Paint It Black

by Mark Timlin

  Then she realised what I’d said, pulled away and looked at me. ‘Aren’t you going to tell the police what they told you?’ she said.

  ‘The police,’ I said back. ‘What’s the bloody point? They’re useless. Talk about lions without teeth. We know that the girls are OK, and where they’ll be tomorrow or the next day at the latest. I’m going to meet them. I’ll teach those travellers not to take my daughter away.’

  ‘You’re crazy. How do you expect to find them?’

  ‘The same way the police would, but easier. Those people don’t get on with the law.’

  ‘But what happens if something happens to the girls between now and then?’

  ‘Why should it?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t it?’

  ‘Because it won’t.’

  ‘I wish I could be as sure as you are.’

  So did I. ‘I’m sure that Paula will take care of that,’ I said. And from what I’d heard, I was. Although I wasn’t best pleased about her taking Judith with her on her adventures. Far from it.

  ‘You have more faith in her than I do,’ said Laura.

  ‘Obviously. So are you going to tell the police, or let me handle this my way?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Make up your mind. I’m going to have a look round while you do it.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re dressed for it.’

  She was wearing her usual, thin, high-heeled shoes and the ground outside was muddy and wet.

  ‘I don’t care. I’ll come anyway.’

  I shrugged. She had plenty of money for new shoes. Or Louis did.

  We got out of the car and walked over to the pavilion. On the way we saw plenty of evidence that someone had recently camped on the site. There were the ashes of fires, discarded but still fresh cigarette packets and soup and baked bean cans, with the labels still bright and readable and not dulled by time, like some we saw.

  As we went towards the half-demolished building Laura stumbled several times on the uneven surface of the ground and I reached out for her, and she took my arm for support.

  The pavilion was a tip. More fires had been lit inside and the grey walls were black with smoke. As I kicked through the detritus that coated the floor I saw several used condoms, and thought that maybe I should tell Old Bill rather than search for Judith and Paula by myself.

  ‘This place is horrible,’ said Laura. ‘Let’s go back to the car.’

  When we were sitting in it again she said, ‘So? What did coming here prove?’

  ‘It proved that the place existed and that someone has been camping here recently. Those three girls could have been lying about the whole deal just to rip me off. But I reckon that if they were telling the truth about these people, they’re probably telling the truth about the rest.’

  ‘They were here all right,’ said Laura. ‘It was the talk of the shopping precinct. They were collecting their dole from the post office, much to the disgust of the little old lady that runs the place. You only had to ask me.’

  ‘I wanted to see for myself,’ I said. ‘And I wanted to get out of the house. I don’t think old Louis is too crazy about me being there.’

  ‘He’s not too crazy about much these days,’ she said sadly. Then changed the subject abruptly. ‘Look at the state of my shoes.’

  She reached down to remove the offending articles, their uppers and heels caked with mud, and as she did so her skirt worked its way up her thighs, which I noticed were still as good as I remembered.

  She saw me look, but didn’t pull her skirt down, and I felt a strange tension inside the car.

  ‘Our relationship hasn’t been up to much for ages. Not since the baby was born,’ she went on.

  ‘Where is Joseph?’ I asked. Joseph is Louis’s and Laura’s son.

  ‘Louis’s mother came and collected him on Saturday. She doesn’t live far away. She moved up here soon after we did. We thought it was better that he stayed with her until all this is over.’

  ‘How old is he now?’ I asked.

  ‘Three.’

  I nodded.

  Laura put her hand on my knee. Things must’ve been really bad for her to do that. She looked into the back seat of the car. ‘Do you remember what we used to do in the back of your old Cortina?’

  ‘Course I do.’ My voice sounded thick in my ears.

  ‘This car is a bit smaller, but do you think we . . . ?’ Her skirt rode another inch or two up her thighs, and her hand mimicked its move on mine.

  I took hold of it and lifted it off my leg. ‘No, Laura,’ I said. ‘That’s not the bloody answer. We’re finished. I’m married again and so are you. It wouldn’t work. Christ. Can’t you see that?’

  She pulled down her skirt and nodded. ‘Yes, Nick. Course I can. Sorry. I’m just being stupid. Middle age marches on.’

  ‘Leave it out, Laurie.’ Jesus, I hadn’t called her that for years either. This was getting like old home week. ‘You’re just a kid.’

  She looked at me through red-rimmed eyes. ‘Thanks for that at least, Nick.’

  I smiled at her and she smiled back.

  ‘So?’ I said.

  ‘So what?’

  ‘So what are we going to do about our wayward daughter?’

  ‘Whatever you think is right, I suppose.’

  ‘So I go and meet the travellers and we leave the cops out of it.’

  She nodded. ‘But I’m coming with you.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘You heard.’

  ‘You’re coming to a rock festival to meet a convoy of New Age hippies?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Christ, Laura,’ I said. ‘Wonders will never cease.’

  I got Laura to stop at Margaret McGann’s on the return trip. I felt I had to tell her what was going on too. I owed it to her. The three little kids were still leaning against the fence when the Golf drew up in front of the house. It seemed that schooling was a forgotten concept in this part of the world.

  Laura stayed in the car, and once again the kids blimped me as I walked up the path and knocked on the door. Margaret McGann answered after a moment, looked past me at the VW and shrugged. ‘Too grand, is she?’ she asked, as she stepped aside to let me in.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Just too messed up.’

  We went into the kitchen once more, and the dog gave me his once over before going back to sleep and I sat at the kitchen table again.

  I told Margaret McGann what I’d told Laura, only this time I didn’t let on who’d told me. Then I told her what I intended to do.

  ‘Thank God they’re all right,’ said Paula’s mother.

  ‘Do you want me to tell the police or handle it my way?’ I asked.

  ‘You know how I feel about the cops,’ she said. ‘You do it. From what I hear you’ll have a better chance of finding them.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ I said. ‘But I do have a vested interest.’

  ‘You’ll find them,’ she said. ‘And when you do, you’ve got my permission to give Paula a good clout.’

  ‘I’ll remember that, Margaret,’ I said as I rose to leave. ‘I’d better get off now. I want to get back to London as soon as possible.’

  ‘And Madam’s going with you?’

  ‘She insisted.’

  ‘Well, I hope she comes back with a little more understanding of people.’

  ‘I hope so too,’ I said, and Margaret McGann walked me to the door.

  ‘Just get them back safely,’ she said.

  ‘I will.’ And I went back to the car and gave her a wave as I got in.

  ‘What did she say?’ asked Laura as she put the car into gear and pulled it away from the kerb.

  ‘She said she trusted me,’ I replied.

  ‘Good,’ said Laura. ‘So do I.’

  Which once again made a change.

  We went back to her and Louis’s place, and Laura went off to find him, tell him what she was doing and pack a few thi
ngs. I told her to dress for bad weather. We didn’t know where we’d be ending up. When she came back she was wearing a sheepskin-lined leather jacket that couldn’t have cost less than five hundred smackers, tight jeans and desert boots, and carried a crammed holdall.

  ‘What did Louis say?’ I asked.

  ‘Not a lot. Are you ready?’

  ‘Are we going to call a cab?’

  ‘No. I’ll take the car. Leave it in the parking garage.’

  ‘Suits me,’ I said, and we split.

  Louis didn’t come and wave us off.

  On the way to the airport, I said, ‘You’re going to need somewhere to stay tonight. There’s no room at my place.’

  ‘I don’t know why you keep that poky little flat,’ said Laura. ‘Now you’re married again you should buy Dawn somewhere with some space.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said defensively. ‘We’ll get a bigger place soon.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘When I can afford it. Now, about a hotel for you tonight.’

  ‘Is there somewhere local?’

  ‘Course there is, but I thought you always stayed in the Connaught when you were in town.’

  ‘I’ll make an exception this time,’ she said coldly.

  ‘There’s a couple of places on Crown Point that don’t look too bad,’ I said. ‘It’s only for one night after all. I’ll phone Dawn from the airport, get her to meet us and she can reserve a room for you.’

  We got to the airport in time for the three-fifteen flight to Heathrow, and Laura went off to get the tickets whilst I called Dawn.

  ‘Anything?’ I said.

  ‘No. You?’

  ‘Yeah. I think I know where they’ll be tomorrow or Wednesday.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Long story. I’ll tell you later. We’re on the three-fifteen flight, getting in at four-forty-five. Will you meet us?’

  ‘We, Whiteman? Us?’

  I knew this was going to be difficult. ‘Yeah. Long story again, but Laura’s coming down with me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I haven’t told Old Bill what I’ve found out and she wants to be there when we find the girls. Otherwise she blows the whistle and spoils the fun.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Don’t say it like that, Dawn. It wasn’t my idea. She’ll need somewhere to stay local. Can you find out if the Christopher at Crown Point’s got a room for tonight. We’ll be off tomorrow to Banbury.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I’ll explain everything when I see you. Just get her a room. If the Christopher’s full, try and find somewhere else local. And make it decent, or else she’ll moan like hell.’

  ‘And we couldn’t have that, could we? Am I coming to Banbury, or is this a private excursion?’

  ‘Course you are.’

  ‘Right.’

  I saw Laura waving at me from the concourse, tickets in hand.

  ‘Look, I’ll have to go. I’ll see you in a bit. Bye now.’

  ‘Bye,’ she said and hung up in my ear hard. I knew that taking Laura back to London with me was going to cause problems, but that’s what you get with extended families.

  I went and collected my ex-wife, and at four-forty-five we were back at Heathrow where Dawn was waiting in the Chevy wagon in a no waiting zone outside the terminal.

  ‘You remember Laura,’ I said as we got into the car.

  ‘Of course I do,’ said Dawn politely, pulling away under the eyes of a traffic warden in a turban. ‘Nice to see you again, Laura.’

  ‘And you, Dawn,’ said Laura from the back seat. ‘Though it could be under better circumstances.’

  On the way back home I filled Dawn in on what had happened in Scotland. By the time I’d finished we were just coming up to Battersea Bridge and she said, ‘So it’s Banbury tomorrow?’

  ‘That’s right,’ I replied. ‘And I need to make some calls before we go. Did you get Laura a room?’

  ‘A single at the Christopher. I believe it’s very nice, Laura,’ she said glancing round. ‘It caters especially for salesmen.’ And I saw Laura wince.

  We got back to the flat around five-thirty, and I called up my old rock and roll chum, Christopher Kennedy-Sloane, on his mobile number.

  He answered on the third ring. ‘Nick,’ he said when I’d identified myself. ‘How’s the boy?’

  I told him about Judith and Paula’s disappearance, then asked him if he knew about the Banbury Festival.

  ‘Know about it?’ he said. ‘One of my clients is making a guest appearance this year. The organisers like to dig out the odd famous, geriatric pop star, to bring tears of nostalgia to the punters’ eyes,’ and he mentioned the lead singer of one of the most famous blues-cum-heavy-metal bands of the seventies.

  ‘So are you going?’ I asked.

  ‘Catch me standing in a bloody freezing field all weekend contracting the flu just to see some old duffer reprising his greatest hit? No chance, love. But I do happen to have a handful of artists’ passes sitting on my desk. They’ll get you on to the site, and backstage if needs be.’

  ‘You’re a diamond, Chris,’ I said.

  ‘Anything for a friend in need. I’m truly sorry to hear about Judith. I hope you find her.’

  ‘So do I.’

  ‘Will you be staying over?’ he asked.

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Well there’s a halfway decent hotel in the town I believe, where most of the bands stay. You’d better phone them tonight before the rush starts. They might have some rooms this early in the week, but later they’ll almost certainly be chokka.’

  ‘You think of everything, mate.’

  ‘I have to.’ And he told me the name of the hotel, which I wrote down on a pad.

  ‘When can I get the passes?’ I asked. ‘I want to be off pretty early tomorrow. I just need to sort out some transport.’

  ‘I’ll bike them over to you first thing. You’ve caught me on the way to a bit of a do for the next big thing.’

  ‘Who no doubt you represent.’

  ‘No doubt at all. I’ll be in the office by nine in the morning and I’ll make it my first task.’

  ‘Get the geezer to put them through the letter box if there’s no one home, all right? I’ll probably need to pop out tomorrow, first thing.’

  ‘All right, Nick, and good luck.’

  ‘Cheers,’ I said and hung up.

  Next on my list of calls was my pal in the motor trade, Charlie. I caught him on his mobile too, heading home after a hard day ripping off people who knew nothing about cars.

  ‘Got any four-wheel drives in stock?’ I asked.

  ‘A couple. A Discovery and a Vogue.’

  ‘Is the Vogue automatic?’

  ‘Sure. Power everything, mag wheels and leather upholstery. To you, nineteen grand. Eighteen, and that hunk of Detroit garbage you’re driving now.’

  I ignored the insult to the Chevy. ‘I don’t want to buy it, Charlie,’ I said. ‘I want to borrow it.’

  ‘Borrow it,’ he bellowed. ‘I should bleedin’ cocoa.’

  So I told him the story too, and at the end I heard him sigh and he said, ‘When do you want it?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning, first thing.’

  ‘Just bring it back in one piece, and Judith too,’ he said, and hung up in my ear.

  Then I phoned directory, got the number of the hotel in Banbury and called it up. They did indeed have a double and a single room for the next night and Wednesday, and I booked them. When I enquired about later in the week, they told me that was when the bands came in for the Festival and they were full. But I hoped that we’d be back in London by then with Judith and Paula in tow.

  Finally I got back to Chas. He was at home. He’d been into the offices of the sister daily to the Sunday he worked for. He’d asked around discreetly, but nothing had been known about Judith and Paula’s disappearance. I told him I hoped it stayed like that.

  When I put down the phone after the fourth call, I told Laura
and Dawn what had occurred, then we drove Laura up to her hotel where she insisted that we stayed for dinner, which wasn’t half bad. She had no complaints about the room, which was a miracle, and as the evening wore on she and Dawn seemed to be getting on better, which suited me down to the ground. The last thing I wanted on our little excursion was a pair of feuding women.

  Around about ten Dawn drove me home in the wagon and we went to bed.

  It looked like tomorrow was going to be a long day.

  I was up early and woke Dawn with a cuppa after I was dressed. ‘Come on, girl,’ I said, ‘shake a leg.’

  She rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom, whilst I knocked up a couple of bacon sandwiches.

  After we’d eaten, we packed a bag and went out to the Chevy and drove it to Charlie’s. He’d just arrived, and his boy was making tea. We sat in his office and I had to tell him the whole story over mugs of Co-Op 99.

  ‘So that’s why we need a four-wheel drive,’ I said. ‘God knows where we’re going to end up.’

  I saw his look.

  ‘Don’t worry, Charlie,’ I assured him. ‘I’ll put it through the car wash before I bring it back.’

  ‘Cheers,’ he said drily, but nevertheless hunted through his desk drawers until he came up with an ignition key on a leather fob attached to a yellow cardboard label. ‘Here you go,’ he said. ‘It’s on the front. The boy’s taking the price stickers off.’

  ‘Cheers, mate,’ I said. ‘I’ll take care of it.’

  ‘Make sure that you do.’

  ‘Can I leave the Chevy here?’

  ‘If you want, but put it round the back. I don’t want to get a bad name having something like that where my customers can see it.’

  ‘What customers?’ I asked. ‘I thought you were a victim of the recession.’

  ‘I do all right.’

  We went out on to the lot where a dark green Range Rover sat tall on its huge town and country tyres. I gave the keys of the wagon to the boy, who expertly steered it round the back out of sight, and I opened up the Vogue. ‘Want to drive?’ I asked Dawn.

  ‘No. I’d hate to deprive a boy of his new toy.’

  I hoped she’d say that. But I knew if I’d got straight behind the wheel I’d never hear the last of it. Still a bit of a libber at heart, our Dawn.