Reprise

by Claire Rayner

  She grinned at the word. Wireless. Children’s Hour and Saturday Night Theatre and the Ovaltineys, that was wireless. She was feeling better by the moment.

  ‘– and I wondered if you were my – I mean, the girl I’d known, you know. But I thought, well, not really. Not possibly –’

  ‘But I am, as you see!’ she said gaily. ‘May I come in?’

  ‘In? Oh – er – well, yes, I mean there’s no real – well, we could go to the flat, I suppose. We have a place up at the top you know, as houseparents. Not much, but our own, nice view from the bedroom, and a little kitchenette, not that we use it much. Sally says it alienates the young people if they think we live better than they do so we always eat with them, and we watch TV with them and really – well, there’s the office of course, less of a climb, you know, and not too uncomfortable, and if Sally wants me –’

  He was burbling and she smiled sweetly at him, feeling really good now. Why on earth had she worried? There had been nothing to worry about. It was all going to be a doddle. No messing about, a straight series of questions and answers, and then she’d be on her way.

  ‘Wherever you like,’ she said easily. ‘I won’t keep you long. I just want to know what it is you know all about. Dolly left a message for me, you see, that you know a lot. So I’ve come to find out what it is.’

  And then her new-found self-assurance dissolved and ran out of the ends of her fingers as he went a sick yellowish grey, and his eyes turned upwards and he looked as though he were going to faint.

  10

  But he didn’t. He stood there in the doorway leaning against it and staring at her with his eyes out of focus as slowly the colour came back into his cheeks.

  ‘A message? She left a message?’ He tried to smile and she had to glance away for a moment, it looked so painful. ‘To do with me?’

  ‘I’d better come in, hadn’t I? It’s difficult standing out here.’

  ‘Yes. Yes. I suppose you should – the flat – the office –’

  She was getting irritable now for he made no move, still standing there leaning against the door jamb. ‘I don’t mind where, as long as I can talk to you! There’s nothing to get into a flap about, is there? Just an old friend, here to talk about old times, that’s all.’

  He seemed to brighten then. ‘Old friend – yes –’ he murmured, and straightened up and turned to walk across the hall, but he was still in some degree of shock, because his knees buckled, and she had to put out a hand to hold on to him.

  They walked across the red tiles of the hall, her heels clicking, and his feet shuffling, while she still held his elbow in a supportive grip and she thought absurdly – I must look like some sort of hospital nurse, being kind to an old man. And then, irritably – he’s not that old. He was the same as Dolly – only sixty or so – not that old.

  The office was as shabby as the hall and the stairs, but much more cluttered. A desk, piled high with paper, a notice board with so much pinned on it that it was impossible to see what point there had been in putting most of the things there in the first place, a couple of chairs stacked with box files, a gas fire hissing dispiritedly over its broken elements. He stood in the doorway as they reached it and looked round, as though he were seeing it for the first time.

  ‘This will do, will it?’ He sounded apologetic, less frightened now, and straightened, taking his arm away from her, moving across to the desk. ‘Not very glamorous, I’m afraid, but funds are low, and we need all there is to feed the children and – you know how it is with local authorities, I’m sure – don’t you?’ He peered up at her, pushing the chair towards her. ‘Do sit down. I’ll ask Sally for some tea. Do sit down –’

  ‘No need for tea, and no need to apologize. I didn’t come for a party. Just to talk to you.’ She took the chair and sat down firmly, and after a moment he shuffled across the room and took the box files off another chair for himself. He sat with his head down, not looking at her, and there was a little silence broken only by the plopping of the gas fire as she stared at him. Was this the man she had once found so fascinating! The one who could make her shiver inside with such delight when he tickled her, the one who smelled so exciting? She tried to look back down the corridor of almost thirty years to the young man he had once been, but she could see only this old one, this grey-haired frightened creature huddled in a shabby chair.

  ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, you know,’ she said after a moment, trying to sound friendly and relaxed. ‘I just need some information, that’s all. Why has it given you such a shock seeing me?’

  She felt her puzzlement increase as she watched him; he hadn’t been all that alarmed when he had first realized who she was; anxious perhaps, but not really frightened. Not until she’d told him why she’d come had that wave of terror washed over him, leaving him as he was now, shaking and pallid and rather embarrassing.

  ‘Shock? Not at all.’ He tried to rally, leaned back in his chair with a movement that was meant to be nonchalant but which was tight and jerky and underlined his tension even more. ‘Surprised, of course, – I mean, who wouldn’t be? After so many years. You were just a baby, you see, when I knew you, and to find a handsome young woman on my doorstep and to discover she’s a well-known person, into the bargain – well, surprised, naturally.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘And a little upset, of course –’ He was trying so hard to be relaxed it almost made her own muscles ache to watch him. ‘– to hear of Dolly’s death. Dear old Dolly – such a good-hearted soul, your mother – so kind and –’

  ‘We didn’t get on,’ she said harshly. ‘I’m not mourning her death, so there’s no need to trot out any platitudes.’

  He peered at her over his glasses, and then took them off, dropping them to dangle against his chest with a slightly flamboyant movement that sorted ill with his state of tension, but which was obviously second nature to him.

  ‘Didn’t get on? Oh. That’s a pity. That really is a pity.’ He sounded earnest now, looking at her with that school-masterish expression on his face, and she felt irritation rise in her again. ‘Mothers and daughters – such a lovely relationship, such a pity when things go wrong. Do you want to talk about it? Would that help?’

  ‘I’m not one of your kids, you know, not one of the children you housefather here. I didn’t come for any sort of –’

  ‘I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to pry.’ He managed to smile, less of a painful rictus this time. ‘But we professionals, you know – we can’t help it. I’m good at my job, you know. Very good. The children they send me are always the worst, the most disturbed, the unhappiest, the ones most in need of tenderness and understanding – and I do well with them. I can handle them better than anyone else –’

  He was sitting up very straight now and talking more loudly and much more rapidly. ‘– even the toughest of them respond to me. I’m doing good worthwhile work here, the sort of work I’m really suited to and it would be a – a wicked waste, it really would, if I couldn’t go on doing it. You understand that? It’s for the children. They need me, and the fact that I enjoy what I do, and find great peace of mind and – fulfilment in it is beside the point, though no doubt it contributes to my success. But it’s the children who matter, you see. Without me, some of them would have no one, no one at all who cared –’

  She stared at him, and opened her mouth to speak but she couldn’t for he gave her no chance, going on and on about the children, his work, the importance of it all.

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ she said at length, when he had to stop to draw breath. ‘I’m sure you’re great. And your wife, too –’

  ‘Sally – oh, my God, Sally.’ And again his face whitened, and she put out one hand towards him, fearing that this time he really was going to faint, and feeling more mystified than ever.

  ‘She’s – she’s a marvellous person,’ he said, still trying to look relaxed, leaning back in his chair. ‘A really marvellous person. Without her I couldn’t do a – fra
ction of what I do. We’re a team, you know? To break up our team would be – it would be shattering the whole lives of the children here –’

  ‘Yes, you’ve said all that.’ She tried to sound crisp and business-like. ‘And I’m sure it’s as you say. Now, look, can I talk to you about what I came for? I don’t want to waste your time any more than I have to.’ She bent her head to her bag, riffling through it for the photograph. ‘It’s this I’ve come about.’ And she held it out to him.

  He didn’t take it, just sitting and staring owlishly at it, and she waggled it at him almost imperiously and at last, unwillingly, he leaned forward and took it. But he didn’t look at it, staring at her face.

  ‘I found it among my mother’s things in her safe deposit box,’ Maggy said.

  ‘Her box? Oh, God, I remember that box. Just like a squirrel she was – hoarded everything.’ Still he stared at her, ignoring the photograph between his fingers. ‘After all these years –’

  Maggy drew a sharp breath, impatient now. ‘If you look you’ll see it’s you and Dolly and another chap. She’s written all the names on the back. But there’s something else – she’s written on you – look at it, will you? You’ll be able to read it then.’

  Slowly he bent his head, and stared at the square of card in his hand and then, fumbling a little, found his glasses and put them on and went on staring.

  ‘Andy,’ he said softly, almost in a whisper. ‘Andy.’

  ‘Yes. You and Dolly and Andy. I’m not sure if I remember him. I mean, I do, in the sense I remember he was there in Creffield Road, and lived there quite a while, but there’s nothing about him that sticks in my memory. Not as it does about you.’ She smiled then, leaning towards him. ‘I liked you, when I was a child. You were kind to me. I remember you with great warmth – affection even –’

  He shrank back in his chair and glared at her. ‘Don’t say that! You mustn’t say that! I was nothing in your life! Just a boarder in your mother’s house, that’s all!’

  She blinked and drew back. ‘Well, yes, I suppose you were,’ she said as mildly as she could. ‘Nothing to get so agitated about, though, is it?’ Again she was puzzled and even a little alarmed. Was he mad? Had the years made him senile before his time, turned him into this up-and-down creature who swung from eager boasting about his prowess as a housefather to a frightened old man huddled in a chair?

  ‘I just don’t want any misunderstandings, that’s all,’ he said, and looked at the picture again. ‘No misunderstandings.’

  ‘All right,’ she said soothingly. ‘There’ll be no misunderstandings. Let me just tell you what it is I want to know, and men I’ll go away, all right? The thing is, I’ve – I’ve inherited my mother’s property. In a way – though I’ve got to keep Ida on – you remember Ida!’ Why on earth did I mention her, for God’s sake? The thought flicked into her mind, and she pushed it out again. His wackiness is making me wacky too. ‘Well, never mind that. But I’ve inherited the hotel and with it some – financial problems. Now, my mother had a safe deposit box in which she had said, before she died, I’d find the wherewithal to pay off the debts, and sort things out. The thing is, there’s nothing in that box but a lot of bits of paper and newspaper cuttings and photographs. I haven’t been able to look at all of it yet – but I did find that photograph.’

  She held out her hand for it, and he gave it to her. ‘You see? The writing on the back – your names – that’s obviously old. Faded. But the writing on the front is much clearer, and you can see she wrote it only recently. That’s why I’m here. It took me a while to find you – I didn’t think to look in the phone book at first –’ and she smiled at him, inviting him to share her self-mockery, but he looked suddenly back at her, and said nothing. ‘– and here I am. So, please, Mr Lang – Mort – can you explain? What is that you know all about?’

  There was a long silence and he went on staring at her, but now he had moved his head a little so that the light from the window was reflecting on his glasses, giving him a blank Little-Orphan-Annie glare, and for a moment she wondered if he was going to retreat back into fear again. But then she realized that the atmosphere had changed somehow; he was no longer frightened but watchful, very alert, and puzzlement lifted in her again.

  ‘Well?’ she said more sharply. ‘What the hell is it you know all about?’

  He giggled then, a silly high-pitched sound that made her pull back from him.

  ‘Naughty little children,’ he said, and giggled again. ‘That’s what I know all about. Naughty children. I told you.’

  ‘Yes, I remember that. You’ve told me,’ she said, and then with a sudden edge in her voice that surprised even herself went on, ‘I was a naughty child. Very naughty. Wasn’t I? And you liked me.’

  It was as though the atmosphere had altered again; once again he was frightened, his moment of sharpness and self assurance gone as quickly as it had come.

  ‘You weren’t naughty,’ he said. ‘Just a – just a child. That’s all. Just a child. They always gets things wrong, forget things, remember things that never happened. Just a child.’

  ‘Let’s not waste time any more, please. I’ve told you what I need to know. What was it Dolly meant when she said you know?’

  He looked down at his hands, crossed now on his lap. ‘I really can’t say.’

  ‘You mean you won’t.’

  ‘Not at all – I just don’t know – what have such things to do with me? You say your mother left debts? Well, that’s not surprising. She was a feckless woman, Dolly, feckless – it was part of her personality –’ His voice dribbled away, and then he said suddenly, ‘Mind you, Ida – she was good with money.’

  ‘We all know about Ida,’ Maggy said dryly. ‘She loathed me when I was a child, and always has. I feel the same about her.’

  ‘Yes –’ He looked at her and for the first time produced a real smile, a gently agreeable twist of his mouth that was suddenly very familiar and endearing. ‘Poor child, you did feel shut out, didn’t you? And she was so jealous –’

  ‘Jealous? Of me? Yes, I dare say she was. Anyway, there’s no way I can get anything out of her – not that I suppose she knows that much. Dolly said you did. Why won’t you tell me?’

  He spread his hands. ‘I don’t know! Truly, I don’t know. We – I went away. I’d been there at Creffield Road a long time and it was a wrench but – I went away. And I never saw any of you again, or heard from you. Till today –’ Again his voice dribbled away.

  ‘There has to be something.’ She said it bracingly. ‘Or Dolly wouldn’t have written what she did. She may have been playing games – she was a damned sight too fond of playing stupid games – but she didn’t cheat, I’ll give her that. So there has to be something you know that she wants you to tell me. So think about it. Anything to do with money. A lot of money. Because there are a lot of debts, I promise you!’

  ‘Dolly never had a red cent for more than five minutes,’ he said, and smiled that gentle smile again, and she found herself relaxing, smiling back. He must really be good at his job, she thought suddenly. He makes me feel quite comfortable, sometimes. ‘Poor old Dolly! Good as gold and so generous she didn’t know when to stop, and so silly.’

  ‘More than silly. She did some – she made me very unhappy.’

  ‘I dare say she did. Women like Dolly try so hard and cause so much damage. And then break their hearts over it. Poor Dolly.’

  ‘I’ll cry,’ she said. ‘When I get round to it. Look, this is getting us nowhere. There must be something you know that will help me. Was there anything going on at the time you were there in Creffield Road, anything that might lead me somewhere?’

  He was silent for a moment, and licked his lips and then he said, ‘There was Hornby.’

  ‘Hornby?’

  ‘Hornby and Codling. They were staying there too.’

  ‘I don’t remember – no, wait a minute, somebody said –’ She sat and stared at him, trying to remember when she’d he
ard those names before. ‘Hornby. Toy trains – Oliver said –’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘No one you know. What about them? Hornby and Codling?’

  Again he licked his lips. ‘Look, this is none of my business. I really don’t want to get involved – none of my business. Leave me out of it.’

  ‘I can’t. Dolly, your dear old good-hearted friend Dolly made it your business, when she left that message. Dropped you right in it. So you’re stuck with me and my nagging. The easiest thing to do is tell me what I want to know and then I’ll go away and leave you in peace. No hassle, no problems. Just tell me.’

  He took a sharp breath, sounding irritated for the first time, and she welcomed that in him; the soggy frightened man who had sat and stared at her so woefully had made her deeply uncomfortable. Bad temper and sharpness was something she could understand and handle; it was her own way of reacting to pain and fear, and the only sensible one.

  ‘So let’s get on with it. Who were these men? Why might they be useful to me?’

  ‘They lived in the house for years – until they went in prison.’

  ‘Well, well, did they, then? Do you mean they used Dolly’s house as some sort of –’ she grinned at the words that came to her lips ‘– thieves’ kitchen?’

  ‘Well, they certainly lived there. Met people there. Dolly never interfered – she never interfered with anything. At least, she usually didn’t.’ The flicker of fear came back to his face and voice. ‘She didn’t care about stealing anyway, and that’s what they did. They went down for robbery. Took a lot of money from a wages clerk. A hell of a lot – it was one of those dress factories in Brixton.’

  ‘And?’ She leaned forward again, eagerly now.

  He shrugged. ‘That’s all I know. They went to prison for robbery, and Dolly went on visiting them, silly good creature. That’s all I know. And that’s the only thing to do with money I know about. Honestly, the only thing –’

  He stood up, sharply, and lifted his chin as a clatter came from the hall outside. ‘My little ones are back,’ he said, and smiled widely, and took his glasses off with that same flamboyant gesture and turned to the door, expectant and wide-eyed.