Gifthorse: The next instalment of the riveting Marnie Walker series

by Leo McNeir

  “Does that mean you might be able to have children or more likely not? Sorry to put it so bluntly, but –”

  “No, that’s the point,” said Marnie. “That’s what I wanted to know.”

  “And they couldn’t tell you?”

  “No.”

  “How do you feel about that, Marnie?”

  “I’m in a kind of limbo, I suppose. We weren’t thinking of children just yet, so it’s not an urgent priority. We don’t have to do anything different at the moment.”

  “Might things improve in time?”

  “The consultant couldn’t say. I pressed him for his best guess. All he would say was that nature would have to take its course. If at some point I managed to conceive, we’d have to consider all the available options at that time.”

  Ralph sat back, steepling his fingers. “Difficult decisions.”

  “Yes.” Marnie breathed out. “But not for today.”

  Ralph sat forward again and reached out to take Marnie’s hands. “You’ve had enough running around for one day. I’ll make supper.”

  Marnie smiled. “That would be nice. What d’you have in mind?”

  “Comfort food, of course,” Ralph said. “But with an optimistic hint of better seasons to come.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” said Marnie.

  *

  Anne arrived in the office barn to find it unoccupied. She guessed that Marnie would be talking to Ralph and said nothing about seeing her leaving the hospital campus, when Marnie returned shortly afterwards. Anne wanted to read through the newspaper articles she had printed from the internet, so she excused herself from the office as soon as she had given Marnie the answerphone messages.

  Initially the newspaper cuttings gave Anne only limited insights into Dekker’s background but then one item, that she almost overlooked, stood out. As she read the brief snippet, she realised it was probably at the heart of everything that had gone wrong in his private life.

  While she was assembling the press cuttings in chronological order, she heard footsteps on the gravel outside. It was no longer frozen into a solid mass. Ralph arriving for coffee, she thought. It was the first time in weeks that any sound had penetrated to her attic room. She slipped down the ladder to meet him in the office, but was surprised to find only Marnie sitting at her desk. She seemed lost in her thoughts and did not look up until Anne was standing beside her.

  “You okay, Marnie?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t know.” Anne hesitated. “I saw your car in town this afternoon.” She studied Marnie’s face for a reaction. “You seemed to be coming from the hospital car park.”

  Marnie smiled. “I might’ve known I couldn’t keep a secret from you.”

  “Of course you can. I’d never pry.” She touched Marnie’s shoulder. “But I am here if you want me to be.”

  “I know. Listen, there’s nothing for you to be concerned about, worryguts, nothing at all, I promise.”

  “Okay. Was that Ralph just now?”

  Marnie looked puzzled. “Ralph?”

  “I heard his footsteps on the gravel.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Marnie picked up the phone and rang Ralph’s mobile.

  “Are you prowling around out there?”

  Ralph laughed. “You could say that.”

  “By the office barn?”

  “No. I’m on Sally Ann. Just as well, too. It’s like a fridge on board. The heater’s time switch is playing up again. I’ll let the boat warm up before I get dinner ready. I’m on my way round now for coffee.”

  “So you definitely didn’t come past here a couple of minutes ago?”

  “Not guilty, your honour.”

  After disconnecting, Marnie and Anne went outside. The builders were long gone. The courtyard was deserted as dusk was coming down. If anyone had been out there, they had left no trace behind them.

  *

  The interior of Sally Ann was warm and welcoming when Marnie and Anne joined Ralph for dinner. A medley of smells assailed them as soon as they went aboard. There was a summery mixture of melon and cucumber, overlaid with a faint tang of garlic. A pan of new potatoes was bubbling on the hob, and from the oven wafted an aroma of quiche. Ralph was mixing a French dressing as they reached the galley.

  “Five minutes,” he said.

  “Wonderful.” Marnie kissed him lightly on the lips. “What can we do to help?”

  Anne had squeezed past them and was already picking up the corkscrew and advancing purposefully on a bottle of Macon Rouge.

  “Just take your places,” said Ralph. He poured the dressing over the contents of the salad bowl.

  Marnie and Anne sat down, admiring the wedges of melon set out before them. Anne poured the wine while Ralph tossed the salad.

  “So this is your optimistic comfort food,” said Marnie.

  “Optimistic?” Anne said.

  Ralph nodded. “A harbinger of spring and summer. I found the asparagus quiche in the freezer this morning. There’s a slice or two of York ham for the carnivores among us.”

  Anne shuddered in mock horror. Before joining them, Ralph turned up the wicks on the oil lamps, flooding the saloon in a soft light. He lit two small candles in glass holders on the table, turned off the overhead halogen lights and sat down. As he raised his glass, the red wine shimmered.

  “Cheers everyone,” he said.

  They drank together, smiling with pleasure at the end of their working day. Sipping the robust wine, they found their thoughts straying to two other boats on the Grand Union Canal that evening. Somewhere to the north of them, Maurice Dekker sat alone on his boat, surrounded by darkness. On the southbound section, now many miles away, Willow and Ben would be snug in their cabin on Glastonbury, while Poppy settled down for the night on the bank.

  After fielding compliments from satisfied customers, Ralph became more serious.

  “I want to tell you what I learnt today,” he began.

  He outlined the conversation with Alex Wise. When he mentioned that Maurice Dekker’s wife had died, Marnie looked shocked. Anne showed no reaction. Ralph continued.

  “Now we know about her death – I don’t know her name yet – I think we’re on the way to understanding why Maurice made those disastrous errors.”

  Marnie was about to comment when Anne said quietly, “Her name was Melissa.”

  Marnie and Ralph stared at her as she went on.

  “She died on Friday the sixth of April in the Charlotte Hillingdon Clinic in Belsize Park, London. She was thirty-six.”

  Ralph put down his knife and fork. “You seem to be several blocks ahead of me, Anne,” he said. He turned to Marnie. “Did you know about this?”

  Marnie shook her head. “Not at all.”

  Anne explained. “I didn’t want to tell you my idea in case it came to nothing. All I did was check out the local paper and there it was.”

  “The Ham and High?” said Marnie.

  “Yes.”

  “You went to London to consult their back numbers?”

  “No. You can do it over the internet now, a new system. By the turn of the century they’ll have everything available online. You can already go back a few years and it’s all there, the whole paper, articles, ads, announcements, the lot.”

  “And you found …?” Ralph urged her to continue.

  “At first I found nothing, then I spotted an announcement of her death in the personal section. The week after, there was a news item about Maurice Dekker disappearing. Apparently he had to go to his office for some big meeting the following Monday, that was the ninth of April. After that, he was never seen again. It made the news locally for a couple of weeks, but then the story died out.”

  “Melissa died,” Ralph said. “He disappeared.”

  “It doesn’t explain why,” said Marnie. “Did the announcement give any details?”

  “That’s the point,” said Anne. “It said sh
e’d died in childbirth … with her baby.”

  Chapter 36

  Deductions

  Ralph had only just booted up the computer on Wednesday morning when the phone on his desk began ringing. The wall clock registered two minutes past eight, and he deduced this would be a call from overseas, probably the Far East. He was wrong.

  “Good morning. Sorry to trouble you at this early hour.” It was a light, pleasant voice, that Ralph did not recognise. “My name is Dominic Brodie. We haven’t met, but I believe you know my brother-in-law, Maurice Dekker.”

  “I’ve met him.”

  “We’re very concerned about Maurice’s state of health. You probably don’t know this, but he’s suffered from depression in the past.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you know how we might get in touch with him?”

  Ralph hesitated. “To be honest, I don’t know where he is exactly.”

  “But you know how to reach him?”

  “Mr Brodie. It is Mr, I take it?”

  “Dominic, please.”

  “Well, Dominic, the thing is, I’m not sure your brother-in-law wants to be in touch with anyone at the moment. He seems to need some privacy.”

  “But that’s what troubles us, professor. He’s never done anything like this before. We’re worried he might do something desperate.”

  “I can understand your concern, but –”

  “Can I ask, is he staying with you?”

  “No. I’ve told you already, I don’t know where he is at present.”

  “But you do know how to get in touch with him?” Brodie persisted.

  Ralph’s mind was racing. Brodie sounded like a reasonable man and certainly gave the impression his only concern was for the welfare of his brother-in-law. Yet Maurice Dekker had withdrawn from the world, including his family.

  “Are you still there, professor?”

  “Yes. Look, Dominic, I have to respect Maurice’s wish to absent himself at the present time. I’m sure you understand that.”

  “How would you feel if he was your brother, professor?”

  “I take your point.” Ralph came to a decision. “There is one thing I can do for you.”

  “An address?”

  “An address,” Ralph confirmed. “You can write to Maurice care of the post office here in Knightly St John in Northamptonshire.”

  “They have a forwarding address for him?”

  “Not quite. They have an arrangement. I can’t go into details, but they’ll make sure your letter reaches him.”

  Ralph gave Brodie the post office details and they disconnected. He immediately rang Marnie and described his conversation.

  “I’m not sure if there’s anything else I should do. Do you think we should contact Maurice and tell him about this?”

  “Maybe,” said Marnie. “I need to think about it.”

  “If Brodie does write a letter, we’ll find out soon enough how Maurice wants to deal with it,” Ralph said. “Perhaps we should wait and see.”

  After they hung up, Marnie sat thinking. Anything else I should do, Ralph had said, contact Maurice … wait and see. Marnie was not a wait-and-see sort of person. All her instincts told her to seize the high ground and take action while all options were open. She reached for the phone.

  After three rings she heard a familiar voice.

  “Knightly village shop.”

  “Molly, hi, it’s Marnie. Listen, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  *

  Barely ten minutes had passed when the phone rang again in the village shop. Molly Appleton took the call. The voice at the other end of the line was friendly and pleasing to the ear.

  “Good morning. Am I speaking to the postmistress?”

  “No. That’s my husband.”

  The caller chuckled. “The postmaster, presumably.”

  “Oh yes.” Molly tittered. “That’s right.”

  “Would he be available, please?”

  Molly looked across to the post office booth where Richard had a line of customers waiting.

  “I’m afraid he’s busy at present. Can I help you?”

  “I want to make an enquiry about post for Mr Maurice Dekker. Would you know anything about that?”

  “Mr Dekker? Yes. You can write to him here.”

  “And what happens then?”

  “He receives your letter.” Molly spoke as if explaining something to a child.

  “Sorry, I mean, how does he receive it? Does he live in the village?”

  “No. He just calls in.”

  “Regularly?”

  “Yes. Well, quite regularly.”

  “He comes on a given day in the week, perhaps?”

  “No. We never know when he’ll look in, exactly.”

  A pause. “If I gave you my number, could you possibly ask him to ring me?”

  “Er, well, I’m not sure.” This was an unexpected request, and Molly was unprepared for it. “I suppose …”

  “It is rather urgent and we are family.”

  “All right, then. But I can’t promise anything.”

  The man gave his number. “And my name is Dominic Brodie.”

  “Right,” said Molly, noting the name on her pad. “And you’re his brother-in-law, did you say?”

  A pause. “That’s right. Thank you very much. You’ve been most helpful.”

  After hanging up, Molly could have bitten her tongue.

  *

  Ralph waited until nine o’clock before phoning Graeme McKinnon at the Highgate Business School.

  “Dead?” said Graeme. “His wife’s dead?”

  “I’m rather surprised you didn’t find that out, Graeme.”

  “Alex Wise said nothing about that. But then I was only asking if Maurice had a second home. Perhaps he assumed I knew about his wife. In fact, I know virtually nothing about his private life.”

  “I thought you might’ve read about it in the Ham and High.”

  “Why would I read the Ham and High?”

  “It’s your local paper?”

  “Ralph, I live in Hertfordshire. I don’t feel the need to keep up with roadworks on the North Circular or planning disputes in the Garden Suburb.”

  “Do you know a church called Saint Joseph and All Saints?”

  “A church? Don’t think so. Does it have something to do with the Dekker business?”

  “I just wondered.”

  “Ralph, don’t mind me asking, but are you letting this Dekker affair get on top of you a wee bit?”

  Ralph laughed. “What ever gave you that idea?”

  *

  On Sally Ann that evening, Anne announced that she was taking charge of the galley and produced bangers and mash – vegetarian bangers for herself, Cumberland sausages for Marnie and Ralph – with onion rings. When Ralph opened a bottle of Rioja, Marnie remarked that the winemakers would never have imagined such a combination.

  “Then the good citizens of northern Spain don’t know what they’re missing,” Ralph declared.

  As usual during the meal, they caught up with each other’s news. Marnie explained that she had warned Molly Appleton not to give out any information about the poste restante arrangement she and her husband had made for Maurice.

  “You don’t think it might be time for Maurice to re-establish contact with his family?” Ralph asked.

  “I think that’s for him to decide.”

  “I must say the brother-in-law sounded pleasant enough,” said Ralph. “And I don’t doubt he’s concerned for Maurice’s welfare.”

  Marnie put down her knife and fork. “I don’t know why, but I feel we should tread carefully here. Maurice must have had a good reason to take off as he did, and he’s certainly not making any effort to come out of his shell.”

  “Shame,” said Anne.

  “A shame that he’s detached from his family after what he’s been through?” said Marnie.

  “No, a sense of shame, or perhaps I mean guilt, after what happened to his
wife and their baby.”

  Marnie nodded. “Maybe, but that could happen to anyone, sadly. Having children can be a tricky business.”

  “Oh sorry, Marnie. I wasn’t thinking –”

  “That’s okay.” Marnie smiled across at Anne. “Actually, I think you may have a point. Maurice may simply not be able to face his late wife’s family, however supportive they may want to be.”

  “Which is why you think we should continue to protect Maurice’s privacy,” said Ralph, “even from the family.”

  “Yes, definitely, though I think we could let him know they’re trying to reach him. It might be just the encouragement he needs to ease himself back into the world.”

  “There’s one thing that intrigues me in all this,” said Ralph. “I wonder how Dominic Brodie got hold of my phone number.”

  Anne grinned at him, shaking her head. “Elementary, my dear Watson. You phoned Alex Wise, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Ralph sounded suspicious.

  “Then he must have dialled 1-4-7-1 to get your number after you hung up.”

  “Of course.” Ralph looked pained. “I think I live in the wrong age. All this technology, it’s beyond me.”

  “You’re definitely on a different planet,” said Anne, grinning at him.

  Marnie touched Ralph’s hand. “It’s nice to know you’re not brilliant at everything. It means there’s hope for the rest of us.”

  They resumed eating. After a few moments Anne looked up.

  “It does seem strange, not having Ben and Poppy around. I wonder where they are now and what they’re doing.”

  Marnie agreed. “Amazing how quickly they became part of our lives and how quickly they’ve disappeared.”

  “I wonder if that sound I heard in the courtyard yesterday was me imagining that I was hearing them,” said Anne.

  “You mean like auto-suggestion?”

  “That kind of thing.”

  Marnie looked doubtful. “I’m not sure how that works. You could be right.”

  In fact she tended to believe that the sound of footsteps on gravel meant that someone was walking on gravel, full stop. But she decided to keep that thought to herself.