by Chris Else
No, no, no. Why can’t you be nice to me, the way you were in the old days, when you first moved into the house. When I gave you the house, the garden you always wanted. Was that why you moved in with me? Were you using me? No, no, I don’t want to think that. That isn’t fair. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m oh so sorry. But why did you yell at me? I just wanted peace. I just wanted quiet in my own house. If you hadn’t yelled, it would all have been fine. We could have made up. We could have gone back to how we were and I wouldn’t have to drown like Rexy. Wouldn’t have to squirm and shit when he held me under. Silver bubbles, rubble-bubble, blip, blip, blip. Let me make this clear. I will not have the peace disrupted. I will have calm and quiet, you understand me? Calm and quiet, that’s all I wanted. You can’t blame me. I just wanted the bitch to shut up, that’s all. If only she’d done that, it would have been fine. Everything would have been all right. So whose fault was it, in the end? You tell me that.
49.
WARD AND MADDY AND Larry and Sylvia, Lisa and Tom. All together now in Maddy’s house, which was Ward’s house too, of course, except that anywhere that Maddy lived was Maddy’s house. In Maddy’s living room, the pale, pale walls like washed-out daffodils, the dark green paint, the prints by Maddison, the Dansworth quilt, the original Shaw (that’s Basil Shaw, the father. Where did you get that?) and the comfortable, plumped-up, loungey furniture, with the throws and the rugs and the pottery pieces on the shelves and little tables. Tasteful and stylish (according to the eclectic Maddy canon) and warm now, with the night outside, the French doors rain-spotted, streaked with drops. They all sat there in a big circle, quiet, in a sombre mood so even Larry hadn’t quipped or cranked, and Ward served wine with bowed head and sober mien, holding back the big smile of open, honest self-satisfaction that usually accompanied a broaching of his cellar.
Well, here we are, then. Maddy looked around at them all. It was her job to do this, her meeting.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘I asked Michael Cheme to come along so we could start things going with him.’
‘When?’ Lisa asked.
‘Seven-thirty.’ Maddy paused, just in case there was any criticism. It was always best to anticipate the criticism so that you could nip it in the bud. ‘Is that all right?’
Lisa shrugged as if it didn’t matter. Was that the problem here, that nobody cared really? Nobody cared about a woman shot in the head? No, how could that be? Maddy herself had felt sick, sick at the thought of it, of what Colin had done. A person she liked. As they all liked Heidi. A friend.
‘When will the body be released?’ Lisa asked.
‘Tomorrow,’ Maddy answered. ‘Is that right, Larry?’
‘You know more than I do,’ he told her.
‘Funeral when then?’ Lisa asked.
‘Monday.’ Maddy glanced at the others to show that she was actually consulting them.
‘Yes.’ Sylvia nodding. Nods all round.
‘Michael can do it at 11.30,’ Maddy said. ‘Is that all right?’
No one said no.
‘I thought we should have it at Chapelgate. Just something very small. You know, not to make a big public thing of it and have it full of spectators.’
‘Somebody will have to say something,’ Lisa said.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Who?’
Nobody answered. Larry and Ward were studying their wine glasses, like judges at a tasting. Sylvia sitting looking drawn, looking sick at the thought of it all. Tom stony-faced. Did he ever feel anything, that man? Maddy remembered what she knew of him, what she’d learned today from Catherine Lynyard after they’d talked about the board of trustees. She wasn’t even sure she wanted Tom in her house, but what could she do? She hadn’t had a chance to tell Ward about it yet.
Lisa was staring from one to another, waiting for an answer to her question.
‘I will,’ Sylvia said.
‘Maybe we all should,’ Maddy added.
‘No, no.’ Lisa shaking her head. ‘We don’t want a procession.’
‘Maybe we need a celebrant,’ Ward suggested.
‘Michael can do that,’ Maddy answered.
‘No.’ Lisa firmer than ever. Was she getting angry? Why was she angry? ‘Nobody deserves an undertaker talking at their funeral.’
‘He’s very good.’
‘They all sound insincere.’
‘We can do it ourselves,’ Sylvia said. ‘I’ll talk. And Maddy can. And maybe one of the men too. What about you, Ward?’
She didn’t suggest Lisa, of course. That would hardly be appropriate. And not Tom either. Doubly inappropriate, although maybe he would want to. There he was, just sitting there. Still, silent, like a snake. And Lisa didn’t even know.
‘Of course,’ Ward said. He had spoken at a fair few funerals over the years. It went with being a councillor. ‘Only …’ He looked round the room. He was worried, Maddy realised. She wondered why. ‘Only, I think, you know …’ Ward seemed to take a deep breath. ‘There is Colin to consider.’
‘What?’ Lisa said it so loud that Maddy jumped.
‘I wouldn’t like anything to be said against him,’ Ward answered.
‘I don’t believe this!’
‘Please, don’t shout,’ Maddy said. It was the wrong thing to say, of course.
‘It’s a matter of loyalty,’ Ward persisted.
Lisa turned on him. ‘It’s sexist crap.’
‘No, it’s not. He’s a friend.’
‘He’s a murderer.’ The voice, Tom’s voice. Not a shout — it was a whisper almost. Something strange, something strange and cold, so cold that the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and the room fell silent.
‘It’s just …’ Ward tried again.
Larry cut him off. ‘We hear you, mate.’
‘Well,’ Maddy said, ‘I’ll say something and Sylvia will. And Ward?’
‘No,’ Tom told her. ‘I’ll do it.’
Really? Maddy thought. I don’t think so.
Lisa was turning to Tom as if she were going to object to him too. Did she know? What did she know?
‘That’s one from each of the three couples,’ Sylvia pointed out.
‘Let’s leave it for now,’ Maddy said. ‘We can decide that later.’
‘Jolly good.’ Ward seemed happy. But that was Ward. He never took offence. He was such a good-natured man.
Michael Cheme was tall and thin, with a smile so heavy it seemed to drag his chin down to his chest whenever he used it. He sat there looking sadly round the group. Did he understand the circumstances? Sylvia wasn’t sure.
‘Music?’ he asked.
Music? Sylvia didn’t know. Did anyone know? The appalling thing about all this, the thing that made her feel guilty and sad and angry all at once, was the way no one, not any of them, seemed to know much at all about Heidi.
‘Bach,’ Tom said suddenly.
‘Bach?’ Maddy staring at him.
‘Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring.’
‘Of course.’ Cheme nodding, writing it down in his little flip-top notebook with the black cover. ‘And would anyone want to come to Boulder Hill, to the crematorium?’
Nobody responded.
‘There is, of course, a small chapel there,’ Cheme went on. ‘Very small, but perhaps an opportunity for a few people to spend a last moment or two?’
Another silence.
‘I don’t think so,’ Sylvia said at last. Only because no one else seemed inclined to say anything.
‘Fine. Good. Very good.’
Another pause.
‘What about Colin?’ Ward asked.
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Lisa said.
‘I only thought …’
‘Leave Colin out of this, you drongo!’ Lisa, shouting at him. The burst of temper surprised Sylvia, and the others too. Lisa’s eyes bright with fury. ‘Can’t we just think of Heidi for a few moments. Can’t we just try and give her some value. We’re all she’s got. Here.’
C
heme gazing at her with a look of sympathy. He probably looked at his breakfast the same way.
‘We’re all upset,’ Maddy said, giving Lisa a reassuring little smile. Then she turned to Ward, leaned towards him, reached out and squeezed his wrist.
‘Lies and hypocrisy,’ Lisa said.
‘Hey, now. Steady on!’ Ward was indignant.
‘I just hate hypocrisy. And people who can’t face up to their responsibilities.’
What? What was this about? Sylvia caught Larry’s eye, saw his surprise and curiosity. Lisa’s words hung there like a challenge. Ward seemed to have shrunk away, sitting with his shoulders hunched. Maddy was staring at Lisa and looking puzzled and hurt.
‘You don’t know, do you?’ Lisa said to her.
‘Know what?’
‘What I know is …’ Larry said suddenly, loudly. A pause as he drew all the attention towards him. ‘A bloke could die of thirst before he gets a drink round here.’
‘Sorry, mate.’ Ward lumbering to his feet, picking up the bottle, seeing it was empty.
‘As me dear old white-haired auntie used to say …’ Another pause. Longer this time. Larry’s face contorted, twisted into an expression of mock despair. ‘I’ve forgotten.’
Laughter, feeble laughter. But there was no more than a smile from Maddy. And Lisa was still furious, jaw clenched, blaze in her eyes.
‘More wine.’ Ward headed away with the empty bottle, off towards the door.
Larry turned towards Cheme. ‘Our brains cease to function after eight o’clock. GJF. It’s a chronic condition.’
‘GJF?’
‘General Judgement Failure. And, of course, anyone who can say that without slurring is certifiably sober.’
‘Ha, ha.’ Cheme with a polite laugh, mystified by Larry’s nonsense. ‘Well,’ he went on, ‘we’re probably just about done here, I think.’ He turned his head, looked towards Maddy for confirmation.
‘Yes, yes. I think so.’
‘Well, then …’ Standing, his body flicking into upright like a stick man. Maddy, too, got to her feet. ‘Good. I’m sure everything will be just fine.’ Cheme moved to his right, bent at the waist and offered Sylvia his hand. Looming over her like a crane.
‘Thanks,’ she said, taking the thin, limp fingers in her own. She wanted to wipe her palm on her skirt when he let go.
Slowly he circled the room, shaking hands with each person there. Coming back at last to Maddy. And Ward, who had returned with a new bottle.
‘Sure you won’t stay for another?’
But Cheme, at least, had more social sensitivity than to accept.
‘No, thank you,’ he said, offering Ward his hand.
‘Jolly good.’ Ward grinned, gave Cheme his twisted fingers, that cautious shake that always seemed a pity because Ward was such a hearty man.
‘Nice to meet you all.’ Cheme with a smile and another, general bow. He headed for the door with Maddy there to guide him. Sylvia pictured them out in the hall. Maddy would apologise and Cheme would pooh-pooh any suggestion that he had been discommoded.
Ward poured the wine, hesitating over Lisa’s glass, and Tom’s too. The two of them sitting there, side by side, looking … Hard to say how they were. Lisa with her arms folded. Tom with his fists resting on his knees. He seemed relaxed except for the fists. They were tight and white at the knuckles. Ward, back in his seat, raising his glass in a little silent toast.
Maddy returned, briskly walking to her chair but not sitting. Standing there, looking indignant, looking puzzled. Ward, seeing her, started to make a move to say something but he was too slow.
‘What was all that about?’ Maddy demanded, glaring at Lisa.
‘Ask him!’ Pointing at Ward.
‘I think,’ Ward said, gazing up at his wife, his hand reaching out to her in a half gesture of appeal, ‘we should take this discussion off line. You and I.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Maddy told him. ‘I’m not stupid and I don’t like rumour and muddle and innuendo. We need to get this sorted out.’
‘Tom and Lisa are annoyed with me,’ Ward said.
‘I can see that. What I don’t understand is why.’
Ward sighed, a heave in his big shoulders. ‘Sit down, Poppet,’ he said.
She sat down and Ward began to talk, an extraordinary story about how he had been driving down River Road in Maddy’s car on the day Carla was killed and how he had hit her bike (but not her, but not her) and had polished up the scratch on the car and hadn’t told anyone. Even when the police were asking people to come forward, he hadn’t told anyone.
It sounded incredible, especially so when coming from Ward who was so reliable, so dependable, so guaranteed to do the right thing and stick by the rules. But that, perhaps, was just the point, just the reason why he had tried to hide it.
While he talked, Tom and Lisa sat, unmoving, as they had before, and Maddy too was very still, listening with her head bowed a little so that you couldn’t see her face, looking down at the floor to her left, her hands in her lap, folded neatly. She might have been in church, listening to the sermon.
‘And that’s it, really,’ Ward told her. ‘Not much more to say.’
‘What about the yellow car?’ Lisa demanded.
‘Oh.’ Ward glancing up at her.
‘There better have been a yellow car,’ Lisa said.
‘Yes, there was.’
‘Because this week’s Advocate will have it on the front page.’
‘There was!’ Ward more firmly, almost a break in his voice. He turned to Maddy. ‘Further down the road, coming the opposite way, I saw a yellow car,’ he said. ‘A sports car. It was almost raining by then so I didn’t get a good look, and anyway … It was going very fast.’
‘And that’s all?’ Maddy asked quietly.
‘Yes.’
A silence. Waiting to see what Maddy would do. She was in charge. She sat almost primly, with her spine straight, not touching the back of her chair, her head on one side, her mouth twisted in a little smile, a half smile that had more determination than it had humour. Her eyes looking down to the floor, somewhere towards Ward’s feet.
‘Well,’ she said at last, with a sudden bright glance around the room. ‘I’m glad we got that sorted out. Would anyone like a cup of coffee?’
‘Wait a minute,’ Lisa told her. ‘You can’t just ignore it.’
‘I’m not ignoring it. I just don’t see any point in talking about it.’
‘No point?’
‘What good will it do?’
‘Well, he might at least apologise.’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ Lisa’s voice climbing close to a shriek.
‘He’s sorry. You can see he’s sorry. Full of remorse and shame and all the other things a criminal is supposed to feel. Isn’t that enough?’ Sudden glare of anger in Maddy’s eyes.
Ward now, leaning forward to placate her. ‘It’s all right, Poppet. It’s all right.’
‘It’s not all right.’ Turning on him. ‘They want to humiliate you. Over a little mistake.’
‘No, no.’
‘And other people have done worse things. Much worse things.’
‘Let’s go,’ Lisa said, standing up, turning to Tom. He didn’t move for a moment. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’m not staying here.’
‘It’s cold outside.’ Larry looking up at them. ‘There may be no room at the inn.’
‘Stop being a smart arse,’ Lisa told him. She turned back to Tom, who was getting to his feet. ‘Come on.’ Walking to the door. Tom following.
‘Why don’t you tell us all about Astra Bridge?’ Maddy called after them.
Sylvia didn’t understand. She expected Maddy to make a move to stop them leaving but she didn’t. Someone had to do it, though. Quickly, putting down her glass, she got up, ran after them.
‘Wait!’ she called, out in the hallway.
They had their coats on and the front door open.
‘Don’t go!’ Hur
rying up to them.
‘I can’t stay,’ Lisa said. ‘I can’t stand it. I can’t listen to crap like that.’
‘She’s angry. She’s upset. I think she’s angry with Ward as much as anything.’
‘She’s just lining herself up alongside the male bullshit. The little-boy bullshit. Poor Wardy does something wrong. There, there, Wardy, don’t feel bad. We still love you. It’s like Heidi, for God’s sake! The bloody woman’s dead and all we’re supposed to do is feel sorry for Colin. I can’t stand it. It’s lies and hypocrisy!’ Furious. Eyes dancing.
Sylvia took a step back. She glanced at Tom. His eyes too. Dark and calm and cold and wild. The eyes of a wild animal. A silent animal, watching, waiting for an opportunity. She felt a sudden shiver of fear.
‘All right,’ she said, turning back to Lisa. ‘You go. I’ll talk to her. I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe coffee?’ She reached out, touched Lisa’s arm. Then she moved closer to her, kissed her on the cheek. Lisa gave her a little tense hug in reply.
‘Bye, Tom,’ Sylvia said, tempted to kiss him too, but not quite wanting to, held back somehow.
The two of them left. Sylvia closed the door behind them, walked back to the living room.
Ward and Maddy and Larry were sitting as before. All of them looked up at her as she entered and took her seat again.
‘And then there were four,’ Larry said.
‘She’s upset,’ Sylvia said, stating the obvious.
‘We’re all upset,’ Maddy answered. She let out a breath. Suddenly, she looked as if she were going to cry. ‘I just don’t think it’s right to accuse Ward like that. It’s not as if he did anything really bad. Just a mistake. A silly mistake. Wasn’t it, Pookey?’
He nodded slowly, miserably.
‘And calling him a hypocrite and a liar, my God. With Tom sitting there. I mean, I should get credit for my restraint, don’t you think?’
‘How do you mean?’ Sylvia asked.
‘We all know what Tom and Heidi were up to. That’s being a liar. That’s being a hypocrite.’ Maddy with a jab of her finger to make her point.
‘I don’t think we know anything about Tom and Heidi, do we?’ Sylvia answered.
‘I do,’ Maddy said. ‘I saw them at your dinner, even if you didn’t. They were all over each other. Then, the next thing, they were off in the bathroom together. What do you suppose they were doing in there? Reading the newspaper?’