by John Halkin
‘First I want to get out of this sun. It’s going to be a scorching summer again. Are you sure you should leave those windows open?’
In the living room she found he had a visitor: a slim, athletic Nigerian dressed in a colourful agbada. He stood at the table frowning with hard concentration as he poured himself a beer.
‘You remember Enoch?’ Jeff introduced him.
‘Hi, Ginny! Like a beer? It’s all froth. Someone has really been shaking it up.’ He put the can down to squeeze her hand. ‘No more caterpillars, I hope.’
‘I hope so too,’ she said soberly, accepting a glass. ‘Cheers! Now what’s this mysterious news, Jeff? Start with the indifferent.’
‘You’d better sit down,’ he advised drily. ‘It’s simply this. The Royal Commission report on the caterpillar invasion comes out tomorrow. For the full details we’ll have to wait for the papers in the morning, but I’ve been up in London having a word with one or two people I know and they’ve told me the gist of it.’
‘Which is?’
‘The main conclusion is that the airlift of monitor lizards played only a comparatively small part in the defeat of the caterpillars. According to them, the rapid growth in the numbers of these caterpillars was caused by unusually hot damp weather, combined with the absence in this country of natural enemies. When the weather changed, the caterpillars died off. It’s as simple as that.’
‘The bastards!’ She was appalled. ‘Was there anyone on that Commission who actually lived through it? Without the lizards we’d all be dead.’
‘As for the experiments which produced the things in the first place, it seems Sophie Greenberg did not give evidence. This kind of genetic engineering – interfering with the sperm or ovum to produce changes in the genetic inheritance – is claimed to be the great white hope for the future. It could stamp out hereditary diseases, so it seems. Or even produce the next generation’s crop of Olympic gold medallists. They advise that all experimentation should be brought under Government control.’
‘That should be enough to stop it!’ Enoch remarked cheerfully. ‘Jeff, I’ll bring those other cans out of the fridge. Perhaps this beer is too cold.’
Ginny tried to force a smile, but failed. None of this would bring Bernie back to life, nor any of the others either. Government compensation plans had provided some money for widows with dependants and, of course, the disabled. Lesley would get something she supposed. But they were not even taking steps to prevent it happening again.
‘You’d think they’d at least keep a stock of lizards in a zoo somewhere.’
‘They say too few survived the winter,’ Jeff explained.
‘Because people didn’t look after them, that’s why!’
‘Oh, I agree.’
Was Lesley keeping any lizards, she wondered. She was sure Mary had been responsible for her sister’s silence, particularly about Frankie having been in hospital. It was pure coincidence that she’d heard about it at all. Of course Lesley was bitter, but she’d been the first to acknowledge her guilt, hadn’t she? That terrible episode at the house still rankled with her. Told that Lesley was there to supervise the removal men, she’d gone over right away. ‘Les – please, can’t we make up?’ she’d pleaded, desperately needing her sister’s arms around her. No response. It had been like talking to someone long since dead inside. Then, as she was on the point of leaving, Les spoke to her. ‘You may as well know, Ginny. I hate you, and I always shall.’ And those words spun round and round in her mind, never leaving her alone.
‘Hey, Ginny!’ Jeff called to her across the room. ‘Perk up, Ginny! You haven’t asked me what the good news is.’
‘Tell the interesting news first,’ she asked, trying her best to snap out of that mood.
‘Ah – the interesting news!’ Enoch came back into the room and stood by the door listening, a quiet smile on his face. Darting past him came one of Jeff’s domestic lizards. It stopped on the hearth-rug, its eyes fixed on her. ‘Yes, well the interesting news is that Enoch has landed a contract for a regular freight run between London and Lagos. I’ve managed to raise some capital to buy our own plane. We’re going into partnership.’
‘But that’s great, Jeff! A Boeing?’
‘707 of course. First of our fleet. We’re going to call her Ginny.’
‘Thank you, kind sir!’ She raised her glass.
‘And the good news…’ He gazed at her, his eyes twinkling and that angular jaw more prominent than ever as he smiled. ‘Better fasten your seat belt. You and I are going to Los Angeles the week after next.’
‘Oh, are we?’ she retorted scornfully. ‘Why? And you’d better make it good.’
‘Remember that story about moths you tried hawking round the TV companies?’
‘Threw it away,’ she said. ‘It was useless.’
‘That copy you lent me to read – well, I had a few extra rolled off to show to a couple of people I know. If you can set the story in the United States we might have a buyer. It’s not certain, mind, but I’ve a feeling a trip there might clinch it.’
Ginny got up, speechless, stepped over the recumbent lizard and put her arms around Jeff, burying her head against his shoulder. ‘You really do try, don’t you?’ she told him when she felt sufficiently recovered from the surprise. ‘You old pirate!’
She kissed him.
‘Thought you might be pleased,’ he said smugly. ‘I’ll show you the letter. Came this morning. This could be the turning-point for you.’
About an hour later she was sitting in the bow window thinking it over while Jeff was busy in the kitchen preparing a meal and Enoch wandered in and out setting the table. If the American company bought the script, she mused, she might have to stay over there for a few months. But she was ready for that sort of change. Perhaps she’d be able to call on Jack and meet this American girl he’d astonished everyone by marrying. Then something Jeff said caught her attention.
‘In really hot weather it seems the life cycle may be no longer than three weeks from egg to fully-grown moth,’ he was shouting over the sizzling of the steaks in the frying pan. ‘And they multiply rapidly which – according to the experts – is just what happened.’
‘But surely they cannot all be dead. Don’t they hibernate? So now the warm weather has returned…?’
The breeze from the open window was mild against Ginny’s cheek. Across the entire width of the sky were broad splashes of red from the setting sun. It was going to be a beautiful day tomorrow.