by David Barry
A cold shiver passed through Ted, followed by waves of nausea. He opened his mouth to speak but his mind was blocked. Sensing what he was thinking, Donald took his hand away from his face and smiled grimly.
‘It’s not what you’re thinking, Ted. Bamber has a brain tumour. Did you notice how clumsy he was? I expect you thought he’d been drinking.’
‘Of course not,’ Ted said, although it was exactly what he had thought when he saw Donald’s friend barging into the furniture.
‘I banned him from the antique shop. Called him a clumsy oaf. God! I feel terrible.’
‘But you weren’t to know. You mustn’t blame yourself.’
Donald laughed bitterly. ‘No. I guess I’m not such a sensitive person after all.’
***
Mike rang the doorbell and waited, whistling tunelessly. Through the glass of the front door he saw someone approaching. His heart beat a little faster when he saw it was her, and he hoped she was wearing her mini skirt and black stockings.
‘Hello, Maggie,’ he said as she pulled open the door. She was dressed in just a T-shirt and her legs were beautifully tanned.
‘Mike!’
She seemed surprised to see him. No, more than surprised. Shocked.
‘I have got the right date, haven’t I? It’s in my appointments book.
‘Oh God! Didn’t you know. Didn’t you read about Gary in the local rag?’
‘No, I....’
‘Gary died last week. The funeral was on Monday.’
Thirty - Three
‘Maggie ... I ... I’m sorry,’ Mike burbled. ‘I had no idea. Gary always had a fixed appointment. I just don’t know what to say.’
‘My fault. I should have let you know. As you can imagine, it’s not an easy time.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘It was a car crash. On Ashdown Forest.’
‘Was anyone else involved?’
‘No other cars, if that’s what you mean. But the girl he was with was killed as well.’
Although her face was expressionless, her eyes said it all. Mike nodded slightly, to show her he understood. Then he glanced at his watch.
‘I may as well shoot back home. I don’t have another appointment now for....’
‘Your welcome to come in for a coffee.’
Mike hesitated, his mind shifting into another gear as myriad thoughts of comforting the grieving widow bombarded his brain.
‘Or perhaps you’d like something stronger?’
‘I could fancy a beer. If you’ve got some.’
‘I think I can manage to find you a beer.’
‘Well, if you’re sure.’
‘Why not? Let’s give the neighbours something to talk about. Anyway, there’s something I’d like to ask you.’
Mike frowned as he followed her through the house and into the kitchen. What could she possibly want to ask him?
He watched as she turned her back on him and got a beer from the fridge. He found himself admiring her legs, staring at her shapely figure and wondering what she was wearing beneath the floppy T-shirt.
‘Kids at school?’ he asked, his voice softer than normal.
‘Yes, they’ve gone back today for the first time since Gary died. But they won’t be back for tea. My parents have taken them to Hastings to take their mind off it.’
She handed Mike a bottle of Becks and a bottle opener. ‘There you go. D’you need a glass?’
He shook his head. ‘Bottle’s fine. What did you want to ask me?’
‘That time you phoned about the poker game. Was it true?’
Mike twisted the top off the bottle, giving himself thinking time. After taking a sip of beer, he said, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to lie to you. But Gary insisted.’
‘He made you do it, did he?’
‘Not exactly, but....’
‘But you allowed him to get the better of you. As we all did.’
She poured herself a glass of white wine from a box in the fridge and raised her glass to Mike. ‘Cheers!’
He lifted his bottle sheepishly. ‘Yeah, cheers. I’m sorry if I....’
‘Forget it. You didn’t upset me. Gary did. I knew he was lying. But then, when you phoned....’
‘If it’s any consolation, I couldn’t understand why the hell he’d want to go with anyone else. He was lucky to have such an attractive wife.’
‘You’re not trying to chat me up, are you?’
‘No, I mean it. Whenever I came round to cut Gary’s hair, I sometimes didn’t dare look at you, in case it showed.’
‘In case what showed?’
‘What do you think?’
She put down her glass and smiled at him. ‘I think I’m behaving stupidly, but I don’t really care.’
His beer bottle clunked loudly as he abandoned it on top of the fridge. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. He swallowed noisily and his voice sounded hoarse when he spoke.
‘Just tell me if I’m out of order.’
She giggled softly. ‘You’re out of order. But I tell you something, Mike: now it definitely shows.’
***
‘Mum, I’m bored.’
Mary sighed deeply. ‘Your tea’s nearly ready.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
Mary could feel herself about to explode. ‘Go outside and play with Thomas. I’ll call you when I’ve dished up.’
‘It’s a dump out there. It’s not a proper garden. You said we’d have a proper garden in this house.’
‘Well it’s not as bad as our flat. We didn’t have any garden there.’
‘We did. We had the garden opposite.’
‘That was the park, Simon.
‘You were the one who called it our garden.’
‘That was because....’ She searched desperately for a pair of oven gloves and just managed to rescue the pan of peas from boiling over.
‘Because of what?’ Simon demanded, stressing every syllable.
‘Go outside and tell Thomas I’m dishing up.’
She folded a grubby tea towel in two and lifted a tray of fish fingers out of the oven.
‘Can we go swimming after tea?’
‘No we can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s too late in the day.’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘Well I do.’
Thomas appeared at the back door. ‘Are we going swimming?’
‘No, Mum won’t take us,’ Simon moaned.
His mother’s voice became shrill as she tried to dish up. ‘I’ve already told you....’
The telephone rang. Thomas prepared to dash off.
‘Blast! I’ll get it. Simon, put the oven chips on the plate - and mind you don’t burn yourself.’
She dashed into the hall and answered the phone. There was a confused type of pause before a man said, ‘You ‘is bit of stuff, are you?’
‘Who is this? Who’s speaking?’
‘You’re Dave Whitby’s tart, are you? I see ‘is car’s not around. I’ll be round later tonight. I might give you a good seeing to, darling. What sort of knickers d’you wear?’
She slammed the phone down and returned to the kitchen. Thomas looked up as she entered.
‘Mum, what’s wrong?’
Mary stood in the doorway, trying to catch her breath. ‘That settles it,’ she said, more to herself than her children. ‘I don’t like it here either.’
Through a mouthful of chips, Simon said, ‘Let’s go somewhere else then.’
‘Fine. We’ll do that for half term.’
Simon, who hadn’t expected that response to his flippant suggestion, stared open-mouthed at his mot
her, revealing a mouthful of half-chewed chips and tomato ketchup.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Thomas. ‘We haven’t finished unpacking here yet.’
‘We’re going to a place called Cromer. It’s by the sea.’
‘Has it got a sandy beach?’ Simon wanted to know.
‘Yes. At least, I think so.’
‘How are we getting there?’
‘The man whose house this is will come and pick us up.’
Thomas looked at his mother closely. ‘Have you asked him yet?’
‘No. Not yet.’
‘Then how d’you know he’ll pick us up?’
Mary smiled knowingly. ‘I just do.’
Thirty - Four
Andrew walked up to the bar with barely a glance at the fruit machine. ‘Bottle of Bud, please.’
While the barman turned to get the beer from the cold cabinet, Andrew sat on the bar stool. His bar stool. The one where the writer had sat less than two weeks ago.
The barman turned back with the Budweiser. ‘D’you wanna glass?’
Andrew shook his head, handed the barman a twenty pound note, and said, ‘Bottle’s fine.’
As he was handed his change, he asked, ‘Has anyone left anything behind the counter for me? My name’s Andrew Longridge. I just wondered - on the off-chance - I met this bloke in here, couple of weeks ago. He was a writer, and he promised me a copy of his latest book. I wondered if he might have left me a copy behind the bar.’
The barman gave the shelf a cursory glance, then made the token gesture of rifling through some postcards and papers. ‘There’s nothing I can see. But I’ll ask the landlord if you like. He’s not here at the moment.’
‘No, don’t bother. It doesn’t matter.’
The barman shrugged. ‘Well, it’s up to you.’
‘No, it doesn’t matter, thanks.’
Andrew took a long swig of his beer and the barman went to the far end of the bar to continue a heated discussion about a penalty goal in an important match.
Andrew stared at the shelf behind the bar and could almost see the brown paper package waiting for him. It was what was supposed to happen. If this had been a film, the writer would have known someone was out to silence him; and he’d have known Andrew would return to this bar and ask for the book after he was dead. But this wasn’t a film. This was the hard disappointment of reality. Things like that just didn’t happen in real life.
***
As Mike dressed, Maggie said, ‘You’re not as good looking as Gary, and he wasn’t overweight, but you’re much more attractive, Mike.’
‘Is that what they call a bank-handed compliment?’
‘Gary’s problem was that he loved himself so much.’ She sat up in bed suddenly, remembering. ‘I’ll never forget one night, I heard him panting and breathing heavily. I wondered what he was up to.’
‘And?’
‘He was doing sit-ups on the floor there.’ She giggled at the memory. ‘He was trying to work off the beer he’d drunk. I’ve never known anyone as vain as Gary.’
Mike sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. ‘Does it help to talk about him?’
‘I suppose it must do. Does it bother you?’
‘No. It’s just that this situation feels unreal. Bit strange, that’s all.’
She ran her fingers softly along his arm, saying, ‘It seemed real enough to me.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I refuse to feel guilty,’ she said with sudden defiance. ‘It’s not my fault he’s dead. I know you’re not supposed to leap into bed with someone so soon after the funeral, but at least I didn’t go behind his back when he was alive.’
‘This is revenge,’ laughed Mike, ‘without the guilt.’
As soon as he’d said it, he knew it was wrong. She snatched her hand away, looking hurt.
‘Is that what you think? That I jumped into bed with you just to get back at Gary?’
‘Well, I haven’t had much time to think about it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to....’
‘The reason I jumped into bed with you, Mike, is because I feel so free suddenly. Free to have a bit of fun for a change.’ She brushed a hand through his thinning hair. ‘Why do hairdressers go bald, I wonder?’
‘I’ve got loads of hair left.’
‘Whoops! Touched a nerve, have I? Found a weak spot?’
‘OK. So you’ve got your own back. We’re quits.’
‘Well, it was a horrid thing to say. Morbid. You can’t get back at the dead.’
‘Depends on how religious you are. And if you believe in life after death.’
‘You mean Gary could have been watching?’ She suddenly went into peals of laughter and looked up at the ceiling. ‘You see how silly you looked, Gary, from that angle. Oh, God! I think this is hysteria setting in. It’s not that funny.’
She stopped laughing as suddenly as she had begun. Mike leant forward and kissed her gently on the lips.
‘Thanks,’ she whispered seriously, ‘for giving me the fun and pleasure I never had with Gary.’
Mike smiled. ‘So your husband wasn’t exactly Master of the Universe between the sheets.’
‘Put it this way: he was more of your hundred metre dash than a marathon man. Whenever I tried to talk to him about it, he just brushed it aside and said, “I’ve never had complaints in that department before.” God! He could be arrogant.’
‘What attracted you to him? I mean, why did you marry?’
‘I was an immature young girl. I fell for him for all the wrong reasons. Looks, flash car, nice clothes. So I got what I deserved.’
Mike kissed her again. ‘You’re fantastic. Out of this world. I mean it.’
She laughed, then frowned. ‘When you suggested I slept with you to get back at Gary - no, I’m not having a go at you - I just want to know: is that what you’re doing? Taking revenge on your wife?’
‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’
‘In other words, yes!’
Maggie swung her legs out of bed, grabbed her T-shirt from where it had been discarded on the floor, and pulled it on over her head. She came round to Mike’s side of the bed.
‘Will you promise me something, Mike?’
‘If I can.’
‘If you want to carry on seeing me occasionally, will you patch things up with your wife? Take her out to dinner. Buy her a big bunch of flowers.’
Mike looked bemused. ‘Well, yes. But....’
‘Because I don’t want to be like Gary. I don’t want to break up a family. I just don’t want any problems. Is that understood?’
Mike nodded solemnly. ‘OK. I promise.’
Thirty - Five
Nicky was talking to Savita by the water cooler when Malcolm marched across the open plan office, making a beeline for them.
‘Just relaxing, passing the time of day, I see,’ he sneered. ‘No work to do?’
Nicky began to stammer. ‘Um, ac ...actually we were discussing the team report....’
Malcolm cut her short with a sarcastic laugh. ‘Pull the other one. Oh, by the way, Nicky, I didn’t tell you, did I? I’ve been having riding lessons. They’re coming on a treat. Bank holiday Monday I’ll be out hunting with our M.D. Of course, it’s not quite the same as it was. They can’t use a whole pack to tear the vermin apart anymore. Still, as long as the weather stays fine, it should be an excellent day.’
He winked at Savita, then strode across the office, whistling tunelessly, and walked through to the reception area. Nicky watched him go, then turned to Savita.
‘I hate that man,’ she said. ‘I hope he falls off his horse.’
Savita grinned at her. ‘Perhaps with a little help he might.’
Interest flickered in N
icky’s eyes. ‘How d’you mean?’
‘I hate him as well. And I owe him. He’s always making nasty remarks about my race, and curries and arranged marriages. I’m sick of it. Then the other day, he called me into his office for an appraisal. Know what he said? He accused me of having communication difficulties.’
‘That’s rubbish,’ Nicky protested.
‘I know. And he went on to imply that I have a chip on my shoulder. “That’s fairly typical of...” he said. I think he was about to say...“typical of someone like me. You know, an ethnic minority person.” I’m sure that’s what he was going to say, then stopped himself in time. He probably knows he could get into serious trouble for it.’
Nicky frowned thoughtfully. ‘So when you said that he might fall off his horse with a little help...’
Savita’s grin widened. ‘I’ve been telling my boyfriend about Malcolm. And he’s furious. He’s got something planned for the bank holiday.’
‘What?’
‘I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone. But... what are you doing after work tonight?’
‘Nothing. Why?’
‘I’m meeting Damian for a drink. Why don’t you join us? If he knows how much you hate Malcolm, he might let you in on what he’s got up his sleeve.’
‘Yes, I’d like that,’ she replied.
Nicky suddenly felt more cheerful. Not only was this a burden shared, the prospect of revenge was exhilarating. And she was keen to know how Savita’s boyfriend could unseat the odious Malcolm on the bank holiday hunt.
***
‘Car’s all loaded up,’ said Dave as he came into the kitchen. ‘Where are the kids?’
‘Out in the garden,’ Mary replied. ‘I’ll get them.’
‘No rush. Let’s have a quick cuppa before we go.’
Dave switched the kettle on, then came and sat opposite Mary at the hideously-patterned Formica table. He patted her hand reassuringly. ‘As we’ll both be away for a while, maybe the phone calls’ll stop.’
‘I hope so. But we’re only away for half term.’
‘And an extra week,’ Dave added.