by Menon, David
‘Well …’
‘… I’m sorry’ said Sara, ‘I’m putting you on the spot and that’s unfair.’
‘No,’ said Joe, ‘I understand why you ask. And I’d say it was Steve Osborne who could be described as that.’
‘I’d better watch my back when he’s around then.’
‘Something like that,’ said Joe.
Joe thought that Sara seemed like an intelligent person who didn’t make crass judgements about people. But still he felt self-conscious about what she might be thinking about him personally. He existed on a diet of beer and curry. It was one of the reasons why his GP had told him that unless he lost some weight he was in danger of becoming a diabetic. His ideal weight for his height was 75 kilos and he was clocking in at 105 kilos. It pissed him off somewhat. He didn’t think he looked that big and besides, he saw many others, including colleagues in the police force, who were bigger than him and had larger overhanging stomachs. That really did piss him off. Were they all being told by their doctor that unless they went on a diet and started a regular routine of exercise then they might end up prematurely dead? So what if he could no longer fasten the trousers of a suit he’d bought two years ago for his cousin’s wedding. Did it make him a bad person? The answer was that he wasn’t a bad person, far from it, but he was considered to be overweight so that meant he didn’t have much luck with the ladies. It made him wonder about the whole issue of equality. If women didn’t want to be judged anymore by the way they looked then surely they should pay men the same respect?
But still, he wasn’t lonely. He had his mates. Like Ahmed, the young Bangladeshi lad down at the curry shop who now started writing his order down as soon as he saw Joe coming down the street. He went to his parents for lunch every Sunday. One of his sisters was usually there with a husband and kids attached and he was close to all his sisters and his nieces and nephews. He had his weekly copy of the Radio Times that he used to plan his evenings around the telly and spending an hour or two in the pub. He went to bed every night and tried to knock one out before the beer sent him off to sleep. But he did have a regular sex life with the married woman down the street whose husband was in a wheelchair and whose desperation saw past Joe being considered as big. Maureen came round a couple of times a month. It was no great romance. She always stayed for a chat afterwards, sometimes a gin and tonic, before getting dressed and going home. It was just a meeting of needs, even though somewhere deep inside Joe’s heart he’d like to make it more.
‘My God!’ Sara exclaimed when a gap in the trees cleared the view, ‘I thought the approach to Chatsworth House was exceptional but this is really something else.’
‘It is, Sara, but it does make you wonder though.’
‘What?’
‘Whether all this should be in the hands of one woman,’ said Joe.
Sara smiled. ‘Well I didn’t realise I was going to be working with Arthur Scargill, Joe.’
Joe laughed. ‘Oh I’m no Arthur Scargill, Sara. I voted Liberal Democrat last time.’
‘And look where that got you.’
They were ushered into a drawing room so large that Joe remarked he could probably fit his entire house into it. It was decorated in heraldry prints and deep, dark colours that looked like they’d cost a fortune and probably had. No sense of warmth though, Sara noted, just a smell of history and privilege.
Eleanor came into the room with the aid of her walking stick and she shook their hands before gesturing for them to sit down. She looked like a reincarnation of the Queen Mother but even Sara wasn’t going to be fooled into believing that she was anything other than a pretty devious old bitch. What other kind of geriatric would harbour a Nazi war criminal?
‘Now then officers,’ said Eleanor who thought of the two police officers in front of her as being impertinent little bastards. ‘I presume you’re here about my house guest? Well unfortunately for you I have broken no law in inviting Dieter to stay here and neither has he. He told you immediately that he was here, he didn’t try and hide from you and all we both want is for this business to be over and done with.’
‘We need to interview Mr. Naumann in connection with the extradition request made by the Polish government,’ said Sara. ‘Could you tell us where he is, please?’
‘He’s upstairs taking a nap,’ said Eleanor. ‘And that’s where he’ll stay.’
‘I think you’re getting the balance of this situation a little wrong, Lady Eleanor,’ said Sara who’d taken an instant dislike to the witch. ‘We ask the questions and you provide plausible answers.’
‘You are in my house and you will behave according to my rules,’ said Eleanor, sharply.
‘Er, no I still don’t think you’re getting it,’ said Sara who could see the look of absolute disgust on Lady Eleanor’s face. She wasn’t used to being challenged. ‘This is a police investigation, Lady Eleanor, and nobody is above compliance with that.’
‘Dieter is an old man and what you’re doing to him is cruel.’
‘And what are we doing to him?’ asked Joe.
‘Pursuing him in this way,’ said Eleanor, ‘I don’t know what it’s going to do to his state of health. You’re all fools! There was a war on and people had to do what they could.’
‘Are you saying there’s some truth in the allegations against Mr. Naumann?’ said Joe.
‘I’m saying nothing of the kind!’ snapped Eleanor. ‘I was talking about the fools who are messing up the life of a good person like Dieter.’
‘Well if he’s that good of a person then why has he been living under another name for more than sixty years?’ asked Sara. ‘What was he so ashamed of from his past?’
‘And why have you given him sanctuary, Lady Eleanor?’ asked Joe who was also irritated by this relic of the old world. ‘How did you know him? And how did you know his true identity?’
This was where Eleanor wasn’t sure of what she should say. She and Dieter had made their agreement with the authorities back in 1945, an agreement that had saved them both from being charged with treason. They were told then that their status would never be in jeopardy but even though Dieter’s identity had now been revealed, neither of them had been contacted. Perhaps they needed more time. In any case, the impertinence of these two fools in front of her would soon be seen to have been a waste of time. Nobody was going to pin anything on her or Dieter.
‘Lady Eleanor, a European arrest warrant has been issued by Poland for Dieter Naumann,’ said Sara. ‘So could you please go and wake up Mr. Naumann and fetch him down here so that we can get on with our business?’
*
When Paul got home he noticed that the lights next door were on. He was very close to his neighbours Kelly and Lydia, they were his best friends. Kelly was an air stewardess who’d got herself a cushy number flying only the shuttle service between Manchester and Heathrow. Lydia was a charge nurse at Hope hospital just down the road. They’d been together for over ten years and though they had their ups and downs like any couple, they were solid. Kelly had shoulder length black curly hair and the brightest of blue eyes. She’d once been a fashion model in the North West and could’ve gone nationwide but she’d been thwarted by an industry that was overflowing with gay men but which still didn’t seem to like the idea of lesbians. Lydia was of Irish stock, red haired and could be temperamental when pushed. They both had short finger nails which Paul had learned were an essential attribute for a lesbian and more especially, for her girlfriend.
He went round and poked his head round their back door.
‘Hello!’
There was nobody in the kitchen and when he went through to the living room there was nobody there either. Then Kelly came downstairs, miles away in thought and was initially startled by Paul’s presence.
‘Aw, Jesus, you gave me a fright!’
‘I came in through the back door.’
‘No change there then,’ said Kelly, giggling. ‘Hello, love.’
They kissed cheek-to-cheek.
; ‘You’re smoking,’ said Kelly, looking at the cigarette burning between Paul’s fingers.
‘Oh well, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Mastermind and here is our first contestant, Miss Kelly Eaton and her specialist subject is stating the bleeding obvious.’
‘Why have you started smoking again?’ she demanded. ‘You were doing so well, Paul.’
Paul rubbed his chin and looked up as if he was searching for inspiration.
‘Well now, let’s see, my Dad is dying, I don’t know what the hell is going on with Jake, and my mother still beats me although with words now instead of her fists.’
‘You should try some retail therapy.’
‘You know I’m not into that,’ said Paul who hated shopping. He only did it when he had something specific to get and even then he was in and out of town before any of his friends had been able to reach for their credit cards. A day of wandering around the Trafford Centre would be like torture to him.
‘Oh that’s right you’re a straight man when it comes to shopping,’ Kelly teased.
Paul stuck his tongue out at her. ‘Go and get me some wine, lesbian!’
Whilst Kelly was in the kitchen Paul took the opportunity to finish off his cigarette and light another one. It felt good to be smoking again. He didn’t care what anybody said, it certainly helped bring his stress level down. Kelly brought the wine and two glasses through. She put everything down on the coffee table and then sat down beside him on the sofa. She poured them both a glass and handed him one.
‘So how’s your Dad?’ Kelly asked.
Paul swallowed hard. ‘Every movement causes him so much pain and it breaks my heart. It’s gone past the point of them being able to do much about it now. I’m sure he’d be better off in hospital than at home but he just won’t hear of going back in. I’m going to miss him, Kelly. I am going to miss him so much.’
‘You’ll always miss him,’ said Kelly, squeezing her friend’s hand, ‘I know. But we’ll be by your side when it happens just like we are now.’
Both Kelly and Lydia had lost their fathers to cancer and it still cut Kelly up sometimes even though it had been a dozen years since it happened.
‘Just like you have been all the way through,’ said Paul, ‘I don’t know how I would’ve got through these last few months without you and Lydia’
‘That’s what friends are for, love,’ said Kelly.
‘I just wish I could hear something from Jake,’ said Paul, ‘all this not knowing is driving me crazy. I see all these reports on the news and I pray to God each night that he isn’t caught up in it. Then when they say they’ve found the body of a soldier it just cuts right through me until they read out the name and it isn’t Jake.’
Kelly had mixed feelings about Paul’s relationship with Jake. She didn’t dislike Jake as such and when he and Paul were together he certainly made Paul very happy. But it wasn’t what Kelly would call a relationship and she thought that Paul was selling himself way too short.
‘I still say he doesn’t respect you the way he should,’ said Kelly, repeating what she’d said many times before. ‘He keeps you apart from the rest of his life because he hasn’t come out to his family and I can just about understand that. But it means that everything is on his terms and that’s not fair on you, Paul. And deep down you know I’m right.’
‘Finished?’
‘You should give him his marching orders when he gets back from Afghanistan.’
‘Kelly! How can you even talk like that when God knows what he might be going through out there?’
‘I know that, love. I watch the news too and believe it or not, I worry about him too, so does Lydia. It’s not that we don’t like him, it’s just that we don’t think he treats you right or gives you what you really need.’
‘He might do one day,’ said Paul. ‘That’s why I hold on.’
‘Paul, for Christ’s sake, he’s had enough time and opportunity to commit properly to you but he hasn’t.’
Paul went quiet for a few minutes then he freshened up their glasses. The trouble was that Kelly was right, like she tended to be right about everything. But he also knew that it was more complicated than she was making it out to be. He knew Jake better than she did.
‘You know that song by Sheryl Crow?’ Paul asked. ‘My Favourite Mistake? It’s about being in love with someone when you know it isn’t really right but you just can’t bring yourself to break away. That’s the song of my relationship with Jake. He’s my favourite mistake.’
‘Yes and he knows that and he plays on it.’
‘Alright, so I’m weak,’ said Paul, ‘I can’t help it where Jake is concerned.’
‘Isn’t that the truth,’ said Kelly who wished Paul could meet someone else who’d take his heart away from Jake. ‘Why don’t you just ring him, Paul? Why don’t you just ring his mobile and find out what’s going on? You’ve every right to.’
‘He said he’d get in touch with me when he could,’ said Paul. ‘That’s always been the arrangement when he’s away.’
‘Ring him, Paul. If he can’t answer his phone then he won’t have it on so either way, you’ve got nothing to lose.’
*
Tim Norris was putting on his jacket to go home when Sara came out of her office and walked over to him. He ignored her and carried on to the door.
‘Tim, please,’ said Sara.
‘I’m going home to my wife,’ said Tim. ‘What are you going home to, Sara? A ready meal you put in a microwave and a vibrator?’
‘If things were different that might have been funny.’
‘Yeah, well, they’re not.’
‘Now look, Tim, I’m… ‘
‘…no, you look!’ said Tim as he angrily pointed his finger at her. ‘If I decided to make trouble for you here then you’d end up being the one getting out first.’
‘Oh you think so? And what would you do exactly? ‘
‘Look, no man in the station would be on your side after they’d learned what you’d done. Your position would be undermined because nobody would work with you.’
‘All the boys sticking together.’
‘And you’re saying that all the girls never do that?’ Tim snorted.
‘You want to make this war?’
‘That depends on how you treat me,’ said Tim. ‘If you so much as try to use your position as my superior officer to score any points I will destroy you, Sara.’
Sara was genuinely shocked by the ferocity of Tim’s anger even though it was written all over his face. ‘Tim, I don’t want things to be like this between us.’
‘Yeah, well’ said Tim. ‘I’m not the one who started all this. You haven’t once said sorry for keeping your pregnancy secret or for giving my son away. You’ve never once wasted any time thinking about how I might feel. You’re a beautiful woman, Sara, but your character is that of an ugly, selfish bitch. I will support you as my superior officer but we will never have any kind of personal relationship. I won’t even crack a joke with you. Those are my terms and you’ll just have to deal with it. You gave me no choice and I’m not giving you any choice either. Don’t like a taste of your own medicine? Well that’s just tough.’
Tim drove home and wondered how he was going to keep the pain he was feeling from his wife Helen. After Sara had dropped her bombshell he’d sunk further and further into a depth of disappointment he’d never known before. Did she think he wouldn’t have stood by her and the baby? It wouldn’t have been easy explaining things to Helen but he could’ve got round it somehow. He’d been out with girls who’d not wanted to know anything about his romantic past but Helen was much more grown-up than that. That’s not to say that it would’ve been easy for her to accept that another woman was having his child but she wouldn’t have made him cut Sara and the baby out of his life. She wouldn’t have been vindictive against a child. Years ago he’d always thought that he loved Sara but that night they’d slept together made him realise that he didn’t love her enough. He love
d her but he wasn’t in love with her. It just wasn’t the same as it was with Helen. Sara was a beautiful girl and any heterosexual man would notice that. But she wasn’t Helen and before he’d met Helen he hadn’t known what true love was.
He’d been watching Sara interact with the rest of the squad members all day. She was all feminine guile and persuasion, using her sexuality to get what she wanted out of the male members of the squad. Joe Alexander had been walking round with a smile on his face since he’d gone out to Gatley Hall with her. Sara operated in a very subtle way, not throwing her weight and rank around, but using her interpersonal skills to build the respect of her officers. She saved the sharper side of her character for her personal relationships and Tim now knew that better than anyone.
‘Hi!’ he called after he’d closed the front door behind him.
‘Well hello husband!’ gushed Helen with open arms. She still got that wonderful butterfly feeling in her stomach about him coming home, even after five years. Her eyes had met with his that night, and from that moment on she knew there’d never be anybody else.
They kissed and embraced and carried on kissing. Tim loved the feel of her body. She wasn’t overly tall but her shape was perfect. He especially loved her large breasts and long curly black hair. She owed that to her Portuguese Mum who her father had met on a golfing holiday in the Algarve back in the seventies. It meant that they had to spend every summer holiday in Portugal but that was no problem for Tim. He could think of worse places and her grandparents and the extended family had really taken him to heart. He’d even learned Portuguese.
‘You’re being particularly amorous tonight,’ she whispered. She could feel his hardness, his devouring of her neck with his kisses and his outstretched hands across her back.