by M J Johnson
10
In the office, Megan had finished her phone call. She could feel a draught coming from Gil's room and assumed he was taking a breath of air. She poured the tea and lifted the tray. As she reached the French windows she just caught sight of Gil rushing down the side of the house. Half a minute later she heard his car start and drive off with an uncharacteristic roar.
'Where's he going in such a hurry?' she thought.
11
11.17 am - You race off. Nothing wrong with your eyesight then!
I just can't resist seeing where this might lead, and decide to follow - at a safe distance, of course!
12
Gil had scant recollection of his journey to Hadlow. Later, when he considered how mechanical his driving must have been it brought him out in a cold sweat. Sally had pointed out the general direction of Chilvers' house and described a Georgian farmhouse. However, it's possible that Gil's mission may have run out of steam had he needed to make judgements like identifying the correct property.
As it happened he didn't need to go any further than The Harrow pub to find his man. Chilvers was enjoying the sunlight, leaning with one hand against a wall, clutching a pint and cigarette in the other. He was talking to a man who was polishing the chrome bumper of a vintage Jaguar. Gil presumed this man to be the landlord; an irresistible urge to shine things and ownership of a Jag were clues.
Gil swerved into the pub car park with a screech of brakes that grabbed the immediate attention of both men. Surprise was superseded by a smirk once Chilvers saw who was behind the wheel. Gil came to a halt a few yards from them. He left the engine running, drew on the handbrake and shoved the gear stick into neutral.
"Gil, my dear fellow, this is an unexpected pleasure ..." began Chilvers sardonically as Gil emerged. It was necessary to speak above the sound of the engine which started the scene off at quite a high pitch.
"Shut up!" Gil snapped.
The landlord, recognising a situation, dropped the rag from his hand and straightened up to accentuate his height, "What is this, Mike?"
Chilvers didn't reply. He had his eyes fixed on Gil, "You really are an aggressive chap. I'm sure Sally could recommend a good psychologist to help you deal with it."
"You're beneath contempt," Gil shouted. He reached a hand into the pocket of his cardigan and drew out a handful of biscuits. "Yours!" exclaimed Gil, throwing them at Chilvers' feet.
Both men burst out laughing at the seeming ridiculousness of Gil's action.
"They look like dog biscuits," remarked a bemused Chilvers, "It's kind of you but when I'm not working, I prefer a liquid lunch."
"What kind of sick bastard are you?" Gil asked, his voice full of rage.
The publican decided it was time to intervene, "Look pal, this is private property. It's time you left."
Gil looked at the man's unsmiling face, then pointed at Chilvers and shouted, "He poisoned my dog!"
"What?" asked the landlord with a look of incredulity.
Michael Chilvers, grinning with nasty delight, shrugged his shoulders, "I did what? Poor chap's crazy, Trevor. Poisoned his dog? He's absolutely barking!"
Trevor smiled.
"You and Sally must be well-suited," continued Chilvers. "She imagines stuff too."
"You leave her out of this. I'm warning you, don't come anywhere near her or my house ever again ..."
At that moment the door to the pub opened and three regulars who must have heard the commotion came out. Chilvers looked pleased to have a larger audience.
The publican moved closer, squaring up to Gil, "I don't know what this is about and I don't care. I won't warn you again. Get off my premises. Go on. Get the fuck out of here!"
A ripple of excitement passed amongst the onlookers.
For Gil there was little option but to back off. He already knew that acting on his anger had been a mistake. He'd only succeeded in making himself look foolish before Chilvers and his rent-a-crowd of cronies.
He opened the car door, put a foot inside and said, "Keep away from us. If you ever trouble Sally or me again I'll ..."
"Are you threatening me?" interjected Chilvers, backed by jeers from his gallery of allies.
Gil replied through gritted teeth, "I'm warning you ... If you persist ... I'll put a stop to you!"
Gil got into the car amidst much guffawing. As he backed up to turn around, he saw sheer delight written across Chilvers' face, who stood arms folded at the front of the group. Behind him two of the acolytes, laughing inanely, were making jerking actions with hands and wrists at Gil.
13
The encounter made Gil feel quite wretched. On his return, he described it to Megan.
"What the hell was I thinking?"
"You did what anyone might have done. I saw the biscuits and came to the same conclusion. I tried to reach you on your mobile."
"I didn't have it with me."
"I know, I heard it ring." Megan patted Gil's shoulder and smiled, "You mustn't be too hard on yourself. I might have done the same in your shoes."
Gil considered it unlikely but appreciated her solidarity.
"I was concerned for your safety, Gil. Heaven knows what that reptile's capable of," she said with feeling. "I had visions of you being duffed-over!"
Gil thought being duffed-over a likely possibility had he remained in the company of Chilvers and pals.
"You must report it to the police."
"I didn't get very much for my trouble the last time," he replied despondently, recalling the paint incident.
"This is different. The man has poisoned your dog ..."
"He denied it."
"You believe him?"
"'Course not. The man has systematically harassed Sally, followed us to the restaurant ... tried to ruin New Year's Eve at Klaus and David's."
"So you have to report it!"
The idea worried him; not the fear of reprisals from Chilvers, but of upsetting Sally, "You're right, but this affects Sally too. She's suffered so much at that bastard's hands. If you'd seen her Megan, on those occasions when he's turned up. Poor thing's terrified of him ..."
Megan looked sympathetic but unconvinced.
Gil knew what Megan was advocating was right. But he had already acted rashly once today, and he was not prepared to jeopardise a relationship with the only woman he'd loved since Jules over dog biscuits. After all, seeing justice done meant nothing to Spike.
Megan looked concerned, "You can't let a thing like this pass ..."
"I will report it ... but, I must talk it through with Sally first."
Megan nodded.
"First, I'm going to collect up those damned biscuits. I'll ask Jim to recommend a lab to analyse the stuff inside. When we know for certain, we can take it to the police."
14
I followed discreetly. When you took the road to Hadlow, I knew you'd swallowed the bait just as certainly as the pooch did. Sadly I couldn't eavesdrop on what was said. I was forced to watch the row from forty metres away. Despite this, it was still gratifying to know I'd orchestrated the whole thing. I was hoping you might actually assault him! Sadly, not. Lacked the cojones for it!
Even so, it was très amusant.
15
Sally was horrified when she heard about the dog biscuits.
"Deliberately poisoning a little dog … I didn't think even Michael would sink that low," she said.
Gil hadn't suggested anyone was responsible. "So you think he did it?"
"Who else could it be?"
Gil admitted he'd come to the same conclusion. He went on to confess about the confrontation outside the pub.
Sally was concerned for Gil, "He didn't threaten you?"
"No ... but he denied doing it ..."
"Of course he denied it! You're sure he didn't attack you? He's very strong and prone to violence after drinking. I'd bloody well murder him if he touched you!"
Gil appreciated her sense of loyalty.
16
With
great apprehension, he rang the veterinary practice at 5 pm on the dot.
"Hello, this is Gil Harper. I brought my dog Spike in this morning ..."
"Spike Harper, poisoned Russell?" asked the receptionist.
"Yes. Jim told me to ring at five."
"One moment please," the receptionist replied sympathetically.
Gil could hear some whispering at the other end. He anticipated this might be a bad sign.
"Gil? It's Jim. He's definitely more stable. No promises, but I will say, it looks more hopeful. If his progress continues, you should be able to pick him up in the morning," there was a note of restrained fulfilment in Jim's voice; everyone likes to be the bearer of good news.
Gil punched the air with his fist and let out a cheer.
Megan, who had stayed later than usual to learn Spike's fate, greeted what she assumed must be good news with a quivering bottom lip.
17
As a means of thanking her for her support and helping him get through a stressful day, Gil took Megan out to dinner. He picked her up at eight, and they settled on a local pizzeria. They had needed a planning meeting anyway, to discuss arrangements for his forthcoming tour with Felix of the US and Canada. It was scheduled for August to coincide with the American publication of Felix's autobiography, illustrated by Gil.
"End of an era," commented Megan, "You'll miss working together."
"We've had a good run for our money," he replied, "I suppose, truth be told, I'd love for it to go on, but at nearly eighty I can't begrudge him his retirement can I?"
"This is a time of major change for you."
"You sound like a horoscope," Gil said, "Been reading the tea leaves again?"
Megan laughed, she enjoyed these occasional evenings with Gil. He was more like a son than an employer. She couldn't recall him giving her one boss-like instruction ever. And, as she sometimes reflected, if it weren't for Gil she might've been confined to the world of ash-blonde widows of comfortable means, weekly appointments at the hairdressers, coffee mornings and cake-baking for the WI.
A teenage waitress brought the desserts. Gil's eyes opened wide, as expectantly as a nine year old boy's, when he saw the large slice of cassata being set down before him. Megan exchanged an amused look with the girl before allowing a dash of cream to be poured over her fruit salad.
"Stephen and Lizzie have asked me to consider moving closer," said Megan. Stephen was her youngest son who ran a GP practice in North Devon.
Gil looked up from his ice-cream, "You aren't planning to leave me?" he asked plaintively.
"Not for the time being. But a year or two from now, who knows?"
Gil rested his spoon, "You are thinking about it then?"
Megan was somewhat amused, "I'm not getting any younger Gil. I think they find it a strain having an ageing mother quite a journey away from them. I think they'd like me nearer so they can keep an eye on me."
"Why?"
"In case I start talking to my toothbrush or something!"
"I talk to the radio."
"We all do that," she giggled, "I have ferocious rows with John Humphrys in the mornings."
"What about your friends?"
"They can visit, but remember I have four grandchildren who are growing up fast."
"I can understand that," he replied, then added, "First Felix, now you!"
"You have new things too. Sally for instance."
Gil looked at Megan and said with heartfelt sincerity, "I really like her. There hasn't been anyone else ... not since Jules ... I really care about her."
"I know," she replied, "it's wonderful to see you happy again. I mean, you've never been anything other than pleasant company, but you were so sad, deeply sad. It's like watching a bud open again after a terribly harsh winter."
Gil nodded, he could see that picture. He returned to his cassata and bit the corner off a fan shaped wafer, then with a twinkle in his eye he asked, "So, exactly how old are you, Megan?"
Megan smiled, her reticence on the subject of her age had always been a matter of amusement, "That information is only available on a need-to-know basis."
"And I don't need to know?"
"Exactly!"
18
Spike was clearly pleased to see Gil when he picked him up from the surgery, although he was still quite frail.
The vet advised, "If he exhibits any symptoms, contact us immediately."
Gil showed him the dog biscuits. Jim was horrified. He took them off Gil and promised to get them analysed.
Once away from the dreaded vets', Spike attempted his favourite car position, back legs on the passenger seat, front paws on the dash. However, he'd fallen over twice before they were out of the parking space. After some encouragement from Gil he settled for sitting semi-reclined, and proceeded to lick his testicles, or at least the area where they had once been.
Gil had no idea a welcome home party awaited them. Megan had attached a dozen multi-coloured balloons around the front door and invited Felix and Kate. Felix popped a bottle of champagne to greet the diminutive hero's arrival accompanied by cheers from the other two. Spike appeared hesitant, probably because he only got this much attention after doing something naughty. And uncharacteristically in the presence of all his most ardent admirers, he took his pink rabbit off for a mauling in a quiet corner. It was unanimously agreed that after such an ordeal, Spike was entitled to a bit of peace and quiet.
19
Thursday 29 January
I'm disappointed to see the dog back. I feel cheated, like I was sold something under false pretences. The product claimed it killed vermin!
I shouldn't be downhearted. I achieved my goal. I convinced you Michael Chilvers was responsible.
Yes, I was disappointed to see balloons and a welcome home committee.
For a dog! Has the world gone mad?
A dog eats rat poison disguised in a biscuit because it has an IQ of two, then because it doesn't turn its paws skywards everyone's over the moon. Is it me? What's wrong with these people?
Somewhere in the world, about once a minute, a child starves to death.
It's a dog you morons!
Okay, I admit I feel cross about this. I'm coming to accept that the dog is still alive and for the present this will have to do.
Talking of the present, you have behaved entirely predictably.
Let's see what you do when I raise the pace?
For now the little rat can live. I've bigger vermin to eradicate.
But don't fret. I'll be returning to pest control. And I won't forget little Spike - Spikey, as you say.
20
Sally had been on target for accompanying Gil to Nigel's party, when a large consignment of leather accessories arrived, which, instead of being finished a muddy dark grey, was discovered to have been dyed an insipid shade of pea-green.
"It might do for A Midsummer Night's Dream if the director wanted butch fairies with a militaristic slant," said Sally.
"If it's your supplier's fault, can't they fix it?" asked Gil.
"They were doing us a favour. They let us have the leather at cost, for a mention in the programme."
They were having this conversation over the phone around breakfast time on Saturday.
"There's no way I can make it tonight. I'm really sorry, Gil."
"Can't be helped," he said, trying to conceal his disappointment.
"Tell you what … I'll do the re-dyeing and drive back late."
"Really?"
"It's the only way I'm going to see you this weekend."
Gil felt flattered, "What time shall I expect you?"
"Very late … but at least we'll get to spend half the night together."
"Sure you won't be too tired?" he asked with some concern.
"I won't be able to sleep anyway till I've had time to unwind. I'll have a head full of belts, boots and hauberks."
"Nigel and Sue's 'dos' go on quite late. I generally exit about one or two-ish … but I could get away e
arlier?" he suggested hopefully.
"Two sounds realistic. There's such a lot to do, and Roz isn't able to work tonight. I can't really ask any of the other girls to work Saturday night. So I'll be all on my lonesome."
"Okay," said Gil, "Long as you're certain you won't be too tired to drive?"
"Positive. There'll be nothing about on the road."
"So I'll have to fly solo through another of Nigel's birthday parties!"
"You'll have a good time," she assured him.
"Actually it's generally okay. It's me, not them. They're nice people."
21
Although he was pretty much himself again, Megan had given Spike board and lodging for the night.
At eight, Gil set off for Nigel and Sue's place. He always went on foot to their parties. It was under twenty minutes' walking time, and meant he could take a drink without any worries about alcohol limits. It was a cold, clear night, perfect for a stroll.
The Paddicks inhabited a large Victorian semi-detached house, roughly west of Gil's place.
Nigel opened the front door to Gil with a pair of large pink bunny ears attached to his head. He was accompanied by the two youngest Valkyrie, Françoise and Eloise, aged eight and ten respectively.
"Hello, old mate," greeted Nigel, ears bobbing.
Gil observed that even kitted out with pink fluffy rabbit ears, Nigel somehow missed being funny. As an observer of life, Gil found this quite amusing in itself.
"Where's the lady friend?" enquired Nigel, looking right and left along the road, which caused his ears to bounce.
"Couldn't get away. Sends her apologies."
"Blimey, must be worse than teaching! Never mind, you're here, old mate."