by Leo McNeir
“When was this?”
“February. I was going to San Francisco and then on to Australia. I kept the paper. The article said where you were living. Now that I’m back, I thought I’d come and see if you were all right. You seem to have had a tough time over the past year.”
“And you seem to have joined the jet set, Simon.”
“My business has taken off, you might say.” He smiled.
“I’m glad for you. Really, I am.”
“Thanks. But what about you? The paper said you’d been almost killed, then you found a body and got mixed up in some sort of political intrigue.”
“Well, life hasn’t been dull, that’s for sure. But I’m fine now.”
“It also said you had your own design firm. Is that right?”
“I’m self-employed.”
“And this place ... all yours?” He gestured towards the farm through the spinney. Marnie nodded. “It looks great, masses of potential.” He looked back at her. “Are you sure you’re okay? I gather from the paper that you nearly died.”
“I’ve put all that behind me. I try not to think about it now.”
“You certainly look terrific, Marnie. That short hairstyle is wonderful, really suits you.”
“Thank you.”
Neither spoke for a few seconds.
“Well, look, I’d better be going. You have things to do, as usual. You’re still a very busy lady. I’m glad I’ve seen you. I was worried.” He stepped down onto the bank.
“I’ll walk through the spinney with you,” Marnie said.
“No. No need. I know the way. Glad to see you settled, all this, a new life, your friend. Take care of yourself, Marnie.“
“Thanks. I’m glad things’ve worked out well for you, too.”
Simon walked a few paces and looked over his shoulder. “Perhaps I might see you again some time if it’s not ... you know.”
Marnie nodded. “I’m in the phone book. Walker and Co.”
She went down the steps into the cabin. Anthony was holding the wine bottle, staring at her as she walked through to the galley.
“I wouldn’t normally not introduce a guest, but, well ...”
“That was very considerate of you,” said Anthony. “Do you think ...?”
Marnie shook her head. “I’m sure he didn’t recognise you. He certainly didn’t say anything.”
“That’s a relief. Well, I’ve been in the way long enough. The wine’s opened; the cork smells fine. It should be drinkable. In about an hour, did you say? Or would you like a little longer in view of the interruptions?”
“An hour should be fine.”
Marnie and Anne settled down to preparing the meal, quieter than usual. Anne sliced the onions; Marnie made cheese pastry. By the time Marnie was sliding the flan into the oven and reaching for the avocados, hardly two words had been uttered between them. Suddenly, Marnie heard a squeak and looked round.
“It was me,” said Anne. “I’m being positively mouse-like to leave you to your private thoughts, so I thought I’d play the part properly.”
A smile spread slowly across Marnie’s face. “Why do you think I need private thoughts?”
Anne shrugged. “He’s very good-looking ... dishy. Was he your husband?”
“For a while. How did you know?”
“I saw him in Beth’s photos when you were in the hospital. I guessed.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“And its all over now.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Now you’ve got Ralph and a new life.”
“That’s right. And nothing’s going to change that.”
*
All through supper on Sally Ann, Ralph felt that Marnie was more tense than usual, and he was determined to get Anthony away from Glebe Farm as soon as he could. He noticed that Anne too was less relaxed, and put it down to her usual sensitivity towards Marnie.
In contrast, Anthony Leyton-Brown seemed much more at ease than Ralph had expected. He praised the meal without exaggerated flattery and, when Marnie protested that it did not do justice to the wine he had brought, he brushed her remarks aside.
“Marnie’s got a point,” said Ralph. “It really is exceptional.”
“Mr Leyton-Brown brought it this evening,” Anne said. “He uncorked it early so it would be at its best.”
“May I see it?”
Ralph examined the label. “1982. A significant year, in more ways than one.” Anthony nodded.
“Was that a really good year?” Anne asked.
“With a wine like that I expect every year’s a really good year,” Marnie observed.
“True,” said Ralph. “But I think that for the best clarets, that year was absolutely outstanding.”
He passed the bottle back to Anne, who studied it closely. “Château Lafite-Rothschild,” she read. “Clarets are the wines from Bordeaux, aren’t they?”
“That’s right,” said Marnie. “The red ones.”
“And that year, they were exceptional?”
“Yes,” said Ralph. “I believe it was regarded as the great year of the decade.”
“Why did you say in more ways than one?”
Ralph looked at Anthony, who hesitated a few moments before replying quietly, “It was the year I entered Parliament.” They all fell silent, at least one of them thinking that this would be the year he left Parliament forever. Probably for no better reason than to break the silence, Anthony added, “When I saw your visitor earlier on I wondered if I ought to have brought two bottles.”
Anne glanced quickly at Marnie, checked herself and returned to studying the label on the bottle. Ralph noticed this and looked thoughtfully at Marnie. He was surprised that she seemed uneasy.
“Er, no. That was an unexpected visitor.”
“You did seem rather taken aback at the time,” said Anthony. “I wondered if it was because of my being there.”
“No. It was because ... that was my ex-husband.”
“Ah,” said Ralph. “I can imagine that would be a surprise.” He noticed that Anne was trying to look at him without making it obvious. He smiled at her. She made a big effort to smile back and nearly succeeded.
Anthony suddenly grasped the significance of what he had said. “Oh dear. Have I put my foot in it? I really didn’t mean to. I had no idea what your circumstances were.”
“It’s not a problem,” Marnie said firmly. “Ralph and I are an item. Simon and I parted company years ago. He read about what had happened to me in the press and decided to look in to see if I was all right. I knew he was around, but I didn’t know when he’d turn up. That’s why I was surprised. There’s no more to it.” She paused and narrowed her eyes. “Your friend,” she muttered softly.
“Sorry?”
“Just a thought.”
“Are you going to share it with us?” said Ralph, who seemed the least troubled of the group.
“Simon said something about my friend.”
“Is that important? He meant Anne, presumably?”
Marnie frowned. “He might have. On the other hand, he might’ve meant ...”
“Me?” said Anthony.
“It’s possible.”
“Did you get the impression he’d recognised Anthony?” Ralph asked.
“No. I’m sure he didn’t. I don’t think he gave him more than a glance.”
“He didn’t take his eyes off you, Marnie,” said Anne in a quiet voice.
“It just goes to show,” said Anthony. “Appearances can sometimes be deceptive.” He took a sip of wine and gazed pensively at the glass, swirling it gently so that it changed colour, through shades of red to purple.
“How did you introduce Anthony?” Ralph asked.
“I didn’t. We went out on deck for a few moments to talk.”
“How was he?”
“Okay. It was almost like seeing an old friend again, but not quite.”
“And you think he thought Anthony and you were an item, that you didn’t introduc
e him because the situation might have been awkward?”
“Could be.”
Ralph looked at Anthony. “Well, it seems as if your cover hasn’t been blown.”
“Maybe not, but I think I’ve caused you some embarrassment, Marnie.”
“It’s not a problem. I only took him outside to protect your privacy.”
“Thank you for that,” said Anthony. “I really had no intention of blundering into your life, inflicting myself on you.”
“You have a point there.”
“I can only apologise,” said Anthony.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Marnie said quickly. “I was thinking about what you said, that appearances can be deceptive.”
*
After supper it was still light and they went to sit outside. From the stern deck on Sally Ann they could see Anthony’s boat tied up alongside Thyrsis a few metres away, a marked contrast between the shining green and gold of Ralph’s boat – the colours of a Harrods’ carrier bag, Anne had called it – and the dull, matt grey of the boat with no name.
“How did you get hold of the boat?” Ralph asked Anthony. “I wouldn’t have thought narrowboats were your scene at all.”
“Why not? I’ve always liked boats. I used to live by the Thames, remember?”
“I could imagine you on a floating gin palace all right, but a narrowboat? Much too plebeian for you, I would’ve thought.”
Anthony laughed. It was a natural, carefree laugh, the first such sound he had made since arriving. “Look who’s talking! You’re not exactly a horny-handed grease-monkey yourself, Ralph!”
“So a spur of the moment decision, then?”
“Absolutely. I, er, needed time and space when the balloon went up, grabbed the nearest thing that came to hand. The boat belongs – belonged, I should say – to a friend who’s also a constituent. It’s a sad story. He bought this place in Docklands not far from my office, very nice waterside location in a marina, and thought he’d get himself a boat. Unfortunately, his business partner got involved in some dodgy deals and, to cut a very long story short, they both ended up in prison for fraud. My friend went down for two years as a kind of accessory and his partner for five. Another tribute to British justice.”
“You thought your friend was innocent?” said Ralph.
“I’m convinced of it. But there was no way of proving it, so my friend went inside.”
“Leaving behind a boat.”
“Yes, fitted out internally, but not painted up.”
“Conveniently anonymous,” said Marnie.
“Quite.”
“So why did you come in this direction?” she asked.
Anthony shrugged. “By chance, I suppose. One night I loaded some things onto the boat and set off upstream, found my way into Limehouse Cut, followed my nose round to Bull’s Bridge. There seemed little point in heading back down to the Thames, so I came north. And here I am. When I recognised Ralph’s boat from the newspaper article, I was amazed.”
“You thought this was his home.”
“Yes. I never wanted to impose on you, Marnie. But I was feeling desperate after what happened. You know all about that, I suppose.”
“We’ve seen the papers,” Marnie said.
“Well, if you believe what they printed, I’m astonished that you invite me on board as a guest.”
“You don’t think I should believe the articles?” Marnie asked in an even tone.
Anthony grimaced. “No-one’ll believe my version of events,” he said dully. “It’s useless trying to explain.”
“There is another version?” Ralph asked. Anthony nodded.
“Why don’t you try us?” said Marnie.
*
That night, Marnie patted herself dry after showering, pulled on a dressing gown and walked through to the stern on Thyrsis, stepping out in the darkness onto the narrow space for the steerer, known as the counter. She rubbed the back of her hair with a towel and breathed in the cool watery smells, mingled with the scent from the trees and in the background the heavy sweet aroma of oil-seed rape that seemed to hang over the whole countryside at this time of year.
There was no light anywhere, except a faint glow from the portholes on Thyrsis. Marnie stood for a minute listening to the sounds of the night: the faint rustling of a nocturnal animal on the move; the plop as a fish jumped.
Closing the hatch behind her, Marnie walked through to the cabin where Ralph was sitting up in bed reading a typescript. He took off his reading glasses when she appeared in the doorway.
“You always do that,” he said, smiling.
“Do what?”
“Go outside for a few minutes at night when you’ve got something on your mind. I used to wonder if you were having to steel yourself to come in here with me.”
She laughed. “Don’t be so insecure. For all you know, I might be saying my prayers.”
They both knew she was an agnostic.
“Would it be ... For what we are about to receive –”
“Ralph!”
He laughed out loud. Marnie threw her towel at him, catching him off guard. It wrapped itself round his face. He was still laughing when he removed it. Before handing it back, he sniffed it, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. “Mm, this smells of you, delightful.”
“Oh god,” she said, in a mock serious tone. “The man’s a fetishist. Just my luck to end up with some kind of sexual pervert.”
“Back to our theme for the evening,” said Ralph. “Did Anthony’s version of things influence how you feel about him?”
Marnie sat down on the end of the bed. “It was funny how his story matched up with what Anne said about the photos in the paper.”
“Entrapment. Do you believe that was the first time he’d had relations with that girl?”
“How could I know? For a start, the girl’s gone missing. And as for his story about them going to a meeting and being offered drinks afterwards, then the girl getting flirtatious, I just don’t know. Could he be so weak-willed?”
“Marnie, any man could be flattered to receive the attentions of a young woman. You don’t have to be weak-willed.”
“Would you have behaved in the same way if it happened to you?”
“If you want an honest answer, I’d say it would depend on the circumstances. The way I feel about you, I wouldn’t be prepared to let any girl jeopardise the most important relationship in my life.”
“There you are, then.”
“But I don’t think it’s always as simple as that. People can be tempted.”
“So what he did didn’t surprise you?”
“Most men would probably behave in the same way in nine cases out of ten.”
“And you’d be the one in ten who didn’t?”
Ralph smiled. “I always aim to excel.”
“Even if he was lured into an ambush by the paper, he can’t prove anything,” said Marnie. “So his career’s finished. The media have seen to that. And there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
“There I do agree with you.”
“I wish there was some way of helping, especially for his wife’s sake,” said Marnie.
“Perhaps I should have a chat with Anthony, encourage him to return home, issue a statement, make a new start. I don’t think he has much choice.”
Marnie pulled a face. “I wonder if he’s ready to face all that. He still seems pretty shaky to me.”
“He can’t stay here in hiding for the rest of his life.”
“No ...” Marnie chewed her lower lip.
“Look,” said Ralph, “I’ll invite him over and talk things through, man to man stuff. What do you think?”
“Or we could do it together. It might help him.”
“Okay. But don’t be surprised if he takes action himself. He is a big grown-up politician, after all. He’s probably already making plans of his own.”
Marnie stood up. “Good. Well, I’ve had enough of Anthony Leyton-Brown for one day.”
Marnie hung the dressing gown on the back of the cabin door and turned round. She was just wearing a smile. “What was that you were saying about aiming to excel?”
7
Anne looked at her watch for the umpteenth time that morning, only a minute since the last time she had checked it. Marnie noticed her while she was on the phone and glanced down at her diary, smiling to herself.
When Marnie put the phone down, Anne called across to her. “Why is it called a ‘red letter day’?”
“A red letter day?”
“You know, a special day.”
“Special day? What’s sparked this off?”
“Oh, Marnie, you know what I mean. It’s special for me, and I was wondering why people said that.”
“Why is it a red letter day for you?”
“Marnie! You’re winding me up. Blimey, I’m feeling nervous enough already!”
Marnie laughed. “Sorry. Do you know how many times you’ve looked at your watch this morning? I think you’ll have worn its face out by lunchtime.”
Anne sighed. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“Make me a cup of coffee and I’ll think about it.”
Anne stood up immediately. “Deal. It’ll help take my mind off my driving lesson.”
“Oh,” said Marnie casually. “Is that today?”
Anne made a growling sound and headed for the kitchen area. Within minutes she was setting a mug down on Marnie’s desk. “Have you thought about it?”
“I think it must be something to do with those calendars they had years ago. You know, you sometimes see them in old films.”
“What were they like?”
“Just a sort of grid with the days of the week and big black numbers for each date. The main holidays like Christmas and Easter had the numbers in red. So they were red letter days.”
Anne looked thoughtful. “Sounds plausible. But they were numbers not letters. Why didn’t they call them red number days?”
Marnie’s turn to sigh. “I don’t know. And I’m only guessing, anyway.”
“Well,” said Anne, “whatever they are, today’s a red letter day for me. My first ever driving lesson. In fact it’ll be the first time I ever sit behind the wheel of a car.”