Children of the Revolution

by Peter Robinson

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Gerry said, blushing. ‘Do you mean there was … er …?’

  ‘Fraternisation?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And fornication?’

  ‘Er … well … yes.’

  Dr Parsons smiled at her discomfort. ‘Shagging like minks, dearie. Shagging like minks. I tell you, it was like a DH Lawrence novel come to life. Even Arthur Scargill admitted he had a devil of a time getting his men back home when the time came to go. Having too good a time of it, they were. Even a revolutionary has to get his leg over every now and then.’

  ‘And who was Ronnie Bellamy in all this?’ Gerry asked. ‘Lady Chatterley?’

  ‘Ha! Very good. I was thinking more of the miners in Sons and Lovers, actually, but you’ve got a point there. Very ladylike was our Ronnie, even back then. Very regal. I read a profile of her not so long ago in the Guardian. I understand she’s actually a real lady now?’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘So why are you investigating her?’

  It was a shrewd question, Annie thought, and she hoped that Gerry was too smart to answer it.

  ‘As a matter of fact, we’re not. It’s just a lead-in to our investigation into the death of Gavin Miller. Apparently they knew one another back then, and we’re trying to find out as much about him as we can. You must excuse me, I’m quite new to all this, and I sometimes get sidetracked, just out of pure interest in something. You can learn so much on this job. It’s quite fascinating, I think, about the students putting up the miners.’

  Very good, Annie thought. Nicely done.

  ‘Well, we had the ideology. We’d read our Marx, and we could go through all the arguments. Some of the miners were in the movement, and knew their Marx, but many of them had only the raw revolutionary spirit. Not to mention the brawn. It was a highly charged combination. And don’t forget, many of these miners were educated men. Up to a point. It was true that most of them had been denied a formal education by the corrupt capitalist education system, but they were far from stupid, and were easily able to grasp the basic tenets of Marxist dialectic and communism in general. A number of them were already members of the Communist Party. Arthur Scargill said during the 1984 miners’ strike that his father still read the dictionary every day because he felt a mastery of words was vital. It’s far too easy to dismiss the intellectual grasp and capacities of working men simply because they haven’t been exposed to literature – all those dead white male poets – and philosophy, and because they work with their hands rather than their minds. But you’d be surprised.’

  ‘I’m sure I would,’ said Gerry. ‘Was there any one who stands out in particular?’

  ‘For Ronnie? You’re telling me. Only the hunkiest.’

  ‘Was this … I mean, was it very public?’

  ‘Not really. It was all a bit undercover, in more ways than one. I’d say everyone was fairly discreet. I knew, of course, because I was helping to organise the accommodation, too, but I’d hardly say it was public knowledge. I remember things got a bit fraught once when her boyfriend walked in and caught them in flagrante.’

  ‘Gavin Miller?’

  ‘One and the same. He was one of the dopers, though I saw him at one of our meetings once. He came to impress Ronnie, I think. He had one of those superior cynical grins on his face the whole time. Stoned, most likely. Anyway, that would have taken the grin off his face. Caught them at it, shagging away, right there on the carpet in one of the residence flats.’

  ‘Were you there, too?’

  ‘No, Ronnie told me about later.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘Gavin? Do?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Like most of the dopers, he didn’t do anything. Probably wrote a poem later about how bad it made him feel. And nor would you have done anything if you’d seen Joe Jarvis back then. Muscles on his arms like twisted steel cables. Pecs you wouldn’t believe. And what I believe they call a six-pack these days. But a gentle enough soul when you got to know him. A keen, hard intelligence, though, but unnurtured back then, or should I say unpolluted by any capitalist education indoctrination system.’

  ‘Do you still talk like that?’

  Dr Parsons laughed. ‘We never did, really. Most of us, anyway. We just put it on for outsiders because they expect it.’

  Gerry laughed. ‘Did Gavin Miller have anything to do with the Marxist Society?’

  ‘Other than attending that one meeting? No.’

  ‘What about you? With the miners?’

  Dr Parsons gave a tight smile. ‘Thank you for thinking of me, my dear, but I’m afraid my persuasion was the same then as it is today.’ She paused, relishing her own words. ‘Their obvious charms were lost on me, but I still know a hunk when I see one.’

  ‘So let me get this clear,’ Annie cut in. ‘Ronnie Bellamy helped the Marxist Society by arranging accommodation for striking miners, somewhere they could stay and shag their brains out before blockading ports and power stations so the rest of the country could freeze in their homes?’

  Dr Parsons tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. ‘Well, I suppose you could put it that way. You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs, as they say. But you must have been rather young to remember all that, mustn’t you?’

  ‘I don’t remember it at all. I was brought up in an artists’ colony in St Ives. A commune, if you like. My father’s an artist. We didn’t have electricity, at least not for quite a while, when I was really little. We were all bourgeois individualists with perhaps just a hint of socialism in the mix. At least, they had a kitty for the food and stuff – pay what you can – and we all took the household duties in turn.’

  ‘Admirable.’

  ‘Yes. When the lights went out all over the country, we all sat around the campfire singing Bob Dylan songs like we did most evenings. I think “The Times They Are a Changin” ’ was probably the first song I ever heard. Anyway, to get back to the point. Ronnie Bellamy had a stormy affair with Joe Jarvis?’

  ‘Yes. She did seem rather struck with him, at least for the time they were together.’

  ‘And after Gavin Miller walked in on them, was that the end for them?’ Annie asked. ‘I mean for Ronnie and Gavin?’

  ‘Well, I’d think so, wouldn’t you, dearie?’ said Dr Parsons, with arched brows. ‘Though as I recollect it, she’d finished with him some time before that, but he just didn’t want to let go. I can’t say I blame him. The one time Ronnie and I … well, never mind that.’

  ‘Are we talking about the Joe Jarvis?’

  ‘We are, indeed. But this was before his meteoric rise to fame.’

  ‘And fall from grace,’ Annie added. She glanced at Gerry to let her know that all would be revealed later, and Gerry indicated that she was going to pick up the thread of the interview again.

  ‘You said Gavin Miller just walked away when he found Ronnie with another man. Were there any repercussions?’

  ‘Do you mean did Ronnie appear with a black eye or something? No. None that I know of. I can’t say I ever heard or saw much of Gavin Miller after that.’

  Judy Sallis had already filled in part of that story. Gavin had taken up with Nancy Winterson, and he had no further contact with Ronnie Bellamy, as far as they knew. ‘What about Ronnie and this Joe Jarvis? Did they continue to see one another through this time?’

  ‘The miners weren’t with us for very long, but I think they did, yes. For a couple of weeks, at least. Ronnie used to go out on the pickets, too, when she was allowed. It wasn’t quite legal. She wasn’t in the union.’

  ‘And after the strike?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ said Dr Parsons. ‘I would guess that Joe Jarvis went back to his pit in Mexborough, and Ronnie moved on to her next conquest. You don’t expect me to remember them all, do you?’

  ‘No. It’s really only the dynamics of her relationships with Gavin Miller and Joe Jarvis we’re interested in. But it always helps to get as complete a sense of someone’s characte
r as we can.’

  ‘Well, Ronnie always was a complex lady, that’s for sure. But Gavin Miller was just … I don’t know … a bit aimless. Wishy-washy. I didn’t know him well, of course, but I wasn’t averse to the odd toke myself now and then, and he or his friends usually had some of the best hash on campus. They also had some very lovely girls in their crowd, and they weren’t averse to being a bit experimental when the fumes got to them, so to speak. Oh, don’t look so disapproving, dear,’ said Dr Parsons, as if she could read Gerry’s thoughts on her face. ‘It just lowers the inhibitions, that’s all. It doesn’t cause unconsciousness or make anybody do what they don’t want to do. It’s not like roofies or anything.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Gerry. ‘Did you stay in touch with Ronnie and Gavin for the rest of your studies?’

  ‘No. As I said, Gavin sort of disappeared from the scene after his split with Ronnie, and I never got invited to their little soirées any more. As for Ronnie, I’ve never seen her so exhilarated as those weeks during the strike. There were many other battles to fight, too, ideological as well as practical, but the miners got what they wanted and went back to work, and Ronnie seemed to lose heart with the whole movement. She sort of withdrew from the scene before the end of the year. By her second year, which was my final, I hardly saw her at all. She said she was still committed, and she appeared at meetings occasionally, gave the odd speech, but she had a lot of time constraints. And I must confess that I had a lot of neglected work to catch up on, too, if I wanted a good degree, which I did. Even then, I wanted to teach. I thought it would be the best way I could contribute to the revolution. So I scaled down my own practical political activities, too. It’s always a good idea to give way to new blood, anyway, don’t you think?’

  Gerry looked at Annie, who made a winding-up motion.

  ‘Thanks for your time,’ Gerry said, putting away her notebook.

  ‘I hope I’ve been helpful.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you remember anyone who might have wanted to harm Gavin Miller, do you?’ Gerry asked.

  ‘What? From forty odd years ago? No, I can’t think of anyone. What sort of thing are you talking about? Blood feud? Mafia vendetta, or something?’

  ‘No, of course not. Just thought I’d ask.’

  ‘Sorry I can’t help you.’

  When they got out into the open air, Annie took a deep breath. ‘That was good, Gerry,’ she said. ‘Very good.’

  ‘It was fascinating,’ Gerry said. ‘But has it really got us anywhere? I get the feeling I asked all the wrong questions.’

  They headed back up Woodhouse Lane to the car. ‘Not at all,’ said Annie. ‘Not at all. In fact, I think it’s got us quite a long way. Now, let me tell you what I know about Joe Jarvis, and you can fill in the gaps later with your research.’

  Sir Jeremy Chalmers gave Banks a sidelong glance. ‘Don’t worry. Your car will be quite safe at Brierley until we get back.’

  They were heading out of town, along the dale towards Helmthorpe, but Sir Jeremy turned off to the left on an unfenced road which meandered through a couple of sleepy hamlets up to the vast moors above. Banks thought the landscape looked more like a bog than the usual wilderness of gorse and heather, cut with steep, shallow ravines and peppered with rocky outcrops, all dark tones and lowering skies. He bet there was quicksand and mires, like the Dartmoor of The Hound of the Baskervilles. It wasn’t raining at the moment, but there had been so much of the wet stuff lately that, even up here, the ground was waterlogged for days after the last shower. Luckily, the cambered road surface was fine, apart from where it was full of potholes. Sir Jeremy splashed through them without even appearing to notice. They reached a passing place, and Sir Jeremy pulled in and turned off the engine. He took a couple of deep breaths, still holding the wheel, then got out. Banks followed suit. It had been a mostly silent journey so far.

  Though the clouds were low, the view was staggering in all directions. Distant hilltops floated above the mist like disembodied monoliths, water trickled in a nearby gully, and a lone curlew cried above them. The peewits were silent, though; they had already moved down to the lower meadow for the winter.

  Banks had the absurd idea at first that Sir Jeremy was going to hit him, but he did nothing.

  ‘I love it up here,’ Sir Jeremy said finally. ‘Far from the madding crowd. A man can think up here.’ He rested the backs of his thighs against the bonnet of the car and squinted at Banks. ‘You’ve been causing my family a lot of grief lately.’

  ‘It’s not my intention, believe me.’

  ‘I know. I suppose you’ll say you’re only doing your job.’

  ‘A man has been brutally murdered, Sir Jeremy. A man your wife knew, and whom she talked to on the telephone a week before he died.’

  ‘She knew him? This Miller person?’

  Banks was surprised at the reaction. Sir Jeremy clearly didn’t know that. Had Lady Chalmers not told her husband about the phone call? ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I assumed you would have known. They went out together for a while at university.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all,’ he said, clearly relieved. ‘I should imagine Ronnie went out with lots of boys at university. She was quite a beauty. I’ve never asked for a list of her conquests, and she’s never asked for a list of mine. You surely don’t think I believe I’m the first one?’ He paused. ‘You don’t …? Surely you don’t think I killed this Miller person out of jealousy?’

  Though the thought had crossed Banks’s mind, it sounded absurd out in the open like that. ‘It’s not a matter of that,’ he said. ‘It’s the evasions. At first she denied knowing him, then, when we faced her with concrete evidence, she admitted that she did.’

  ‘So she lied. She didn’t want to get involved. Would you?’

  Banks had realised many times before, when he had been asked this question, that he probably wouldn’t. But he could live with contradiction, and he certainly wasn’t going to admit as much to a witness or possible suspect. ‘People lie to us all the time in my business,’ he said.

  Sir Jeremy gave a quiet laugh. ‘I wouldn’t, by any means, say it was restricted to your business.’

  ‘Perhaps not. But it happens enough to be an occupational hazard.’

  ‘I suppose it also makes you suspicious of everyone. You begin to think that people are going to lie before they even open their mouths.’

  ‘Sometimes. But I try to get over it.’ Banks sighed. ‘Look, we’re people, too. I don’t go about my job to cause anyone trouble. Except criminals. I happen to like Lady Chalmers. It would sadden me to hurt her. But if she had only explained from the beginning her connection with Gavin Miller, instead of weaving a tissue of lies, then I’d have an easier time believing what she says now. As it is at the moment, yes, I think I would treat any further utterance from her with suspicion.’

  Sir Jeremy seemed to contemplate that for a moment, then he nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ He next surprised Banks by taking a packet of Marlboros from his top pocket and lighting one. He offered Banks the packet, and for one terrible instant, the urge coursed through him again and almost overwhelmed him. ‘No, thanks,’ he said, brushing it aside. Ninety-nine per cent of the time he never thought about smoking, or the idea of it repulsed him, but that other one per cent he longed to return to being a smoker again, to being a member of that happy, carefree fraternity, now drawn even closer together as they were fellow outlaws, pariahs, in the eyes of most people.

  ‘I understand my brother-in-law Tony caused you a few problems?’ Sir Jeremy said.

  ‘He did.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that, but you must realise that we’re a close-knit family. He thought he was only protecting Ronnie. I’m very protective of my wife. I was too far away to be of any help, or I’d have done the same. It was a natural instinct.’

  ‘To pull strings, peddle influence?’

  ‘It’s one of the things I do well. It’s why I’m so successful at my business. Do you have any id
ea what it’s like to put together a multimillion-dollar Broadway musical?’

  ‘No. Do you have any idea what it’s like to catch a particularly slippery murderer?’

  ‘Touché, Mr Banks.’

  ‘What about Lady Chalmers’ circle. Oriana Serroni, for example?’ Banks asked.

  Sir Jeremy frowned. ‘What about her?’

  ‘Do you think she might have anything to do with this business?’

  ‘I can’t imagine what. I’ve known Oriana more or less all her life, and as far as I’m concerned she’s above reproach.’ He gave Banks a curious glance. ‘She likes you.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘The way she defended you when Tony jumped in, or so Ronnie told me.’ Sir Jeremy paused. ‘And I believe she had lunch with you recently?’

  So Oriana had told Sir Jeremy and, no doubt, Lady Chalmers, about the lunch. In a way, that pleased him. She had been adamant about not telling Nathan and Anthony Litton, which was what he cared about most. Banks remembered Oriana’s frostiness on the day he and Annie had confronted Lady Chalmers surrounded by her lawyer and brother-in-law. How easily we can misread or misinterpret events, he thought. Perhaps she was more disturbed by the lawyer’s presence than by Banks’ and Annie’s arrival.

  A breeze sprang up and ruffled Sir Jeremy’s longish grey hair. He was wearing jeans and a zip-up leather jacket over a checked shirt, and he seemed warm enough in them. Banks was only wearing his best M&S suit, the one he always wore to go and talk to people who lived in big houses, the same one he’d been wearing all week, and he felt the chill.

  ‘I’m still surprised you didn’t know about your wife and Gavin Miller,’ Banks went on. ‘One thing I’ve been trying to clear up is whether they were in contact at all over the previous twenty-five years or so that you’ve lived in Eastvale. He actually taught at the college here for three years or so not long ago.’