by Leo McNeir
“I’ve just taken a call from Charles. He wants us to go on with the rectory project.”
“What are his plans?” Ralph asked. “Presumably he’ll want to sell it.”
“No. He’s going to move up here.”
“Alone?”
“That’s what he said. Their Docklands house is already sold. He has no reason to stay on in London now that he’s retiring. Apparently they have a cottage in Sussex, but Charles doesn’t want to move there, says the South-East is too built-up and overcrowded. He’s thought it through and thinks Knightly will give him some peace and quiet.”
“And it was Barbara’s last wish,” Ralph added.
“That too. Also, he wants me to take care of the boat.”
“He’ll not be keeping that, surely.”
“No. He’ll be wanting to sell it, but in the meantime he has to move it from Little Venice. It’s only on a temporary mooring, and there’s nowhere else for it to go. They’ve sold their house in Templars’ Wharf and the mooring that goes with it.”
“What can we do about it?”
“Dunno. It won’t be easy finding a mooring up here. We’ll have to make some enquiries.”
“Braunston? Yardley? Gayton?” Ralph began listing the nearest marinas. “Whilton? Milton Keynes?”
“We’ll have to try them all. But I think they may have waiting lists.”
“I can dig out a list from a boating magazine and start ringing round, if you like,” Anne volunteered.
“Great.”
“Did Charles say anything about the funeral?” Ralph asked.
Marnie shook her head. “There can’t be a funeral. Apparently if it comes to trial, defence counsel may want to order a second autopsy, so Barbara’s body can’t be released until afterwards.”
“When will that be?”
“Probably several weeks from now. It shouldn’t last long. The police have told Charles privately they regard it as an open-and-shut case.”
For the second time that day Anne spent a frustrating hour on the phone. Marnie had been right. All the marinas were full, all had waiting lists. At Braunston they offered to take the boat and put it in with their sales stock. The snag was that it would be months now before they would have a clear run up the Grand Union Canal from London. The winter lock maintenance programme would be in full swing until Easter. Whole sections of the cut would be out of action for weeks at a time.
The manager at the marina thought this was no great disadvantage from the sales point of view as the market was currently very flat.
“So does this mean Marnie’s selling Sally Ann, or is it Thyrsis? We’ve been wondering how long you were going to be running a private fleet.”
“It’s neither, actually. It’s a friend’s boat. We’re going to do a redec and then sell it for them.”
“Okay, I’ll send you a sales contract. Fill in the details and let us have it back and we’ll put it on the books. We’ll need a letter from the owner authorising you to handle things. And a photo once you’ve got it repainted. I’ll make up a file for it. What’s the boat called?”
“Perfidia.”
There was silence at the other end of the line.
“Hallo?” Anne wondered if she had been cut off. “Are you still there?”
“Perfidia?”
“That’s right.”
“Unusual name. Not many of those around. I don’t suppose by any chance it might be …”
“Yes, it is actually.”
“Mm.”
“What’s the matter?” Anne imagined all sorts of superstitions, like old sailors’ tales of bad luck and impending doom. A death on board … and a woman’s to boot … Ah, Jim lad … She could practically smell the rum and hear the thump of a peg leg on the deck, the squawk of Long John’s parrot. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
“It could be, if you’re serious about selling it.”
“We are serious, well, the owner is.”
“Then you’d better include repainting the name as part of your redec … and changing it at the same time.”
9
Over Christmas Marnie tried to put murder out of her mind, but thoughts of Barbara would not go away. She and Ralph went to spend the holiday at his cottage in the village of Murton near Oxford. It was a charming beamy house, quiet and secluded near the river. They hung up garlands of fir and holly, and Anne drove over to help decorate the tree with gold and silver ornaments a few days before she left to spend Christmas with her family.
It was Dolly’s first visit and on arrival she occupied herself prowling from room to room, eventually settling into new favourite places.
They burnt candles and joss sticks. Logs crackled in the inglenook fireplace. In the hall the scent of hyacinths flowering in a bowl gave a portent of spring to come. They took their meals in the conservatory by candlelight looking out onto the garden where Ralph had hung lights in the trees. It was a magic atmosphere. Marnie and Ralph enjoyed having time alone together. They were happy. And yet … and yet …
On Boxing Day they went for a long walk on the towpath of the South Oxford canal and across the fields, wrapped up against the frosty air. There was a mist over the water, and the ground crunched under their feet. Without speaking, they linked hands as they passed the spot where Ralph had asked Marnie to marry him. A year had passed since then, a time full of incident and change. Crossing the canal by a steeply-arched footbridge, they saw below them a heron standing statue-like at the water’s edge. They had barely watched it for a few seconds when it sensed their proximity and flapped off languidly to land further down the bank.
Ralph put his arm round Marnie’s shoulders. “I’m glad you wanted to come to the cottage for Christmas.”
She snuggled closer. “It seemed the perfect place, just right, more cosy than staying on the boats, a nice break.”
“You needed to distance yourself. You wanted to try not to spend Christmas with Barbara.”
Marnie stiffened. “That’s a rather graphic way of putting it.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it? I feel the same.”
“Somehow she’s always in my thoughts.”
They lapsed into silence, nestling together on the bridge in the deserted landscape. When Ralph eventually spoke it was as if he was picking up on Marnie’s train of thought, but his words came as a complete surprise.
“A dangerous lady.”
Marnie turned to look up into his face. “What do you mean?”
“You must’ve been aware of it as well as I was.”
“Dangerous in what way? I didn’t realise you knew her very well.”
“I’d met them at a number of functions. She exuded sensuality, was quite blatant about it.”
Marnie frowned. “But that’s no reason why anyone would want to kill her.”
“I didn’t say that, though I’m not entirely sure you’re right. Who knows what passions a woman like that might stir up?”
“Ralph, I had no idea you thought of Barbara in that way. I realise she was a very attractive woman, but as for being dangerous …”
“Marnie, you are a very attractive woman. The point about you is, you do nothing to exploit it. You don’t flirt, you don’t dress provocatively. Everything you do is understated. Now think about Barbara. Every time she came into the room, she made an entrance. Every time she spoke to a man, she tried to make an impact.”
“Did she do that to you?”
“Yes.”
“You mean she was flirting, trying to lead you on?”
“No. I think it was automatic. It’s just the way she was. She wanted to be admired, perhaps desired, even. You’re not like that.”
“How do you know?”
He smiled. “If you are, you keep it well hidden.”
“Actually, Ralph, I think it’s not unhealthy to want to make the best of yourself. A little pride or self-esteem isn’t a bad thing. Most women feel the need to keep their self-confidence up.”
“Only women?
”
“In many ways it’s still a man’s world. I think men are different. Their egos work in a more confident way.”
He snorted. “We all think we’re God’s gift to women?”
“Jest not. Believe me. Most women will tell you stories of how men fancy themselves.”
“And there I was thinking it was only women who were vain, telling themselves they’re worth it, like the adverts for shampoo, or whatever it is. You’re not like that, Marnie. You’re somehow more … modest …”
Marnie’s turn to laugh. “Perhaps I have a lot to be modest about.”
“Not true. But neither do you think about your looks all the time. That’s what I meant about Barbara.”
“Ralph, there are aspects of me that you don’t get to see. Women do like to keep some things private, you know.”
“Such as?”
Marnie butted him gently and they began walking arm in arm. “Private things.”
“You don’t have Barbara’s kind of vanity. I know you don’t.”
“Maybe not, but I got myself sorted out about certain things when I was quite young.”
“What things?”
Marnie paused before replying. “I wish I hadn’t got entangled in this conversation. Can’t we change the subject?”
“You’re getting me worried. Can’t you give me a clue about what you mean?”
Marnie sighed. “It’ll just sound silly.”
“I won’t laugh, I promise.”
“When I was in my teens, I remember reading an article in some magazine – it might’ve been Cosmo, I’m not sure – about self-esteem. Usual thing, ten things you ought to do to get the best out of yourself, or whatever.” She made a vague gesture. “I only remember one of the points. It was something like … get a good body and keep it that way, it’s an investment that will benefit you for the rest of your life …There.”
“A good body, and you followed that advice?”
“I was around eighteen, young and impressionable, about to go to college. I didn’t want to let myself down.”
“So what did you do?”
Another sigh. “Must I go on?”
“I’m intrigued, really.”
“I spent the whole summer holidays on a regime, cut out fats and carbohydrate, drank lots of water, did a daily workout, went swimming almost every day. Get the idea? I expect you find it all rather silly.”
“As a principal beneficiary of the programme, I can hardly complain. An investment for life, as you say. Do you think Barbara did something like that?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“But in your case, Marnie, the idea was just to help develop a little self-confidence before facing the major challenge of going to college. I think Barbara had a different outlook on the world.”
“Significantly different from mine?”
“Oh yes. There was more under the surface with Barbara than just gas collecting under the floor of her boat.”
10
Marnie wanted to waste no time. As soon as the New Year break ended she rang the BW office in Little Venice. A woman declared she was the only member of staff on duty. The others were either still on leave for the school holidays or had phoned in suffering from flu. The woman did not have the means of checking on the availability of moorings, but she believed there was a lengthy waiting list.
Next stop, the boatyard at Bull’s Bridge, and a surprise.
“How soon can you get the boat here, Marnie?” Jock Mackenzie’s voice sounded like the original Glasgow fog-horn.
“You can take her now?” Incredulity. “How come, Jock?”
“The damn’ flu. Don’t you read the papers? Half the people who should’ve brought their boats in haven’t made it. We’re freezing our rocks off down here and twiddling our thumbs.”
“Tomorrow. I’ll clear the decks in the office and go down to London. I’ll be with you before close of business.”
It was the first time Marnie had set foot in the vicarage since before Christmas, since Barbara had died. Angela was attending a meeting of clergy with the Archdeacon in Northampton, so Marnie used the key that Barbara had given her.
Even though the house was still occupied and the heating had been running that morning, it felt abandoned, as if its spark had gone. Not normally one for flights of fancy, Marnie had the strange feeling that the building was in a state of shock, that she could almost hear the last echo of Barbara’s laughter somewhere upstairs in an empty room. Her footsteps clattered on the tiled floor of the hall, and she crossed quickly to the kitchen, opened the cupboard and took down the spare boat key.
On the way out, Marnie paused briefly, looking at the walls, imagining the house in the new colour scheme she had been planning with Barbara. For Barbara. As was so often the case, it was the woman client who took the greater interest in the design. Marnie’s creative imagination thrived on that interest, and she had thrived on Barbara’s vitality. Now the design was completed, but Marnie knew the project would never be the same. Her own spark had been diminished by Barbara’s death.
And how would Charles cope? How could he live here without her?
She hurriedly pulled open the front door and left.
The next morning, Marnie travelled down in the dark with the early commuters and took a taxi from Euston station to Little Venice. It always seemed calmer here than in most of central London, but somehow that day as the light was growing it felt positively deserted.
She was reaching into her shoulder bag for the key and so failed to notice the woman looking out at her from the next boat in line with Perfidia as she walked past. When Marnie stepped onto the counter – the tiny stern deck for the steerer – the woman called out. Marnie jumped in surprise and almost lost her grip on the key.
It was a loud voice. “Can I help you?” The familiar euphemism, meaning: what do you think you’re doing?
Greatly tempted to retort No! or I doubt it, Marnie kept her composure, took a few breaths and turned to face her interrogator.
“Good morning.”
Much as she resented having to explain herself to a stranger, Marnie knew the woman was only trying to protect the boat left here by its owners. She would have been glad of such a solicitous neighbour if Perfidia had belonged to her.
“I know you, don’t I?” The woman frowned in concentration. “I’ve seen you here before.”
“Not on Perfidia you haven’t. I used to keep my own boat further down the cut towards the tunnel … Sally Ann.”
“Sally Ann … yes …” The woman stared. “You went off somewhere and …”
“Marnie Walker.”
“Marnie! Yes, I knew it. I’m Belle, Belle Starkey. Most people call me Bella.”
“Well, Bella, it’s nice to meet you, but I’ve got to take Perfidia here down to Jock’s boatyard at Bull’s Bridge.” Much against her inclination, Marnie added, “Charles is a client of mine. I’m looking after the boat.”
Bella climbed out onto the bank. “You’ve got keys?”
Marnie held them up. “Yes. Sorry to be in such a rush, but I’ve got a fair way to go before sunset.”
Bella walked along the towpath and rested a hand on Perfidia. “Can’t say I’ll be sorry to see her gone. I heard them rowing that night.”
“You heard?”
“Yeah. It was me, the famous witness.”
“So you’ll be called to give evidence.”
“Already been questioned several times, had to give a statement.”
“So you haven’t any doubt in your mind about what happened that night.” Marnie really did not want to get into this conversation, but she felt herself being dragged in. “You saw them.”
“Heard them. There couldn’t be any mistake.”
“You heard what they were saying?”
“Part. Heard him saying it was ridiculous … childish … and her shouting at him to get out.”
Marnie felt sick at the thought of Barbara’s private life being the stuff
of gossip on the canalside. She hardly recognised this Barbara as the one she had grown to know and like.
“She was still yelling when she slammed the door behind him.”
Marnie felt her cheeks tingling. “After he’d left the boat, you mean?”
Bella nodded. “You can have all the space and time you want. That’s what she was screaming at him, what I told the police.”
“Did you see him come back later?”
“Come back?”
“Well, he must’ve come back to …”
“Oh yes, that’s right.”
“And you saw him then.”
“Yeah. He came back after about an hour. I was in the galley washing up after supper.”
“Wasn’t it late at night?”
“Not really. I said that night, though it was only afternoon when they had the row. But it was already getting dark. The night was drawing in, you know.”
“Yet you saw him clearly, even in the dark? It’s not very light down here.”
“I know, and he was wearing dark clothes. The police kept pressing me on that, but it looked exactly like him. I can’t say plainer than that.”
“You need to be absolutely certain, Bella, for something as serious as murder.”
Bella shrugged. “I saw what I saw.”
“So was it quiet when he came back, no more rowing?”
“I didn’t hear anything that time, thought they’d kissed and made up.”
Marnie had had enough of this. “Bella, you’re going to have to excuse me.”
“Fancy a cup of tea before you go?”
“Thanks, but I’ve really got to get underway. Another time, perhaps.”
It took Marnie no more than ten minutes to go through the boat checking her for readiness from bow to stern. Perfidia was a fine craft with beautiful joinery in oak and ash and expensive fittings in brass. The engine oil was up to the mark, the batteries were in good order, the stern gland was fully lubricated. Barbara had been no grease monkey, but her boat was properly maintained. Marnie was wiping her hands on a moist cleaning tissue when she felt the movement. If Bella was coming on board with more offers of tea and talk, she could think again.