More Careless Talk

by David Barry

  As soon as he had left the room, Vanessa climbed slowly out of bed, rescuing her crumpled clothing from a nearby chair. She frowned deeply. Something about Jason bothered her. The cordless razor had looked suspiciously like one of those miniature tape recorders. A dictating machine. But why would Jason want to record her saying she had enjoyed their lovemaking? Unless it was to feed his giant ego.

  ***

  Brash music, discordant sound effects, blasted from the living room television set. Maggie went to the kitchen door and yelled:

  ‘Daryl! Hannah! Turn it down. I can’t hear myself think.’

  Sitting at the breakfast bar, drinking from a can of Fosters, Craig laughed. ‘Cartoons are bloody terrible when you’re not watching them.’

  ‘I said turn it down!’ Maggie repeated. As soon as the volume dropped, she went and sat opposite her brother. ‘They turn it up deliberately. Attention seeking. I’ll be glad when it’s Monday. It’s been a hell of a week. What were you saying about the chippie, before we were so rudely interrupted?’

  Craig coughed lightly before speaking. ‘I was saying: if I sold the chippie, put the money into the wine bar, and became a sort of sleeping partner, I could also run the Maidstone chippie. Then, if you needed any extra finance for the wine bar...’

  Maggie smiled warmly at her brother. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘You don’t have to be a “sleeping partner”. We’ve always got on well, I was just being stupid and snobby about the tattoos. And let’s face it, most celebrities have them these days.’ She offered Craig her hand. ‘So here’s to our partnership.’

  Grinning, Craig shook her hand. ‘Yeah, here’s to the trendiest bar in the south east.’

  ‘I’ve got an appointment with the solicitor first thing Monday. Come with me and we can sort it all out officially.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ said Craig, trying to sound casual, as if he’d just thought of what he was going to say. ‘Why don’t we have a meal out tonight; to celebrate.’

  Maggie shook her head. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘My treat.’

  ‘I’m seeing someone. A fellah.’

  Craig began to panic. He didn’t have an alibi for tonight, and Tony Rice was planning to burgle the working men’s club.

  Noticing his downcast expression, Maggie asked him what was wrong.

  ‘I just feel at a loose end, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, I could always do with a child minder for tonight. Save me having to drive the babysitter home afterwards.’

  Craig looked relieved. ‘Can I stay the night? Then you can stay out as long as you like. And if your date runs you home, you won’t have to worry about how much you drink.’

  ‘That sounds good to me.’

  ‘Thanks, Maggs. Thanks.’

  ‘What are you thanking me for? You’re the one who’s doing me a favour.’

  Craig smiled twitchily. ‘Oh, yeah.’

  Maggie noticed his nervousness, but she put it down to the new partnership commitment and thought no more about it.

  Six

  Tony Rice finished his pint and checked his watch. Eight forty-five. Eyes down for bingo. And a bumper jackpot this week, so nearly everyone in the club would be playing. Upstairs, in the Gents toilet opposite the snooker room, his accomplice, ‘Geordie’ Pete, waited in the locked cubicle, having left the crowded bar five minutes earlier.

  As soon as the bingo was under way, Rice left the bar and went upstairs. He glanced into the snooker room, making certain it was empty, then slipped quickly into the Gents, and tapped on the cubicle door.

  ‘Out you come, Pete,’ Rice said quietly. ‘It’s time to work.’

  The bolt slid open and ‘Geordie’ Pete joined Rice under the loft hatch. Wasting no time, he climbed onto the ex-convict’s shoulders and pushed open the hatch. The temperature had plummeted over the last few days and a cold blast of air hit him from inside the roof. He wished he’d worn a sweater on top of his polo shirt. But Coleman was young and fit, strong and wiry, having spent most of the ten years since he’d left school hod-carrying and digging, so what was a little cold air but a slight inconvenience. But now his strength, of which he was inordinately proud, was put to the test as he struggled to pull Rice up after him. And any minute someone might walk into the toilet.

  Rice, with Coleman’s co-ordinated strength, managed to leap and catch the edge of the opening. Coleman caught him under the arms, heaved and pulled, and Rice wriggled into the darkness of the loft as his breathless young accomplice slid back the hatch, plunging them into darkness, just seconds before someone walked into the toilet.

  ***

  Bamber nearly shot through the ceiling when Donald tapped him on the shoulder. He glared at his partner before turning the volume down on the CD player.

  ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack,’ he complained. ‘Creeping up on me like that.’

  Donald gave his friend a lop-sided grin. ‘Can I help it if you play this rubbish at mega decibels? It’s a wonder you’re not permanently deaf.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  Donald chuckled dutifully, then spotted empty crisp packets on the coffee table. ‘What is the point of trying to keep this place tidy? Look at it! It’s like a pig sty.’

  ‘Oh come on. It’s not that bad.’

  ‘We can all tell where you’ve been sitting. Look at all the crumbs on the carpet. You might have hoovered before I came home.’

  ‘I’m not your wife, you know.’

  Bamber slumped into an easy chair and stared back at Donald with childlike defiance.

  ‘Just a couch potato I feed and clothe.’

  ‘I do my fair share.’

  Donald raised his eyebrows mockingly.

  ‘You forget. I’m convalescing.’

  ‘You’ve been convalescing for as long as I’ve known you.’

  ‘Had a hard day at the shop, have you?’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing.’ Donald glanced at his watch. ‘The sun is not yet over the yard-arm, but I could murder a gin and tonic.’

  ‘You drink too much.’

  ‘Hark at the pot calling the kettle beige.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Bamber, ‘you can pour me one while you’re at it.’

  ‘I’ll get the glasses and some ice and lemon ’ Donald started for the kitchen, then stopped as if remembering something of minor importance, and said, ‘Oh, by the way, I forgot to ask you this morning: can you look after the shop for me on Monday?’

  Bamber’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Why?’

  ‘A Portobello Road dealer’s clearing out of the business. I can buy her entire stock for a song.’

  ‘Oh yes. And will this mean a visit to the theatre?’

  Donald acted confusion. ‘Theatre?’

  ‘Yes, you know: those building where they put on Shakespeare plays.’

  Smiling tolerantly, Donald said, ‘I am not seeing Ted, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m going up during the day. I haven’t seen Ted in yonks. His wife’s having a baby.’

  A triumphant gleam blazed in Bamber’s eyes. ‘If you haven’t seen him, how did you know about the baby?’

  ‘I happened to bump into him in Sainsbury’s a few weeks ago.’

  ‘She’s a bit old to be having a baby, isn’t she?’

  Donald laughed. ‘I wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall once it’s born.’ Seeing the look of distaste on Bamber’s face, he added, ‘On second thoughts, I’ll get the ice and lemon.’

  As he past his coat hanging in the hallway, Donald took a small envelope from inside the pocket. If Bamber was suspicious, he wouldn’t put it past the boy to go through his pockets. He’d have to find somewhere else to hide the theatre tickets this time. And he kn
ew just the place. Under the sink, among the household cleaning items. Bamber could be relied on never to sully his hands by doing any household chores.

  ***

  Rice shivered as he clicked on a pencil torch and peered at his watch.

  ‘What time is it?’ whispered Coleman.

  ‘Time to get on with it.’

  Coleman swore under his breath. ‘I’ve never been so cold.’

  Rice snorted. ‘You can help yourself to a large brandy, my son.’

  ‘I hope they ain’t locked the door to the bog,’ said Coleman. ‘I noticed there was a lock on it.’

  Rice patted his pocket. ‘I’ll soon have that open. Right, let’s get on with it.’

  ‘Can you hear anything?’

  Rice listened. ‘No. Let’s go.’ He shifted the loft hatch while Coleman held the torch. They both dropped stealthily onto the tiled floor of the Gents. Rice tried the door. ‘It’s not locked,’ he whispered. ‘Old Alex gets forgetful when he’s had a skin-full.’

  ‘Silly old bar steward!’ Coleman laughed. ‘Right! Let’s go.’

  Once they reached the downstairs bar, Coleman asked: ‘You sure about the alarm?’

  Rice gave a throaty chuckle. ‘Everyone knows Alex come out the RAF in 1959, the year Buddy Holly died. He goes on about it often enough. The alarm’s coded to assist Alex in his alcoholic amnesia.’

  ‘You what?’ said Coleman.

  ‘Means he don’t know what day it is.’

  There was a sudden loud groan from a corner of the bar. Coleman gave a start.

  ‘Jesus! What’s that?’

  The bar steward, who had been asleep on one of the padded benches, suddenly sat up, screaming, ‘Who is it? What’s going on?’

  Rice grabbed the nearest weapon, a full and unopened bottle of Grouse, which was Alex’s favourite tipple, and which he had left out to have a crafty drink should he wake in the night and suffer from alcoholic insomnia. When the litre of whisky came into contact with his skull, the bottle survived the impact. Unfortunately, his skull proved to be less resistant.

  Seven

  Curiosity rather than sympathy drew Vanessa to her sister’s bedroom door when she heard snuffling, sobbing sounds. Vanessa tapped gently on the door before entering. She found Nicky sprawled across the bed, cuddling Polzeath, a well-worn teddy bear, named after a Cornish seaside resort; and memento of a family holiday, from a time when they were still a proper family.

  ‘What’s up?’ Vanessa asked. Nicky carried on crying. Vanessa sighed and eased herself onto the edge of the bed, stroking her sister’s hair. ‘Tell me.’

  Nicky lifted her head out of Polzeath’s damp, threadbare fur. ‘Where’s Mummy?’ she cried pathetically.

  ‘Gone out. Shopping. Then she’s going straight to the church hall to rehearse her play. She won’t be back until quite late. You can tell me what’s wrong, if you like.’

  Nicky sniffed and wiped a hand over her smeared face. ‘It’s Jason.’

  A cold feeling of guilt shot through Vanessa. ‘What about him?’

  ‘We’ve become ... lovers. Only...’

  ‘Go on.’

  Tears filled Nicky’s eyes again. Her voice trembled as she struggled to control herself. ‘He was the first man in my life. The very first. It should have been special. But afterwards he couldn’t wait to get me out of his flat. He was only after one thing. And now he’s had it, he doesn’t want to know.’

  ‘Has he said he doesn’t want to see you again?’

  ‘Well, not in so many words ... no. But I’ve been trying to contact him since yesterday and...’

  Alarm bells rung in Vanessa’s head. ‘Saturday! Is that when you slept with him?’

  ‘Well, I did sleep with him yesterday. But that wasn’t the first time.’

  Vanessa’s voice became strident. ‘What time was this?’

  ‘Eleven o’clock. Why? What difference does it make?’

  ‘Nothing. I just wondered.’

  Vanessa chewed her bottom lip nervously and thought about Jason. No wonder he’d wanted her out of his flat by nine o’clock. He’d been seeing Nicky afterwards. Was this something he’d planned in advance? Had he known Vanessa would agree to go back to his flat on Friday night? He seemed so cocksure of himself. So arrogant. And what about his strange behaviour?

  As if she could read her sister’s thoughts, Nicky said, ‘He was a bit weird.’

  Vanessa frowned. She could almost guess what was coming. ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, as a lover he seemed very - um, how can I put it? - he seemed very skilful. Very thoughtful, about taking precautions. It’s just that afterwards, he brought out one of those little tape recorders - you know, one of those dictating machines. And he wanted me to say something about our loving.’

  Vanessa’s voice was barely a whisper when she spoke. ‘What sort of thing did he want you to say?’

  ‘Just that we’d made love on such and such a date. Like he wanted to keep a record of it.’

  ‘Maybe he wanted proof.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I wish I knew.’

  Nicky stared at her sister, frowning. ‘What a peculiar thing to say.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘You said you wish you knew like you were personally involved.’

  Vanessa gave Nicky’s hand a gentle squeeze and avoided her eyes. ‘Well, you’re my sister. And even though I’m younger than you, for some strange reason, I’ve always thought of you as “my little sister”, as though I’m the older one. I suppose that’s because ... well, I’m not sure why, really.’

  Vanessa stopped herself from saying it was because Nicky was so silly and babyish.

  ***

  Late Monday morning, his mind racing from the sweet excitement of deception, Ted arrived home breathless after hurrying across the common burdened by rolls of wallpaper Marjorie had ordered.

  ‘I’m in the kitchen,’ Marjorie called out when she heard him come in. He went into the kitchen and found her sitting at the table, idly flicking through a Mothercare catalogue and sipping cream sherry.

  ‘You shouldn’t be drinking in your condition,’ he said.

  Marjorie gave him a sidelong glance. ‘What would you know about it?’

  ‘I do know that...’ Ted began, but she interrupted him.

  ‘A bit of what you fancy can’t do any harm. Everything in moderation.’

  Ted regarded the sherry bottle disapprovingly. ‘Hmm!’ he mumbled pointedly, which irritated Marjorie. She gave him the news he’d been anticipating.’

  ‘They want you in this afternoon.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Who! Who d’you think? While you were out, they called from work.’

  Ted acted out disappointment. ‘Oh no!’ It’s a blooming nuisance having to work on my day off.’

  ‘It’s never bothered you before.’

  ‘No, but I thought I could make a start on the nursery.’

  Marjorie snapped the catalogue shut and thumped it down on the table. ‘That’s good quality wallpaper, that is. I know what your papering’s like. I don’t want one of your botched jobs. So I’m getting the proper man in.’

  Ted glanced at his watch. ‘Well, I’m going to need a lot of overtime then, to pay for it. Did they say what time they wanted me in?’

  ‘As soon as you can make it. Staff shortages, they said. There’s a lot of stomach bugs and flu going around. Change in the weather, I expect. So you’d better go back to the spare room for a while. I don’t want to catch anything in my condition.’

  Ted started edging towards the door. ‘I’ll be off then. I’ll chuck my uniform in my bag and change at work.’

  ‘Chap who telephoned,’ said Marjorie, ‘had a very posh
voice.’

  Ted looked at her blankly. ‘Must be new.’

  His heart racing, Ted dashed upstairs and bundled his uniform into his sports bag, called out goodbye to Marjorie and hurried out of the house. Donald’s Volvo was parked, with the engine idling, just round the corner on Mount Ephraim. Ted threw his bag onto the back seat and settled into the passenger seat.

  ‘Well,’ smiled Donald, ‘presumably she fell for it.’

  ‘Hook, line and sinker. Only she thought you sounded posh.’

  Donald laughed. ‘Right! Twelfth Night here we come. We’ve loads of time to spare. But parking’s going to be the problem.’

  ‘What did you tell Bamber?’ asked Ted.

  ‘I told him I needed to buy someone’s stock in Portobello Road, which is why we’ve got to drive to London.’

  ‘Why can’t we park at Tonbridge and catch the train?’ suggested Ted.

  ‘You don’t know Bamber. He’s probably noted the mileage on the clock of the Volvo, and will check it tomorrow.’

  Donald laughed confidently, thinking he was one step ahead of his partner. But Bamber was at that moment lurking on the common, watching the Volvo as it pulled away from the kerb. All along he’d been suspicious about Donald’s trip to London, so he’d closed the antique shop, and walked up towards where Ted lived, and now he’d been proved right.

  Eight

  Having just had an induction meeting with his manager, Pran returned to the large open-plan office and slid into his seat at the desk near Graham’s. They were colleagues, working at the same level, but already Pran sensed some resentment because of this. Maybe it was because Graham was in his late thirties, and it had taken him longer to reach the grade that Pran had fast-tracked to in his last job. But Pran wondered if he was being paranoid. After all, Graham seemed to be making an effort to get to know him and put him at ease.

  ‘And how’s our line manager?’ Graham asked with forced cheerfulness.

  ‘Well, as I only started today, she just wanted to explain the routine.’

  ‘It’s going to be a hectic first week for you. We’ve quite a few deadlines to meet.’