holiday.

How do you mean?

Oh, the plane we went in was a biplane, a Dragon Rapide made in 1935, with only six seats for passengers. You felt you could wave to people on the way as it never went out of sight of land. And Toby had a bucket and spade and played in little pools with shrimps and minute green crabs. You see Neds always dictated holidays before, and Calvi and Praiano arent really suitable for toddlers.

Surveying the stream of traffic in the Bayswater Road, Ruth had noticed a taxi pull up by the green gates to the park and a recognizable figure emerge. Speaking of Ned, she said, there is a certain would-be Peter Pan figure making his way over here now. Light shining on thinning hair but still a rather bouncy step. Theres something about that slightly aggressive gait that reminds me irresistibly of the character, Georgie something or other, in The Magnificent Ambersons of whom they all correctly prophesied that he would one day get his come-uppance.

Dont be mean, Barbara replied, Neds probably had his in the last twenty-four hours. Sammys death will have shaken him very much I know. He was his best friend

Dont be mean , Ruth repeated incredulously. Really you are an extraordinary girl. After the way he carried on with that silly little piece, and leaving you. I suppose if he says hes feeling down now, youll say well O.K., move back here then.

Barbara said nothing and they waited in silence for Balfour to appear. After a few minutes Ruths face was set in a faintly mischievous smile. Perhaps, she said slowly, perhaps hes staying down there trying to get Helga to sympathize about his come-uppance.

She had barely finished this sentence when Balfour opened the door with an unhappy grin and said hallo in a toneless voice, greeting them both with an offhand wave and slumping down heavily in the rather worn red leather armchair which looked out of place in the otherwise elegant drawing-room. He sighed deeply and rubbed his face as if to get some expression into it. He looked tired in spite of his sun-tan. His light-weight grey suit was creased and his shoes were dusty. He had shaved badly and cut himself by the cleft in his chin.

Sorry, he said vaguely, gesturing with both hands at once as if he might be apologizing for being there, or his appearance, or recent events. I feel rather beat, as if Id been pummelled. You know, when I got your cable I reacted just like a machine being set in motion. Automatically I concentrated on packing up and getting back. Then, in Orly, among all those bloody show-cases, it suddenly hit me. A ghastly sense of anti-climax. What the hell am I doing here I thought? Whats the rush? Id been tearing back as if Sam was desperately ill, as if I could do some good. He sighed deeply again. Have you heard anything abouthow it happened?

Only this, Barbara replied, showing him the paper. I said in my cable Id be writing, but all I really know so far is that the police found one of your letterheadings on him and contacted Patricia. She phoned me just to say what had happened, but she knew nothing more.