It was a new and transformed Harold Williams who greeted him next day after getting back from the office, seemingly remarkably unaffected following the shock of his wife’s unexpected death. Gone was his previous servile manner and in its place a more assertive version, as if he’d just begun to realise his new position.
‘Ah there you are, Bruce, isn’t it? Come in. I understand you’re staying tonight, to look after us. Good man. Rose will see to your things. Rose,’ he called out, ‘Mr Bruce is here. Show him up to our guest bedroom and help him unpack.’
Barely lowering his voice, he announced grandly, ‘I’m afraid we’ve got that sergeant of Platt’s landed on us for the time being. Don’t much approve of it myself – not good for my image, in my position.’ He puffed out his chest. ‘Things will
