Head Count

by Judith Cutler

  ‘Can’t see any scars on her vehicle, though.’ He photographed her number plate nonetheless.

  Elaine scratched her chin. ‘But you can have scrapes repaired … Yes, Will told me all about it. And about the stuff you tackled with the paedophile here: well done you.’

  ‘Thanks. Hey, Robin, are you all right?’ I added, as I realised he could hardly keep pace with us. He stopped altogether. Not a heart attack. Please don’t let him be having a heart attack. He was heaving for breath.

  ‘Asthma. Don’t worry.’ He produced a familiar type of spray.

  ‘Harvest dust,’ Elaine explained. ‘He’s fine standing still but – There! That’s better. OK, love?’ They squeezed hands.

  Will ignored the little incident, setting us in motion again, but more slowly. Then he paused to take a call, which didn’t bring pleasure to his face. ‘Look,’ he said at last, ‘I’ll see you at the pub – right? And, Jane, please don’t leave there till I arrive.’

  He looked as if he might add an extra please, a pretty one.

  ‘OK,’ I said offhand, ‘if it’s important.’

  Presumably it was. He turned and retraced his steps at a gallop.

  Ed was already in the Jolly Cricketers, clean and scrubbed as if up for interview rather than just being the self-appointed Mine Host. Less cordial was Brian, also looking spruce – but then that was the norm. And there was no doubt he considered that Ed was an upstart usurper of his rightful role: he made sure it was he who had fought his way through to the bar to buy me a glass of prosecco, and didn’t hesitate to provide Elaine with one too when I introduced her. But he didn’t seem anxious to pursue any conversation with her, trying, in fact, to edge her out with a traditional masculine turn of the arm and body that made her step back a pace.

  I moved so she could step back in. Even so he contrived to ignore her.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right after that incident?’ he asked, clinking glasses with me.

  ‘I was shaken at the time but now I’m fine,’ I assured him. ‘And everyone enjoys a close finish. Very exciting, wasn’t it, Elaine?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ he chipped in. She narrowed her eyes at his rudeness. ‘What a splendid end to the season. Tell me, will you be coaching the new women’s team?’

  I tried to be as patient as if he was the first person to ask the question. ‘It all depends on my other commitments, Brian. Taking on the second school has been quite a challenge, you know, Elaine.’

  Again he cut across her. ‘But you’re not doing any teaching – we’re even proposing new school signs naming you as Executive Head Teacher.’

  Elaine gave something nearer a snort than a chuckle. ‘If I’d known I’d have curtsied,’ she said dryly.

  ‘So you should,’ I said with a grin. ‘But with our budget so stretched, Brian, is giving me such a grandiose title it merits new boards a priority?’

  ‘The Episcopi one has to be changed anyway, doesn’t it? It would look odd if the Wrayford one weren’t updated too.’

  ‘True. But we shouldn’t be talking shop, should we? Shall we go and see what the barbecue has on offer, Elaine?’ I raised my glass in a little gesture intended to convey both thanks and an end to the conversation.

  En route we came up against Dennis Paine. He spoke first. ‘You OK, Umpire? I’m no lightweight, you know.’

  ‘I do know,’ I laughed. ‘Thanks, Dennis – I hoped I’d get a chance to say how grateful I am.’

  ‘Like I said, you got guts.’ He looked almost furtively at Elaine, who was afflicted by a massive bout of hiccups, genuine by the sound of them. ‘Has that fool of a brother of mine changed his mind about pulling his kids out of your school? They’re bright, those little ones, and they deserve the best, you know,’ he added ambiguously. ‘I shall tell him about this afternoon, don’t you worry.’ He edged away.

  Elaine’s hiccups had stopped but she looked washed out.

  ‘Do you want to find Robin?’

  A quick glance showed that Robin was at the heart of a knot of players all sharing a raucous laugh.

  ‘Leave him. He’s as happy as a pig in muck,’ she said. ‘He always grumbles about having to socialise, but when it comes to it, he really gets stuck in. I think it’s because his job is pretty lonely, and he thinks he’s forgotten how to mix, but – hey presto! – he hasn’t.’

  ‘What about you? You seemed really keen to come. But—’

  ‘I was. I mean, I was anyway, because I like village stuff like this. And I liked the way you worked the other night, and I wanted to see how you and Will are together, of course – and there he is gone. Pfff. But that’s the police for you.’

  ‘So it seems. But we’re not an item, Elaine, much as Jo and Lloyd Davies are trying to push us that way. And now you! It’s not as if we can be, is it, with everything in the air – and me not yet ruled out from having committed one of the crimes.’

  ‘True. But it all looks very promising from where I’m standing. And there might have been another reason for wanting to come.’ She touched the side of her nose. ‘It’s not just walls that have ears, is it? Those fried onions smell wonderful,’ she added more loudly. ‘I like them better than burgers, truth to tell.’ She set off purposefully into the beer garden, where not just two but three barbecues were in operation, staffed by three teenagers more interested in their phones. ‘Come on – you need feeding, and I certainly don’t.’ She grabbed some of the muffin round her waist and squeezed. ‘At least fizz isn’t fattening, is it?’

  ‘Not when Brian Dawes buys it,’ I mouthed, winking.

  Some of the younger kids were already high on sugar, and making a thorough nuisance of themselves: dashing round, jumping, shoving. Worse, any moment now one of them might career into a barbecue, with potentially disastrous results. En route to warn Diane, the landlady, I spoke to a couple of mothers I knew from school: ‘We have to move them away from here. Or at the very least somehow fence off the danger area. Any ideas?’ I did have several myself, but since they involved the water butts on which Diane prided herself I kept quiet. Talking about drowning infants would not be good for school recruitment.

  Diane, detailing Ed to take over the bar, hurtled out with me: ‘It’s not supposed to be kids doing the cooking, but a team of adults. And I showed them where to put – Jesus!’ She grabbed the nearest children, more or less throwing them out of the way, and weighed in to abuse a crowd of adults who watched the chaos their offspring were causing as if it was nothing to do with them. Within seconds she and I were making a little barricade from large planters and garden chairs; without being asked, Elaine was deftly fielding kids determined to penetrate it.

  One was an especial pest. Twelvish. Old enough to know better. Arms folded he was leaning against a swing, daring other kids to grab burgers directly from the griddles.

  I knew him. How? He wasn’t at either of my schools. Nonetheless, I approached him in head teacher mode. The gist of what I said involved him being removed from the area and sent home. ‘So you’d spoil not just your evening but your parents’ too,’ I concluded.

  ‘You fucking whore,’ he responded sweetly. And in such a lovely middle-class accent, too.

  Elaine and Diane picked him up bodily and removed him from the danger area – me, now, not the barbecues. ‘Who does this child belong to?’ Elaine asked. But her voice didn’t carry.

  I switched on my playground tones, the words almost certainly resonating as far as the bar, too. ‘Whose child is this? Will his parents please come and collect him?’

  A woman – no, not just any woman, but the one from Will’s local who’d looked at me with such hatred – came towards me. I was already wearing my stern smile. Soon I was wearing a great deal more: a glass of red wine. A large one too. I was still wiping the wine from my eyes when I realised that the bottle it had come from, smashed on one of those planters, was coming straight for my face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  There wasn’t time for me to scream. I was
too busy trying to escape the jagged edges. But people were gathered so close around me, if I moved, someone else might be slashed. Dare I try a karate kick or something? All these nanosecond decisions, with everyone yelling and trying to push themselves and their children away. Not Elaine. She simply stepped behind the woman, grabbing her arm, forcing her on to her knees on the grass in one apparently effortless move. The bottle dropped and rolled harmlessly away. All those unkind thoughts I’d had about Elaine’s weight, and she had moved like lightning! And now arrested the woman. Grazia. Grazia Baker – though the surname was a little bathetic after the elegance, spurious or not, of her first name. Marcus’s wife.

  Interestingly, though he watched from the sidelines, Robin made no attempt to help his wife. But then, officially he was just something in computers, wasn’t he? Indeed, with Diane taking her orders to kneel on Grazia’s shoulders, Elaine needed no more assistance. Amazingly soon, in no more than three minutes, a police car turned up, and off went Elaine and her prisoner.

  ‘All very deft. Just like that.’ Diane snapped her fingers. ‘But what are we going to do now that young Master Bates – whoops, sorry! – is on his lonesome?’

  ‘Find his father. Marcus Baker.’

  Perhaps my voice was drier than I’d intended: Diane gripped my arms, looking hard into my eyes. ‘The guy they say tried to kill you back there? What a sweet family.’

  I shook my head to clear it – all that booze. ‘There may be a daughter here as well. I think there were two kids. No, I can’t remember. But any of the St Luke’s Bay people will know.’

  ‘You’re not the one to ask them. Come on, into my sitting room. Just in case.’ Since she left me there with a clean T-shirt, a burger, a huge plate of salad and yet more fizz – real champagne, this time – any protest I might have made was quickly silenced.

  It soon got quite frustrating to know that a jolly party was buzzing away outside while I was stuck here; now I knew exactly what it was like for kids I kept in at playtime as a punishment. No. Not quite. I hadn’t done anything wrong. At all. Had I?

  Nothing at all, I told the part of my brain that still had the remains of Simon’s nasty imprint scarring it. He’d convinced me that whatever I did was wrong, that any of his disasters had to be laid at my door.

  But not this.

  Time for displacement activity.

  I could either read one of Diane’s eclectic mix of books or check my phone. Reluctantly I turned away from any full-length works: when had I last had a chance for a nice protracted read in term time? So I ran through my emails, none of which required any action except deletion, and my messages. One. Remember – stay at the pub until I get back. OK?

  And now another. From Elaine. The gist was the same.

  Neither said anything about incarceration, however, so I was free to go and get some more food and mingle. Wrong. I wasn’t free. Someone had locked me in. Was it Diane being kind or someone else being a nuisance? At least I could check the first.

  Stay where you are. Marcus is kicking off about police brutality. Crap. I’ll bring you more food as and when. X. And stay away from the window for a bit.

  Great. Thank God for TV, and the exciting end of a fifty overs match not involving yours truly.

  More food appeared, and a large jug of water: for one whose career involved people pouring alcohol down their throats, Diane was safety conscious, in this case quite tediously so. But then, I made myself admit that getting seriously drunk on your own was never a good move, however much fun it might seem when your mates were all getting silly too.

  I sank a glass of water.

  Someone knocked on the door. ‘Ed here, Jane – can I have a word?’

  It was humiliating but true: ‘I don’t have the key, Ed, so you’ll have to yell and share the word with anyone close enough to overhear.’

  ‘Fucking hell. Come on, just open up.’

  ‘I told you. I can’t.’ I was about to tell him to go and ask Diane for the key. But a wicket fell on the TV match, and I didn’t. And perhaps I was glad. She had a pub to run – a living to make – and she did not need to waste time arguing with a large man who might or might not be sober. I sat tight. Ate. Drank. Watched. But turned the sound down so I could listen to anything happening the other side of that door.

  It was a very thick door.

  Can u let me out? Desperate for a pee.

  Use the flower vase. No. Artificial flowers. Cross your legs.

  Great.

  I rather wish that when Will unlocked the door my first act hadn’t been to push past him and head for the ladies, but that’s champagne and water for you. And since he had to wait, he could wait a few moments more while I brushed my hair and reapplied make-up.

  ‘You great fusspot,’ Diane said, as I returned. ‘Anyone would think you’d been there a day, not a lot less than an hour. There’s not much party left but you can come and mingle if you want now you’ve got a bodyguard. I hope you’re a carnivore, Will – loads of burgers and sausages for the asking. And pretty well all the salad. What is it with you men and lettuce?’ She bustled off.

  ‘I think that was one of the most humiliating hours of my life, and I’ll bet you were behind it,’ I told him flatly, heading towards the garden.

  ‘Yes, I was. From what Elaine had picked up from the washing-up team, we knew there might be trouble. And Elaine was right. No, stay and listen. I wasn’t here because something else was happening. Let’s eat first and then I’ll tell you.’

  I couldn’t read his expression, but it seemed to be at odds with the entirely frivolous suggestion of food. ‘For God’s sake – the world’s ending, or something like it, and you want to feed your face before—’

  ‘And yours.’ For a moment he looked quite impish. ‘I said “let’s” – that included you, didn’t it?’

  ‘Don’t mess me around, Will. Two attacks in one day. I’ve had enough.’ But his face changed. He was about to impart bad news. ‘No. No. Please don’t tell me – not Zunaid! No one’s tried to harm him?’

  ‘No. He’s fine. And what’s her name – Pam? – is with him and they’re having a whale of a time.’

  I said nothing. Just stared at him. ‘Who else are you trying to break bad news about? Pat?’

  ‘As far as I know he’s safe with his wife and—Shit! Shit! I really … I’m so sorry. Me and my bloody mouth.’

  I might have looked away for a moment, but only for a moment. ‘I did rather wonder. And don’t apologise: it’s best to know. And—’

  And Diane chose that moment to come breezing up, just as I was about to tell him that he knew as well as I did that any feelings I’d had for Pat were pretty well past tense anyway.

  ‘Does she need a lift up?’ she asked. ‘Will, you’ve not told her yet, have you?’

  There was something else? I put my head on one side and looked at him enquiringly. ‘More good news?’ I hoped my smile, ironic or not, showed that the news of Pat hadn’t broken my heart. Which it hadn’t. Truly hadn’t. ‘Come on, Will, I’ve learnt it’s better to know the facts whatever they are than to imagine what they might be.’

  He looked from Diane to me. ‘Do you want to sit down?’

  ‘No, I bloody don’t.’

  ‘Told you she wouldn’t,’ Diane snapped.

  ‘OK. All those emergency vehicles we heard. Saw.’

  ‘The fire engines. Right? Except I’m sure they’re not called that any more.’

  ‘Well, the good news is the fire didn’t spread to your cottage.’

  ‘And the bad?’ For all my bravado, my voice wasn’t sure it belonged to me.

  ‘The one next door is gutted. Probably arson, or less likely, an electrical fault.’

  ‘Where does that leave me?’

  ‘There’s a room here ready for you,’ Diane replied, but not really to the question I’d asked.

  ‘The officer in charge of the incident will let me know as soon as. He’ll err on the side of caution, of course.’

/>   ‘Of course,’ I echoed hollowly. I should have pointed out that said officer should be in touch with me directly, but I was wrong-footed by a sudden pang that told me I hoped that neither Nosey nor Lavender had been roasted alive. What the hell was I doing, getting attached to cuddly toys?

  ‘It’s not your place – OK?’ He gripped my shoulders and stared into my eyes as if he was telling a young recruit not to lose her bottle.

  Well, I wouldn’t lose mine, either. With an airy gesture I waved away all I had in the place – pouf! Just like that. So long as Nosey and Lavender were all right. ‘You’re sure it’s the place next door that burnt? You know what? After all the stuff fate has been in the habit of shoving my way, I suppose I’m quite surprised. Yes, I am. You don’t suppose someone got it wrong, do you?’ I asked.

  ‘I shouldn’t laugh,’ Will said, unable to stop, however. ‘Jane, you sounded just like Eeyore. “Can I have some more thistles, please?”’

  ‘You’re too kind. Next you’ll be taking me on a Woozle hunt. Oh, yes – you are, aren’t you? Right now.’

  ‘What are you two on about?’ Diane demanded, looking from one to the other.

  ‘Friends of friends,’ I said beginning to laugh too.

  ‘I thought that was Pat,’ she said. ‘Shit.’

  ‘No. Pooh.’

  ‘A Bear of Little Brain. A bit like me,’ Will said.

  ‘You’ve certainly never struck me as a Tigger,’ I said, by way of forgiveness.

  ‘But you’re as patient as Kanga.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, shut up the pair of you. Arson is no laughing matter.’

  ‘Of course it isn’t. Anyway, time for an expotition.’

  There was a black gap in the row of cottages, water and muck everywhere, and a strange elusive smell. There was also a lot of police tape.