by Paul Kelly
“It’s not drugs I need mate. They wouldn’t help me in that region. A good strong wrist is all I need, if you know what I mean …the old fashioned remedy that never fails.”
“Was that the reason that made you divorce your wife?”
“Oh! She was the pits, was that one … once a month and you had to fill in an application for it … in triplicate. She always had a fucking headache.”
Gardner laughed and excused his rudeness, but Bingham waved his hand in the air.
“No need to apologize for anything I said there, mate,” he continued, “I could never understand it myself ... Well not towards the end anyway. When I first met her, she couldn’t get enough. Twice nightly was mild. It was me who suffered the physical exhaustion in those days. I was the one who had to have the bloody headaches in the end, or I would have been crippled with slipped disks for life.”
“But I thought Mrs. Broomfield and you were …”
“Yeah, we were, but she was a different kind of lady. I could tell her what I wanted and she would accommodate. If I want to shag her, she was there and if I wanted just to drop off to sleep, she would let me. All she did then was keeping her hand on my tackle, in case I left without paying her.”
Gardner was beginning to form a completely new and different picture of the lady dentist from what David Bingham was telling him, but it left him even more confused to think that William Bright could fall in love with her. A woman twice his age and a prostitute, it seemed from what he was hearing, regardless of her reputation as a professional lady dentist. Why on earth didn’t he pick on someone his own age, especially if he wanted to get married and have a family? WHY?”
“I thought that Mrs. Broomfield and you were old friends and had enjoyed each other’s company for quite some time in the past. Isn’t that so?” Reggie asked with raised eyebrows, but Bingham sneered and looked towards the floor.
“I’d hardly call it a friendship that we had although I could talk to her better than I could to my ex. We were close associates, I suppose you could say, but it wasn’t love or anything like that. She could give me what I wanted and I thought I could do the same for her. It was just as simple as that ... A sexual agreement, if you like. She liked what I was and had and I felt the same for her. Just a mutual need, that’s all,” Bingham concluded with a sniff and a complacent look in his eye.
“You make it sound very animalistic ... Surely you must have had some feeling for the lady if you continued to see her regularly”
Bingham sucked his lips and stuck his finger in his ear as he wiggled it about, whilst twisting his face and rolling his eyes.
“Have you never been with a prostitute, Guvnor?” he asked and Gardner, rather surprised that he should have been asked that question, shook his head and looked a little sheepish.
“No ... I am one of the fortunate ones, I suppose I should say, he replied to Bingham’s question. “ I was too busy making babies with my lovely wife to think of anything else on the side. I have seven children, you see ... “
Bingham smacked his fist into his knee and roared with laughter.
“Didn’t give you much time to look around then ... Did she, even if you wanted to . . . “
Gardner knew that after this remark, he definitely did not like the man who was sitting in front of him and he declined to answer any further questions ... or answers ... and decided to close his enquiries.
Chapter Thirteen
GARDNER sat quietly in the chair outside Mr. Walker’s office and the school secretary; a rather attractive female of twenty something years asked him if he would like a cup of tea, but he rather reluctantly declined. It was cold outside and probably a cup of hot tea would have been what he should have had, but he had looked around in vain for the toilet and couldn’t find it. Maybe if that secretary could come back in a few minutes, he could ask her where he could go ... but middle aged and married though he was, he always found it difficult to ask anyone to direct him to the toilet ... and an attractive young woman of twenty something years in particular. After all, it wasn’t as if he was blind or anything like that, but sometimes the little boy’s room was not in the most prominent of places. It would have been different if the secretary had been a man; twenty something or eighty something, but then suddenly the Headmaster’s door opened and Reggie asked him very quickly if he would direct him in the right direction. It only took him five minutes, before he was able to return.
“Now then, Mr. Gardner,” said Mr. Walker, the Headmaster as he stroked his thinning hair, feeling sure that there was more on top than he imagined. ... “If I can help you I most certainly will because we were all distressed to hear about William Bright being in such trouble and news of this kind becomes gossip in a very short time, especially in a large school like mine. William wasn’t the brightest of pupils,” the Headmaster added with a grin, “But he was a good boy. Never caused any trouble and got on well with the other pupils … as far as I can understand.”
“Yes, Mr. Walker ... I am led to understand that William ... William Bright ... well, wasn’t as bright as his name seemed to suggest … as you have inferred … and I was just wondering, if THIS was the case, then how on earth he could have studied the violin with such expert results ... because he does play beautifully ... or so I understand.”
Mr. Walker shuffled some papers on his desk as a broad smile formed across his tanned face.
“I have just spoken to Mr. Wiltshire. That’s William’s form master and he has left me some notes that may help your enquiries. You say William was interested in music, did you not? Violin, you said, Mr. Gardner ... Well I’m not at all surprised at that. Not at all for one minute. You see William Bright was not a star pupil for most of the subjects we teach here … far from it, as I have already told you, BUT he wasn’t anywhere near the bottom of his class. Oh no ... William was a very quiet boy and as I am sure you will understand with a school full of boys ... and I may add, ROWDY BOYS, and girls too for that matter like we have here, that as you would expect in any mixed school, he didn’t stand out in the crowd, but William was what I call a ’thinker,’ and sad though I am to say it ... many of my children don’t put their thoughts or their minds in gear before they start to drive, if you get my meaning. William was the very opposite of that type of boy”
Reggie Gardner stroked his chin. Things were beginning to look better for young William Bright, but the headmaster didn’t answer all the questions that Reggie wanted to know.
“Why is it then that he was shunned by the other pupils, especially the girls?” he asked and watched the headmaster’s face for his reaction ... half hoping he would suggest that William Bright might be gay, although by this time, Reggie Gardner knew that William Bright was anything but that …
“Do you have children, Mr. Gardner?” asked the Headmaster.
“Yes ... I have seven, but why do you ask that?”
“Well children are all different as I am sure you have found out from your own experience, but William wasn’t what you might call ... a ’Pop Star’ He loved music as we discovered from the exams with his music teacher and he learned to read music which was something that most of our other pupils find very difficult. With William it was as easy as reading a novel. He took to it with ease ... and so I am not at all surprised that he has excelled with the violin and I am delighted that he is doing that now. With regards to the girls not paying much attention ... Well, the girls here and I suppose in most schools want a boy who is ‘with it’ ... in the pop world ... and William was too quiet for that. I feel he would never have made a ‘pop star’ if you get my drift …”
Gardner felt relieved when the headmaster explained the situation to him. So William Bright wasn’t as dull as many thought, even his own mother, but could have been quite a quiet genius in his own little way ...so that he could study a delicate and difficult instrument as the violin with such profi
ciency and apparent competence.
“But ... but surely he must have made some friends at school? Some other male pupil who might be regarded as his mate ... his best friend?”
“I believe there was such a person,” The Headmaster replied after some hesitation … “ but my notes here from Mr. Wiltshire tells me that this boy was two years senior to William and left school to go on to university where he intended to further his education at a music academy. His name was Francis Major, but he would not have seen or spoken to William for years, I would have thought.”
Gardner knew he had a lost line connection with this one and went onto another subject.
“You’re sure there’s no-one else here at the school that could help me, Mr. Walker. I really need far more information that you are able to give me, mush as I am most grateful for that.”
The Headmaster closed his notes from the form master and shook his head.
“I am sorry, Mr. Gardner, but as you will appreciate, William left our school when he was fourteen without any noticeable results or exams ... and I feel myself, if he had only stayed on a little longer, he might have reached ... Oh wait a moment … There is a note here from Mr. Wiltshire at the bottom of this report. It seems to be rather confidential, but I am sure the police will treat it with the respect it deserves ... yes?”
“Most certainly,” added Gardner as he leaned forward with enthusiasm to hear what else was to come.
“It says here ... and again, I must ask you to treat this with confidence, Mr. Gardner.”
“Yes ... yes of course. Now please tell me what Mr. Wiltshire has to say?”
“It says here that William Bright had requested to stay on at school but that his mother was rather poor, being a widow and needed him to go out to work as soon as possible.” The Headmaster shrugged his shoulders and raised his spectacles to his forehead as he looked at Reggie Gardner, “As is so often the case with poor parents or parent, Mr. Gardner ... They need the money and support of their children when they get on in years and their children can go out to work. I’m sure you will understand,” he said and Gardner smiled, just as the telephone rang in the headmaster’s office.
“Hello ... Hello . . .Yes of course Mr. Wiltshire. By all mean, I still have Mr. Gardner with me and I am sure he will be grateful for any further information you can give him. Will you come along now? Good, I’ll expect you then in the next few moments.” Mr. Walker replaced his telephone and turned to Gardner with a smile.
“It seems that Mr. Wiltshire ... that is or rather was William Bright’s form master ... he has something that he feels might be of interest to you, Mr. Gardner and he will be along in a few moments.
There was a knock on the Headmaster’s door a few seconds later and Mr. Wiltshire popped his head around the door.
“Mr. Gardner ... I am sorry I missed you a few moments ago, but I had an awkward situation in my class and I couldn’t leave the boys at that time. However, there is something that I feel you should know, apart from my report in which I gave as much information as I could at the time, but shortly after William left the school, I had a report on him from one of the doctors who exam the children every year and he tells me that ,,,” Wiltshire stopped talking sharply and looked at the Headmaster, almost as it he was asking permission to go further with what he had to say.
“Well ... What is it Mr. Wiltshire. We’re waiting,” said Mr. Walker with a look of impatience in his eye and the form master sighed heavily as he turned again to face Reggie Gardner.
“What I should have discovered long ago, Mr. Gardner ... and I do feel bad that I missed this terribly important information ... is that young William Bright was indeed above average intelligence, but there was evidence that he was dyslexic.”
Both the Headmaster and Reggie Gardner stared at the form master and it was the Headmaster who spoke first.
“This should have been noted long before the boy was about to leave school, Mr. Wiltshire this is a very serious lapse and we must certainly apologize to Mr. Gardner,” he said
“But,” said Gardner in reply, “Surely that wouldn’t have made any difference to William being able to study the violin . . . would it? Why, I know of many actors who are dyslexic and have no trouble studying their lines as the memory doesn’t seem to be affected.”
Mr. Walker coughed and held his left hand to his mouth as he stroked his balding patch with his right.
“That is very true Mr. Gardner, but we are here to TEACH children and enable them to get the best out of the education we are able to give them. This should have been made known to the boy and his parents at the time it was discovered … whereas it’s too late now, when the stable doors are closed and the horse has bolted...”
Gardner stood up and almost bowed to the Headmaster for the information he had just received. This made a big difference to him and would certainly have done to William Bright, had he known too ... but then, on second thoughts ... it hadn’t made any difference to the way he plays his violin and who knows, maybe if he wasn’t dyslexic, he may not have been such an accomplished musician.
There was a sense of disbelief as well as relief in Gardner’s face as he left the Headmaster’s office, when he reflected on his conversation with Bertha Bright . . .
“Worked my fingers to the bone for that lad, I did,” she had said, “and this is the way he treats his poor old mother ... “
Chapter Fourteen
FIONA ran her hair dryer across her head twice before she stopped and turned the thing off to make sure she was hearing O.K. and she was. The telephone was ringing.
“Hello ...Hello ...” she called out, but there was no answer. “Is there anyone there?” she called out again in exasperation as her hair was dripping and she bundled it quickly under her towel. “Hello,” she called out again and was about to put the phone down when to her surprise it was her mother talking on the other end and she sounded desperate.
“Mother ... is that you ... mother?” she asked, hardly able to believe that her mother would phone her at that time of the evening unless it was for something drastic, which Fiona guessed would be something to do with Maya’s love life and she waited to hear what would come next.
“Fiona, is that you? Your voice sounds different ... Is that you, Fiona?”
“Yes mother ... It’s me, who else did you think it might be? I don’t have a band of young men in my flat. What do you want?”
There was a long silence and Fiona thought she could hear someone crying on the other end of the line. She brought the earpiece closer to her ear to make sure she could hear everything, but there seemed to be confusion on the line.
“Mother ... Mother what on earth is wrong? Why are you so upset?” she asked and wondered again why on earth her mother would phone her at such an unearthly hour. Fiona glanced at her wristwatch. It was twenty past nine in the evening.
“Fiona ... can you please come straight away. I am worried ... sick with worry and I don’t have anyone to talk to. Please come.”
Fiona was surprised that her mother would talk to her under any circumstance as they never could see eye to eye at the best of times and they only spoke or met up whenever it seemed necessary, like birthdays or Christmas and therefore she was alarmed that her mother should sound so distressed. Maya Broomfield was not the kind of lady to lose her cool easily and certainly not the type to ask for help unless it was something very, very urgent. Fiona stared into her telephone as if by that action she would be able to determine something of the urgency that her mother spoke of.
“I’ll be with you in half an hour or so, I have just washed my hair so I will have to dry it properly before I come out. What a bloody awful night you take to call me out. It’s belting down with rain. Did you know that?”
The telephone crackled a lot as she spoke and for a few seconds Fiona thought that her mother had cut off, but a
fter a couple of seconds more, she could hear her voice again.“I’m sorry Fiona ... I thought you might be on call from the veterinary business when you didn’t answer straight away. I would appreciate it if you could come and I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but it is urgent.”
Fiona put her phone down and shoved her partly dried hair into a scarf, as she dressed and ran down to her little car .As she went she couldn’t help wondering what was wrong with her mother as she was a lady who never needed help of any kind and always gave the impression that she was completely ‘self-contained’ …
Chapter Fifteen
MAYA BROOMFIELD paced the floor of her flat waiting for the doorbell to ring. She was beginning to realize how foolish she had been and realized also that she would have to admit her problem, not only to herself …but also to many others, who may or may not have been interested, but she was worried. She went through her thoughts systematically, trying to make a firm decision on the state she was in, but there was only one answer that came to mind and no other would suffice. In fact, no other was possible as she had always insisted on rubbers ... no, it must have been ... IT WAS … Billy-Boy had got her pregnant.
“How the hell could I have been so bloody stupid?” she asked herself time and time again, but the same answer came back ... She had feelings for Billy-Boy that she had never ever felt for anyone else, not even with her two ex-husbands. She had been on the pill and she should have been safe, but when she went for her examination to her doctor, he told her that no contraceptive was one hundred per cent proof of being safe.
“I would have to swallow the wrong bloody pill at the right time,” she laughed between her tears. “Or the right bloody pill at the wrong fuckin’ time . . .”
The doorbell rang and she rushed to answer it to find Fiona waiting outside.