As his caddie shouldered the enormous bag and headed for the locker room, Jonny was left in conversation with the big blond guy, who had joined him just before his practice broke up; it didn’t stop him waving me down to join them. ‘This is Lars,’ he said, ‘Lars Martinsson; he’s married to my coach, and he’s a pro as well.’
‘By the skin of my teeth,’ his companion added, in comfortable, if accented, English. ‘I don’t play so much these days. Lena’s work takes her to the big events, mostly. I don’t get to play in them very often, but I don’t like to be away from her and the kids, so I don’t spend too much time on the minor circuit. The one time I did win, seven years ago in Malmo, she wasn’t there to see it.’
Nice, I thought, a golfer who follows his wife, rather than the other way around.
‘Come on, Auntie,’ Jonny interrupted. ‘Let’s go to the players’ catering. I need to take on some carbs for this afternoon’s session.’
That sounded like a good idea, so I bade farewell to Lars, and fell into step alongside him. ‘You’re not finished?’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘I have to take advantage of today. It’s going to be really busy here tomorrow, so I want to get out on the course while I can. I’m due on the tee at two fifteen in a four-ball with . . .’ He rattled off three names; one of them was the former US Open champion, another had been captain of the previous year’s Ryder Cup team, and the third was likely to be his successor. ‘They’re curious,’ he explained. ‘They want to see how I shape up. Plus they’re all good guys, to be sharing practice time with a newcomer like me. But this is a generous sport, Auntie Primavera.’
I smiled. ‘Hey, I told you not to call me that.’
‘I like calling you Auntie. You’re the only one I’ve got.’
‘Not so,’ I pointed out. ‘There’s your Auntie Susie, in Monaco.’
He stopped smiling. ‘She doesn’t count. I don’t like her. Now that Uncle Oz is dead she’s off the list.’
‘That’s a bit harsh, Jonny.’
‘No it isn’t. Mum can’t stand her either, and Grandpa and Mary only tolerate her because of the two grandkids, Janet and my namesake. They’ve never forgiven her for the way she came between you and Uncle Oz. I was too young to know what was happening at the time, but now I do, and I feel the same as them.’
I was still pondering this as we walked into the catering tent, the only part of the tournament’s canvas village that appeared to be working. I chose a salad from the buffet table, but Jonny helped himself to an enormous plate of rigatoni, with a rich meatball sauce.
‘You know,’ I told him, ‘your grandpa’s never said a word against Susie to me.’
‘He wouldn’t, for Tom’s sake, but that’s how he feels, trust me. Mum and him always liked you, Auntie P. Mum says that Susie’s man, the one she was engaged to before, was hardly in the ground before she set her cap at Uncle Oz.’ He grinned, and I could see the kid that still lived within him. ‘She doesn’t actually say “Set her cap”, but you know what I mean.’
‘I know,’ I admitted, ‘but I put that behind me a long time ago. It’s history. Yes, Susie might have thrown herself at Oz, but he didn’t have to catch her, especially not since we were technically on honeymoon at the time. But the truth is I wasn’t perfect either. Your uncle managed to get the both of us pregnant at the same time, but I was so mad with him that I kept my condition to myself . . . for four years, as it turned out. It wasn’t really Susie he left me for, you see, it was her baby. If I’d told him about mine . . . about ours . . .’
‘That’s what Mum says too. She says your problem then was being too nice about it.’
I chuckled. ‘That’s not something I’ve ever been accused of before. So anyway, how is your mother? I haven’t seen her for years, since the last time I saw you in fact.’
‘She’s still the same; fearsome as ever. She hasn’t changed a bit.’ He paused. ‘Well, she has in one respect. She’s Lady January, now that my stepfather’s a Court of Session judge, and a lord. She and Harvey live mostly in Edinburgh now, since my brother left to go to university.’
‘And how’s he? How’s Colin? He was a wild little bugger, as I remember.’
‘He’s tamed. He learned to wipe his nose when he was about fourteen and got all serious with it. He’s doing a maths degree at Oxford; I hardly ever see him.’
I thought of the Sinclair boys when first I’d met them, in the French village where their father had parked them and Ellie while he worked all the hours God sent. Urchins, both of them. What fifteen years could do. ‘Will that be two graduates in the family?’ I asked. ‘What do you golf students come out with? I don’t know.’
He smiled. ‘I’ve got a Bachelor’s degree in agribusiness; majoring in golf course management. If I don’t make it on tour I can fall back on that; maybe I’ll do an MBA, and go to work for Brush, or somebody like him.’
‘No worries there, son. You’ll make it all right. With a swing like that, how can you not?’
‘We’ve all got swings like that, Auntie. That’s why we use people like Lena Mankell. You saw her, did you?’ I nodded. ‘This is the first pro event I’ve ever played, and Brush has got me invitations to six more here in Europe, that’s as many as you can have, and another five in the States.’
‘Who’s this Brush you keep mentioning?’ I asked.
‘He’s my manager.’
‘Our Jonny; with a manager.’ I shook my head and smiled. ‘You do realise you’re making me feel ancient?’
‘Not you,’ he said, gallantly, and quickly enough for it to sound sincere. ‘We all have, even as amateurs, some of us. His real name’s James Donnelly, but everybody calls him “Brush”, because he sweeps everything up.’
‘Sounds handy. So how does the invitation thing work? Who invites you?’
‘The event sponsors; it gets you past pre-qualifying. Like I said, I can have up to seven this year, but if I manage to finish in the top ten in a tournament, I get automatic entry to the one the next week, and I don’t have to use up an invitation, if I have one. In theory, I could be playing full time for the rest of this season, and make enough money to get my playing card for next year. But on the other hand I could use up all my invites, miss every halfway cut, and not make a cent, then go to tour qualifying school and get cut again halfway through. If that happens, the sponsors that Brush has got for me will disappear,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘just like that.’
‘Do you believe,’ I asked, ‘that is what’s going to happen?’
‘No.’ His answer was instantaneous, and firm. ‘I believe I’m going to win this week and never look back. I really mean that. I did sports psychology in my degree; if you can’t manage your head, you’ll never manage your game.’
‘Is your mum coming to see you?’
He frowned. ‘She can’t. She had a hysterectomy a couple of weeks ago, and she’s not cleared to travel yet.’ He saw my expression. ‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. It was serious, though. She developed a condition called endometriosis, a couple of years back. It really floored her. They tried all sorts of treatments, lasers and things, but nothing did much good, and finally, surgery was recommended as the only way. She’ll be fine now, they say.’
I’d heard of that complaint, and thanked my lucky stars it hadn’t come my way. Anything that could floor Ellie Blackstone January was not to be messed with.
‘I’m glad to hear it’s sorted,’ I told him, and I was, very glad. I’d assumed that Ellie had set her face against me forever, and was hugely pleased to learn that she hadn’t. ‘So, since she’s not here, can I come and watch you?’
‘I hope you will. That’s one reason why I asked Uche to try to get in touch with you. I’m sorry if he confused you, by the way. Grandpa’s out of touch, so I couldn’t get your number from him. All Uche did was look up the local Yellow Pages and call the first number he found with an address in St Martí.’
That filled in all the blanks. ‘No
worries. It’s a date, then. I’ll bring Tom at the weekend too.’
‘Good. I’m looking forward to meeting him. What’s he like?’
My son had met his Aunt Ellie on a few occasions, at first with Oz, and since then once or twice when we’d been visiting my dad in Auchterarder, and Grandpa Mac had picked him up and taken him to Fife for the day. He knew his cousin Colin as well, and Harvey, his newish uncle, but Jonny had been away on each visit, so their paths had never crossed.
I took a photograph, the one that goes with me everywhere, from my bag; Tom and Charlie, taken a few months before, on the beach in winter. ‘He’s the one without the tail,’ I said. My nephew’s eyes misted for a second or two as he looked at it. ‘Yes,’ I murmured. ‘He is like his father, isn’t he?’
Then I had another thought, a very big thought. ‘Where do you live, Jonny?’ I asked.
‘This week? Brush has rented a house for Uche and me, plus Lena and her crew. It’s not far from here, in a place called Caldes de something or other. We’re all staying there.’
‘No, not just this week; I meant permanently.’
He shrugged his shoulders and gave me that awkward Blackstone grin. ‘I don’t know,’ he confessed. ‘I’ve just left college, so I don’t have a place yet, other than Mum’s house.’
‘But you’ll need one, won’t you, for the weeks you’re not involved in a tournament?’
‘I suppose, yeah.’
‘Somewhere with decent weather and near good practice facilities? Somewhere central to the European events you’re playing?’
‘Yeah, but to be honest I haven’t thought much about it, not yet. I’ve been too full of this week.’
I took the plunge. ‘Then come and live with us; make our place your European base. It ticks all those boxes, the weather’s a hell of a lot better than St Andrews, plus it’s forty minutes from an airport. We’ve got room, Tom and me.’ Then a question that I’d overlooked popped into my head. ‘Or do you have other involvements? Do you have a girlfriend?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m between, you might say.’
‘Then what’s to stop you coming to stay with your old . . . scratch that, middle-aged auntie?’
He blinked. ‘Nothing, I suppose. But things tend to get busy around me; the phone’s going all the time. Uche would need to be close by as well. My caddie goes where I go, during the day at any rate.’
‘We can find him somewhere . . . when I think about it, I could squeeze him in as well.’
‘No thanks, I wouldn’t want him that close.’ He grinned. ‘Neither would you, for that matter. Uche’s a night owl; he’s a playboy. Lovely guy, but he needs to get his mind more focused if he wants to make it as a golfer.’
‘There are places available around St Martí that would give him his freedom, don’t you worry.’ I smiled at him, feeling a warmth akin to the way that Tom makes me glow. ‘Are you up for it?’ I asked again.
‘Well,’ he said slowly, ‘if you’re sure.’
Strangely, I hadn’t been surer of anything for quite some time. ‘Entirely. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you come home with me tonight, and see how it feels?’
‘All right,’ he agreed. ‘But what about Tom? It’ll be a big change for him. Doesn’t he have a vote?’
‘Yes, but I know how he’ll cast it. You’ll be a hero to him; think of the bragging rights he’ll have at school.’
He grinned. ‘The dog in the photo? Is he yours?’
‘Yes, but don’t worry about Charlie; he does not have a vote.’
‘I’ll pay my way, mind,’ he warned.
I looked him in the eye. ‘And do you with your mother? The truth now; I’ll ask Mac if I have to.’
He shook his head.
‘Right you are, then. Jonny, we’re family. If you like, you can take us for a meal whenever you make a big enough cheque; that’ll be an added incentive for you. Every time you’re over a twelve-footer on the last green that’s worth a few grand, you can think of me done up to the nines in the best restaurant in L’Escala.’
Three
That’s how I came to be a den mother. That’s what Ellie christened me when, to my surprise, she called me that evening. Jonny hadn’t even arrived in St Martí when she phoned. He was still in mid-round with the superstars when I had to leave the course with Shirley and Patterson, to be back in time for Tom coming home, but he had his own wheels, supplied by his German car sponsor as part of his deal, and equipped, naturally, with a navigation system.
I’d given him my home and mobile numbers. When the phone rang I imagined it might be him, having second thoughts, or having been leaned on by the mysterious Brush . . . whom I still hadn’t met . . . to stay within camp, so when I heard his mother’s voice instead it set me back on my heels.
‘It’s a funny old world, Primavera, isn’t it?’ she began; no preamble.
‘You can say that again,’ I sighed, recovering. ‘Jonny tells me you haven’t been too well. How are you feeling now?’
‘Champing at the bit; that’s a good sign, I reckon. I’ll make it to his next event; I’ve told my surgeon as much.’ She paused. ‘This is very good of you, you know, taking my boy in like this. I’ve been worried sick about how he was going to look after himself, being dragged around Europe by that manager of his.’
‘The sweeper-up?’
‘Hah!’ Her laugh was brief, cut off short; my nursing background told me that it had tugged at her stitches. ‘Jonny thinks that’s how he got his nickname, but there’s another reason, a bit more obvious. They called him Brush when he was playing because he was as daft as one, they reckon. That was what Harvey was told, at any rate. He did some checking up on him when Jonny was choosing a management company. There were a few after him, you know,’ she added, with evident pride, ‘including the two biggest players of all, but Jonny did his own research and decided to go with Donnelly, because he liked the frankness of his approach, plus he liked him personally. On top of that he only takes twenty per cent, where some others can take up to fifty, when a lad’s starting out. I have to say that he’s done well by him so far. I didn’t expect him to be in any tournaments at all this summer, but Brush has filled up his dance card. The event down your way was the icing on the cake; he got in there at the last minute. There’s a huge prize fund, he says. Mind you, he has to make the cut on Friday to collect any of it.’
‘He will,’ I assured her, ‘don’t you worry.’
‘You’re confident.’
‘I’ve just watched him practice, and I spent some time with him on the course. There’s an air about him, a certainty, and it’s very impressive.’
‘Were you going to say that it reminds you of somebody?’ she asked, quietly.
‘Hell, no!’ I retorted. ‘When we were together Oz flew entirely by the seat of his pants. He never planned a bloody thing; everything had an uncertain outcome. Jonny seems to have his whole career mapped out.’
‘Both of those are true, I suppose,’ Ellie conceded. ‘But you have to admit that when my brother did set his sights on something, nothing stopped him. It was when he got hitched to that wee Glaswegian bitch that everything started to change.’
‘No,’ I countered. ‘It was when Jan died, surely.’
‘No, love.’ The term of endearment took me aback, but pleased me. ‘You kept him on the rails after that. I’ve never said this to anyone before, but the fact is I never liked him and Jan together. I don’t know why; I just didn’t. Mind you I never liked her mother either, from when she taught me at primary school. To this day, I’m only civil to Mary because it would hurt my dad if I was otherwise.’
I was astonished, not only by her intuition . . . I knew, because he told me, a lot more about Jan’s relationship with, and to, Oz than she or her father did, and the background to her instincts . . . but also because I’d known Ellie for all those years, yet she’d never been so frank. ‘I’m standing here gobsmacked,’ I told her. ‘Is there any woman who’s come int
o contact with your family that you do like?’
‘Yes, you silly cow! You! Why do you think I’m so chuffed that you’re taking my boy in hand? I’m laughing at the very thought . . . or I would be if my wound would let me. Imagine, you, the wild Primavera, mothering Tom, Jonny and that simpleton dog that my dad likes so much. It’ll be like the fucking Jungle Book in your house.’
I heard the gate bell ring, and Tom yell, ‘I’ll get it.’
‘I’d better go,’ I told her. ‘I think that could be Baloo the Bear arriving, and I haven’t told Mowgli about him.’
My son beat me to the door, comfortably, although he’d been beaten himself by Charlie, who’d stopped barking as soon as it was opened, confining himself to his usual jumping up and down in the presence of a stranger.
‘You’ll be Tom, then,’ Jonny was saying, just as I arrived.
‘That’s right,’ I told him, unnecessarily. ‘Tom, this is Jonathan Sinclair, the cousin you’ve never met. He’s coming to stay with us for a while.’
‘Jonny,’ Tom exclaimed. ‘The golfer? Grandpa’s told me a lot about you.’
Our new boy grinned. ‘He’s told me a fair bit about you too, chum.’ He held out his hand and they shook. I knew there and then that they’d be blood brothers; Jonny had treated him like an equal and that’s all my lad ever requires of any adult.
I showed him to what was to be his base, above the living room, with a view over the square and a bathroom that he’d share with Tom. The case he’d brought with him was vast; I took that as a sign that it was more than a trial visit. He noticed me looking at it as he dumped it beside the bed. ‘That’s only half of it,’ he told me. ‘My clothing company sponsor bombards me with stuff. Give me your size, and Tom’s, and I’ll get you some. Golf shoes too; and trainers.’ He smiled and I felt that shiver again, the one that had sent me spinning earlier, the first time I saw him.
It must have showed on my face. ‘Auntie P, is this going to be difficult for you?’ he asked. ‘I mean . . . Hell, I don’t know how to say it. If I’m a reminder of . . . anybody: I’d understand if you changed your mind about this.’
As Easy as Murder Page 5