Death in Little Venice

by Leo McNeir

  “So it was just a social call,” said Marnie.

  “Yes, just to wish us a happy Christmas.”

  “That’s what Bartlett wished us,” said Marnie.

  “And that’s what we’re going to have.” Ralph got up to check the trout.

  *

  On Christmas Day Marnie woke to find Ralph already up. Sounds of activity in the kitchen reached her from downstairs. She drew back the bedroom curtains and looked out on a grey misty morning, the shrubs and trees in the garden dripping with dew, and spiders’ webs among the branches. The mist was heavier away to the right of the garden where the river ran.

  From the landing she called down and Ralph appeared in the hall. He smiled up at her. “Good morning and happy Christmas!”

  “Morning, Ralph. Thank you. Same to you.”

  “How are you feeling? You look wonderful.”

  She laughed. “Too early to tell, but probably fine. Have I time to take a shower before breakfast?”

  “Go ahead. I’ll have it ready in fifteen minutes. Okay?”

  “You’re too good to be true.”

  In contrast to the antiquity of the house, the shower was state-of-the-art, with an adjustable head that ranged from a fine spray to powerful jets. Marnie luxuriated in her favourite Chanel shower lotion and used the jets to massage her back. The new short hairstyle was shampooed in a minute and she emerged from the bathroom towelling it dry, ready to face the world. From the wardrobe she took out a pair of black trousers and a white silk shirt and as she dressed, she became aware of the smell of bacon drifting up from below.

  Ralph called out that he had laid breakfast in the conservatory and Marnie walked in to find lighted candles on the table and a small pile of boxes wrapped in gold and silver paper at her place. He followed her carrying an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne.

  “Now that’s what I call a breakfast,” said Marnie, kissing him warmly.

  “You don’t think it spoils the orange juice to dilute it, then?” said Ralph. He popped the cork and poured them each a Bucks Fizz. They sipped, kissed again and took their places at the table.

  “This is wonderful,” said Marnie. “I feel completely spoilt.”

  “Good. That’s my master plan. Now, decisions again! Would you like breakfast or brunch?”

  “I’m easy,” said Marnie. “When would you prefer the turkey and pud? If we can’t decide, I can ring Anne and get her to fax us a list.”

  Ralph laughed. “I knew you’d be lost without her to keep you organised. On the whole, given a choice, I think I’d rather prefer to have dinner this evening.”

  “So brunch followed by a walk in the country?” said Marnie. “Great.”

  Ralph went out to put grapefruit under the grill. As soon as he had gone, she nipped into the sitting room, took a small box from her bag and returned quickly to put it on his plate. She sat back to sip her drink and enjoy the view of the garden as the sun tried to break through the mist and clouds.

  “Ready in just a few minutes,” said Ralph. “Can I top you up?”

  Marnie extended her glass towards him. “Just the champagne, please. One shouldn’t overdo the orange juice on an empty stomach.”

  “Quite right. Are you going to open a present?”

  Marnie picked up the box lying on top of the pile. It was about a foot wide, one inch deep and heavier than she expected. Intrigued, she undid the ribbon and gently eased it open while Ralph watched her face. Her mouth widened into a grin.

  “It’s perfect,” she said, looking down at the model of a double canal lock, with moving balance beams, in polished brass. Earlier in the year Ralph had given her two model working boats in brass from the same series. “Magdalen and Balliol will have somewhere to sit. I’ll keep it on my desk. It’s gorgeous, Ralph. Thank you.” She got up to kiss him.

  “Open that one next,” he said, pointing to a parcel that felt like, and proved to be, a bundle of books. There were four of them from the same publisher, all written by women who had served on working narrowboats during the war.

  “The idle women,” said Marnie. “That’s a really inspired choice.”

  “I wondered if you might find a mention of Iris Winterburn in there somewhere,” said Ralph, referring to the old lady, one of the idle women, that Marnie had once met on her travels.

  “I expect I shall. She was quite a character. Now, it’s time you opened your present.”

  Ralph untied the ribbon and pulled apart the sellotape. The package was small like a box for jewellery. It was a watch, but not like the slimline version that Marnie knew he wore every day. This one was chunkier, with a case like pale bronze, and a tan leather strap. It had extra buttons on the rim and small dials for timing. The numbers were bold and the hands thick and luminous. It was guaranteed waterproof to a depth of a hundred metres.

  “Marnie, you really shouldn’t. It’s … I don’t know what to say. It’s magnificent.”

  “Oh, it just fell out of the cornflakes packet and I thought of you.” Ralph laughed, shaking his head. Marnie went on. “Actually, I thought it would be right for when you’re on the boat. I know there aren’t any canals a hundred metres deep, but at least it should be waterproof in any situation you’re likely to meet. And you can time sections to plan journeys.” For an instant Marnie saw the gold Rolex dripping wet on the wrist of Tim Edmonds in the canal and she blinked quickly to dispel the image, hoping that Ralph had not noticed.

  Ralph undid the strap on his Omega and immediately put on the new watch to admire it. Suddenly he exclaimed. “Oh my god! The grapefruit!” He dashed out and Marnie heard the clattering of the grill pan in the kitchen. He returned looking relieved. “That was close. Another minute and … disaster. It was the thought of timing that reminded me.”

  Despite Ralph’s misgivings, the grapefruit was good, enlivened by a dash of sherry and a layer of caramelised spiced brown sugar. While they ate, they made plans for their walk. Between courses Marnie was invited to open her last present, or so she thought. The smallest of her boxes contained a pair of pearl ear-rings that Ralph said was in honour of the new hairstyle. Marnie was intrigued to notice that the writing inside the box seemed to be Japanese and she remarked on this. To her surprise, Ralph looked perplexed.

  “You may find it hard to believe this, Marnie.”

  “Try me. Did you buy them in Japan?”

  “I didn’t buy them at all. They were a gift.” Strange thoughts raced through her mind. Could they have belonged to Ralph’s wife? “I was given them five years ago, by the Emperor of Japan.”

  “The …?”

  “Yes.”

  Marnie laughed in surprise and relief. “I didn’t know he had toy-boys!”

  “I’m serious. They were given to me when I went to Tokyo to collect a prize. Obviously, they assumed I would have a wife back home and one of the presents was these ear-rings. Until now I had no-one to give them to.”

  “Well, you have now,” Marnie said softly.

  *

  During their walk the sun made a partly successful attempt to appear. They had begun by setting off across a field and soon their route led them to the towpath by the canal between Oxford and Banbury. This was a deserted landscape, the canal wandering along a contour line between low hills that rose on all sides. For the first part of their journey they had walked arm in arm, but the path by the water was narrow and they went in single file, Marnie leading the way.

  After brunch they had spent most of the morning in the sitting room with a blazing fire. There had been phone calls to and from a variety of friends and relatives, but otherwise it had been for both of them an uncharacteristically lazy time. Marnie had asked Ralph if he was at a loose end when he was not working.

  “I suppose so, yes. I’m not really accustomed to having free time. Work has until now been the most important thing in my life. Even when Laura was alive I always spent most of the time working; so did she.”

  That’s fine if it’s fulfilling,”
said Marnie. “I understand that.”

  “Up to a point it’s fine,” said Ralph. “But I must say I feel different after all that happened back in the summer.”

  “You feel differently about things?”

  “Of course, especially about you, Marnie. It isn’t like my relationship with Laura. You’re a more dynamic character, more active, in many ways more exciting.” Marnie raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean it like that … well, yes I did mean it like that, I suppose. But I also meant you’re more varied, capable, not just an ideas person. You're more active.”

  “Am I? I’ve never thought about it.”

  “You remind me of the idle women on the boats in the war. You’re the sort of person who can take care of herself in any situation.”

  “Which is how I came to be almost murdered and ended up in intensive care.”

  Ralph shrugged. “That can happen when you take risks.” Realising that this conversation was likely to lead to upsetting memories, he added: “Were many of the idle women injured, actually?”

  “I don’t think so, but there were one or two near misses. At least I think that’s what Iris Winterburn told me. We’ll have to read the books you gave me.”

  They had walked for almost an hour when Ralph remarked that they had not seen a single soul all day. “Where is everybody?”

  “It’s obvious,” said Marnie. “This is a major religious holiday.”

  “Of course,” said Ralph. “So everyone is slumped comatose in front of the telly, wishing they hadn’t had that second lot of Christmas pudding.”

  “Exactly. But you missed out one detail. They’re probably watching a war film, a traditional Yuletide activity.”

  “Inactivity,” said Ralph. “But you’re right. I’ve never understood that. Very odd.”

  They stopped to decide on the rest of their walk by a lock beside a bridge two hundred years old, opposite a lock-keeper’s cottage. In a window of the cottage stood a small Christmas tree with coloured lights flashing. The setting looked like a picture from a British Waterways calendar. Their alternatives were to retrace their steps or go over the bridge and head off on a circuit that would take them through meadow and woodland in a loop back to Murton. They opted to stay by the canal and walk back the way they had come.

  Standing there, Marnie thought back to the last time she had stood on a towpath by a bridge on a canal. For a few seconds she could see Tim Edmonds lying in the water and hoped Ralph was not reading her mind. He was not.

  “Even after all this time, Marnie, I still get strange feelings when I look at the canal.”

  “In what way?”

  “About the night I tried to kill myself. Now, looking back, I can’t imagine what made me try to do it. I somehow feel that memory is there between us, spoiling our relationship.”

  “If I hadn’t come along when I did, there wouldn’t be any relationship to spoil. Anyway, who says our relationship is spoilt?”

  “I just wish that incident wasn’t there in our past.”

  Marnie turned towards Ralph, taking hold of both his arms and looking up into his face. “Listen, Ralph, that is just the point. It is in the past. We can’t change it. Don’t keep looking back the whole time or you’ll spoil the present and damage the future. Whatever that future might be, it starts now. Oh god, I’m sounding like something that fell out of a Christmas cracker.”

  Ralph, who had been frowning while she spoke, suddenly burst into laughter and hugged her to him. Marnie laughed too, but inside herself she was annoyed that Ralph harked back again and again to an incident that she could see was obviously best forgotten or at least not mentioned.

  “Marnie …”

  “I know what you’re going to say, Ralph. But we have to put the whole thing out of our minds, put it down once and for all and agree never to talk about it again. Otherwise we’re never going to break away from it.”

  “Your absolutely right,” said Ralph. “It’s time we, or perhaps I mean I, put it aside. Goodness knows, we have enough to keep us occupied in our lives as they are.”

  “That’s how I feel, too,” said Marnie. They linked arms and began walking slowly back along the path.

  “Actually, Marnie, that isn’t what I was going to say.”

  “Oh?”

  He shrugged casually. “No. I was going to ask how you’d feel about marrying me.”

  *

  Dusk was already falling by the time they returned to the cottage and, with a skill born of long practice, Ralph had smoke coming from the chimney at about the same time that steam was coming from the spout of the kettle. Marnie went upstairs to change out of her walking clothes. She put on a dress of blue silk and tried the pearl ear-rings. They looked good and she went down to find the fire crackling, candles lit and the aroma of coffee from the pot standing on the table. Ralph followed her into the sitting room carrying an armful of logs that he dropped into the basket in the inglenook.

  “Everything okay?” he said.

  “Absolutely. You seem to have it all under control. I’m impressed.”

  Ralph poured coffee. “If everything in life could be so simple.” He handed Marnie a cup. “Ah, the ear-rings. They suit you. Are they all right? I’m not sure how you judge that sort of thing.”

  “I think ‘exquisite’ would probably describe them quite well, Ralph. They’re much more than all right. I’ve put them on because of the special occasion.”

  “I didn’t think you regarded Christmas as very special, being an agnostic.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I meant you talking about marriage.”

  “Ah, that special occasion. Of course, I realise it’s not as simple as running off to Gretna Green or asking a ship’s captain to do the honours …”

  “Narrowboat captain in our case.”

  “Naturally. I hadn’t thought of that.” He knelt down to deal with the coffee.

  “Now that’s more like it,” said Marnie. “A traditional proposal.”

  “You wouldn’t be making fun of me, by any chance?”

  Marnie slipped down to join Ralph, kneeling on the floor. She put her arms round him. “No. I’m not. And I agree with you that in our case things aren’t simple.” She kissed him lightly and got up to take her seat.

  Still kneeling, Ralph handed her coffee. “I knew beyond any doubt how I felt about you even before I saw you lying there in the intensive care unit. Realising that you might not make it was unbearable.” He shuddered. “How to resolve things is the conundrum. The last thing I wanted was to put pressure on you. The main priority was for you to recover.”

  “Which I have. Fully. I feel like a new woman.”

  “So do I,” said Ralph, grinning. Marnie stuck her tongue out. He went on. “But our circumstances are more complicated than most people’s. Between the two of us we have three homes, two boats and two careers.”

  “And one cat,” said Marnie.

  “Of course,” said Ralph. “Given a simple choice, I’d ask you to marry me tomorrow.”

  “What’s the matter with today?”

  “The churches are closed. It’s a Bank Holiday. And more to the point … today, speaking metaphorically, you have things to do. I think we can only take one step at a time and try to work it out as we go along, if that’s acceptable to you.”

  “Yes. Absolutely it is.” She took a sip of the coffee and stared into the flames.

  *

  Christmas evening was mainly spent over a long dinner in the conservatory, the light from the candles reflecting off the glass panes all around them and the glow from the fire visible in the background through the French windows. Ralph had found a long-forgotten album of carols sung by Magdalen College Choir and the music drifted through the house like incense. Conversation was fixed firmly on the future with no harking back to the past. They prepared dinner together, working side by side in the country kitchen for the first time.

  While Marnie chopped vegetables, Ralph occupied himself at the other end of the
workbench. She found herself stealing glances at the man who had asked her to spend the rest of their lives together and she wondered how it could be organised. Was he the right person? They had known each other a relatively short time. But in that time both of them had come close to death and Marnie found that that helped focus the mind on essentials. Now here they were, quietly working side by side on the most basic domestic tasks like a married couple. Marnie hesitated over a Brussels sprout. Was this a panic attack? Was she ready to give up her career and move in as the wife of an Oxford don, going to sherry parties at the Warden’s Lodge, dressing up for formal dinners where grace was said in Latin, having to entertain visiting professors whose special area was obscure and unpronounceable? She sighed and immediately tried to camouflage it with vigorous slicing that reduced the sprout to a pile of green shavings. She hastily pushed them to the side of the chopping board and took another. From the corner of her eye she saw Ralph half turn in her direction.

  “Marnie?” He leaned against the workbench, looking thoughtful, holding a carton of cream. She waited. “I think it would be difficult for us to be together, I mean live together in the normally accepted way, you know …” He made a gesture with his free hand like the Queen waving from the back of a limousine.

  “You mean being boringly conventional in a house somewhere?” she suggested.

  “That sort of thing, yes. Or at least in our present circumstances.”

  “Well, given that we live about forty miles apart, that seems like a reasonable assumption.”

  “So something would have to change. Wouldn’t it?”

  “I suppose it would.” She wondered where this was leading and had the growing suspicion that they were about to reach a turning point. “Do you have something in mind?”

  “How about a glass of muscadet?”

  “As a temporary measure it sounds okay to me.”

  Ralph took a bottle from the fridge and pulled the cork. He passed a glass to Marnie and they admired the pale liquid. They both took a sip and Ralph turned back to his task, that seemed to involve pieces of smoked fish.