by Ali McNamara
Noah said he was going to run some checks with his ex-colleagues to check that this John Francis Kennedy was actually dead, and that it wasn’t another thing Juliet was lying to us about.
But why would she? I’d argued. What possible reason would Juliet have for lying to us about that, or anything else to do with Frankie for that matter?
I turn this thought over in my head as I stare at the ceiling. My job today was going to be to try to trace Lou through her paintings. We knew now that her name was Lou Adams, because I’d seen the signature L. Adams in the corner of the painting. I was sure this had to be one of Lou’s paintings from when she took a trip to Scotland, because the style – the bold colours and large brush-strokes – were just as she’d described to Frankie many times on the postcards as the way in which she painted.
I lean over and pick up a postcard from the table next to the bed.
Even though it had been late when we’d finally got in last night, I’d searched through the postcards until I found the couple I was looking for. The first had been sent in October 1989 and, along with the second one, told me everything I needed to know:
My Darling Frankie,
I’m up here in Bonny Scotland. In the Highlands to be precise, and I can confirm it is very Bonny indeed!
Rose and I took quite some time to get here. Rose (a bit like me!) is getting on a bit now, and likes to take her time to get anywhere!
But I’m so glad we came, the scenery is to die for – a painter’s paradise.
Today I stopped and sketched a fisherman I found on the shores of Loch Lomond. He’d had quite the day and had already caught a huge pile of trout, but he was kind enough to give me one, which I barbecued that night. It was delicious and so fresh! I think you would have loved it.
Forever yours,
Lou x
Then there was the follow-up postcard dated February 1990 some four months later:
My Darling Frankie,
Remember the fisherman in Scotland?
When I got home I painted him and the loch, and the beautiful mountains that surrounded him. I used some garish colours that I absolutely love when the mood takes me – not to everyone’s taste, but this style is very popular if you market it in the right places. I think I’m going to keep this one, though, as I do with all my paintings that remind me of particularly happy times.
Forever yours,
Lou x
The painting hanging in Juliet’s kitchen was definitely the same one as Lou was describing in the cards, I was sure of it, but how had it really come into her possession? The story about her grandfather John Francis Kennedy just didn’t add up – if he had given it to her, why try to hide it from us? He wasn’t our Frankie so there was no need.
I sigh. ‘Oh Lou,’ I say to the empty bedroom, ‘please stop hiding and show yourself to us soon.’
While I’m waiting to hear back from Noah, I get ready to take my usual walk up the hill to see Malachi, but just as I’m about to head out of the door someone knocks on it.
‘I was just about to walk up to see you,’ I say, as I open the door to a grinning Malachi.
‘I know, I mean I guessed you would as soon as you got back, but I was in the town and I thought I’d drop in on you for a change.’
He holds up two coffee cups with lids.
‘I didn’t know what sort of coffee-making facilities you’d have here,’ he says, peering into the kitchen, ‘so I came prepared.’
‘I am equipped with the basics – like a kettle! But thanks,’ I say, standing back to let him in. ‘That’s kind of you.’
‘All right to bring Ralph in?’ Malachi asks.
‘Sure, he’s house-trained, unlike you!’
I find a bowl and fill it with water for Ralph, then I lead them both up the stairs and into the sitting room.
‘I’ll open up the doors again now I’m not going out,’ I tell him, unlocking the French windows. ‘It’s a gorgeous day.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Malachi says, following me while Ralph has a sniff around the lounge. ‘Shall we drink our coffee out here? Whoa, what a view!’ he exclaims, going immediately to the edge of the balcony. He gazes out over the beach and onwards into the sea – calm today with just the lightest of breezes to stir its waves into tiny peaks as they wash gently across the pale sand.
‘It is pretty special, isn’t it?’ I say, sitting down on one of the chairs. I tilt my face up and let the sun warm my cheeks.
Malachi passes me a coffee. ‘Skinny vanilla cappuccino – just as madam likes.’
‘Thanks.’ I take a sip. ‘Wait, how did you know? We’ve only had instant coffee at your workshop before.’
‘I guessed,’ Malachi says, sitting now too. ‘Bit of a hobby of mine. I usually get it right.’
‘Guessing people’s coffee preferences?’
‘That and other things.’
‘Like?’
‘All sorts – favourite drinks, sandwiches, positions…’ He winks at me. ‘The list goes on.’
‘I bet it does. What’s my favourite sandwich then?’
Malachi looks at me with his head tipped to one side. ‘Tuna and coleslaw,’ he says after a few seconds.
‘How’d you know that?’ I ask, astonished.
‘Told you – it’s a hobby.’
‘My favourite drink then? I’ll make it easier – my favourite soft drink?’
‘Diet Pepsi.’
‘Very clever. I’m impressed. I feel I’m missing a trick somewhere, though.’
‘Aren’t you going to let me guess the last one?’
‘Hmm?’ I have to think about this for a moment. ‘No!’ I say when I remember. ‘Definitely not.’
‘Aw, please…’
‘Guess my favourite takeaway instead,’ I suggest.
‘Easy – pizza, with tuna again and olives.’
I shake my head. ‘You’re a wizard… or a magician!’ I smile. ‘That’s funny. Noah called you something similar yesterday.’
‘Oh, did he?’
‘Yeah, he called you “Magic Malachi”, or was it a “magical mechanic”? I can’t remember now.’
‘So how did the two of you get on?’ Malachi asks, without further comment on this nickname.
‘Great, actually…’
I tell Malachi everything that happened in Brighton while we sip on our coffee, and Ralph finds a cool spot in the sitting room to snooze in.
‘That’s excellent, Ana,’ he says, when I’ve finished. ‘But I actually meant how did the two of you get on – like get on together?’
‘Fine, why wouldn’t we?’
‘There was no slipping in and out of each other’s… rooms then?’ Malachi raises his eyebrows suggestively.
‘No. Anyway, we shared a room. But before you start, it was only because there was a mix-up with the booking and they didn’t have any other spare rooms to offer us.’
‘She got that right at least,’ Malachi murmurs into his coffee cup before taking a sip.
‘What did you say then? Who got what right?’
‘I said you could have at least got that right. How hard is it to book a room?’
‘I did book two rooms – I know I did. Perhaps it was a glitch in the computer system?’
‘Maybe. So you shared a room – and…?’
‘And nothing. Noah had quite a lot to drink with his police mates. He just crashed out on the bed when we got back to the room last night. His bed,’ I maintain, before Malachi starts. ‘Not mine.’
Malachi shakes his head. ‘What a waste,’ he says, looking up at the sky.
‘Excuse me?’
‘I mean, you’re a beautiful woman, Ana. What a waste as a man sharing a room with you and passing out due to alcohol. That wouldn’t have happened if I’d been there.’
‘Oh, and what would have happened then? You’re very sure of yourself.’ I grin, assuming this is going to be one of Malachi’s usual wind-ups.
Malachi, who like me has been sitting with his
face turned to the sun up until now, suddenly turns and gazes directly into my eyes so intensely that it makes me wish that I’d set the chairs a little further apart on the balcony. ‘Ana, I’m going to ask you something now and I’d like an honest answer, please.’
‘Okay…’
‘Do you find me attractive?’
‘What kind of question is that?’
‘A pretty straightforward one, I’d have thought.’
I sit back a little so I can look properly at Malachi. This morning he’s wearing his customary jeans – black today with just the one small rip at the knee. He’s teamed them with a black sleeveless T-shirt; this one has some sort of white feather design on it. His muscly arms reveal more of his tattoos than I’ve seen previously, and as I look up into his face I’m mesmerised by his large green eyes that gaze intently back at me under a halo of his shiny, yet always scruffy curly black hair.
‘You’d have been just my type a few years ago,’ I tell him honestly.
‘Oh yeah, what type is that?’
‘A bad boy.’
Malachi’s eyes open wide with mock outrage. ‘How very dare you?’ He grins now. ‘There’s not a bad bone in me.’
‘No, I don’t mean you are bad, I mean the way you look is. It’s not clean cut, is it? It’s… rough, rugged even. It’s like you’re more Johnny Depp than Tom Cruise.’
Malachi doesn’t look too impressed.
‘More James Dean than Clark Kent then?’ I improvise, trawling my mind for appropriate comparisons.
Malachi nods his approval. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. James Dean is the ultimate iconic rebel. So you like a bad boy then?’ he asks, his eyes twinkling.
‘I did. Nearly all my past boyfriends have been a bit…’ I don’t want to offend him by choosing the wrong word. ‘Let’s say they were outsiders, quite often on the wrong side of the law.’
‘I can’t imagine you with someone like that.’
‘Because I appear so strait-laced now? Yeah, I’ve dated a few naughty boys. Daisy hated it – she always warned me I was going to get hurt and she was usually right.’
‘Why do it then if you knew it was going to end badly?’
‘I wanted to rebel, I suppose.’
‘Against?’
I think about this. ‘Do you know, I’ve never thought about it before?’
‘Think about it now then.’
I shrug.
‘Were you rebelling against Daisy by any chance?’ he asks quietly, obviously anticipating my response.
‘Why would I do that?’ I snap. ‘She was my best friend. Why would I rebel against her?’
‘Whoa, steady! Calm down, it was just a suggestion. What were you rebelling against then?’
I think again, his suggestion nagging at me. ‘I guess Daisy was always Miss Perfect,’ I admit. ‘We used to laugh about how she was always right. She always knew the right things to say, she always did the right thing too. She even married a Mr Right. You couldn’t find a better man than Peter. I certainly couldn’t anyway, so I guess that’s why I went for the boys and then the men that I knew would let me down eventually.’
I glance at Malachi. He just nods and waits for me to continue.
‘I was never going to match up to her, was I, however hard I tried? Daisy was perfection in my eyes; with her perfect hair, her perfect skin, her perfect family and her perfect life!’ I slap my hand over my mouth. Where had all that come from? I sounded so bitter.
‘It’s okay to think these things, you know?’ Malachi says gently. ‘You’ve not said anything bad about her. Just how great she was. It can be hard to know someone you consider to be a flawless human being. It can make anything you do seem very inadequate. But there’s rarely a flawless human being, Ana. Everyone has their faults.’
‘But she was my friend, and she’s not here now. I don’t want to think badly of her – I want to remember her as she was.’
‘And you will do, with much love and affection. But now you’ve got to stop living your life in her shadow. Her life has ended and yours goes on. But how you choose to live it is up to you. This is the Ana show now – you’re a solo artist, not part of a double act any longer.’
I stare at Malachi. ‘Who made you so wise?’ I ask, suddenly realising he’s actually talking a lot of sense.
Malachi shrugs. ‘It’s a gift.’
I smile. ‘And so cocky too?’
‘Years of experience.’
I shake my head and sit back in my chair. The sun is currently fighting with a bank of fluffy white clouds that have floated across the sky while we’ve been talking, so I’m able to look directly up into the sky without blinding myself.
‘So, back to my earlier question,’ Malachi asks. ‘Do you find me attractive or not?’
I have to admire his persistence, and his sheer audacity.
‘Yes, and no,’ I tell him seriously, removing the grin from my face.
‘Hmm… I’m not sure I like the sound of that. Explain.’
‘So I told you before you would have been just my type in the past and that I’ve dated many a boy like you.’
‘Yes, but I’m hardly a boy.’
‘Okay, a man then, but now I think I want something different. My life has been so unstable since Daisy died, I think my priorities have changed and I need some stability in my life again. Daisy used to provide that stability, but now…’
‘You need to stand on your own two feet?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘No need for a man then?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say that. Maybe a different sort of man, that’s all – one that can provide me with some stability. Before I’d have been happy to whizz around on the back of a Harley-Davidson, but now I need someone with something a bit more substantial.’
‘Like a camper van?’ Malachi suggests, his eyes twinkling.
‘Ha, maybe? I was thinking of something a little more reliable.’
‘Shame.’ Malachi shrugs. ‘Ah, well, you win some, you lose some. I don’t mind being your James Dean, but the question is, who will be your Clark Kent, or even your Superman?’
Thirty-Four
While Ralph snoozes peacefully in the sitting room, Malachi and I spend another relaxed hour or so on the balcony together, talking about St Felix, Daisy-Rose and just life in general.
Malachi, I’ve come to realise, for all his chat and swagger, is actually very insightful when it comes to discussing things of a philosophical nature, which surprises me. I attempt to discover where he formed his interesting beliefs and opinions. Did he go to university? Had he been on a debate team at school? Had he had a spiritual experience as a child that had led to his views?
However, Malachi is vague when I ask him about his childhood and growing up, much like Noah when I’d asked him about his time in the police force, so eventually I find it best to leave it be when no answers are immediately forthcoming.
I’m about to suggest some lunch might be an idea sometime soon when I hear a knock on the door downstairs.
‘I’ll just see who that is,’ I tell Malachi.
‘Sure,’ Malachi says, stretching out in the sun, which is now shining fully down on the balcony. ‘I’ll have to get back to the garage soon, though. Daisy-Rose won’t spray-paint herself. Last coat today!’
‘It’s Sunday!’ I call as I head down the stairs. ‘The day of rest.’
‘No rest for the wicked!’ I hear Malachi call back. ‘And according to you I’m a very bad boy indeed!’
I’m still smiling as I reach the door and pull it open.
‘Noah, hi,’ I say on seeing him. ‘How are you on this lovely day? Isn’t it gorgeous out there?’
‘Bit hot for me actually,’ Noah says, stepping inside the door. ‘I burn far too easily in this weather.’
I think of Malachi stretched out in the sun upstairs. How opposite could two men get?
‘You seem very chipper anyway,’ Noah says. ‘I thought you might be a bit d
own after our trip.’
‘Nope. I’m just as positive we’re going to find Lou as I was before. If not more so now we have her name. Anything on that yet, or on the mysterious JFK?’
‘No, sorry – Sunday, isn’t it? Most of my guys will be off today. We only work Sundays if we have to.’