by McNeir, Leo
“That’s right,” said Marnie. “Though I’d rather imagined moving into the first one myself … ourselves … before the weather changed in the autumn. When’s the wedding?”
“Fifteenth of September.”
“Honeymoon?”
“Two weeks. Algarve.”
“What did she think about renting?”
“Thought it would be fine. They might have to move to Scotland in two or three years with her fiancé’s job.”
“Would she like to come in and have a chat about it?”
“I’ve booked her for fifteen minutes at the start of visiting tomorrow evening.”
“Silly of me to ask, really.”
“Oh, and another thing,” said Anne. “Can you give Ralph a ring.” She pulled the mobile out of her bag.
“Now?” said Marnie.
“Now.”
“Has this got anything to do with Ralph’s sudden return to Oxford?”
“Possibly.” Anne remained inscrutable. She pressed the buttons on the mobile and handed it to Marnie.
“Hi! It’s me. Anne said you wanted me to ring.” She listened and put her hand over the mouthpiece. To Anne she said: “He’s been offered a job. He’s just getting the details.” Anne saw Marnie’s expression become more serious. “Yes, I’m still here.” Her voice had become flat. She listened for several seconds. “Does that mean … and you’ve accepted it? … so you won’t be going to …?” A smile spread across her face. “Congratulations! That’s wonderful news. I’m delighted for you … yes, all right … we’ll talk about it at the weekend. Well done, Ralph.” She ended the call and returned the phone to Anne. “Guess what? He’s been offered a chair at the university, a professorship. You knew all along!”
“That’s one way to put some colour in your cheeks, Marnie. You’re blushing.”
“Nonsense, it’s always warm in hospitals. Everyone knows that.” Marnie wriggled gently to make herself more comfortable. “Anne, changing the subject, if this Jill Fairbrother is going to move in to number one, I’ll need somewhere to live. It’s all right for you; you’ve got your barn, if you’re still happy to live in it after …”
“I’m very happy, Marnie. I don’t believe in ghosts. Anyway, Sarah Anne Day must know I’m a friend. Surely you can stay on Sally Ann?”
“There’s absolutely no guarantee. After all, she is still Beth’s boat. She could ask for Sally back, and she’s already made one attempt at selling her.” Marnie leaned back against the pillows, lost in thought and Anne helped herself to some grapes.
“These are really good,” said Anne. “I prefer the ones without seeds.”
“I’m so glad. Anne, do you have strong views on moral blackmail?”
“Not so’s you’d notice. I’ve never thought about it, really.”
“It’s highly reprehensible and should be deplored,” said Marnie. She was looking better already. “Give me the phone, please.” She pressed some familiar buttons and spoke into the receiver.
“You’ve done what?” said Beth.
“Bought a boat.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. It’s a really nice boat, too. Just what I need.”
“But I thought you liked Sally Ann.” Beth sounded bewildered, confused, even a little hurt.
“I do, but you want to sell her to Paul’s colleague, remember?”
“He never mentioned her again. In fact, we’ve hardly exchanged two words since the day we talked about her.” An old suspicion surfaced briefly in Beth’s mind, but was as quickly rejected.
“Anyway, I’ve decided to buy this boat and my decision is final. I’m not going to let you mess me around anymore.”
“But after all the hard work you put into Sally Ann.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“This is really sad. Only last night Paul and I were telling mum and dad about you and Sally, and all you’ve been through together. Are you saying you’ve really made up your mind?”
“Absolutely. There’s no going back.”
“Oh, well. That’s it I suppose. Where’s this boat moored?”
“Little Venice. Towpath side, mooring number one.” There was a pause. Marnie could almost hear Beth thinking.
“But that’s where we keep Sally. That’s our mooring.”
“Not anymore.”
“What? What do you mean? There’s no way we can give up that mooring as long as we have Sally.”
“Good. That’s agreed, then.”
There was another pause. It took some seconds for Beth to understand. “You mean … the boat you’re intending to buy is … Sally Ann?”
“Absolutely. And I’ll tell you something else.” Marnie paused a moment to get her breath. The conversation was beginning to tire her. “I’m getting her for a really good price. A bargain, in fact. When I can afford to pay it.” She lay back against the pillow and handed the phone to Anne, who pressed the stop button.
Postscript
After weeks of lying outside the church in the warm weather, the flowers left in memory of Toni Petrie had withered, adding their own note of despair and decay. No-one knew what to do with them, though everyone wanted to be rid of this further sad reminder of mortality. The whole village was relieved when Pauline Fairbrother quietly walked up to the gate one morning, knelt down and removed them to the sanctity of her compost heap.
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