‘I’m afraid I have to leave,’ he suddenly said. ‘Finish the champagne and let yourself out.’
She started to cry and he went into the hall and put his shoes back on. Returning to the front room he took the jacket out of the wardrobe and tried not to notice that rather than prepare to leave, she had in fact, got into the bed and was crying into his pillow.
David left the flat and walked for perhaps two miles, all the way into the city centre and out to the river. For a while he watched the sluggish black water flow between the warehouses and then he went for a drink in a dreary public house that was almost empty.
With reluctance he walked back to his flat, taking his time in the hope that Alice would be gone. It was dark when he returned and he could see that the lights were on in the flat above the bookmakers. When he climbed the stairs he was annoyed to find that she was now in his bed, apparently asleep. Not only had she left the lights on but music was quietly playing. Her empty glass was on the bedside table alongside the ring on top of the piece of blue silk.
David went into the kitchen and poured himself some more champagne. Alice had returned the bottle to the fridge and had fixed on the top an elaborate stopper that he had previously seen in the drawer but had not known how to use. He finished the champagne before starting on a cheap bottle of red that Julie had given him as a flat-warming present.
After a half-hour of drinking, with ill-humour, he went and turned off the lights in the front room, along with the music, and took a pillow from beside Alice. He then pulled the cushions off the chair and made himself an uncomfortable bed in the back room. When he returned to the front room he removed the blue bedspread, not caring if he woke her up. He knew that in the morning he would ache from sleeping on cushions on the floor, but assumed, correctly, that the alcohol he had drunk would help him get through the night.
The following morning David did not experience too much of a hangover, but ached terribly, as he had predicted. When he went into the front room Alice had left and he was glad. His routine had been upset and he was up an hour before he would normally have been getting ready for the office. He didn’t think that he would be able to go back to sleep, however, so went about shaving, having a shower and breakfast, and decided that he might as well go into work early. His personal office there was still something of a novelty after so long working from home.
When he was ready and came to open his front door he was startled to see Tedor Pienkowski standing there, about to stuff an envelope through the letter box.
‘Hello,’ said David, amused to see that, if anything, Pienkowski was even more surprised by their meeting than he was. ‘What’s this?’
The man looked worried and asked if he could come inside for a moment. David had the distinct impression that the man did not want to be seen out in the street with him. He was still wearing his trademark sunglasses.
‘I have some things for you,’ said Pienkowski, having to edge around the door in the confined space before pushing it closed behind him. ‘But, can I ask, first, did you sleep with Alice last night?’
‘No!’ David surprised himself at the volume of his denial. They were standing in the very cramped area between the door and the bottom stair so David moved back up onto the first step to put more distance between the two of them. The extra elevation, however, was disconcerting.
‘Why do you ask?’
Pienkowski tried to dismiss the subject with a wave of his left hand while he proffered an envelope with his right.
‘You should contact Alice,’ David insisted. ‘You’ve hurt her badly.’
‘I know, I know. But things have happened. And I need to tell you that my name isn’t Pienkowski.’
‘No?’
‘No. I used a false name to protect myself, and Alice. Now I have to go back to my old name and my old life. So I don’t need my Pienkowski identity, and I thought that you might like it.’
‘Why would I want your old identity?’
He shrugged:
‘I have a car registered in that name, and a bank account. I don’t want them and don’t need them. The details are in this envelope and you should take them, and use them.’
David accepted the envelope out of curiosity and the man made the awkward manoeuvre to re-open the door in the confined space and squeeze around it to leave.
‘But hang on,’ David said. ‘Can I ask a couple of questions?’
‘I have to go,’ the man insisted, and was back in the street and walking quickly away.
David followed him out, locking the door behind him. He took his usual route to the office, resolving not to look into the dubious envelope until he was at his desk. He settled himself in his new room with a coffee and closed the door. When he tipped the contents of the envelope out before him he found a set of car keys and a note to the effect that they were for a green E-type Jaguar that was parked in a garage near the flat. There was also a log book, MOT certificate and the insurance paperwork. In another envelope were details of a bank account in the name of Pienkowski, including the PIN number and a card for withdrawing cash.
During the day David considered the implications of what the man appeared to be offering him. He certainly did not want to take over the fictional identity of Tedor Pienkowski, but he could quite clearly see that all he had to do was go to an ATM machine and draw out whatever money was in the account. And as he didn’t drive he could sell the car, bank the cheque in Pienkowki’s name, and likewise remove the funds from the account once they had cleared. What he had not been able to work out, though, was why the man who had masqueraded as Pienkowski had not done this himself? Did he not need the money?
If these questions occupied his thoughts all day, then there was another which also nagged at him. The man had asked whether David had slept with Alice the previous night, but he hadn’t appeared particularly jealous. The obvious implication was that the man knew she had been at the flat. Had he been watching them? Perhaps he had only been following her?
That evening David did not go home directly, but went out of his way to pass by the bank and check on the balance of the account that was in the name of Pienkowski. He had not tried to guess what the sum might be and was astounded to find that it was just over seven thousand pounds. He then went to the lock-up garage and discovered that he did, indeed, have the keys and ownership papers for a vintage E-type Jaguar that appeared to be beautifully maintained.
Rather than go straight home he visited Julie and explained what had happened. Once again she was more enthusiastic than he was about his good fortune.
‘But is it all legal?’ he asked.
‘I don’t see that it’s illegal.The money and car were his and he’s every right to give them to you, if he wants to.’
‘But why should he do that?’
‘I don’t know. He must have a good reason.’
When David said that he was going home Julie seemed reluctant to let him leave, and somehow they ended up compromising on her walking back to his flat with him. She insisted that he buy a bottle of wine on the way and she put her arm through his in a proprietorial manner that made him feel uncomfortable. Once again he looked at his reflection in the shop windows and was not sure that they looked right as a couple. Their steps were in time, though, and she nestled disconcertingly well against him as they walked. There seemed something inevitable about what was going to happen and he felt a dread of which he was ashamed. He reluctantly opened the door to the flat and watched as she seemed excited and eager to get inside. Her spirit, though, was dampened immediately she walked into the front room and found Alice lying on the bed.
‘What are you doing here?’ Julie demanded.
‘It’s nice to see you,’ David said, relieved. ‘Would you like to join us in a drink?’
Alice smiled at him as though Julie was not there, and accepted.
‘Tedor has given me his car,’ David told her.
‘Why’s that?’
‘I’ve no idea. Nothing he does mak
es sense to me.’
Julie gave her opinion:
‘I don’t think David should worry about questioning it. Never look a gift horse in the mouth.’
They both turned to her, and she stared back at them.
‘What did I say?’ she asked, annoyed.
‘Nothing,’ said David, and Alice agreed.
‘No, come on,’ Julie insisted, and Alice looked down and bit her lip, stifling a laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’ Julie demanded, and then turned to David. ‘What’s she laughing at?’
‘I don’t know, really I don’t.’
‘Come on, what does she find so funny?’
David looked at Alice and then back at Julie. It was cruel and he couldn’t help but say it: ‘You, presumably.’
‘I’m not stupid,’ she explained. ‘I can see when I’m not wanted.’ To which neither David nor Alice replied.
‘I’ll go then?’ she offered. Her anger turned to tears when he politely offered to pay the taxi fare for her to go home.
David and Alice watched together at the window as Julie walked off up the road, having just stumped down the stairs and slammed the front door after her. He looked over to his old flat where the curtains were drawn closed, in time to see them moving, as though somebody had been looking out of them right up until that very moment. He had the idea that whoever it was had also been watching Julie walk away. David thought of how he had sat at that window, not so long ago, watching people coming and going.
They drank the wine while standing looking down into the street and, although David tried to listen to what Alice was saying, he found himself giving all of his attention to the curtained windows of the flat opposite, wondering who its new occupant might be. He occasionally thought that he noticed a slight movement, but he certainly could not make out who might be there. As it became darker, however, he began to notice that around the edges of the curtains there was a slight blue glow. To anybody walking down the road and looking up it might have been assumed that there was a television on behind the curtains of a darkened flat, but the light didn’t flicker or move. He knew that Alice had seen it too, and when she said she had to leave he begged her to stay. She insisted that she had to get back to her family and he watched her go from his vantage point by the window, expecting her to cross the road. However, she walked off up the road, and though he watched for a long time she did not return.
David went to bed late that night. The light still crept around the edge of the curtains opposite, but tiredness finally overcame him. The next morning he looked out and could see nothing, although he watched the windows and the door to the flat until the last possible moment before leaving for work. That evening he returned early and set up a vigil once again, but still he saw nobody. Again, in the evening when it was dark, he could see blue edging the curtains.
There was only one conclusion to draw and he decided that he had a right to know what was going on. He left his own flat and walked across the road. Without taking any time to think of what he night say he rapped on the door and waited, but nobody answered. It was a pattern that was repeated for the next two nights, and then, as he sat at the window in the early evening towards the end of the week he saw Julie approaching. He wasn’t sure if he would admit to being in; he knew that he had treated her badly, but he missed female company. He had not seen Alice and did not know if he would see her again.
Julie walked along the pavement opposite, but rather than cross the road she knocked on the door to his old flat. It was opened almost immediately by the man who had called himself Pienkowski. Julie disappeared inside upon an instant.
David was furious. He left his own flat once more and strode across the road. He again rapped on the door before standing back a pace and crossing his arms defiantly. He was ready for an argument, though he did not know on what basis it would be conducted. When nobody answered he rapped again, and still there was no response. Were they up above him at the window, looking down, perhaps laughing? He had the courage to look up, but the angle was wrong and he would have had to step out into the street to see if anybody was really there. Suddenly feeling foolish he did not want to be seen and so he slunk back down the road and walked around until it was dark. He bought himself a bottle of wine in the general store before returning home, not daring to look back across the road.
David did not see Julie leave the flat that night. He sat back in his room with his curtains open and the lights off so that he could observe without being observed, but the drawn curtains opposite seemed to mock him. Again, the following morning, Friday, he saw nobody before he went to work, and that evening there was still no movement, and certainly no visitors. The following day, Saturday, he watched listlessly and was surprised when there was a knocking at his door. He had not seen anybody arrive, and was happy to discover that his visitor was Alice.
‘I thought I’d better knock,’ she said, ‘rather than let myself in with my own keys.’
He let her pass, and she climbed the stair. He detected that her manner was somehow strange.
‘I’m rather relying on you to have some wine,’ she said.
‘I do have a bottle, though it’s still a little early.’
Alice walked through to the kitchen, took off her coat and leant against the table.
‘I’ve left my husband,’ she said, biting her bottom lip and trying not to cry.
‘For Tedor?’
‘No. I haven’t seen him. I don’t want to know where he is, or what he’s done.’
David frowned, but said nothing. He opened the bottle and got out two glasses.
‘I know where he…’ he started to say.
‘I don’t want to know,’ she insisted.
‘Okay,’ he agreed, and passed her a glass.
She drank half of it in one gulp and looked at him.
‘So what are you going to do?’ he asked.
‘I was wondering if I could stay here?’
David nodded, and she smiled.
‘I’ve always liked it here,’ she said. ‘I’ve decided that you’re not like Tedor.’
He did not know what to think. She was young and good-looking, but, like the money and the car he had accepted from Tedor, he was suspicious of her. His apparent good-fortune was not something he trusted at all.
He motioned towards the front room and she followed him. When he was back at the window he could still see no movement at the flat opposite, and he looked both up and down the road in case any of the pedestrians happened to be the man or Julie.
‘Is that my ring?’ Alice asked, standing just behind him. On the windowsill was the piece of blue silk.
‘Yes. And I still think you should take it,’ he said, not turning around.
‘I will accept it from you,’ she said.
When he tried to turn he brushed against her. She was standing closer than he had realised and she had unbuttoned her shirt. She took his hand and placed it on her breast.
With an attractive young woman pressing herself against him David was unable to think of anything other than a natural desire. She kissed him once, and then covering herself up leant past him and started to pull the curtains closed. He noticed as it became darker inside that she must have already turned on the blue ceiling lights. She was closing the second curtain when he noticed that outside Julie was letting herself out of the flat on the opposite side of the road. He had nearly missed her!
He apologised to Alice and insisted he would return, but ran out of the room, down the stairs and then out onto the street. Julie was about to turn the corner at the top of the road and he had to run to catch up with her.
‘Julie, stop!’
She wouldn’t halt so he grabbed her arm and turned her around.
‘What were you doing over the road?’ he insisted.
‘Where?’
‘In my old flat, with him.’
‘None of your business,’ she said, dismissive.
‘But what’s he doing over there?’
/> She shrugged David off and started to walk away, quickly: ‘That’s personal.’
‘But why did he want to change places with me?’ David asked, catching up and walking alongside her, matching her brisk pace. When she stopped he was taken by surprise and had to stop too and turn to face her.
‘You really don’t understand, do you?’
‘No.’
She paused and looked up, obviously trying to decide on what to say. At last she met his eyes and asked:
‘Do you still have his blue lightbulbs in your living room?’
‘Yes,’ he replied, defensively. ‘I haven’t got around to changing them yet.’
Julie smiled at him and with a very slight shake of the head said with pity in her voice:
‘If you don’t know now, then you never will.’
And then she turned and walked away, slowly now, knowing that he would not follow her.
A REVELATION
I spent nearly forty years working for the District Council in their Housing Department, and now that I’ve retired I look back and wonder whether I wasted my life there? It was a good, secure job, but do I have anything to show for all that time? It wasn’t as though I particularly enjoyed my job, or had colleagues that I considered good friends.
I recently saw my successor, Leadley, and though he passed on news of a few people I remembered, he admitted that nothing much had changed since I left.
‘I bet you’ve a great fund of anecdotes about our old tenants,’ he suggested.
‘When I first started in the Department I found all the tenants fascinating,’ I admitted. ‘I remember on my first day in the job visiting the house of a man who had removed his living-room ceiling and painted his floor joists to look like beams. He’d plastered the underside of the floorboards, but as his family walked around upstairs great chunks of plaster fell down into the room below.’
Literary Remains Page 14