Gently with the Ladies (Inspector George Gently 13)

made. She had a firm, unconscious femininity.
    ‘Of course, you’ll have talked to Siggy about us, and no doubt he gave us some pretty names. You’d rather expect that, wouldn’t you? The poor creature was living out of his century. But you’ve come to me now – correct me if I’m wrong – to hear the other side of the picture, and I’m perfectly willing to give it to you. You seem a man of intelligence.’
    ‘Thank you. There were other questions—’
    ‘Oh, let’s put our cards on the table! I’m an invert, and so was she, and we were neither proud nor ashamed of it. Quite simply, we are the New Women.’
    ‘New . . . ?’
    ‘Speaking biologically. We are the vanward of the trend towards a more successful racial pattern. In this the males will decline, probably in numbers as well as status, and with them will decline the factor of social instability. This is a perfectly logical trend, following the law of natural selection. By means of diminished heterosexuality, the race proceeds to greater stability. And in that sense you must term women like us the New Women.’
    ‘And male inverts the New Men?’
    ‘Why not? They are part of the same pattern. They are diminishing heterosexuality, and so assisting the trend.’
    ‘So that, eventually, in a society which is predominantly female, heterosexuality will be an inversion, and present inversion the norm?’
    She shook her head. ‘Don’t you see that then there can be no inversion – that heterosexuality will become simply the transmission of seed? On the one hand you will have love, a physico-spiritual expression, and on the other insemination. There is nothing left to call inversion.’
    ‘Is there anything left to call love?’
    ‘Now you’re beginning to slip a century.’
    Gently’s shoulders twitched. ‘What’s a century,’ he asked, ‘to the law of natural selection? Did Mrs Fazakerly hold this theory?’
    ‘Yes. If you can think of no better term.’
    ‘And it involved her in whips and cords?’
    ‘My God,’ she said. ‘You sound like Siggy.’

     
    There was a tap at the door and Albertine entered with a tea-tray. It was a Georgian tray with a shell-pattern border and carried a silver tea-service of the same period. Mrs Bannister rose and fetched a small table and placed it by the settee. Albertine set the tea-tray on the table. Mrs Bannister dismissed her in French.
    ‘Was she here on Monday?’ Gently asked.
    ‘No. We give the servants Monday off.’
    ‘You were alone?’
    ‘I was alone. Do you take milk, Superintendent?’
    She handed Gently his tea. It was in a fluted cup which doubtless bore a mark of crossed swords, along with a silver spoon with a rat-tailed bowl and trellisengraving on the shank. The tea was slightly aromatic. Mrs Bannister drank it with a squeeze of lemon. While she drank she watched Gently, her large eyes tight with aggression. Finally she took a cigarette from a vanity bag lying on the settee and lit it with a tiny wax match, and breathed smoke once or twice.
    ‘No doubt I over-estimate you,’ she said. ‘After all, you’re still a policeman. You’ll have the moral attitudes of a policeman. You wouldn’t dare not to have, would you? For you, sex is fundamentally distasteful, and you wish the Almighty had ordered it otherwise. But since he hasn’t, then it’s your duty to keep the lid on the sewer. Your point of view is a little blasphemous, but the Almighty must shoulder some blame for that.’
    She flicked her cigarette waspishly.
    ‘May I smoke my pipe?’ Gently asked.
    ‘Please do. I shall have the room squished after you’ve gone in any case.’
    ‘What did you talk about at lunch on Monday?’
    ‘Is it any of your business?’
    ‘You told my colleague the deceased was in good spirits. Yet she was quarrelling bitterly a short time afterwards.’
    Mrs Bannister closed her eyes. ‘Couldn’t you have used some other word?’ she said. ‘Deceased: just a word in a report. It’s so pitifully inadequate.’
    ‘Did she mention her husband and this woman?’
    ‘She didn’t mention her husband at all. He wasn’t a topic of conversation. We were discussing autumn fashions.’
    ‘Nothing else?’
    ‘Our evening arrangements.’
    ‘Her husband’s affair wasn’t even hinted at?’
    ‘Not even a hint. I can tell you quite certainly that nothing was further from her mind. She burst in, as she always did, full of fun and high spirits. She brought some sketches from Waring with