Death in Little Venice

by Leo McNeir

  “That was very generous of you, Marnie,” said Priscilla Barnes. “We knew the old man who left the drawings to you, Old Peter. He often came past our mooring. I think he had friends near us.”

  “Where do you keep your boat?” said Marnie. “Are you in Little Venice, too?”

  “No. We have a mooring in Islington, not far from the tunnel. It’s not as pretty as Little Venice, but it’s more private.”

  “I didn’t realise you even had a narrowboat,” said Marnie. “It doesn’t seem, well, glamorous enough for actors, especially famous ones.”

  Suddenly, Peter Menchip broke in. “Sorry, but there’s someone I must talk to who’s just come in. Will you excuse me? Marnie, I wanted to ask you something. We’re setting up a focus group on waterways issues. Would you be interested in joining us?”

  “Well, I’m not the most knowledgeable person.”

  “Maybe not, but you’ve done more for the waterways than most people ever do. Will you think about it?”

  “Okay. Thanks for the invitation.”

  “I’ll be in touch with more details when we get it started. Where can I contact you?” Marnie reached into her shoulder-bag and handed him a business card. “Great. Thanks. I look forward to seeing you again.” He set off through the crowd.

  “My turn now, I think,” said Michael Blissett. “No peace for the wicked. Gordon’s arrived and I promised him a reply about something. I’ll catch up with you later.” He took his leave and vanished.

  “I don’t know how they do it,” said Priscilla. “They seem to have an extra set of antennae that detect movement that other people can’t see.”

  “They’re born with it,” said Anthony.

  “I thought they had it fitted by Central Office,” said Ralph.

  Priscilla looked at her watch. “Nearly time for me to go, I’m afraid. I’m on in the Strand this evening.”

  “Won’t you be late?” said Marnie. “I always imagined actors having to be hours early to get made up and dressed before the curtain rose.”

  “It’s only five minutes away by taxi and I’m not on till the second act. Modern dress, too, so no crinolines to worry about.” She laughed. “Perhaps we’ll see you in Little Venice, Marnie.”

  “Actually, I moved to the country this year. We’re up in Northamptonshire on the Grand Union at Knightly.”

  “Very pretty spot,” said Anthony. “We know it well.”

  “Don’t you ever bring your boat down to London, then?” said Priscilla. “Pity you aren’t here for the carol singing. I always think that’s the nicest of all the events in Little Venice.”

  “It does sound very tempting,” said Marnie. “I’ve heard it’s a lovely occasion, but I’ve never been.”

  “If you can make it, give us a call,” said Anthony. “You can come on our boat, Thespia, if you can’t bring your own.” They exchanged cards.

  *

  Ralph opened the cab door for Marnie and called in to the driver. “Can you take us first to Euston and then go on to Paddington, please.” He climbed in beside her. The taxi rumbled over the cobbles in New Palace Yard, through Carriage Gate and turned left into Parliament Square, accelerating away towards Lambeth Bridge.

  “Well, that was fun,” said Marnie. “I know it’s ridiculous but I feel like a child who’s been taken to the pantomime.”

  Ralph moved closer on the seat and they clasped hands. “That was a rather special occasion,” he said. “It’s not usually like that.”

  “You know who’d really like to see it all, don’t you?” said Marnie.

  “Anne with an ‘e’?”

  “She’d love it. She’s so curious about everything.”

  “Well, I can ask Linda if she could arrange a visit, perhaps even get tickets for Prime Minister’s Questions. She’d like that.”

  “Tickets?” said Marnie. “I know it’s quite a performance, but I didn’t realise they had a box office!” Ralph chuckled beside her in the darkness as the cab moved into the outside lane on Lambeth Bridge to take the Northbound tunnel. “It’s a strange feeling, but it somehow makes me feel part of everything to think I’ve just been standing next to Cabinet Ministers and someone I’ve been talking to is just over there getting ready to go on in a West End play.”

  “It makes a change from the routine of the office, living on a canal boat and working in the middle of a building site,” said Ralph. For a moment Marnie felt slightly put down. Ralph went on. “Well, it also makes a difference from sitting in a study analysing economic statistics on the computer. My life isn’t all about mixing with the high and mighty.”

  “It’s nice to have a bit of glamour to brighten things up, then,” said Marnie.

  “That’s what I thought when I saw you this evening!” Ralph laughed and Marnie smoothed her close-cut hair with her free hand. “That new style certainly suits you. You had lots of admirers at the reception. I expect you noticed.”

  “No, I didn’t, actually. And there’s no need to boost my confidence, Ralph. Though I must say I feel rather strange. I haven’t had short hair since I was about a year old.”

  “I wasn’t being polite. Really.” The cab pulled up at traffic lights and on both sides of the street Christmas illuminations shone down on them, making a party atmosphere in the back of the taxi.

  Marnie squeezed Ralph’s hand. “It was a nice start to the festive season. Thanks for inviting me. Now I can feel Christmas is coming.”

  “Talking of which,” said Ralph.

  “Yes, please. I’d love to.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely. The only reason I didn’t accept your invitation at first was because I wasn’t sure how I’d be feeling. But now, I know I’m on the mend.”

  “I’ll order the tinsel at once,” said Ralph.

  “And is it still all right if Anne comes over for a day, as you suggested?”

  “Of course. In that case I’ll get a tree. We’ll have to do the job properly.” Marnie laughed. “What’s the matter?” said Ralph.

  “I had this sudden vision of you dressed up as Santa!”

  “Perhaps I’ll burst into song. How about a quick chorus of I’m dreaming of a white Christmas?”

  “Actually, that would be nice … no, not you bursting into song. A white Christmas, I mean. Your cottage, crisp bright days, deep snow, a log fire in the inglenook. Perfect.”

  “We can live in hope,” said Ralph. “Just you being there will make it perfect for me.”

  “Thank you, kind sir.” The cab rounded the square by Euston station and made for the underground taxi rank.

  “And do you think you’ll get down to Little Venice for the carols with your new theatrical friends?”

  “Don’t know. It’d be fun, but I’m not sure what else I’ll have to do just now. It was good to be invited, though. They seemed really pleasant, even though they are famous.” They came to a halt near the escalator leading up to the main station. “What ever can they see in someone like me?” They kissed briefly as Marnie got out of the cab.

  “I could write a book on that subject,” said Ralph, “or at least a major feature for the New Statesman!”

  2

  Wednesday 7 December

  Anne with an ‘e’ came into the office towelling her hair. It was fine and blond, very short in an urchin cut, almost sculpted to her head. Marnie was at her desk already involved in a detailed conversation on the phone. With the onset of winter they had opted to take their daily shower first thing in the morning, using the bathroom installed at the back of the small converted barn, known as the office barn.

  Anne loved their routine. Up before seven on Sally Ann, now heated by timer-controlled electric radiators, they had breakfast in the saloon and walked through the spinney from Sally’s mooring on the canal. The only sound to break the silence during their short walk was the cracking of brittle twigs under their feet as they made their way through the frosty darkness. While Marnie had the first shower, Anne would gi
ve the office what she called a ‘good sorting out’, emptying the waste paper baskets, filling the copier with paper, checking the fax roll and generally tidying up. They had organised their workplace to make it snug for the winter, with an electric storage heater, and there was a catflap for Dolly so that she could take refuge in the warm at any time. Anne wandered back to the bathroom, gave her hair a sixty second blast with the dryer and returned ready to face the new day.

  Marnie was still on the phone dealing with some kind of problem. This was nothing new, as they were surrounded by the buildings of Glebe Farm in the process of renovation. One of the cottages was already completed and had been occupied by its tenants, Jill and Alex Burton, a newly married couple, since September. Any day now the final touches would be put to the second cottage and Marnie and Anne would be able to move in. Outside it was still dark at eight o’clock and Anne wondered who could be on the phone so early.

  “So what about an alternative supplier?” Marnie said into the phone. She frowned as she listened to the answer. Anne sat at her desk, trying to work out who it could be.

  “Have you tried, you know, that place in Birmingham?” said Marnie. “I thought they were huge and had everything.” She listened again and sighed. “Well, I suppose that’s all you can do right now. When can you get back to me? … Okay … Yes, I know you’re doing your best. Okay. Talk to you later. Bye now.” She put down the receiver and consulted the diary, muttering something under her breath.

  “We’ve got a problem,” said Anne.

  Marnie nodded without looking up, biting her lip. She swivelled her chair and looked at the year planner on the wall. “If we can’t get them now, we’re stuck till after Christmas.” She turned back to face Anne. “What are you smiling at?”

  “It’s your new hairstyle. I can’t get over it. It makes you look so different. Anyway, what can’t we get? What’s the problem?”

  Marnie ran her hand over her hair. “The radiators for cottages two and three.”

  “They were ordered weeks ago,” said Anne.

  “Yes, well, it’s a right mess-up. Tony says they were sent out last week to a big contract at Lutterworth or somewhere up there. They were running ahead of schedule so the supplier let them have ours. When we said we wanted them for this week, it was too late to get any more from the factory before they closed down for Christmas.”

  “Can’t we go to another supplier?” said Anne. “We did for some of the timber.”

  “That’s what Tony’s trying now. The best bit is that they’ve got the radstats and can let us have them. It’s only the actual radiators that are missing.”

  “Very comforting,” said Anne. “We can move into number two and huddle round the thermostats to keep warm! It’s going to make a mess of Christmas.”

  “Yes. Good job we haven’t got someone waiting to move in.” Marnie stood up and walked over to the window, looking out across the courtyard towards the main farmhouse and the cottages. They formed an L on the other side of the cobbled yard. In the occupied cottage there were lights showing, but the rest of the buildings were in darkness.

  Anne came to stand beside her. “It’s nice to see curtains up at the windows. I wonder if they’ll have a Christmas tree with lights. Marnie, why don’t we get one in a tub and stand it outside with white lights on? It’d look nice.”

  “Sure. Why not? There’s a garden centre on the main road. They’ve probably been selling them since October.”

  “I’ll put it on my list,” said Anne.

  Marnie smiled. The world would not be the same without Anne’s lists to direct their lives. “Good idea. Let’s get on, then.”

  “Anything I can do about the radiators, Marnie?”

  “Not really. The factory will’ve closed its order books now. No chance before Christmas unless another wholesaler’s got some in stock.”

  “Does that mean all work on two and three has to stop now?”

  “That’s just what I was wondering,” said Marnie. She sat down and looked at her planner. “There’s just some paperwork to do for the Willards contract, and the next job is the restaurant on the Grand Union at Braunston. I’ll give the manager a ring, but I can’t imagine them wanting us there in the run-up to Christmas.”

  Anne applied herself to the monthly accounts while Marnie tackled the restaurant manager. It was a short conversation.

  “What did he say?”

  “At first he laughed! Then he gave me a quick run-down on their bookings, their staff problems, the leaking water pipe under the car park. I got the picture.”

  “Well, we don’t have to worry about cash-flow,” said Anne. “I banked that cheque from Willards the other day. Good old Willards.”

  “Mm … We’re well ahead of ourselves,” Marnie muttered. “That’s largely thanks to you keeping everything running smoothly.” She studied her filofax and tried to decipher the hieroglyphics, notes she had scribbled hastily during phone calls, at traffic lights, in meetings. I think we can have a break.”

  “Okay, I’ll put the kettle on,” said Anne jumping to her feet. “We might as well enjoy it while we can.” She reached the sink at the back of the office.

  “I meant something longer than a coffee break,” Marnie called out to Anne’s back. “We could take a few days off, have a breather, take life a bit easier for a change.” Anne was standing at the sink. “Not the best time of the year for a holiday, perhaps, but we don’t seem to have much choice … Anne? Are you all right?” Anne had not moved but stood with her head tilted forward. Marnie got up and quickly crossed the office. “Anne? What is it?” The girl took in a deep breath. Marnie put an arm round her shoulder.

  “Not sure.” Anne’s voice was a croak. She swallowed. “I think I must’ve got up too fast. I feel a bit dizzy. It’s silly.” Marnie guided her gently to her chair.

  “Just take it easy. I think this is called ‘vertigo’ or something like that.” Marnie left her for a moment and returned with a cup of water. “Have a sip of this.”

  “Thanks. That’s better.” Anne managed a faint smile. “Don’t tell me I look pale. I’m always this colour.”

  “I know.” Marnie ran a hand affectionately over Anne’s fine light hair, even shorter than her own. “Just sit quietly for a minute. Have you been feeling unwell?”

  “No. I’ll be okay. I’m feeling better already, honest.”

  “Do you feel sick?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think I ought to push your head between your knees?”

  “I think that’s banned by the Geneva Convention. I’m an unarmed civilian.”

  Marnie laughed. “Don’t tell me. You did a project on it at school.”

  “I got an ‘A’ for the coursework.”

  “I might’ve guessed. Are you okay for a minute while I put the kettle on?”

  “Of course I am. Marnie? What did you mean about a break?”

  Marnie paused while the water gushed into the kettle. “Well, there’s nothing urgent to be done here. All the Willards projects are up-to-date. Mrs Frightfully-Frightfully is away in Barbados for the next few weeks, so we can’t start on the Hall. We can’t complete two and three until the heating’s finished. I was wondering …”

  “The list of lock closures is in the British Waterways file,” said Anne.

  “The list … Are you a mind reader or what?”

  “I think it said there’d be a period before Christmas with no maintenance work on that section, so we could go down to Little Venice on Sally if you wanted.”

  “Would you like to?”

  “Absolutely! A winter cruise. It’d be fun.”

  “And you’re –”

  “Yes. I’m feeling fine.”

  “Then we’ll give Tony a chance to check the wholesalers and, if nothing comes up, we’ll take Sally and head down to London. You could just look up the closures list for after Christmas, so we can get back. We’d look right idiots if we got trapped and had nowhere to live up here.”
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br />   *

  George Stubbs had just got back into the Range Rover when he saw Marnie’s car draw up outside the village shop about twenty metres from where he had parked. Stocky, late fifties, bullnecked and with a balding head under his tweed cap, he was a leading figure in the community, as his forebears had been for generations. He thought it was typical of Marnie these days to use the car for the short trip up from Glebe Farm and he was convinced it was not just because of the winter weather. She was still not fully recovered from the injuries she had incurred when she was almost the victim of murder in the summer. He waited before switching on the engine, to watch her. Marnie and Anne got out and went into the shop, Marnie walking carefully, with less fluidity of movement than in the past. Damaged goods, thought George. How sad to see her now. He wondered if she would ever be quite the same again and shook his head. Lovely lady, he thought.

  He turned the key in the ignition and drove home. He had promised to help his wife with her preserves and was looking forward to a Scotch and soda to fortify him for the task.

  *

  As the two customers came into the shop, Molly Appleton looked round from stacking the shelves with baked beans, did a double take and almost dropped a tin on her foot.

  “Well I never,” she said. “I didn’t know you for a moment, Marnie.” Marnie smiled and shrugged. “Richard, just take a look at this.” Molly’s husband was counting sheets of stamps in the glass booth that was the village sub-post office. He craned his neck to see, grinned and nodded with approval. “Well,” said Molly. “I thought you must be Anne’s sister!”

  “Thanks, Molly. It’s a slander on Anne, but it was nice to be told that.” Marnie quickly explained about the need for a new hair style, while Anne produced their shopping list and began to fill a basket, systematically moving up and down the shelves.