(Eeww, don’t touch it.)
‘It’s not going to move itself. Dead things don’t come back to life.’ He realised what he’d just said. ‘Present company excepted.’
(What?)
‘Never mind.’
He came back from disposing of the corpse in the outside rubbish bin just in time to hear his phone ring.
‘He was an interesting man,’ Alice said when he answered.
‘Yes, he was quite taken with you too.’
Alice laughed, which turned into a cough that lasted a little too long for Oliver’s comfort.
‘Are you alright?’
‘Don’t you worry about me. Anyway you might want to look at Jasper Yardley, he was the…’
‘Deputy principal,’ Oliver finished. ‘Yes, he’s already on my radar,’ he finished with a slightly smug tone.
‘Good. He’s retired and lives out by the airport with his son’s family.’
She rattled off an address. ‘But then you knew that already, right?’ she added.
‘Oh sure,’ he said.
(Pants on fire.)
Alice’s laughter said she agreed. ‘I might tag along for the ride. Just to see you in action. I’ve heard good things.’
Oliver glanced at the clock on the wall mounted oven in the kitchen. There was technically time to arrange a visit for before the school pick up, if he left straight away and the interview went well and there was no traffic there or back… which was a lot of ands.
‘Okay…’ he began.
‘Excellent. Pick me up from outside the Wellington railway station. We have an appointment to see him in thirty minutes.’
He protested to the sound of a dial tone.
Grabbing his keys off their hook in the walk-in pantry, he paused as his growling stomach reminded him that the porridge and fruit smoothie for breakfast had been a long time ago. He surveyed the snack options and selected a mini pack of Oreos, which took him longer to open than to eat. He stuffed the empty packet into the recess in the car door, on top of an ice block wrapper, and the wrapper of a chocolate bar he didn’t remember eating.
(Didn’t I hear you tell Rose this morning that she shouldn’t have too much sugar?)
‘Two things,’ Oliver replied as he backed the car onto the road. ‘Firstly, Rose and Reed are kids and will have plenty of time when they’re grown up to make bad food choices. And secondly, this isn’t all from one day.’
(You must clean the car as often as my dad.)
Despite the roadworks, which seemed to be progressing at a tired snail’s pace, he managed to get to the railway station in twenty minutes. He almost didn’t recognise Alice when he pulled up. The previous times they’d met she’d been sharply dressed in clothes that wouldn’t look out of place on her granddaughter, all designer logos and bright colours. Today she was wearing an old faded wool cardigan, and carried a massive old fashioned handbag that he swore he saw knitting needles poking out of.
(She looks like my grandmother.)
‘She looks like everyone’s grandmother,’ he said. Which was probably the point, he thought.
Alice climbed slowly into the passenger seat and he waited for her to click her seatbelt into place before queuing to merge back onto the road. She gave him the address.
‘Nice costume’ he commented.
Alice sat straighter in her seat. ‘Thanks. The wool is itchy as hell, and this bag is like lumping a suitcase around, but I think the whole ensemble works.’
(What’s an ensemble?)
‘You don’t think it’s a little…too much?’
‘Nope. Most marks dismiss old people, and an old lady dressed like this is virtually invisible.’
(Who’s Mark? I thought we were going to see Mr Yardley.)
‘A mark is the victim of a con,’ Oliver said.
‘Trying to teach the expert her job, Oliver?’ Alice asked.
‘Sorry, just explaining things to Debbie.’
‘Oh, right. Well, Debbie, the mark is the target, the person the con is aimed at.’
‘I’m not really sure you should be telling her this,’ Oliver said as they pulled to a stop at yet another red traffic light. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Still eight minutes to get across the city to the suburb next to the airport, which was nestled between two hills and bookended by the sea. He liked to be on time. Even when it didn’t matter and no one else cared, he had this inbuilt urge to never be late.
Alice laughed. ‘What’s she going to do with the info? Run a con on an angel?’
Debbie joined in on the laughter and Oliver felt his face flush.
‘What did you tell Jasper Yardley about why we’re visiting?’
‘First off, I didn’t call him. Your secretary Jennifer did.’
Oliver’s eyebrows raised and he looked over at her for a little longer than was safe to take your eyes off the road. He turned back just in time to brake and avoid running into the back of a truck.
‘Hello, this is Jennifer, personal assistant for Oliver Atkinson. Mr Atkinson would like to meet with you to discuss your recent award, with a view to writing an article.’
(Whoa.)
Oliver risked another crash to stare in surprise. Alice had almost completely changed her voice, making it higher, with a slight Australian accent.
She reached across and patted him on the leg. ‘Why so shocked? Changing your voice is an important part of adopting different personas. It’s a bit harder now that the vocal chords are old and withered,’ she laughed. ‘But I can still pull it out on special occasions. I’m your grandmother, and you’ve kindly taken me out for the day, since I’m so lonely after my Herbert died.’
‘Herbert?’
‘Shame. He’s barely in the ground and you’ve forgotten your grandfather’s name already.’ She laughed again and Oliver felt the familiar headache forming that appeared every time he spoke with Amanda. Inducing headaches was obviously a family trait.
‘How’s the car? I understand my granddaughter may have put a dent in it.’
‘A four-thousand-dollar dent,’ he retorted, then felt ashamed at his harshness given how the accident occurred. ‘It’s still being fixed, which is why I’m using the rental.’
‘Do you have insurance on this thing? Maybe I should take it for a spin,’ Alice said with a grin.
‘Do you still have a licence?’
‘What’s a licence got to do with driving?’
He rubbed at his temple and tried to focus on the road. The traffic thinned and they picked up speed around the bays. Sunlight cast sparkly diamonds on the still water as he wove in and out from bay to bay. He glanced up as they drove past Graeme Wilson’s house.
(Can we stop and go on the cable car again? That was so much fun.)
No time.
The clock said they had two minutes. They were going to be late, which for some reason irked him more than anything else.
‘So what award has Jasper received?’
‘Jasper Yardley has just been given the Educator Lifetime Achievement Award, as voted by the members of the teaching profession. It’s one of those awards that doesn’t mean a thing to anyone but the recipient, however I suspect he’s quite chuffed and eager to talk about it.’
They turned onto the road leading towards the airport and sped up. When the clock ticked over to one o’clock they still hadn’t arrived, but he refused to concede they were late until it clicked to one minute past. Then he admitted defeat.
A couple of minutes later they pulled up outside a shiny new townhouse. It looked like it had just come out of its plastic wrapping, with not a hint of dirt or weather damage in sight. The grass was so new and green there was no way under the current heatwave that it had been down for more than a few days.
‘I didn’t realise teachers made such good money,’ Oliver said as he came around the car and stood on the pavement.
‘Like I said, he’s living with his son, who I’m told is one of the top lawyers in the city.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Alice replied with an innocent look.
Wary of the doorbell, Oliver knocked instead. There was the sound of thumping and the door flung open, bashing into the inside wall hard enough to rattle the picture frames dotted along it.
‘Yeah?’ sneered the paint-stained teenaged boy. He had long hair on one side of his head and cropped short on the other, and looked about sixteen.
‘We’re here to meet with Jasper Yardley,’ Oliver said politely, thankful that his adventures with the hitchhikers had put him in touch with sullen teenagers.
The boy stared balefully for a moment, then jerked his head to the side to indicate they should follow. Without checking to see if they had correctly interpreted him he stomped back down the hall, poked his head through a doorway and murmured in a surprisingly polite tone, ‘Granddad, you have some visitors.’
There was a muted response then the boy withdrew his head and disappeared fully through a different door. Oliver peered through the first doorway and saw that it led to a lounge. An elderly man sat in a comfortable seat by the large window that ran along the length of one wall. Outside was a garden bright and neat enough to make Oliver feel guilty about the state of his own.
‘Ah, Mr Atkinson, and this young woman must be your secretary Jennifer.’
(What young woman? Does he mean Alice? Is there something wrong with his eyes?)
He’s flirting.
(What’s that?)
Disturbing.
‘Please, call me Oliver. This is my grandmother, Marjorie.’ He lifted an eyebrow at Alice, trying to say two could play at the funny name game they were so fond of. To his disappointment she didn’t react.
He shook Jasper Yardley’s outstretched hand. The man was in his early seventies and had a bulk that left no space either side of him in the large soft chair he sat on. His hair was grey and a pair of glasses rested neatly on top of an open book that lay on the arm of the chair. Oliver stretched his head around to see the cover. He knew it wasn’t one of his, but he absurdly viewed every other book as the enemy. The Empathy Code, not one he was familiar with.
‘Please sit, sit.’ Jasper waved at the couch opposite him. Like the rest of the furniture it looked brand new.
Oliver sat down one end, expecting Alice to take the other, but she planted herself right next to him, putting her enormous bag on the other side of her.
‘I must say it’s a little unusual to be interviewed by a reporter and his grandmother,’ Jasper said with a crinkle of a smile.
‘I do apologise, Mr Yardley,’ Alice said in frail voice. ‘My grandson knows how lonely I’ve been since my poor Herbert passed and I asked to see him in action.’
She gave Oliver such a genuinely morose smile that he almost felt sad about the death of his made up grandfather.
‘Yes,’ Oliver said. ‘She used to be so outgoing and vibrant, and since Granddad died she’s just been pining away into a shadow of her former self.’
Alice patted him on the leg, which he chose to believe meant “nice one” as opposed to “don’t lay it on too thick”.
Jasper beamed at Oliver. ‘What a wonderful grandson. I know that family can sometimes be…’ he hesitated and looked towards the door, ‘challenging. My son James and I…’ He paused once more, ‘I am very lucky that James took me in. I truly believe that family is the most important thing and if we look out for each other there’s nothing that can’t be achieved.’
‘Wonderfully put, Mr Yardley,’ Alice said, returning his smile.
‘Jasper please. Mr Yardley is my father and you can’t speak to him, as he’s dead.’ Jasper gave a short loud “Ha”.
(Shows what he knows.)
‘David, that’s my grandson, is a tortured artist,’ Jasper said with a hint of contempt at the last two words.
(Doesn’t he like him?)
He spent his whole career as an educator, he probably thinks anyone who wants to be an artist is a waste to society.
(Oh. You mean like a painter.)
Yes.
(Or a writer.)
Oliver let that one pass as Alice patted him on the leg again.
‘I used to dabble a bit with paints, in my younger days.’
Oliver did his best not to snort with laughter at the gross understatement.
‘Could I have a word with David while Oliver interviews you?’
Jasper waved his hand towards the door. ‘Be my guest. You’ll find him in his “Studio”,’ he emphasised the word by wiggling his fingers in the air. ‘Otherwise known as his bedroom. Just across the hallway.’
Alice got slowly to her feet, a small groan escaping from her lips as she straightened up, and Oliver put a hand out to steady her should she stumble. She turned a grateful smile his way, then winked and shuffled out the door, leaving the two men alone.
‘Wonderful woman your grandmother,’ Jasper commented.
‘Yes, that’s a popular opinion,’ Oliver said under his breath before smiling at Jasper politely.
‘Now, where to start,’ Jasper continued, rubbing his hands together. ‘Do you want a general overview of my entire career or shall we focus on one or two aspects in particular?
It took ten minutes of listening to the man’s opinion on everything from the joys of being able to cane students in the seventies, to the decline in the standard of teachers in modern society, and how those two things were linked, before Oliver could steer the conversation in the direction of Debbie and Brigid.
‘Yes, a real tragedy,’ Jasper said with a shake of his head. ‘And to think they still don’t know what happened to either of them. They weren’t the only students I’ve lost over the years. You can’t work with children as long as I have without death being involved at some point.’
(He’s creepy.)
‘But they were the first. It rocked the school, the whole community. Such lovely girls.’
‘Did you have much to do with them?’
Jasper looked out the window but seemed to be staring past the flowers and the wooden fence palings and into his memories. ‘No,’ he said softly. ‘Not very much, but it hit us all hard’ He shook his head as if to pry his mind out of its lull. ‘I was the deputy principal and it was a small school, so our paths crossed on occasion. Mostly when they did something bad enough for me to get involved but not so bad the Principal was needed. Petty stuff. Like one time they decided it would be fun to hide and not come back to class after lunch. They were found under the teacher’s desk after a school-wide search.’
(That was pretty funny. Until Dad found out, then Brigid and I weren’t allowed to see each other for a week.)
‘I was busy organising the fundraising for the new school pool. I still have a plaque around somewhere that the community presented to me in gratitude.’
(I never got to swim in it.)
‘Do you have any photos of yourself from back then?’ Oliver asked. ‘You know, a then and now sort of thing. It would add a nice touch to the article.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Jasper pointed to the television, which sat on a long, dark wood cabinet with two doors at either end, and a gap in the middle where a DVD player and satellite television decoder sat.
‘On the right hand side there’s some photo albums.’
Oliver crossed to the cabinet, opened the small door, and decided that some must have a different meaning for Jasper’s generation. The entire space was crammed with an assortment of albums of all different shapes and sizes. Oliver looked back at Jasper who was lost once more in his thoughts. Picking one at random he tugged it several times before it popped out of the cupboard, bringing several other albums with it. They thumped to the floor and he glanced over at Jasper again who stared in confusion for a moment, then laughed.
‘Sometimes I think my mind is like that. A bit too stuffed with old memories. Try that brown covered one, no, the other one.’
Oliver pic
ked up the album in question and opened the cover with a soft crack as it responded to exposure to the world for the first time in a long while.
‘Yes, my mind makes the same sound,’ Jasper called out.
The photos were a faded, soft focussed snapshot of the sixties and seventies. The early ones were in black and white, slowly turning to dull colour the more pages he turned. One was of his wedding day, Jasper as a young man standing rigidly next to a pretty woman, bookended by the rest of the wedding party wearing a mix of happy and slightly stunned expressions. Fast forward a few pages and there was a picture of the happy couple, Jasper looking a lot more relaxed, but still slightly stunned, with a baby. There were a few more pages showing their son growing up, Oliver knew it was a boy based on the obligatory bath and running around the back yard naked shots.
(Eww.)
Oliver turned to the next page and stopped. Jasper was standing next to a yellow car, parked in front of a sign saying “Raumati South Primary School”. He was leaning against the car door with a beaming smile on his face. In the corner of the picture a woman stood with her hands together, like she was caught mid-clap. She looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t Jasper’s wife.
(That’s Miss Church.)
Oliver studied her face. There was something about her expression he couldn’t quite put his finger on. With his back to Jasper, he pulled his phone out of his pants pocket, and quickly snapped a photo of the photo.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ Jasper called.
Do you recognise the car?
(Sure, I’ve seen a car before.)
Oliver couldn’t work out if she was being deliberately slow, but decided to leave it until they were alone.
‘Yes, thanks,’ he turned and smiled. ‘I just took a couple of snaps and if they work I’ll come back for better quality copies.’ He did his best to put the albums back, fumbling around with different combinations, before finally finding one that allowed the door to close, just.
As he stood up, the lounge door opened and Alice came in, followed by a beaming David.
Ghostly Hitchhiker Box Set Page 57