Verbatim

by Andrew Hill

  However, Grant had something on his mind and was now ready to ask Carol, “I have some holiday time to come from work. Let’s go away together for a couple of weeks, what do you say?”

  Carol was taken aback slightly but underneath was happy that Grant had made the suggestion; it felt as though her life was now fully back on track.

  “Yes let’s,” replied Carol, “did you have anywhere in mind?”

  Grant said that it had been many years since he had last been to Paris and he would like to go there again especially as the last time he went alone. He said, “Going on holiday with someone else is so much better than going on your own and hoping that you’ll meet the love of your life, which never happens, it certainly did not happen to me. I met the love of my life on this bench.”

  They kissed.

  But what of Josh? He would be calling her at around 6pm you can virtually set your watch by it. Carol decided after giving it a great deal of thought that it would be better not to make mention of a holiday for the time being.

  A short time later the couple made their way back to Carol’s place and enjoyed a light tea after having had a heavy Sunday lunch earlier.

  Six o’clock approached and sure enough at almost exactly that time the telephone rang. Grant said, “I bet I can guess who that is.”

  “I’ll go upstairs and take it there,” said Carol, and with that she rose from the settee and went to her writing room leaving Grant alone in the lounge. He looked over at the sideboard which he had done on many occasions before but hadn’t noticed that the photograph of Carol and Rob had returned and was sitting alongside the one of himself and Carol. Grant came over in a cold sweat, he didn’t understand why but he knew it was something to do with Rob. By the time Carol had returned from her phone call with Josh, Grant had recovered and did not think it prudent to mention any of this to Carol.

  * * *

  Ten days later Josh arrived unexpectedly at Didcot Road for a flying visit to his mother as his French horn career had taken him to Oxford for an audition for principal French horn in an orchestra consisting mainly of part-time players but with professional soloists. He strode up the garden path and pushed the doorbell. He was aware of nothing unusual but there was no reply, he pushed it again there was still no reply. This was a minor annoyance but it didn’t overly concern him as his mother did not keep normal working hours he just assumed she was out especially as her car was not in the driveway. On a sudden impulse and for no obvious reason Josh looked through the small window at the side of the garage and saw the car was there. He thought that was strange she doesn’t usually put the car way in the garage unless she’s going away for some time. Josh looked around the house, there could be little doubt that she wasn’t there and there was nothing Josh could do about that, after all she’s a grown woman and perfectly entitled to go where she likes when she likes. Josh was not happy and wondered what to.

  A thought came to him, he drove round to Grant’s apartment block and parked his car where it shouldn’t be parked but he wasn’t concerned with that sort of thing. Josh pushed the doorbell for Grant’s apartment but there was no reply he pushed it several times and there was still no reply. An elderly man appeared inside the lobby, he must have been getting on for eighty years, rather frail and walked with the aid of a stick, he opened the door from the inside. As the old man left Josh entered and the old man said nothing but as Josh passed him through the doorway this elderly citizen looked back at him as if he was going to say something but thought better of it. Perhaps he should have said something but maybe he feared if he opened his mouth he would have abuse hurled at him, though it is unlikely that Josh would have behaved in that way you can’t really blame the old man for not challenging people in public these days, if you’re elderly it can be quite a dangerous thing to do. However, Josh had made it into the apartment block, walked up the stairs to Grant’s apartment and pushed the doorbell, as expected there was no reply. Unlike his mother’s house there are no windows to look through but it didn’t seem likely that his mother would have been there and that they would both have ignored the doorbell so he turned and left.

  Once out of the building he looked around the car park and saw that Grant’s car was parked in its usual place. Josh thought for a moment then realised that it was a weekday and not a Thursday so Grant could well be at work and doubted that he did go to work in his car because the department store was a comparatively short walk away.

  “So where is my mother?”

  It’s fortunate for Josh that he had already finished his audition before going to visit his mother as now he was in no frame of mind to start playing to impress people with his prowess on the French horn. Josh knew only too well you do a bad audition then your prospective employer will consider you a bad player for all time. He decides on a course of action and promptly drives to Grant’s place of work to see if he can find him, if he sees Grant at work then he’ll know that his mother isn’t with him.

  “Surely,” he thought, “she hasn’t moved in with him. If they had moved in together he would have moved into Didcot Road in which case Grant’s car would have been in the drive.”

  He drove around to the side street at the back of the store but had second thoughts about speaking to him, all he wanted to know was whether or not Grant was at work. He pulled up and parked the car where he could see the comings and goings through the rear entrance of the department store. Unlike his mother when she was doing precisely the same thing Josh was not concerned about anyone getting suspicious he just sat there behind the wheel of his car and waited. He also knew through hearing what Grant and his mother had said there are only two delivery vans, neither of them were parked in the yard so Josh concluded the obvious and his plan was to wait for them to arrive back and see whether Grant was driving either of them. He didn’t have long to wait for the first van which was being driven by a woman who was plainly, of course, not Grant. Twenty-five minutes passed, the second van arrived it was also not driven by Grant.

  Josh had figured that if Grant was not at work and his mother had left Oxford they may have gone away together. But where and for how long? He sat despondently behind the wheel of his car contemplating what to do next. The answer was obvious and he drove back to his mother’s house to see if there had been any change in the situation there but when he arrived everything was as it had been when he’d left except that the front lounge light was now switched on. Josh knew it was on a timer and that his mother would have left it on to give burglars the impression that someone was at home, nevertheless he thought it sensible to double check but there was no evidence that his mother had returned. Josh reached for his mobile phone but to his dismay the battery was flat and his car didn’t have a charger. Under the circumstances he thought there was only one thing to do and that was to return home to Ealing.

  * * *

  Susan was at home and forever getting larger but still not as large as you might think. She soon began to realise that something was disturbing Josh and asked, “What’s the matter, there’s been something on your mind ever since you arrived back?”

  Josh told Susan about the events of the day.

  “It doesn’t necessarily follow that they’ve gone away together. Your mother would have told you if they had planned such a thing.”

  “She doesn’t know how I would react, so maybe she decided not to tell me.”

  Susan did what she could to allay Josh’s worst fears but this only had a partial effect; Josh was not quite himself for the rest of the evening.

  The next morning came and Susan was first up, which was not unusual, Josh had a lesson to give at 11am but there was plenty of time for that. As Susan descended the stairs she could see what appeared to be a postcard which had been delivered earlier. She picked it up and saw a picture of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris on one side, she turned it over and there was the unmistakable handwriting of Josh’s mother. It was now abund
antly clear that she and Grant were holidaying there. This was worrying for Susan, not because she had any suspicions or concerns about Grant and his relationship with Josh’s mother but because of how Josh would take it when he saw the card. It was with some degree of trepidation that she went back upstairs to her partner. He read the card saying nothing. It was clear that he was disheartened.

  Ten o’clock arrived and Josh was still in bed. Susan came up to remind him of his eleven o’clock lesson with a young pupil. Josh took the hint and slowly got himself out of bed without being communicative.

  “This is getting ridiculous,” said Susan, “I know you don’t like him he’s too smarmy by half. If it’s any consolation I agree with you. If your mother wants to find a partner I’m sure she could do better than him. But there’s no need for you to take on like this, it’s her life and she’s entitled to lead it the way she wishes and if that involves a man you don’t like you won’t be the first child to have an unwanted stepfather.”

  Josh had not told Susan that he had been to see Jim Salter and considered telling her now but he didn’t, thinking it was a little too soon. He realised he was perhaps over reacting and if Susan discovered he’d hired a private eye then she might think he’d gone too far, he thought better of it.

  By ten minutes to eleven Josh was ready for his pupil, a fourteen-year-old girl who Josh had been instructing for just under a year, she was quite talented but Josh didn’t really think she could ever be a professional horn player. Let us not forget Josh had doubts about his own ability when he was more or less her age. Josh managed to hide his feelings throughout the lesson and it is unlikely Kylie would have noticed there was anything wrong.

  6

  If you’ve never been to Paris and you’ve never seen the Eiffel tower in real life then you have little understanding of the sheer scale of the thing, it is one of the most spectacular buildings, or should I say constructions, in the world, photographs and movies simply don’t do it justice. Frankly, when I was there the queue for the lifts to the top was so long I decided to remain at the bottom but it was really only an excuse, going all the way up to the top was more than my vertigo would allow. Just as it had been for Carol on her only previous visit to the French capital. But that was a long time ago, before she’d even met Rob and she was on her own and lacked the courage to go to the top. Today the task didn’t seem any less daunting than all of those years ago, however, today she was not alone but with the new man in her life, the man she knew as Gordon Grant who didn’t seem in the least bit concerned about the height. Carol stood quite nervously in the queue half hoping that Grant would suggest that they do something else instead but he didn’t and just waited there as the queue grew ever smaller. It was a long time but they stuck it out and soon found themselves as high up as you are allowed to go. It was a clear, reasonably sunny day and it was the most remarkable view that either of them had ever witnessed. Who knows how far you can see, many websites put it at around forty-two miles so long as you confine your vision or to the surface of the Earth excluding such trick answers as the sun.

  In the few days they had been in Paris the couple had seen a fair number of the tourist attractions but were saving the best until last. And the best, at least as far as Carol was concerned, is one of the finest art galleries in the world, the Louvre. For the time being, however, they enjoyed the view from the top of the Eiffel tower or at least Grant was, Carol was still a little nervous and if truth be known would be quite happy to be back at the bottom looking up. Grant would have preferred to have stayed out there a while longer but Carol persuaded him that it was time to make the return journey.

  That evening the two, dressed in their best togs, made their way to the Opera National de Paris I’m sure no translation is necessary even if your French is as bad as mine. On offer that evening was Tosca, one of Puccini’s finest operas ending with a spectacular fall to her death as the eponymous heroine leaps from the ramparts. Someone once said opera is best heard in a language you don’t understand, that was certainly true of tonight’s performance which was in Italian, which neither Grant nor Carol could speak.

  After the opera the two walked back to their hotel which took about fifteen minutes. It was a little late in the year so it wasn’t an especially warm night but it wasn’t cold either and the two made their way through the departing crowd talking as they walked. They spoke about the opera and about the surtitles being in French which was logical enough for the Paris Opera House but was of little help to either of them. Carol expressed her view that opera, when it is extremely well done, is the best of all the performing arts. The conversation stopped for a few moments then Grant completely changed the subject and sent it in a very different direction.

  “Josh doesn’t like me does he?”

  “What on Earth has made you say that?” Was Carol’s response.

  “He plainly doesn’t.”

  “He’s afraid of losing me, he’d be the same to any man he thought might be trying to take me away from him.” said Carol.

  “You may be right,” said Grant, “but sometimes it seems to me as though it’s more than just what you’re saying.”

  “What do you mean ‘more’?”

  “He seems to have something against me but I can’t think what it is.”

  “It’s probably just a bit of a personality clash. He is less outgoing than you; he perhaps feels that you dominate things when you’re around.”

  “I’m an extrovert and he’s an introvert then.”

  “Did we come to Paris just to talk about Josh?”

  Grant, it seemed, took the hint and the subject was dropped. A few minutes later Carol and Grant were in the lift being taken to their third-floor hotel room.

  The hotel was hardly one of the most expensive in Paris but there was no point in being extravagant, it was central, in a quiet corner, well kept and most of the staff could speak English more or less perfectly. The couple were soon in their room where there was a double bed.

  * * *

  Grant, dressed as a young woman, is sitting behind the wheel of a car which he has stolen. Rob comes across the street and we know what happens next.

  It was now three in the morning, Grant woke and sat bolt upright in the bed in a sweat. This did not disturb Carol who appeared to be in a deep sleep. Grant lay back for a short while looking disturbed. It was that dream again, the nightmare in which he kills a man who bears a striking resemblance to Rob. Grant could not return to sleep and so he wandered around the room. His eyes capture his own image in the bathroom mirror he looked at himself and asked, “Why do I keep having this dream?” He accidentally kicked the leg of a chair and curses. Carol, who had not been in quite such a deep sleep as may have seemed, was awakened by the noise and looked over towards Grant, “What’s the matter, what time is it?”

  “Nothing, I just can’t sleep that’s all.”

  Carol suspected nothing and was soon asleep again. She woke at around seven thirty in the morning and noticed that Grant was not lying next to her. She thought nothing of this but after a minute or two realised that he wasn’t in their suite. Carol wasn’t worried about this and just got herself ready for the day thinking that Grant will return and very soon but by the time she was ready for breakfast there was still no sign of him, now she began to be a little concerned. There was the simple enough remedy of picking up her mobile phone and selecting his name from the list; the phone rang in the room, she looked around and there was Grant’s mobile on the dressing table. Wondering if he’d gone down to breakfast, Carol decided that’s what she would do. However, a quick look around the dining room failed to reveal him. Carol figured he must have left the hotel so she made her way to the lobby, found an armchair and sat there waiting for him to come back. It was rather a beautiful lobby built around a hundred years earlier and kept in immaculate condition but Carol was in no mood to appreciate the architecture or the paintings that hung
on the wall and sat there anxiously wondering how long to give him before she did something about it but what could she do? She convinced herself that he had merely gone out for an early morning walk and that he would be back soon and sure enough she didn’t have to wait very long, after just a few minutes and, much to Carol’s relief, Grant appeared at the front entrance and came into the lobby. He didn’t seem to notice Carol sitting there. She called out to him he turned and, looking a little perturbed, walked over to her and sat in the adjacent chair.

  “Where have you been?”

  Grant explained, just as Carol had thought, that he had not slept very well and woken early so he decided to go out for a walk. All this was, of course, perfectly true but Grant failed to tell Carol the reason for his inability to sleep which was as you will have guessed the result of his nightmare. It was clear to Carol that Grant was at the very least out of sorts, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  This was the subconscious cue for Grant to forget all about the dream and return to his more usual state of mind. He smiled, “I’m perfectly all right. Have you had breakfast yet, I haven’t, they hadn’t even started when I got up, and I’m famished.”

  This was now the subconscious cue for Carol to become herself again, they both lifted themselves from of their respective chairs and made their way to the dining room. Carol sat down to a light so-called continental breakfast while Grant grumbled under his breath because a full English breakfast was not available.

  “I’ve noticed,” said Carol, “you frequently don’t sleep well.”