The Witness

by Naomi Kryskle

  He was happy to comply.

  Her heart was racing. She would never get her breath back! “Because I love you, Colin. Because I love you.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Jenny’s confession of love made Sinclair want to celebrate: They had a solid foundation to build on now. He had flown to Texas with no more than a wish and a prayer, fearing that it would take repeated visits to establish the connection he sought. Since she had come home with him, a second prayer had been answered: She loved him. A woman’s love is precious, his father had told him. You must safeguard it. He would—he already felt more tenderly toward her than ever before. Yes, there was much to celebrate—the woman he loved, loved him. She—damn! He’d missed his tube stop. This morning he’d have a longer walk to the Yard.

  As he took the lift to his floor, he thought about her quest for a meaningful way to spend her time. She would be occupied today watching some of the Wimbledon tennis matches on TV, but the finals would take place on the Sunday, and another week would then stretch in front of her with little to do. He was not unsympathetic with her desire to be productive, but he had come close to losing her on several occasions, and as a result, he had probably overstated the amount of risk she faced. “Downshift!” she’d said. “You’re in overdrive!”

  Nevertheless, her taking the tube to another part of the city was out of the question. That ruled out museums and universities as sites for her activity. The Hampstead library wasn’t large, and he didn’t imagine that reshelving books there would be very challenging.

  He decided to ring his sister, Jillian. Her husband, Derek Horne, worked in finance in the city, and they were more socially active than he was. Jillian couldn’t think of anything offhand that would suit but promised to discuss it with Derek when he came home.

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  Jenny had had a rough night, and Colin was tired. He leant back in his chair and stretched his limbs to revive them. Years of being called to crime scenes at all hours had made him a light sleeper, so he’d heard her rustling about in the kitchen. She couldn’t take pain meds on an empty stomach, she explained, and he’d embarrassed her by asking why she needed them.

  Violet’s menstrual cycles had always been a surprise to him. Later in their marriage he suspected she used them as a contrivance to keep him at arm’s length, but he knew Jenny had no such purpose. She’d been more expressive that evening than ever before.

  The jangling of his phone interrupted him. It was Jillian, with good news. “Would Jenny be interested in working in a bookshop? Antiquarian and secondhand books, that sort of thing. A friend of Derek’s—an investments counsellor—retired at the end of last year and joined his wife in her venture. They’re looking for help.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s not far from you, Colin—in Hampstead. Esther and Reginald Hollister are the proprietors, but it’s been small beer for years, so you might not know of it. Esther knows books, but Reggie’s a businessman. He has secured additional space and plans to use the internet for sales as well.” She gave him a phone number. “Reggie’s the one who wants to make it a going concern—probably retired from the city too soon, Derek says!”

  He could hear children’s voices in the background and Jillian remonstrating them. “Derek would have rung him for you, but we didn’t know what you’d want him to know about Jenny. By the way, Mother loves her, and we want to meet her. Soon!” The youthful voices were more insistent. “Must run!”

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  The answer phone had a woman’s voice. “Hollister’s Books, but we want to make them yours! We’re off finding more treats for you to add to your collections. Buying trip to end on Sunday, selling spree to begin on Tuesday. The tea is free! Cheerio!”

  CHAPTER 14

  Wednesday morning Colin left early for the Yard, and Jenny reviewed the directions he had given her for finding Hollister’s Books. It was about ten minutes’ walk from the flat, in an area of Hampstead not too far from Royal Free Hospital. The gold script with the owner’s name sparkled in the morning sun, and the broad windows beneath the marquee would let in as much of the natural light that the London climate could provide. When she entered, she felt as if she had stepped into someone’s sitting room. The ratio of books to furniture was a little skewed, but care had been taken in the selection of love seats, chairs, small tables, and shaded lamps that would make the shop seem cozy on cloudy days. “Hello?” she called. No one was in sight.

  “Yes, yes, here we are,” a voice replied. “Look, Reggie, it’s our volunteer! Our regular clientele are never here this soon after opening,” she explained.

  Jenny smiled as the superficially mismatched couple approached. Mrs. Hollister—“No, no, you must call me Esther,”—was a spare, big-boned woman with a baggy dress and flyaway gray hair. Her husband, who did not immediately encourage Jenny to address him by his first name, was short and nearly bald. His clothes were tailored but sufficient to cover his substantial girth.

  He and his wife started to talk at the same time. “I haven’t got used to Reggie being about all the time,” Esther laughed. “I’ve had this little investment since the children started school, and that was years ago! Reggie has been involved just since the beginning of the year.”

  “Essie, Miss Jeffries isn’t interested at all in your history.”

  “It’s Jenny, and I am.”

  “Ladies first, then,” he said graciously.

  Esther Hollister gestured as she narrated. “Nonfiction downstairs, fiction upstairs, all arranged according to category, except for the first editions on the north wall, well away from the sun. I can’t permit any damage to be done to my little lovelies!”

  Jenny had always been more concerned with what was printed on the pages, but she couldn’t deny that some of the Hollisters’ books were beautiful. Esther opened one case and handed Jenny a leather-bound volume with gilt-edged pages and marbled end sheets.

  “Some of these are purchased more for home decoration than for consumption,” she said. “To make a room appear more masculine or complement its colour scheme. Isn’t that sad? Books are lonely if they’re not opened, I think.” They squeezed past a ladder on wheels. “Reggie’s idea,” Esther continued. “I never had any difficulty reaching the top shelves, but he feels that if we’re an antiquarian shop, we should look the part.”

  They arrived at the back of the store. “Here’s the children’s area. I wanted it at first so my little terrors would be occupied while I worked, but mothers seem to appreciate the fact that they are welcome with their children, and to be honest, they almost always buy a book for their little ones before they leave, so I sell twice as much. Although this section of the store stays a bit unruly, you can’t see it from the street, so it’s not a deterrent to those who don’t have youngsters.”

  They had completed the tour of the ground floor, passing a small bathroom and an equally small workroom.

  “My turn, dear?” Mr. Hollister asked. He turned to Jenny. “We have two target groups, the visibles and the invisibles. Essie prefers to deal with the visibles, those who come into the shop. You’ll be helping her periodically to stock the shelves with our new acquisitions and to remove the ones that are past their prime.”

  “I’ve never met a book that was past its prime,” Esther said.

  “The rest of the time, you’ll be working on the computer.” He led the little group upstairs. A desktop computer rested on one end of a glossy wooden table. Matching wooden file cabinets stood underneath and to one side. Jenny smiled. These modern furnishings could not be seen from the street, any more than the cluttered children’s area could. “I’ve had a website designed and installed. I’m now in the process of entering all the books in our inventory online.”

  “Your invisible buyers,” Jenny commented.

  “Exactly so,” Mr. Hollister agreed. “Of course, whenever a book is sold, the inventory online must be updated.
Periodic printouts can tell us when a book came in, when it sold, which categories are the best performers, and so forth. Are we pricing our books correctly? Internet searches can answer that question. Keeping a record of our expenses on each buying trip will show whether such excursions are profitable. I’ve already begun to scan online sources for reviews of books that may be interesting. Expanding our stock via online purchases could be more economical.”

  “Reggie, a book must be held,” Esther said. “A book has its own personality. You won’t be able to tell from your computer whether a book will belong here.”

  “At the very least,” Mr. Hollister continued, “I’d like to be able to order books online for our visible customers, notify them by e-mail when a special order has come in—”

  “Enough!” Esther exclaimed. “You’ll discourage Jenny before she has even started.”

  Mr. Hollister cordially relented.

  “We’re just back from a trip,” Esther said. “I priced our new selections yesterday, and if you’ll help me put them on the shelves, you can familiarise yourself with our system and make friends with some of our long-standing residents.”

  “Miss Jeffries, how much time will you be willing to give us?”

  “I can come in most afternoons during the week. No weekends.”

  They heard a bell tinkle. “Gracious, there’s our first guest, and I don’t even have the music on,” Esther said. “Jenny, if you see a book you like, you may borrow it. In the meantime, could you turn on the radio in the little office downstairs? And there’s a fridge there if you’d like to have a cold drink. And we always have the kettle on for tea.”

  Jenny couldn’t wait to tell Colin about the Hollisters, how Esther wanted to hold the books and Mr. Hollister wanted to catalog them. How Esther loved to talk to her “guests” and didn’t pressure them to buy, although her enthusiasm for her “little charges” usually had a positive result.

  Mr. Hollister knew that technology was necessary to help a business grow. He didn’t mind nudging the customer toward the cash register. “The furniture encourages indecisiveness,” he’d said. “Let ‘em stand, and they’ll say aye or nay faster.” He placed a high premium on accuracy, but that didn’t bother her. Besides, with his emphasis on technical information, he would be less likely than his wife to ask personal questions. They were the first two people Jenny had met who didn’t know how she’d spent her last year, and she wanted to keep it that way.

  CHAPTER 15

  Jenny had only worked at Hollister’s several days, and already it was a big plus. She was happier, and Colin was the beneficiary. When he opened the door to his flat, she greeted him with a hug and a smile. And the way she kissed him: He would give “all his worldly worth for this; / To waste his whole heart in one kiss.”

  “You and Tennyson,” she laughed.

  The weekend weather was glorious, and during their Saturday walk on the Heath, she had asked about birth control, accepting his assurance that he would see to it. That night after they’d been involved for a few minutes, she surprised him by asking if he wanted to go into the bedroom. He did, very much. They’d already shed their shirts, and she lifted her arms so he could remove her bra. “Jen, you’re beautiful,” he said, kissing her. She stepped out of her jeans. He stretched out next to her and took her in his arms. “I want to make love to you,” he whispered.

  “Colin, yes,” she gasped. He began to undo his belt. She went suddenly still. He heard a strangled sound and looked up.

  “Stop—you have to stop!” she cried, rolling away from him. The tightness in her chest made it hard to breathe. “I can’t, I can’t!”

  It took a moment for his shock to pass. “Jenny, did I do something wrong?”

  “No—I don’t know—all of a sudden—like someone flipped a switch—I was afraid—of being naked—of what you’d do—”

  “Jen, I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “I know. I shouldn’t have panicked.”

  “What now?”

  She shivered. “I think I need to get dressed.”

  He collected her clothes. She pulled them on haphazardly, and he watched her go. In a few minutes he heard her shower running. He took his own shower then decided to check on her. “Jen, we should talk.”

  He looked so handsome standing there, the light from the sitting room behind him. His voice was gentle. How could she have pushed him away? Her failure gripped her chest like a vise. “Do you want to call it quits? Do you want to send me away?”

  He went to her. “Jen, of course not—why would you think such a thing?”

  “Because I can’t satisfy you. I wanted to, and I couldn’t.”

  “Jenny—Jen—I love you. I’m not going to desert you at the first sign of trouble.”

  “Colin, I wish—I wish—”

  “Jenny, listen to me. I want to give you pleasure. If the pleasure stops, then I’m going to stop.” A frightening thought occurred to him. “Jen, do you want out? Do you want to go?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then let’s see this through. Every couple has problems—this is ours, that’s all.”

  She leaned against his chest, and she felt safe in spite of everything. “Colin, I love you so much. You made me feel—wonderful. I wanted you very badly. I don’t know where it went.”

  “Jenny, we’ll try again, when you want to. But I want you to know—the further we go, the better it will be. For both of us.” He reached out and caressed her face, running the tips of his fingers across her cheeks and lips. “The loving feelings between a man and a woman make sex beautiful, Jenny. It’ll happen for us.”

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  On Saturday evening, after a second disappointment, Colin held her close, wishing his kisses could comfort her.

  “Why isn’t love enough?” she sobbed.

  “Because love and trust are both required.”

  “But I trust you with my life!”

  “This is a different level of trust. When a woman opens herself to a man, she is at her most vulnerable. I’m not surprised you’re having trouble—I know what you’ve been through. It’s bound to affect you.” She had calmed somewhat. “I owe you an apology, Jen. I promised you an old-fashioned courtship. Perhaps it would help if you knew what my intentions are: marriage and family.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Is that a proposal?”

  He smiled. “An informal one.”

  “How can you ask me that when I’ve just failed you?”

  “Because you haven’t failed. Because I love you and believe in you. I know the sort of determination you have. I’ve fancied you for a long time, and I want us to have a life together, here and hereafter.”

  “You believe in that?”

  “God is infinite, Jenny—infinite in power, infinite in love, infinite in second chances. Would He give us a limited life? I don’t think so.”

  She rested her head against his chest, soothed by the sound of his heart and his voice.

  “The Bible says that faith is hope made certain. I think commitment makes love certain. You don’t have to give me an answer now, though. It takes time to heal.”

  “Colin, I love you so much.”

  “I’m going to enjoy buying you jewellery—an engagement ring to start, when you’re ready.”

  She sat up suddenly, and a giggle escaped her. “So that’s why you gave me an empty jewelry box!”

  Just one of the parts of her life he wanted to fill. He kissed her.

  CHAPTER 16

  Mr. Hollister had been busy. Over the weekend, he had purchased a digital camera. He had spent the Monday asterisking the books on the online inventory list that he wanted a fuller description of. When Jenny came in on Tuesday, he explained that she needed to locate each starred title on the shelf, determine if the cover were sufficiently attractive to stimulate visual interest, and if so, insert the photo of it into the computer before adding the rest of the requisite information. He wanted a grea
ter percentage of sales among the more expensive volumes and hoped this special treatment could bring that result. Clearly no grass was going to grow under Mr. Hollister’s feet—this was only her fifth day at work, and he was already procuring equipment for her use. She wondered how many of the photographed selections would have to sell to pay for it.

  “Jenny, there’s a man here to see you,” Esther called out.

  She hurried down the stairs. It was Simon. She looked at her watch. He must be on his way to report in. She introduced him to Mrs. Hollister. “Could I take a short break?”

  “By all means,” Esther said, noting the policeman’s stern expression and wondering if she should endeavor to keep them in the shop. “May I bring you both a cup of tea?”

  “No, ma’am, thank you, but we’ll be going for a walk.” He took Jenny’s arm.

  Esther watched them go. Reggie had said a Chief Inspector Sinclair had recommended Jenny. This young officer was a sergeant. Had the chief inspector introduced Jenny to his colleagues?

  Simon guided her up South End Road and into the Heath’s South Hill Park. The path was lined on both sides with lofty plane trees in their summer fullness. A young man in faded blue jeans walked by, his dog more eager to reach the park than his master. She saw a toddler in pink overalls welded to her mother’s hand.

  “What’s the news about your family?” she asked.

  “My mum’s a sister now. A senior nurse,” he explained.

  “You come by your medical talent honestly,” she decided. “And your brother?”

  “Martin’s just received orders to HMS York. He’s a sonar tech. That’s his warfare specialty.”

  “When can I meet him?”

  “He won’t have leave for a while, but that’s okay. He sounds like the sailor he is—salty language. Might upset you.”

  “Still protecting me?” she teased. “Have you been busy lately? At work?”

  “No, my team’s spare at the moment, but we still need to be ready for the off.”