Henry Silver’s final cinematic offering commenced on the evening of Wednesday 23 August 1972 with a scene at the hotel, a number of residents taking their seats to watch the last in-house movie of the holiday. Grant quickly identified a trio of middle-aged women: Alison Galvin, Anne Jessops and Lucy ‘the Duchess’ Charnley. However, Henry didn’t linger on this scene. Grant remembered that the films shown at the hotel started at nine, and Hector had been seen starting his walk down the drive to the Office at around seven-thirty that evening, a fact revealed at the time in witness statements. Henry walked down the drive himself shortly after nine. By this stage the evening was in full swing, and the next ten minutes would remain in Grant’s consciousness for a very long time.
The filming at the pub started with a few people arriving from the hotel, some of whom stayed and some of whom exited fairly quickly. It wasn’t so much the film’s content but its vantage point that intrigued Grant; Henry was filming from outside the pub. But why? The answer soon came to him. Henry didn’t want anyone to know he was filming. So there they were in a cluster at a table near the window: Paul Galvin, Hector Wallace, Ivan Youlen and Trevor Mullings. What a strange group to find together, thought Grant. Hector was not at his usual bar stool, and they were oblivious to Henry filming outside the window. The police inquiry had revealed that Hector didn’t have dinner at the hotel that last night, so by the time Henry filmed him, at around nine-thirty, Hector would have already been fairly drunk. The conversation of the quartet at the table was animated. Paul, who earlier in the evening had claimed to be a little below par, had skipped dinner, which, in addition to being a relief to his family, gave him the opportunity to ingratiate himself with the group with which he was now drinking. He seemed to be doing most of the talking, gesticulating to emphasize his words. Was Paul trying to entice Hector into parting with his anticipated inheritance from his Aunt Agatha with some crooked investment scheme into which he had already roped Youlen and Mullings?
The benefit of hindsight greatly assisted Grant’s interpretation of what he was viewing. He knew that Hector’s aunt had been diagnosed with a particularly aggressive form of breast cancer, and that day Hector had apparently disclosed this fact to some of his friends, saying she was unlikely to make it to Christmas. (Agatha Wallace had died on 23 December 1972, so the doctors had got it right.) Grant’s mind raced to work out what was going on.
Paul had previously engaged Youlen in heated conversation. Did he suspect Ivan was complicit in the poisoning of his uncle? And was Paul now blackmailing Ivan into endangering Hector – to suit his own purposes? Or was Paul seeking to make things up with Ivan, whose father’s livelihood had been so adversely affected by the failure of the Penzance house-building project? If so, was he engineering ‘a nice little earner’ for Ivan to redress the balance, while cleaning out the hapless Hector for his own financial gain?
Henry’s attention on the four drinkers was diverted by the arrival and set-up of the pub band, which included Justyn on lead guitar. What happened next seemed highly significant. Suzie’s father, Richard, entered the premises with Grant’s mother, Rose, but no sooner had they walked in than they left again.
Suzie, watching the film footage with Grant, now fixed him with a rather cold stare that he found somewhat unnerving. To alleviate the tension he asked, ‘What d’you reckon is going on here?’
‘Justyn is about to take the piss,’ Suzie announced dismissively. ‘He sees Father enter and immediately launches into “Lily the Pink”.’
‘Why?’
‘Think about the lyrics,’ she said, with a look that could ice a warm summer’s day. She started singing, ‘For he invented medicinal compounds …’
‘Oh, sure, yeah, I get it,’ Grant replied hastily, trying to catch up. ‘But why’s that so significant?’
‘Justyn was trying to embarrass my father. Some stupid people thought he played God and was pushing at too many frontiers in his experimentation into heart disease. Little did they understand that Father could save them.’
‘I thought it was animals he experimented with?’
‘Yes,’ she hesitated, unsure of saying too much. ‘But there was no way Father had to listen to Justyn’s judgemental rubbish. What did Justyn know about his work, for goodness’ sake?’
Grant pondered this. Suzie had temporarily stopped the film but now resumed it to reveal the startling image of Grant’s father, Dennis, arriving at the pub with Yvie Hughes-Webb. Grant was once again disturbed by Suzie’s cold stare, fixed firmly on him. What disconcerted him particularly, however, was that her mother and his father were not shown leaving the pub before Henry’s film cut to the end of the in-house movie being shown back at the hotel. Henry had caught the end of the credits to the film Carry On Henry, a bawdy satire on the reign of Henry VIII that he perhaps regarded as a fitting conclusion to his holiday movie that year.
Grant turned to Suzie, about to speak, as the film appeared to end.
‘It’s not over yet,’ she informed him in her best schoolmarm manner. And so it wasn’t, as more footage from the pub filled the screen. And there they were, Hector Wallace and Trevor Mullings heading across the road down towards the beach, clutching their bottles. ‘So it was Mullings all the time,’ exclaimed Grant. Suzie said nothing. The film ended with Paul deep in conversation with Ivan before they went their separate ways – Paul on foot, Ivan driving away in his battered Ford Anglia.
Grant decided to play down what he had just seen, to give himself time to organize the confusion of thoughts in his head. ‘So there was no sign of Ted Jessops and Arnie Charnley in the film?’
‘Why should there be?’ asked Suzie dismissively.
‘Well, wasn’t Ted the number-one suspect and Arnie the first to be arrested?
‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Suzie admonished, now sounding quite unpleasant.
‘What?’
‘You don’t get what was going on, do you?’
At that moment a sharp ring of the doorbell increased the tension and awkwardness of the situation. Grant was irritated by the intrusion. Then his blood pressure began to rise as he heard Danny’s voice at the door. Suzie replied with a softly spoken ‘Yes, he’s here.’ She and Danny walked into the sitting-room far too casually for Grant’s liking. His first sensation was one of fear, as if he was about to be the victim of a kidnap.
‘Hello, Grant.’ Danny sounded almost amiable, almost like the old Danny.
‘Well, what the …’ exclaimed Grant, trying to move from his chair; he was immediately arrested by a sharp twinge in his back.
‘It’s OK. Don’t have a coronary. Let’s sit down and discuss things.’ Suzie tried to sound empathetic but was wearing a smug look of contained triumph.
‘Discuss things! Fucking hell! You two have stitched me up.’ Grant’s mind started to race. ‘You knew Suzie was flying in. You followed my every move. You’ve been working together all the time. You’ve stitched me up!’ His voice rose in volume and pitch.
‘Calm down, Grant.’ Danny tried to sound reassuring. ‘We had to stop you pursuing this any further, but nothing seemed to throw you off the trail.’
Grant jumped up, feeling he might be sick. ‘I need the restroom,’ he announced – although he never usually called it that; it indicated his panic and disorientation. ‘I need it – now!’
Once inside the bathroom his nausea subsided, and he thought quickly. He felt highly vulnerable. He needed to contact someone. Perhaps a text. Brigit? Not a good idea just then, although he knew she would try to help. Caroline, perhaps? Yes, she was a friend of Suzie’s as well and had, after all, suggested that he contact Suzie in Cape Town. Despite Grant’s faith in the human race being at an all-time low he needed a friend, and Caroline ticked enough boxes. Justyn was the other possibility but he would probably be unavailable, even though he was now back from Morocco. So while pretending to retch Grant texted Caroline and typed the word ‘Help’, followed by the postal address that he remembered inputt
ing into his satnav on the way from the airport. He flushed the toilet unnecessarily and made a performance of washing his hands. By the time he had finished drying them he saw Caroline had texted back, ‘Why?’ He swiftly replied, ‘Please get here ASAP.’ Ignoring another spasm of pain in his back, he thrust back his shoulders and strode into the sitting-room.
Danny spoke. ‘This must be a huge shock, but we had to put a stop to your inquiries once and for all.’
In a quiet but authoritative voice Grant managed to ask, ‘Why?’
And so the story unfolded.
‘OK, Grant. Let’s put you in the picture. You see, Father’s worm eggs had nearly done for Tom, who had inadvertently and very foolishly taken too much that day in 1972, after Father told him that a little would give him a surge of energy, enabling him to cope better with his night shifts. Tom had told Father that he had begun to find the shifts very tiring as the season wore on, and Father had said he’d need to take industrial quantities for the substance to do him any harm.’
Grant listened in grim silence. He felt like one of those motorists who rubberneck at an accident from the other side of a dual carriageway and then get involved in an accident themselves. At any rate he felt trapped and humiliated, even though he was now at last learning the truth.
Suzie continued, ‘Father had told us that a small quantity of the stuff was harmless. It certainly wouldn’t have given anyone a stroke. Tom, it turned out, had started by taking a small amount each evening, but he had been stealthily increasing the dose as the season wore on and his energy levels were increasingly sapped. He did all this on the sly – in effect stealing from Father.’
Grant was now inclined to view Suzie as a genuinely nasty piece of work. She was not only the first person he had encountered who hadn’t felt sorry for Tom, she was blaming him for his own demise and making out that her parent was, in fact, a victim.
Grant struggled to avoid an expression of incredulity as she continued. ‘What Father didn’t know was that Tom already had a heart condition, which had first been diagnosed in his childhood but which he never mentioned, so the effect on him of even a small quantity of the infected worm eggs was bound to be devastating. I really don’t see how Father could be held to blame. If anything, he was ripped off. Robbed in his own cottage because he had trusted that fool Youlen, and what made things worse – way worse –were Tom’s last words. “It was him. Him from the hotel. He said he would … if I spoke.” He made Father a suspect!’ Her voice was angry.
Grant and Danny avoided making eye contact with either Suzie or one another. Instead they stared at the floor, visibly unnerved by this interpretation of events. Grant for one felt he was in the company of a very dangerous woman.
‘Coffee?’ inquired Suzie breezily.
‘No, thanks.’ Grant fumbled a reply, feeling numb.
Taking advantage of the lull, Danny took up the story. ‘You see, Grant, you’ve been chasing ghosts we would have far preferred you had left alone.’
‘I understand now why Suzie wanted me off the case, but I don’t understand why you’ve been so hostile.’
‘Because my family is caught up in all this, too.’
‘Oh, you don’t say,’ Grant replied sarcastically.
‘Steady on. Let’s try and get through all this nicely,’ Danny continued.
Grant, far from being offended, was struck by how Danny’s disposition had changed. Even though the news unravelling in front of him was both revelatory and shocking, he could not help noticing a bit of the old Danny returning; he got a glimpse of the engaging teenager he had once known. It was time to stop antagonizing him; in fact, his animosity towards him had subsided. As for Suzie, Grant felt utterly betrayed.
Danny went on to reveal why he had tried to obstruct Grant and frighten him off the scent. Surprisingly, his reasons had nothing to do with the drowning of Hector Wallace. No, the big Galvin family secret had manifested itself years later when Danny and Suzie were engaged to be married. By then Paul had lost his position in his accountancy firm and was reduced to doing independent work, mainly completing tax returns for a few high-net-worth individuals and setting up tax-avoidance schemes for dodgy clients. His reduced status, together with the consequent financial embarrassment that befell him, contributed to his becoming an alcoholic. In his altered state, Paul became a thoroughly disagreeable man. Even worse was the effect on his family. Danny’s mother became genuinely scared of her husband, and his sister ran off with a boyfriend against her father’s wishes; no one in the family knew where she had gone.
At this point Suzie re-entered the room carrying coffee for Danny and herself. ‘So, you see, we had to do something about Paul.’
‘I see,’ said Grant, half expecting this turn of events and now regarding Suzie as a potential felon, someone capable even of murder. As Danny had seemed very concerned for his mother in an earlier conversation, Grant was not surprised that he would seek to protect her – but why had Suzie got involved?
‘You see, I stole some other poison from Father, something rather more lethal. He never knew anything about it.’ Grant wondered why Suzie needed to add the second sentence.
‘We gave Mum the chance to do the dastardly deed, or we said we would,’ continued Danny. ‘She couldn’t bear the idea of us doing it, and …’
‘She played Lady Macbeth,’ interrupted Grant.
‘Yes, but she didn’t do a very good job. Dad recovered. He died about a year later; it would be convenient to say he was a broken man, but in reality he had been broken for many years before that. It started with the house-building fiasco in Penzance and reached rock bottom when his partners booted him out of the firm. He hit the bottle – and then another and then another. He would sit morosely in his chair saying, “I used to be someone. I used to matter. I had a position. I used to be asked for my opinion.”’ Danny stopped reminiscing about his father’s decline. ‘So we had to get Mum off to a new start. She had always loved Majorca … And then you started digging.’ He fired an accusatory glance at Grant. ‘And I could see you heading to Majorca next and digging deeper and upsetting her all over again.’
‘I would have,’ Grant confirmed.
Danny went on. ‘And I also didn’t want you dragging Suzie into all this. She has suffered enough. I decided to pay Henry a visit. It was clear from his demeanour he had something to hide, so that was when I decided to ring Suzie and we hatched our plan.’
Grant had been watching Danny speak, seeing his lips move but not listening properly. For some obscure reason a quotation by the American financial guru Warren Buffett came into his head. ‘Only when the tide goes out do you discover who has been swimming naked.’
37
PRESENT DAY
One other thought kept running through Grant’s head, Suzie’s statement that ‘You don’t know the half of it with the Galvins.’ And yet here she had unveiled herself as the Princess of Darkness, a new lightning-rod for his anger. A surge of indignation welled up inside him. Why had she gone to such lengths to deceive him? There were so many questions he wanted to ask. Now that Tom’s unfortunate stroke had been explained, he wanted to pursue Hector’s demise further, but first he needed to know the answers to some personal questions about his two adversaries.
For a short while nobody spoke. Grant decided it was time to take the initiative. ‘OK, now it’s time for some answers. First, why did you call off your engagement the week before the wedding?’
‘Right …’ Danny looked uneasily at Suzie. ‘There were good reasons for that.’
‘Which were?’ Grant demanded, getting firmly on the front foot. ‘Oh, come on. You’ve already told me you were both prepared to murder your father, Danny. I think you can give me a straight answer.’
‘OK, OK,’ Danny conceded, looking awkward and, for the first time, vulnerable. ‘If you must know, I’m gay, and even though I adored Suzie and she was the love of my life I knew I could never consummate the relationship.’
This cam
e as a shock to Grant, but he collected himself and shrugged as if to say ‘Big deal.’ Of course, he realized, this certainly provided some answers. But he was keen to stay on the attack; he had waited long enough, so he moved swiftly on. He asked Suzie why she had warned him off the Galvin family so firmly.
Suzie looked at him with disdain, wondering why she needed to be accountable to Grant, before deciding to play him at his own game. ‘I was trying to put you off; to protect them, to protect Danny.’
‘So there was no theft of the DVDs from Danny’s flat and’, Grant’s voice was rising again, ‘there was no DVD taken from the ladies’ toilets at Heathrow when you kept me waiting?’
‘No,’ they replied in unison. Grant detected a slight reddening in Danny’s face, while Suzie looked triumphant. Although he needed no confirmation, he certainly knew now who was running the show.
Before he could continue, Danny’s attention was diverted by a text arriving on his mobile. He decided to share it with them. It was from Ivan Youlen. ‘Meet me as soon as possible,’ it said.
Despite his back pain Grant was now visibly calmer as he started to believe he could finally be free of all the anxiety and family guilt he had carried for over forty years. His mother was perhaps implicated as a possible accomplice to a very small extent, but he now viewed her lover, Richard, as the main culprit. And although he was an over-zealous, arrogant, self-opinionated medic who had overplayed his hand, at least he was no murderer. The fact that he never knew of Tom’s medical condition exonerated him to a great extent, and Grant now thought his mother was simply a victim of circumstance. This he could live with, and he gave an unintentionally audible sigh. Suzie and Danny looked at him curiously, and he decided to tell them what had driven him to pursue this witch-hunt, as they viewed it, with such vigour over the past ten weeks. They listened politely, and Grant, for the first time, felt a trace of empathy from the pair.
Half a Pound of Tuppenny Rice Page 19