Murder by the Book by Eric Brown Page B

after arranging the details of their expedition to Sussex, Maria looked at her wristwatch and excused herself. She had an errand to run for her father, she said, and was meeting him for dinner later that evening.
    Langham saw her to the door and watched her hurry down the stairs.
    Charles sighed. ‘Now, my dear boy, I demand you join me in a drink! And I will not take no for an answer.’
    Langham accepted a shot of whisky and sat back on the settee.
    Charles narrowed the folds of flesh around his piercing blue eyes and squinted at Langham. ‘It is only when one finds oneself in extremis , shall we say, that one learns the true nature of not only oneself, but also of those around one. You are proving a true ally, Donald.’
    Langham smiled and sipped his whisky. ‘It’s the least I could do.’
    â€˜But may I ask, my dear boy, why are you going to such lengths? I have friends of long standing who would throw their hands in the air, run a mile, and let me stew in the juices of my own making.’
    Langham thought about it. ‘You’re a friend, Charles, and what’s happening here is appalling. It’s bad enough that some twisted hypocrite is threatening you like this. But what truly angers me is the system that allows him to do so.’
    Charles detonated a derisive laugh. ‘The system! But such has always been the case, and when will it change? And before you spout that we need a change of government, let me say that the problem goes much deeper than the prejudices of those in power. There will be no change until the people of this benighted land see me and my kind as fellow human beings, not some minority to be mocked and derided. Mark my word, there will be no change before the end of the century!’
    Langham gestured with his glass. ‘I think it’ll come sooner than that.’
    Charles sighed. ‘I am fifty-five this year, Donald, as old as the century, and I have been waiting most of my adult life for the decriminalization of homosexuality … I doubt it will happen in my lifetime.’ His face took on a wistful aspect. ‘I’ve had a good life, Donald. Winchester was bliss, and Oxford a happy continuation. Odd to say, but it didn’t occur to me then that I was in a minority. Good Lord, we were all at it! What hedonistic times those were, after the war and into the twenties.’ He finished his drink with one swallow and poured himself another. ‘It was only later, when I came down from Oxford and dipped my toes in the muddy waters of publishing that I first encountered the prejudiced and petty-minded piranhas, if you will allow me the somewhat far-fetched piscine metaphor.’
    Langham smiled, sank into the cushions and gestured that such oratory was eminently permissible. When Charles was in full flow, his mellifluous eloquence was more than a little entertaining.
    â€˜I learned to pull in my horns, ahem, as it were, and practise circumspection. In the circles in which I swam, my secret was open. I surrounded myself, and still do, with those of like mind and similar persuasion, writers and actors who, if not actually active , then are open-minded enough to accept me and my kind.’
    â€˜And then something like this happens.’
    â€˜I have found reserves of strength within me enough to withstand whatever slings and arrows are cast my way.’ He looked sheepish. ‘Even if I was in a bit of a flap earlier.’
    Langham laughed. ‘That’s the spirit.’ He finished his drink and glanced at his watch. ‘I must be off. I’ll call around here at eleven tomorrow and we’ll go through what we have to do.’ He regarded Charles. ‘You’ll be all right tonight?’
    â€˜I have a dinner engagement with friends at eight, dear boy. I shall be sparkling and eloquent … and I might even get a little squiffy.’
    Langham laughed and clapped Charles’s meaty shoulder. ‘You do that.