‘Granddad, Marjorie is awesome. She showed me a new technique that’s completely brilliant.’
‘Did she?’ Jasper replied with raised eyebrows. ‘How lovely.’
Alice is off his Christmas card list.
(Was she on it? What list?)
Oliver stifled the growing frustration at having to explain everything.
‘David is very talented,’ Alice said. ‘With the right encouragement he could go far.’
The talented artist in question’s face flushed so red with excitement Oliver was worried his heart would give out.
‘Did you get everything you needed Oliver?’ Alice asked.
‘Yes I did, for now. I may need to come back for more details if that’s alright,’ he said to Jasper.
‘Of course, my boy. Always happy to have visitors.’
There was a loud bang and they all turned to see the cabinet door had burst open and expelled the photo albums onto the floor.
Bollocks.
(Ooohh, I’m going to tell Rose that you swore.)
Bollocks.
FIFTEEN
‘That’s infatuation,’ Alice said, returning his phone.
‘Are you sure?’ He studied Barbara’s face in the photo, then looked at Alice dubiously. He had offered to restack the albums again but Jasper waved them away, and they beat a hasty retreat before he changed his mind. Now they were in a carpark overlooking the main runway at Wellington Airport. At regular intervals planes took off and others landed.
‘You probably had the same goofy look on your face when you first met Jennifer.’
He tried to remember, but eight years of child and cat induced broken sleep had dulled all memories from the early days of their relationship.
‘I doubt it,’ he said firmly.
‘I guarantee it,’ Alice replied. ‘What did you learn?’
‘That he definitely had a yellow car. Which you didn’t answer my question about, Debbie. Did the car look familiar? Was it the same one the man who offered you lollies was driving?’
(I don’t know. Maybe.) There was a long pause. (To tell you the truth I was looking more at the bag of lollies than the car.)
‘Well?’ Alice asked.
‘Hang on. Debbie, what about the man. Did the picture of Jasper seem familiar to you?’
(Sure did.)
Oliver felt a spark of excitement run through him. ‘So you recognised him? He was the one who offered you the lollies.’
(He was our deputy principal. I saw him all the time.)
‘Oh.’
(And I remember him offering me lollies.)
‘That’s great,’ Oliver said.
(Or was it a cream bun? There was definitely something that mum didn’t let me eat a lot because it was bad for me. But if it was so bad for me then why did it taste so good? And why did good things taste so bad. Like brussels sprouts. Mum always said they were the best food, but they always tasted like tree.)
The excited spark fizzled away to nothing.
‘But was it Jasper Yardley that gave them to you?’
(Brussels sprouts? Why would he give me those?)
The spark was replaced with a dull thumping in his head, almost as if Debbie was in a car and kicking the seat in front of her, which Oliver happened to be in.
‘Not the brussels sprouts. The lollies.’
(Oh. I think so, but I’m not sure.)
‘Now I know what Amanda meant about working with you,’ Alice said.
Oliver turned his attention to her. ‘What do you mean? What did she say?’
Alice shrugged. ‘Just that sometimes it was like sitting next to a guy constantly on the phone, you can only hear one side of the conversation. Is Debbie being helpful?’
It was Oliver’s turn to shrug. ‘So far she’s confirmed that an unknown man, that could have been Jasper but she doesn’t really know, gave her some lollies and there was a yellow car, but it could have been any yellow car in the world because she was more interested in the colour of the lollies than the car of the man who was about to kill her.’
The words came out in a frustrated rush and he immediately regretted the stinging tone.
(Are you mad at me?)
I’m sorry, Debbie. I’m not mad, just a little frustrated.
‘Take a deep breath, Oliver,’ Alice said. ‘We know more than we did before.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. It’s just a little frustrating when your only witness’s memory is a little unreliable.’
‘Well, eight years old was a lot longer ago for me than it was for you, but I seem to recall you only remember the important things. You never forget all the details, they’re just filed away under miscellaneous.’
(Yeah, what she said.)
He sighed and nodded unhappily. Knowing Alice was right didn’t help with his frustration levels, but there was also no point directing it towards Debbie.
‘Let’s assume Barbara Church was infatuated with Jasper. How does that help?’
‘Maybe it doesn’t,’ Alice replied. ‘Maybe it has nothing to do with it at all. Or maybe they had an affair and Debbie and Brigid found out so they were silenced.’
‘Over an affair?’
‘This was the seventies, Oliver. Extra-marital affairs were less common and more scandalous. Especially in a small community, and especially between colleagues. It’s the sort of thing that ruins lives.’
A large plane with a black koru painted on its tail wove its way down from the sky, fighting crosswinds before finally touching down with a slight bounce.
(Those planes are so big.)
‘Okay, so I can check with Beth. If there was something going on between Barbara and Jasper then it’s possible that some of the students knew about it.’
‘Good. I’ll have a word with Graeme and see if he discovered anything about the possible lovebirds.’
‘You know he was quite taken with you,’ Oliver said with a smile. ‘So was Jasper.’
Alice grinned back and clicked her seatbelt into place. ‘You sound surprised. I can play sweet old lady with the best of them.’ She leaned closer to him. ‘But I’ll let you in on a secret. You can be sweet or old, but rarely both.’
‘That’s cynical,’ Oliver protested.
‘That’s life,’ Alice replied.
(You guys talk too much.)
‘I’ll take you home,’ Oliver said, clicking his own belt into place and starting the car.
They rode in silence through the city. It wasn’t until Oliver pulled up the driveway to the retirement village that Alice spoke again.
‘Amanda missed a check-in.’
He licked his lips and considered the implications of her words. ‘I didn’t realise she did check-in.’
‘Once a week, no matter what the job, she’ll text me, something innocuous that could be passed off as going to a wrong number if anyone ever asked, but enough to let me know she’s alright. She was supposed to send a message yesterday.’
Alice was too good at her former profession to display any real emotion, but he knew that Amanda was her only relative and hidden or not there was anxiety in her words.
‘Has this happened before?’
‘It’s not unheard of,’ she admitted, then let out a long sigh. ‘Maybe I’m just getting a little more impatient in my old age.’
‘Can you get in touch with her?’ Oliver asked. He recalled trying to get hold of Amanda earlier. She still hadn’t returned his call, but he didn’t know if that was part of the job. In the past Amanda had usually initiated contact.
‘I’m not that impatient. She can take care of herself.’ Alice hesitated with her legs on the ground and one hand on the top of the door. ‘But I’m not going to be around forever, and that girl needs someone to be a little impatient with her.’
(What’s she talking about? Does she want you to tell Amanda off?)
‘I can see myself being a little impatient about her,’ Oliver said.
(Why are you talking about being impatie
nt? I wish people would just say what they meant. My head hurts. Wait, do I still have a head?)
Alice nodded and started to haul herself into an upright position. Oliver jumped out and came around the car to help, but by the time he arrived she was standing.
‘It might take me a bit little longer than it used to, but I think I remember how to stand up by myself,’ she said sharply.
‘I see you also remember how to be rude,’ Oliver retorted.
Far from being insulted, Alice looked impressed at his rebuke. ‘Amanda said you were growing a backbone. Good, you’ll need it.’
‘I’ve had a couple of near death experiences over the last two years, that tends to put some steel in your back.’
‘And your bladder I’d think,’ Alice laughed, and walked off before he could say anything.
He waited until she walked through the front door before hopping back into his car and turning it towards the exit.
(I really wish I was in Rose’s head. All this grown up talk is so boring.)
‘Yes I get it, you’d rather be in anyone else’s head but mine. You’re not the first to say that, and if I had a choice in the matter I’d sympathise, but I don’t, so suck it up, buttercup.’
Debbie laughed. (Suck it up, buttercup? I haven’t heard that one before.)
With the sudden lightening of the mood, Debbie spent the rest of the trip home talking about a whole bunch of people that Oliver didn’t know, and judging by some of the stories, had no desire to know.
The journey from school to home was a difficult one for Oliver. Rose and Debbie were chatting away, while Reed was alternating between telling his dad about the cool game that he played at school, and calling his sister crazy for talking to no one.
‘I am not crazy. Dad! Reed called me crazy.’
‘I heard. Reed, don’t call your sister crazy.’
‘But she’s talking to herself,’ Reed pointed out.
(What an a-hole.)
‘What’s an a-hole?’ Rose asked.
‘Never mind,’ Oliver replied sharply. And that’s enough out of you. He turned the radio up and promised the kids iPad time if they kept quiet the rest of the drive.
The kids knew that as soon as they got home they were to put their school bags away and bring their lunchboxes into the kitchen, so of course Oliver had to tell them twice to do it.
They both complained when he insisted they do some homework before going on their electronic devices. Oliver telling them that the quicker they got on with it the sooner they’d be finished didn’t hold much water with them either.
Still grumbling, they sat on the stools at the kitchen bench as he took them through some maths homework.
‘Rose, what’s five times three?’
(Fifteen.)
‘Fifteen,’ Rose said.
‘I was asking Rose.’
‘I didn’t answer it,’ Reed said in confusion.
‘Let’s try again. Rose, what’s four times four?’
(Sixteen.)
‘Sixteen,’ Rose repeated smugly.
‘Debbie!’
His hitchhiker laughed so hard he was worried she might choke, then remembered she was already dead so it didn’t matter.
‘Who’s Debbie?’ Reed asked.
‘You know what? It’s almost the end of school term, let’s not worry about homework. Off you go.’
In any other circumstances Reed would have asked a lot of questions to try and understand his father’s change of heart, but where the iPad was concerned he didn’t care. He was off the stool so fast it wobbled furiously for a moment, threatening to crash to the floor, before settling down. Oliver could almost hear it sigh with relief.
‘What were you thinking?’ Jennifer asked that night after the kids were asleep.
‘Apparently I wasn’t. Apparently I misjudged how annoying my hitchhiker is.’
(Hey. That’s rude.)
Rude is answering a question someone else is asked.
(But I knew the answer!)
‘Okay, let’s talk about how I went to university for three years, spent years on additional study and work experience to make my way up the corporate ladder, only to be called a secretary, twice, in one day.’
‘What’s wrong with being a secretary?’ Oliver asked not so innocently.
Jennifer fixed him with a withering stare, then her mouth twitched upwards as he failed to wilt.
‘Nothing at all. But they generally, and I mean generally, don’t have the same qualifications as me. Now, before this conversation diverts onto ground that is likely to get you in trouble, are you coming to bed?’
‘Not yet. I’ve got a video call arranged with Brigid’s sister.’
‘Don’t be too late, remember you’re starting your boxfit class at stupid o’clock in the morning.’
(What’s boxfit? And what’s stupid o’clock?)
He waited until Jennifer disappeared down the hallway before answering. ‘Stupid o’clock is anything before 6.30 in the morning or after ten o’clock at night. And boxfit is like boxing only you don’t hit people.’
(Isn’t boxing when you hit people?)
‘Yes.’
(So this isn’t like boxing.)
‘Well you hit pads and do all the training, without actually getting into a boxing ring and risking having your nose shunted from the middle to the side of your face.’
(But…)
‘Oh look, it’s time to get ready for the video call.’
A short while later he was staring at the clear picture of Jill O’Shey. Thanks to Beth Judkins’ research he knew that Jill was fifty years old, married for twenty-five years to Andrew, who was some sort of big deal in the banking sector, with three children ranging in age from eleven to twenty-three. If he hadn’t known her age he would have guessed at least ten years younger. The woman in front of him obviously took care of herself, from the carefully applied makeup, to the immaculate hair style. And although he was a poor judge of such things, when she raised her hand to scratch her chin he estimated there was a few thousand dollars worth of gold and diamonds on her fingers.
When she spoke her voice held a hint of an English accent, and behind her he could see a large living room and double French doors.
Debbie was having a hard time understanding that the person they were speaking with was half a world away, and wasn’t sitting in the next room, or the next house.
‘I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why are you looking into this after so long?’
Oliver went over his story again, withholding the bit about her deceased sister’s best friend hitching a ride in his head.
‘I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but it was so long ago, and I’m not sure what good it would do to dredge everything up.’
‘Are you saying you don’t want to know what happened to Brigid?’ He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice, and on screen Jill looked away and played with the rings on her fingers.
‘My sister died in a hit and run. What more is there to know? Will it bring her back to find out who did it forty years ago? Will it bring me peace?’
Her voice rose with each syllable and he realised he’d struck a nerve.
‘I’m sorry.’
For a moment he thought she might start crying, but she took a deep breath in, as if sucking the tears back up, and was composed once more.
‘I’m sorry too. I don’t really think about her much these days, I was so young when she died that I only have childhood memories to remind me, and life takes priority over death. Do you have children?’
‘Yes, two.’
(Three.)
‘They take up all your time don’t they? How can I help?’
‘Do you remember anyone back then with a yellow car?’
Jill frowned. ‘A yellow car? Goodness me I can’t…well, there was Mr Yardley.’
(I told you it was him.)
Actually you said you didn’t know if it was him. He considered his next words carefully.
‘Did Mr Yardley ever act inappropriately towards any of the students?’
(What do you mea…eewww no.)
Jill looked shocked. ‘No! At least not that I ever knew. You don’t think he was a…a…’
He held up his hands in a placating manner. ‘No, there’s no evidence to suggest that, but I have to explore all angles.’
‘Oh. There was something else about him though. Some rumour that went around.’
‘What was it?’
Jill frowned and shook her head. ‘I can’t remember. I heard Mum and Dad talking about it, but I don’t think it was anything to do with a student.’
‘Are you sure you don’t remember?’
‘Honestly I didn’t pay attention to much of what my parents said at that age.’
Oliver change tack. ‘Was Brigid unhappy or worried about anything leading up to her death?’
Jill looked at him incredulously. ‘Her best friend had just disappeared. She spent the last week of her life unhappy and worried.’
Oliver felt his face flush hot, not helped by Debbie’s laughter.
‘I meant before then. Had anything happened that upset her?’
Jill reached her hand off screen and brought it back holding a mug. She took a sip before cupping it in both hands. Her eyebrows inched together as she screw up her face in concentration. Finally she relaxed and shook her head.
‘No, if anything she was happier. Her and that bloody Debbie, always running around whispering and laughing.’
(Ha,ha, she always thought we were talking about her. Used to drive her mental.)
Were you?
(Sometimes.)
‘I take it you weren’t a fan of Debbie,’ Oliver said.
‘Oh she was fine, it was just the two of them together could be…annoying as hell.’ She lapsed into thought, staring at something above the computer screen. ‘I think there was a boy involved.’
‘A boy?’ Oliver said.
‘Yes, I never knew who, those two would rather be grounded for a year than tell me anything, but one time I overheard them talking about “him” and whether “he” would like it.’
(Oh, that was Nick. He was Brigid and my boyfriend.)
Oliver considered it was a good thing he didn’t have a mouthful of water at the time or the laptop would have been drenched.
Ghostly Hitchhiker Box Set Page 58