by James Runcie
‘My father keeps banging on about the D’Oliveira case; especially now the South African tour’s been cancelled. I wonder how much we are the products of our nation and whether we can escape the unpalatable past to become different people? Can one ever become something other than oneself? I know that this is the heart of the Christian message, that we shall all be changed, but isn’t there a part of us that remains immutable? I mean, take Ronnie. Even though he’s clearly married someone else, is he still Mrs Maguire’s husband? There’s been no divorce.’
‘And they were married in the sight of God?’
‘They were. But he has broken his vows.’
‘He’s the same man.’
‘But is he? That’s what I have to find out.’
‘And what of Mrs Maguire?’ Hildegard asked as she rolled her dough into balls for the dumplings. ‘What does she want? Why did she ask you to meet them both? You think it was to have a good look at him; but what if she also wanted you to look at her, to check that she wasn’t giving away too much too soon? Do you not think you might have been concentrating too much on the man rather than the woman?’
‘I think I can look at things through her eyes.’
‘But what about seeing her through your own?’ Hildegard was about to rest her hand on Sidney’s shoulder but stopped when she realised it would leave a floury mark on his cassock. ‘Perhaps I should go and see her instead of you? This may need a woman’s point of view.’
‘That’s not a bad idea . . .’
‘I haven’t been back to Grantchester for over a year. I could look in on Malcolm and congratulate him on his new job.’
‘He’d like that.’
‘I might even take Anna and Byron.’
‘Provided you don’t lose him again.’
‘He is familiar with the Meadows. I think we’ll be all right. And, who knows, Mrs Maguire might even tell me a little more than she has told you? Woman to woman.’
‘If you could, I’d be grateful.’
‘I will listen to her very carefully.’ Hildegard smiled. ‘But I promise not to be a better detective than you.’
‘It’s not a competition, my darling.’
‘Sidney, mein Lieber, I never said that it was.’
The following Thursday, Sidney was emerging from Jesus Lane after a tedious meeting at Westcott House about the training of ordinands in ‘the modern world’ when he saw Ronnie Maguire going into the bookie’s. He appeared to have lost weight and his walk was more hesitant than it had been only a few weeks previously. Sidney even wondered if he might have had a fall. There was certainly less confidence about him.
After an awkward greeting, Ronnie confessed that he wanted to put a large number of bets on at the same time: Sir Ivor in the Champions Stakes, The Elk in the Observer Gold Cup and Be Friendly in the Vernons Sprint at Haydock Park. He even suggested that Sidney do the same, as the prices were good and they could get longer odds by betting in advance.
There was another reason for his visit, he admitted. He hadn’t been well and he was finding it hard to leave the house. He got so breathless. Perhaps Sidney would like a drink after he had placed his bets. Ronnie wasn’t sure when he’d be out and about again.
It would have been churlish to refuse, given how slowly the man was moving, holding his right side and limping slightly, and so they soon made their way to the Baron of Beef. Sidney noticed that Ronnie was no longer wearing his gold watch. He wondered if he might have pawned it. He still had not penetrated the mystery of why the man had left Stiffkey after so many years. All he knew was that it had been about money.
‘You would think I’d have known better,’ Ronnie said at last. ‘I feel such a fool. But that’s where greed gets you.’
‘You don’t have to tell me about it.’
‘I don’t mind. You could take it as a warning, although I don’t think you’d ever be so foolish. I’ve seen how cautiously you bet.’
‘Perhaps I take enough risks on other things, Ronnie. Besides, I don’t have very much money.’
‘You don’t need much to get in a mess. All you need is a bit of fortune to begin with. You mistake it for talent and then you’re doomed.’
‘Sylvia told me that you had always been good with numbers.’
‘That’s one way of putting it.’
‘You’re an accountant, aren’t you?’
‘I was. I did the books on the farm. Then I started to help a few other people with their tax and finally, just over ten years ago, I got myself an office in Holt. Nice staff. We did well. I started recommending investments for clients and ways of saving tax. It was all perfectly legit, avoidance not evasion. Then I thought we could do with a stockbroker and I met this bloke at the races. He was a friend of Alice’s brother: Terry Grant. Some people called him Cary because he had the good looks and the charm and Terry sounds a bit like Cary if you’re not listening properly . . .’
‘He had the patter.’
‘Certainly did. We started off quite cautiously. Inflation was around 3.4 per cent, the rate for savers was 3 or 4 per cent and in the first few years our clients were averaging a 7–8 per cent annual return. That was good enough, but others were making a bit more and I asked if we could push it on a bit.’
‘You asked? Or he suggested that you did so?’
‘He was the kind of man who could make you think it was all your idea. He started talking about South African mining stocks; not just gold and diamonds but better value and faster profits in underpriced minerals: titanium in Kenya, copper in Uganda, platinum in South Africa and Rhodesia.’
‘I thought there were sanctions against Rhodesia?’
‘There are. Terry said that made the chance of profits greater. There were fewer deals and plenty of people who still wanted the products and who were prepared to pay more. I don’t know how true that was. I never got the chance to find out. The idea was that they were all minerals with a future: titanium in the aerospace industry, copper wiring in electronics, platinum in shipping. Like Harold Wilson, he went on about the white heat of technology and the consumer revolution, the metals used in cars, fridges, music systems, all the growth industries for which there was public demand. We all want cars, we all want to travel, we all want the best of modern life, and here was a chance to invest in the raw materials. It couldn’t fail.’
‘Except that it did.’
‘Human error. Terry never invested at all. He took money from new investors, gave us back our half-yearly profits, which were always better than we had been expecting, 12–15 per cent, and persuaded us to put more and more back in. He even gave Alice a pair of diamond earrings to keep us sweet. Finally, the returns were so good I remortgaged the house. I thought we could pay it all off, go to the Caribbean, live the life of Riley. Then Terry disappeared off the face of the earth. God knows where he went. At first I thought he might have had an accident or that he was dead. I even worried about him. Then I realised. What a bastard. He just vanished. No one knew where he had gone, not even Alice’s brother, who was supposedly his best friend. He lost money too. The worst thing was . . .’
‘You hadn’t told Alice you’d remortgaged the house.’
‘How did you guess?’
‘It’s why you’re here.’
‘That’s about it. She went crackers when she found out. We were about to lose everything. She had to talk to the bank, sell the horses, get other friends to help. I was kicked out sharpish. I had a suitcase and a wad of cash and that was that.’
‘What about your friends?’
‘I didn’t want the shame. I just had to get out. And then I thought of Sylvia and what I’d done and I wondered what had happened to her. Perhaps I could do one thing in my life to make things right. It’s a stupid idea, I know, but I haven’t been thinking straight. You won’t tell her all this, will you?’
‘It’s not for me to say, Ronnie. It’s for you.’
‘I don’t know what I’m doing any more. But I’d like to earn some m
oney back for her. Leave her a bit to be going on with.’
‘Do you mean that you’re planning to move on? You’ve only just got here.’
‘I’m not sure she can keep me. Besides, none of us carry on for ever.’
‘You’re not old.’
Ronnie began to cough and reached for his packet of cigarettes as if it might contain the cure. ‘I’m nearly seventy. I’m not in the best of health. I can’t take anything for granted, Sidney. You know that. I’m sorry you’re involved in all this. You’ll tell me the right thing to do, won’t you?’
At the same time, Hildegard was seeing Mrs Maguire. They had not found it easy to adjust to each other in the past, but a mutual respect had taken hold over the years and both women knew that this was not a relationship that benefited from confrontation. Hildegard recognised that she was going to have to proceed carefully if Sylvia Maguire was to confide anything personal.
Both Anna and Byron had been left at home with a babysitter (the original idea of taking them had been mere bravado) and Hildegard, like her husband, began by complimenting her host on her appearance, her cottage, her tea and her cake. ‘I was expecting more sign of a man.’
‘I’ve got my husband trained. We’ve also had a bit of a clear-out. Sold some of my sister’s clutter.’
‘I see.’
‘Gives us room to move. I only hope we don’t have to set up a bedroom down here. Ronnie’s finding the stairs a bit difficult.’
‘Is he unwell?’
‘He gets breathless. We’ve had the doctor round. They had a bit of a chat but I’m not party to what they tell each other.’
‘I’m sure you could ask questions afterwards.’
‘I think I’d rather not know if it’s anything serious. I don’t like the future ruining the present.’
‘And I imagine you have a lot of the past to catch up on.’
‘Oh yes,’ Mrs Maguire continued. ‘We talk about what it was like all the time. I’ve got a few photographs and we keep going through them: the school, the shop, the farm. Would you like to see? There’s one of me on a pony and Ronnie pretending to be a scarecrow.’
She fetched out an old album. ‘We can’t remember who everyone is, that’s the only thing. Ronnie tries to help out and sometimes I think he makes up stories just to please me. I’m sure I never pushed Nancy Spooner out of a boat, but he says I did and it was the funniest thing he ever saw. My memory isn’t what it was. Normally it’s the recent things. I used to think I was quite good at my childhood, but sometimes memories are like those propeller seeds that get caught in the wind. That’s one of the first things I remember. We called them whirlybirds. I was running along a line of elm trees trying to catch them with my friends. Whoever got the most was the winner. The sun was so bright. I had a little green dress, I think. I must have been about five, the same age as your daughter, Mrs Chambers. I don’t know if Ronnie was there or not. I get so confused about time. Sometimes I don’t know if it’s morning or afternoon.’
Hildegard hesitated to bring up something she had already noticed, but the conversation gave her the opportunity. ‘You used to have a very fine carriage clock on the mantelpiece. Has that disappeared in the clear-out?’
‘Ronnie said he’d get it valued. He mentioned something about insurance. He took a bit of jewellery too. There’s not much. I’m not a rich woman, as you know. I’ve always had to live carefully. I’ve only got a few valuables: my mother’s silver candlesticks and a set of cruets. I think there’s a cup and saucer from Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee somewhere. You know that I was born on the day she died?’
‘I did.’ It was the one fact Mrs Maguire shared almost every time they met. ‘Did your husband take all that to be valued as well?’
‘I think so. He had on his mysterious face, the one that doesn’t like to be interrupted. He said it would be useful to know.’
‘And did he say when he might bring the items back?’
‘A couple of weeks, I think. He wasn’t very clear and I didn’t like to ask. I don’t want to make him cross.’
‘It was good of you to let him back.’
‘Didn’t have much choice if I wanted company, did I? And vows are vows. Not that they matter much to Miss Kendall, I hear – or rather, Mrs Richmond.’
‘That has been unfortunate. Divorce is never easy.’
‘Did Sidney really go all the way to Scotland to fetch her back? That’s what people are saying. She’s led him a merry dance. It’s a pity her husband couldn’t do it himself.’
Hildegard was silent for a moment, deciding that it would not be wise to talk too much about the ways in which a reluctant spouse could be persuaded to return home.
Mrs Maguire continued. ‘I’m glad he found you. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. Miss Kendall was always too posh for him.’
‘And I’m not?’ Hildegard asked spontaneously, unable to check herself.
‘I don’t mean that. You’re a first-class woman in every way.’ (Hildegard knew Mrs Maguire had not always thought this but kept her discretion.) ‘I sometimes wonder how you put up with him.’
‘I think we all have to find ways of coping with our husbands; and most of the time we have to disguise the fact we’re doing it.’
‘That’s where Miss Kendall went wrong. She didn’t have the patience.’
‘And is that the secret of marriage, do you think, Mrs Maguire?’
‘You have to keep hoping it will all come right even if you have to wait until the very end. Ronnie always loved me. Why would he come back if that wasn’t true?’
‘Did you always know he was alive?’
‘I suppose I did, but I didn’t like to admit it, especially not in public. It was easier to blame his absence on the war. He was in the Far East. A lot of men never came back. My sister told me she thought he was up north somewhere but I didn’t believe her. If he was in England then why wouldn’t he want to see me again? Then she said she thought Ronnie was in South Africa. Gladys never got her story straight and I didn’t know where she was getting her information. She said it was his sister. I was sure Ronnie never had a sister. Perhaps it was the other woman, but I never liked to talk about that.’
‘You knew there was one?’
‘It was obvious, I suppose. But I didn’t want to imagine such a thing because I knew if I thought about it too much it would be all I would remember. I had to hold on to what we’d had ourselves. Then I could hope for the future.’
‘And are you glad he’s come back?’
‘He’s taken his time about it, I must say. It’s not an easy thing to forgive. I’ve been on my own so long.’
‘I suppose it depends on how many sacrifices you are prepared to make.’
Mrs Maguire had a thousand-yard stare in her eyes. ‘The reason I married him was because he gave me a feeling of being safe, even when I was a child. I didn’t like being on my own. I was always afraid something bad would happen. Then Ronnie came along. That was a good thing. I knew where I was when I was with him. Then he went away and I was a child all over again, trying to catch propeller seeds in the wind, not knowing how I would ever get home. And that’s where you need to be, Mrs Chambers. That’s enough of my prattling. Anna will be needing to be bathed and put to bed.’
Ten days later Geordie popped up to see Sidney in Ely. He felt like a bit of a chat, he said, and wanted to get away from his normal routine and talk about something different over a couple of pints in the Prince Albert.
‘Ronnie Maguire?’ Sidney asked.
‘Could be, but I never quite know what I’m going to get with you. It could be cricket, jazz, marital secrets, trips to Scotland, who knows?’
‘I’m sure you can enjoy just as much conversational variety at home.’
‘You’re wrong, Sidney, and I like this pub. It’s small enough to be snug, they do a good beer and they leave you alone. What more could a man want?’
‘I wish you lived here,’ said Sidney. ‘I don
’t have anyone else to have a drink with.’
‘I’m sure that’s nonsense. There must be the odd clergyman with a need to get away from it all.’
‘Alas, the only other priest prone to distraction has his eyes firmly set on the ladies.’
‘And you don’t?’
‘Steady, Geordie.’
‘Any news on the returning hero?’
‘He’s a rogue, of course. Hildegard’s seen Mrs Maguire and suspects he’s been pawning her valuables . . .’
‘With her agreement?’
‘It seems so, but that’s always a grey area. Hildegard also thinks he’s a bit of a drinker. She noticed a whisky bottle in the bookcase.’
‘That’s very observant. At least you and I haven’t got to that stage; unless your wife’s had a bit of practice already, spotting these things at home.’
‘It’s a slippery slope, I’m told.’
‘Indeed. Fancy another?’
Once they were on to their second pints the men discussed gambling, the pawn shop and the possibility of alcoholism.
‘I like to think I’m all right when I know people who are worse,’ said Geordie.
‘You must see a lot in the force.’
‘It’s not just the police. There were a couple of Scots blokes. Actors. They used to come in at opening time for a sharpener to get over their hangovers. Three double white spirits: that’s a double rum, a double gin and a double vodka, poured into a pint glass and topped up with Guinness. That set them up. Then they were ready for the day.’
‘It’s amazing they survived.’
‘They didn’t. They were both dead before they were sixty.’
‘I’ve spent some time with Ronnie,’ said Sidney, returning to their principal subject. ‘He carries a hip flask and likes to keep himself topped up, but I don’t think he’s that bad. I’ve never seen him late in the day, mind you.’
‘I hope Mrs Maguire doesn’t have to put him to bed.’
‘He’s been going there of his own accord quite recently. Not as fit as he once was. He has difficulty breathing. There are mood swings too, I fear. He can say some very dark things.’
‘And are they directed towards other people in any way?’