by Leo McNeir
Anne shot a glance at Marnie, who got up to turn off the gas under the kettle and make tea. “Darjeeling with lemon?”
“Excellent.”
“Randall, I don’t suppose you saw anyone near the farm on your way down?”
He looked at his watch as if thinking of an excuse to keep his uninvited visit short. “No, but perhaps I shouldn’t stay long. Are you expecting visitors? “
“That wasn’t meant as an unsubtle hint. I just wondered.”
“Do you mean now, as I came down from the village?”
“Now or earlier.”
Randall reflected, steepling his long fingers together. “I don’t think so. Are you in fact expecting someone?”
“Not really. Don’t you have evensong today?”
“My curate’s in charge this evening. Martin. A very earnest young man. Very keen, if a little pedestrian.”
“And the drop-in centre?”
Randall looked at his watch again. “You’re sure I’m not …”
“No, no. I just thought that if you were free, you might like to stay on and have supper with us.”
“That’s kind, but I didn’t expect to just turn up out of the blue and intrude on your evening.”
“Good. That’s settled, then.” Marnie stirred the pot while Anne set out cups and saucers.
They spent a convivial evening together, interrupted briefly by calls from Ralph, who planned to come to Knightly the next day, and Philip with news of meetings in London later in the week. Supper was an impromptu affair of cheese soufflé and salad with a bottle of Shiraz Cabernet, over which they talked about mutual acquaintances, Ralph’s trip, Marnie’s plans for the farm, Randall’s work in his new job.
Anne asked, “Do you have a lot to do? I mean, it’s not just services on Sunday, is it? Do you have more work as Rural Dean than when you were the vicar here?”
I have my own parish with all that entails, plus my wider pastoral role as RD. Then there’s the centre on top of that.”
“Do you get, I mean, does that count as extra work, part of your job?”
“You mean do I get paid more. No, I don’t. The pay’s lousy, but the perks are good. Riches in heaven for eternity.” He winked at Anne. “No, seriously, I get enough to live on and the rest is the satisfaction of the job. It may sound idealistic, but that’s how it works.”
“And you’re very busy?”
“There’s the usual stuff, services, sermons, choir, PCC, running an ancient building on a shoestring. There are weddings, baptisms, funerals, visiting sick and elderly parishioners, hospital visits, helping other vicars in my patch. Then there are the extras.”
“Like the drop-in centre,” Anne said.
“Of course, and completing my thesis.”
“So you’ll be Doctor Hughes. When will that be? We’ll have to celebrate.”
“Maybe later this year.”
“It’s amazing all the things you do,” Marnie said.
Randall tapped the side of his nose. “Hidden depths, Marnie. You’d be surprised.”
“Really? And what do you do in your spare time?”
“I dine out with charming ladies who ask polite questions about my work. This wine is very good. Is it Australian?”
“Not polite questions,” Anne said. “I really wanted to know what you did. I don’t know much about vicars, and I’d never heard of a Rural Dean before. Is there anything else that you do?”
“Well, I’m organising an annual church choir festival in memory of Toni Petrie, and there’s twinning with churches of other denominations in Europe. You’re making me feel tired at the thought of it all.”
“And you really like working with your tramps, don't you?”
“They’re very undemanding. They don't have high expectations of life, and they regard any kindness as a bonus, though that doesn’t stop them being suspicious of it.”
“Do you think they appreciate what you do for them?”
“Probably not in the way you mean, Anne. I think they’re wary of people, as if those of us who belong to normal society are part of the opposition. They just try to keep out of the way and hope they’ll be left in peace.”
Marnie said: “They seemed happy enough in your centre.”
“I think they are. But they’re very suspicious of authority or contact with other people except in a very limited way, on their own terms. It’d be all too easy to frighten them off.”
After supper, with encouragement from Anne, Marnie agreed to show Randall her new gear. She disappeared for a few minutes to the other end of the boat, returning transformed by the flying clothes and helmet.
“That,” said Randall, “is quite something. I’ve never seen anything like it, apart from in war films. You seem to be held together with zips and press studs.”
“Yes. It's rather like a pit stop in a motor race.”
“You mean you feel like a racing driver when you wear those clothes?”
“No. It needs a crew of three to get me in and out of it all.”
“Sounds like fun,” Randall said.
“Rural Dean!” Marnie said prudishly. “I didn’t think you were supposed to have ideas like that.”
“Hidden depths, Marnie. I did warn you.”
*
That evening, they were making up the inflatable bed in the saloon when Anne who was kneeling on the floor, stopped and stared momentarily in front of her. Marnie came from the locker carrying a pillow and looked down at her friend. “Penny for them?”
Anne shook her head. “I was just thinking about Ronny.” She smiled. “His face when you asked him to help you out of your overalls.”
“I certainly didn’t mean to shock him.” She threw the pillow to Anne. “He’s a nice boy. And he’s got a sense of humour, too. That trick he played with the firework. You should’ve seen your face!”
“I know.”
“That was well planned, if you ask me,” Marnie said.
“So that I’d jump in his direction?”
“Of course.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Well, it worked didn’t it?”
17
Monday 9 January – morning
“Hallo, Marnie Walker.”
“Morning, Marnie.”
“Ralph, hi! How are you? Feeling more human again?”
“Well, let’s not exaggerate. I’ve had a restless night, but I think I’ve caught up with you. It is Monday, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Congratulations. Happy Monday. So, what’s new? Any plans, or would that be going too far?”
“I was thinking that I might come over this afternoon.”
“Great. At this very minute, Anne is on Thyrsis, getting the boat aired and warming her up. Actually, she’s been gone about half an hour. I was just starting to wonder what had happened to her.”
“Have you had any more suspicious incidents or strange visitors?”
“Randall came yesterday and stayed for supper.”
“I don’t think I’d count the Rural Dean of Brackley as a suspicious character.”
“From what Randall tells me, the Archdeacon might disagree with you there.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“And we had a visit from Ronny, Anne’s admirer. I mentioned him to you.”
“Another visit. Must be keen.”
At that moment, Anne came into the office, her cheeks pink from the cold. “Anne’s back, Ralph. She’s heading straight towards the kettle like a heat-seeking missile. It’s an impressive sight.” In mid-step, Anne blew a kiss in the direction of the phone. “And she sends greetings. Before you go, there’s something I just want to ask you. It’s been on my mind these past few days. Do you know anything about Harold Larkin?”
“Larkin, the barrister? I’ve met him a few times, but I couldn’t say I knew him well. Why do you ask?”
“I think he could have had a grudge against Tim Edmonds because of having an affair with his wife.”
&
nbsp; “Sounds like a reasonable assumption, Marnie, but from what I've heard, more than just Harold Larkin could have that sort of grudge.”
Within a few minutes of hanging up, the phone rang again. It was Beth. She yawned.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got jetlag, as well. It’s only just over two hours to Malaga.”
“No. Our flight was delayed. We didn’t get in till half two this morning. They made some excuse. Probably the wrong kind of clouds, I expect.”
“But otherwise you’re okay and everything’s normal?”
“Fine. Paul’s gone into college to see if his research budget has survived the vacation. That’s fairly normal. And I thought I’d say hallo. Actually, there is something not quite normal. The garage seems strangely deserted without your MG cluttering it up.”
“Ah, funny you should say that …”
*
Monday 9 January – afternoon
Ralph seemed to be in remission from jetlag. On arrival, he had suggested they go on board Thyrsis. There was something he thought they should see on his satellite television. They sat in the saloon with the TV running in the background and the sound switched to mute.
“So you think they really are heading for a recession in the Far East?” Marnie asked.
“Definitely. All the signs are there.”
“But not everybody sees them, or agrees with you.”
“You know how it is, Marnie. If you laid all the economists in the world end to end, they’d fail to reach an agreement.”
“But if all the signs are there,” Anne chipped in, “why doesn’t everybody see the same thing?”
“Economics is about theories, Anne. The key difference is in how you interpret the facts as you see them.”
Marnie said: “Malcolm Grant mentioned you the other day and said you were regarded as rather a know-all.”
Ralph laughed. “That has to be a recommendation.”
“Don’t you mind him saying that?” Anne said.
“Of course not. If he and his lot agreed with me, I’d think I’d got it all wrong. And in any case, economists are supposed to be know-alls. That’s what we’re here for. It’s our job to tell everybody else what’s going on and what they ought to do about it.”
“Then why didn’t you go into politics and run everything, instead of telling the politicians?” Anne asked.
“That’s a complicated question. The main reason is that I got interested in the ideas when I was your age. Now I interpret situations. I elaborate theories. It’s like studying a pure science. I find it fascinating.”
“Not frustrating?” Marnie said. “You don’t mind seeing the politicians actually running the economy?”
“Ask politicians who runs the economy and you’ll get all sorts of strange answers. And don’t forget, on average they spend as much time out of office as in power. The political life is full of frustrations and missed opportunities.”
“So you like to travel the world talking to powerful people and helping to influence things,” Anne said.
“That’s part of it. At least some of the time.”
“And you invent theories that make them want to listen to your ideas.”
“That’s what I try to do, yes.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing on your sabbatical?” Marnie asked. “Developing a new theory?”
“It’s rather, I’ve been working up something that’s been on my mind for quite a while. I’ve written one or two articles about it, and reaction’s been good, on the whole.” He glanced up at the television and reached for the remote control. “Look. I think this is what we’ve been waiting for.” Ralph pressed a button and the sound came up. A commentator was speaking in a hushed voice.
“... some disquiet among MPs that there has been so little progress reported in the investigation of the death in suspicious circumstances of Tory MP for London Riverside, Tim Edmonds. The question is being raised by Sir Gerald Cornforth, MP for Northamptonshire South. I understand that the person who found the body and has been helping the police with their enquiries, is one of Sir Gerald’s constituents.”
Anne glanced hurriedly at Marnie. Ralph said: “Did you ask him to do this?”
“No, but I think I know who did. It was probably George Stubbs.” She fell silent as the portly shape of Sir Gerald Cornforth rose to speak. He looked younger than Marnie expected, with pink pudgy cheeks and an air of self-importance, in dark pin-stripe suit, striped shirt and striped tie. Marnie could not help thinking that he needed a makeover. She forced herself to concentrate while the MP asked the Home Secretary about the state of the inquiry.
“… and for the sake of all concerned, most importantly of course the deceased’s family, his friends and, not to say the least, in the interests of all who are currently involved in assisting the police with their investigations, we need to know when we can expect a definitive statement on progress from Scotland Yard and if possible an indication of when matters might be resolved.”
He sat down as the Home Secretary whispered in the ear of another minister sitting beside him on the front bench.
“Does all that just mean – what’s happening?” Anne said to Ralph.
“You’ve got it.”
The Home Secretary stood up.
“I’m grateful to my friend, Madam Speaker, for raising a question that has been on everybody’s mind since the distressing death of the member for London Riverside in December. Indeed, this is a matter on which we would have been making a statement in this House at an earlier date had the Christmas recess not intervened. I would like to add my own expression of sadness and condolence to the family. He leaves behind a devoted wife and –”
“Is this actually his answer to the question?” Anne said.
“Believe it or not.”
“He’s just listing more or less everybody who ever knew Tim Edmonds,” Marnie said.
“He doesn’t want to be accused of insensitivity or, more important, of starting by making political capital out of a tragic situation,” said Ralph.
“Would he think of doing such a thing?” Anne asked.
“That will come next, I expect.”
The Home Secretary was now in full flow.
“Members on both sides of this House will be aware that for many months I have been taking decisive action to secure additional resources, not just for the Metropolitan Police but for forces up and down the country …”
“You were saying, Ralph,” said Marnie. Ralph shrugged.
“How did you know he was going to do that?” Anne asked, shaking her head.
“He’s a know-all, that’s why,” said Marnie. “It’s his job.”
Ralph laughed. “You don’t have to have extraordinary powers to know what these guys get up to. I watch this kind of thing every day.”
“And will he in fact answer the question?” said Anne. On the screen, the Home Secretary resumed his seat.
“Apparently not.”
Several members stood up on all sides of the chamber. The Speaker called Sir Gerald Cornforth again and the others sat down.
“I’m grateful to my Right Honourable friend for his expressions of sympathy, and no-one could call into question his commitment to the cause of law and order in this country.”
Mutterings, apparently of dissent as well as agreement, could be heard in the chamber as Sir Gerald continued.
“No Home Secretary has done more in living memory to reduce the level of crime on our streets and –”
“It’d be easy to forget that there’s somebody dead in the middle of all this,” Anne said bitterly.
“I’m not likely to forget it in a hurry,” said Marnie.
“This sort of thing could get verbosity a bad name,” Ralph muttered, as the MP continued. Eventually he repeated his question about progress with the police investigation and sat down amid calls of “Hear! Hear! Hear!”
“They sound like a flock of sheep bleating,” Anne said.
“This is supposed to
be democracy in action,” said Ralph. “You’re meant to be impressed.”
“No wonder a lot of MPs didn’t want it to be televised,” said Marnie.
“What will he do now?” Anne asked. “Will he answer the question?”
“He’ll probably stall.”
The Home Secretary once more stood up and leaned forward, placing a large notebook on the despatch box.
“Madam Speaker, I can assure my honourable friend that I have been in constant touch with the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police throughout the course of his investigation. The most urgent inquiries are still in progress and many leads are being followed. It would not be appropriate for me to comment in detail at this stage, and I will make a further statement to the House in the near future.”
“Smartarse,” said Marnie. Anne giggled.
“Thank you,” said Ralph.
“Did you write the script for this, Ralph?” said Marnie.
Ralph smiled at her. “I think that’s it.” He reached for the remote control.
“Hold it!” said Anne. The Speaker called Sir Gerald again, and he rose still exchanging words with the MP sitting beside him.
“Madam Speaker, I appreciate the need to give the Commissioner time to complete the investigation, but I should be grateful to my Right Honourable friend if he could at least inform the House whether the police have yet been able to establish the cause of death of the member for London Riverside.” Shouts erupted all over the chamber. Above the uproar, Sir Gerald bellowed, “Are they treating this as a case of murder?” It was pandemonium.
This time the Home Secretary was on his feet before Sir Gerald had sat down. He strained to make himself heard over the din.
“I cannot make any further comment at this time, Madam Speaker. I have promised … I have … I have promised a statement in due course and I will return to this distressing subject again shortly.”
He took his seat, looking pointedly over his shoulder in the direction of Sir Gerald, who did not move.
The atmosphere in the chamber was stormy, the Speaker on her feet shouting, “Order! Order! This House will come to order!”
Anne and Ralph both spoke in unison. “That’s interesting.” Ralph pressed the mute button on the remote, and the scene became a hideous mime of bawling faces and waving papers.