‘Sorry, mate, not on. Not without his say-so. You’ll have to wait until he’s back. OK?’
This time I did let him pass. Although he was slightly smaller than me, there was something about him, like a coiled snake, that said ‘Don’t touch.’
I drove back to my place beneath the trees and thoughtfully cooked a meal.
Something was wrong. John might not have many friends in Oxford, but surely he wouldn’t ask a comparative stranger like Dave to ‘keep an eye on’ his flat? And wouldn’t he have mentioned it to me?
Later, I washed and changed and drove round to Sally’s house. She lived in Jericho, a chessboard ofVictorian terraces that had had the good fortune to become ‘sought after’ just before the demolition gangs moved in. You had to admit that the houses, with their gaily painted doors and windowboxes of flowers, looked better than any modern block of flats.
She had changed into one of those loose summery dresses that somehow make you more aware of the figure beneath than the tightest jeans ever can.
‘Where would you like to go?’ I asked.
‘Oh, somewhere out of town. By the river, perhaps. Chris?’
‘Mmm?’
‘There’s something I’ve always been meaning to ask you?’
‘Yes?’ Suspiciously.
‘Can I have a look round Bile?’
I laughed. ‘Be my guest.’
Like a lot of women, she wasn’t satisfied until she’d probed every corner of my home.
‘It’s like a ship’s galley,’ she said at last. ‘So tidy. How do you manage it?’
‘You have to be tidy in a small space like this.’
‘Most of the men I know would keep it like a pigsty.’ She looked at me thoughtfully. ‘It’s the one thing you and John really have in common. Tidiness, I mean.’
Mention of John started me thinking. ‘Sally, was John ever friendly with that data-handling bloke, Dave?’
‘He most certainly was not, they had a row last week.’
‘What about?’
‘Oh, Dave wanted to know something about the terminal in John’s room, and John told him to mind his own business. Or so I heard.’
‘No chance they knew each other from before?’
‘Pretty unlikely. Why?’
I told her about my meeting with Dave at John’s flat.
‘How odd,’ she said.
‘Sally, I think there’s something funny going on.’
She thought for a moment, then said, ‘Would it help if we went round to the flat now?’
‘Not much use without a key.’
‘I’ve still got one.’
I looked at her and she shrugged. ‘He didn’t ask for it back and I certainly wasn’t going to offer it. Hang on, I’ll get it.’ She jumped up and hurried back to her house.
‘He wouldn’t have had three, would he?’ I said a few minutes later as we drove across town.
‘Three what?’
‘Keys. He’d have asked for yours back if he’d wanted Dave to have one.’
I pulled up outside the front door, locked Bile and followed Sally up the stairs.
Inside the flat, the air held a slight mustiness.
‘He must have been here Friday,’ said Sally, looking round, ‘because he was at work. But it doesn’t look as though he’s been back since.’
The bed was made up and everything seemed to be neatly in its place. His briefcase lay on the desk by the window, beside the ’phone and a framed photo of his mother.
‘Funny,’ said Sally, picking it up. ‘He’s always kept this beside his bed. He’s devoted to her, you know.’
‘Yes, he told me.’ I went through to the kitchen and looked around. Everything had been tidied away. I came out and opened the wardrobe, but couldn’t tell whether any of this clothes were missing. Neither could Sally.
I looked under the bed. There was nothing except a screwed-up envelope.
‘What’s that?’ asked Sally as she came over.
‘Only an old envelope. Not so old, though,’ I said, looking at the postmark. ‘He must have got this last week.’
‘Let’s have a look.’ I handed it to her. ‘London EC1. From North American Pharmaceuticals.’ She looked up. ‘Who are they?’
‘NAP? Just one of the biggest drugs firms in the world. Sally, d’you mind if I look through his briefcase?’
She shrugged and sat down on the bed. ‘You’ve as much right as me.’
As I unzipped it, two more envelopes with the NAP logo fell out. With a glance at her, I extracted one of the letters.
Dear Mr Devlin,
Thank you for your letter dated 1st May. Please don’t misunderstand me, we are most interested in your proposal, but we do feel that some practical demonstration is necessary before we can take it any further. I feel sure we can arrange this without compromising you, as you put it. Perhaps if you would care to visit us again, at our expense, we could discuss the problem.
We look forward to hearing from you.
I read it out to her, then looked up. ‘That’s where he is, London — ’
I was interrupted by a rattle as the door swung open. A man in a turban stood in the doorway.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ he demanded in the sing-song, almost Welsh intonation so many Asians have. ‘Tell me or I will telephone the police.’
‘It’s all right, Mr Singh,’ said Sally, and his face sagged with relief as he saw her.
‘Oh, hello there, miss. Long time no see.’
‘This is a friend of John’s. He hasn’t been to work this week and we were getting worried. When did you last see him?’
He stepped inside. ‘Last Friday, I think. Yes, not since Friday morning.’
‘You don’t know where he is?’ I asked, having slipped the letter back into the briefcase.
‘No idea,’ he said.
‘Has anyone else been up here since then?’ asked Sally.
‘Not so far as I am aware. I like to know all about all such visits,’ he added pointedly.
There was a short silence. He obviously wasn’t going to leave before we did, so I said, ‘Well, thanks for your help,’ as I tucked the case under my arm and made for the door.
‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘The briefcase — I believe it belongs to Mr Devlin.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it contains notes of mine from the laboratory…’
‘It’s what we wanted to see John about,’ said Sally.
‘Nevertheless, I must ask you to leave it here, please.’ He held out a hand.
I stood irresolute for a moment, then Sally said, ‘Better give it to him,’ so I did.
As we drove away, she said, ‘Well, at least he didn’t ask me for the key. What now?’
‘A drink,’ I said.
We went to the King’s Arms at Sandford Lock and sat outside, watching the reflection of the sunset in the slowly moving water. I asked if she knew how near John had been to finishing his work.
‘He should have finished by now,’ she replied. ‘He told me just before we split up that another month should do it.’ She sat up and looked at me. ‘I bet you were right just now. He’s got the scent of a really good offer, maybe NAP, maybe another firm, and he’s rushed off and forgotten everything else, including you.’
‘That doesn’t explain Dave.’
‘Perhaps not,’ she said slowly, ‘but I still think that’s where he is. You were looking forward to seeing him, weren’t you?’
‘I suppose so.’
She shook her head slightly. ‘It’s never ceased to amaze me how you two got on. I mean, you’re so different. He’s arrogant, selfish, pig-headed — ’
‘That’s because of his upbringing, he — ’
‘That’s all very well, but he’s not the only person who’s suffered. Is he, Chris?’ She let the last three words hang.
‘Perhaps that’s why,’ I said tonelessly.
‘Why what?’
‘Why we get on.’ I looked up. ‘People who
have…been unhappy sense it sometimes in others. It draws them together. How much did he tell you?’
‘Not much. Only that your wife was killed in a car accident and that you blamed yourself.’
‘With reason.’
‘How long ago was it, Chris?’
‘Ten months.’
She touched my arm. ‘Whatever happened, you mustn’t go on blaming yourself. It’s not what she’d have wanted, is it?’
‘I don’t know.’
Her hand closed over mine and I told her then, in a dry, almost dispassionate way, and yet it was as much of a release as when I’d told John.
She held my hand throughout and when I’d finished, I felt so close to her, closer than I’d been to John. It was sexual without being erotic. She’d listened as only a woman can.
‘I’ll get you another drink,’ she said.
‘D’you want to go in?’
‘No, let’s stay out.’
The sun had set, but its afterglow persisted in the sky over the hill and on the water. When she came back, I asked her how her date with Phil had been.
‘How did you know it was Phil?’ she demanded.
‘I guessed.’
‘He told you, didn’t he?’
‘Unintentionally.’
She said, ‘Well, if you must know, he’s a very nice person and very good company, except for one thing.’
‘He’s nuts about you.’
She sighed. ‘Is there anything about me you don’t know?’
‘I saw how he felt about you months ago.’
‘Did you! Well, I was going to say that I couldn’t reciprocate his feelings for me, which comes to the same thing, I suppose. I shouldn’t have agreed to go out with him really, it’s only leading him on.’
‘Why did you?’
‘I like him, I always have. He is good company, he doesn’t hog the conversation like John.’
‘He’s always seemed a bit neurotic to me.’
‘That’s because you’ve seen him with John, and John brings out the worst in him. Just because he can’t think so fast doesn’t mean he hasn’t got anything interesting to say.’
‘John seems to bring out the worst in everyone, doesn’t he?’ I mused.
‘Including you and me?’
I smiled and shook my head. ‘We’re exceptions. I was thinking about Charles and Ron. And Carey.’
‘Why Dr Carey?’
I told her how he’d been asking me to look for John’s data.
‘D’you think he’s known all along what John’s been doing?’ she asked.
‘He must have. Since the Christmas party, anyway.’
Her face cleared. ‘Of course! I’d forgotten about that. I’ve always wondered why he didn’t sack John then. But surely John would’ve had to have told him about it.’
‘In that case, why is Carey scrabbling about after the data now? Why should he think I know? He hasn’t asked you — ’ I looked up — ‘has he?’
‘As a matter of fact,’ she said slowly, ‘he has. Only I didn’t realize at the time. Yesterday. I took him some reports to sign and he started chatting. Asked me if I was happy here, whether I intended to stay. That’s when I told him I wasn’t seeing John any more, it seemed so natural. Then he asked me if I’d been interested in John’s work and I said we hadn’t discussed it. Which was quite true, I suppose.
‘If he hadn’t tried to be so clever, I could have told him where John keeps his data — ’
‘Really?
‘Well, it’s blindingly obvious. In the computer.’
‘D’you know, I think you’re right…I’ll check it tomorrow.’
‘Of course I’m right. Listen.’ She leaned forward. ‘John knows that Dr Carey knows and is going to try and force him to publish the data in this country, whereas John wants to sell it abroad. That’s why John’s disappeared and why Dr Carey is after him. QED.’ She sat back. ‘I’ll bet you anything John ’phones you tomorrow at work, or maybe later in the week.’ She held out her glass. ‘So you can buy me another drink, and let’s not talk about John any more.’
We seemed to have reached a dead-end anyway, so I did as she asked, then said, ‘What would you like to talk about?’
‘You.’ Her face was luminous in the light from the river. ‘I’ve been thinking about you driving around the country in your funny dormobile. D’you think you’ll always be a gipsy?’
I shrugged elaborately. ‘Who knows?’
‘You can’t go on doing it for ever.’
‘Why not?’
‘You just can’t. Don’t you ever want to get married again?’
Upstream, a moorhen let out its eerie call and a moment later skittered across the water. A bullock coughed on the other bank and laughter rang from another table.
‘I’m sorry, Chris, I — ’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ I looked up. ‘I’ve had my love-affair. One’s enough in a lifetime.’
‘You haven’t got over it yet. I bet you don’t even look at other women.’
I smiled to myself, then said, ‘Oh, I look all right, it’s just that I don’t touch.’
‘Tell me about Jill,’ she said.
Some time later I took her home. She opened the door, then quickly leaned over and kissed the side of my mouth before getting out.
I couldn’t sleep when I got back to the trees, but lay thinking about her, then about John and Carey, and then about the Christmas party.
*
I suppose most work-places try to preserve the façade of camaraderie by doing something at Christmas. Perhaps I’ve become cynical since Jill died, but these ‘Work-dos’ always seem so artificial to me.
Sally had gone because she thought she ought to, John because the others didn’t want him to, and between them, they cajoled me. It was my last day there, a Friday, and I’d have rather gone home.
Carey had sat at the end of the table and Ron had sat next to him, to underline his position, I suppose. Sally and John were next to Ron and I sat opposite them.
John didn’t say very much; in fact, he was a model of good behaviour — until we finished the main course.
Ron had made some comment about Oxford, and Carey was telling him, and the rest of us, how fortunate we were to be living and working here.
‘There’s a sense of timelessness about Oxford, a sense of History,’ he said. ‘You can feel it working around you all the time, a sort of eternal fermentation. Some of the world’s greatest brains have studied here, perhaps some are now.’ He smiled. ‘You know, it never fails to give me a lift, seeing the students gowned up in the High on Graduation day, wondering whether there’s another Einstein among them.’
‘Aye,’ agreed Ron, whose style it usually was to rant about the chinless wonders of Christ Church. ‘I’m hoping, since we’re livin’ here now, to get my two into one of the colleges.’
‘Ye — es,’ said Carey tactfully.
Phil, who was sitting next to me, said, ‘It’s not quite like that if you’ve always lived here. I have a sort of love-hate relationship with the place, almost as though it were two towns at once.’
‘Ah yes, Town and Gown,’ said Carey. ‘Inevitable, I suppose. You should be careful, Phil, there are those who would construe that as envy.’
‘Oh, but I’m proud of Oxford,’ said Phil. ‘It’s just that sometimes I don’t know whose town it is. I was born here, I’ve lived here all my life, and yet sometimes I feel that it belongs to the students more than me.’
‘I’m afraid that’s inevitable too, Phil,’ said Charles, who was between him and Carey. ‘I spent the best three years of my life in Oxford, it’s part of me, I always feel as though I’m coming home.’
‘But it isn’t your — ’
‘Listen, Phil, every town has to have its raison d'etre, and Oxford’s is the University, with the rest of the town as its service area. It works both ways, you wouldn’t have a job here if it wasn’t for the University; in effect, you owe your livelihood to i
t.’
‘I know all that,’ said Phil impatiently. ‘It’s just that sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own town, as though I didn’t belong.’
‘You don’t,’ said John suddenly. ‘What d’you expect? It’s your own fault.’
‘That’s an interesting observation,’ said Charles smoothly. ‘His own fault. How do you work that out?’
‘It’s a question of attitude, isn’t it?’ replied John just as smoothly, and Sally shot him a warning look. ‘Think about it,’ he continued. ‘The natives, like Phil here, have had to play host for centuries to the world’s best brains, that’s what you said, isn’t it, Dr Carey? To the Elite. Had to put up with their behaviour. Have you ever seen them spraying the passers-by with champagne on Graduation day? Have you ever —?’
‘Just youthful high spirits,’ cut in Carey, ‘a release after years of study.’
‘If it were punks doing it, they’d be arrested for threatening behaviour.’
‘It’s not the same thing — students aren’t intimidating like punks. But pray don’t let me interrupt your — er — thesis.’
‘Thank you,’ said John politely, and anger shadowed Carey’s face for a moment. ‘Where was I? Oh yes…the natives, like poor Phil here, they’ve had to put up with you lot — ’ he nodded to Charles — ‘for generations.’ He turned back to Phil. ‘Your town’s taken away from you and your women impregnated. They use you as lackeys, and you’ve had to smile and pretend you like it. For centuries. Then with a “ta very much” they’re off to pastures new an’ the next lot come in. I’m not surprised you feel like you do.’
There was a chuckle from Ian, who was the other side of me, otherwise silence. Phil’s face set like stone.
Charles said, ‘Now, that does rather sound like envy to me.’
‘What do I have to be envious of?’
‘Not having been to a decent University.’
‘But I have — Strathclyde.’
‘Most people wouldn’t agree with you.’
‘Perhaps it’s irrelevant — surely the goods are more important than the wrappings they come in?’
‘Which is why Parc-Reed felt they could dispense with your services, I expect.’
‘Oh, do shut up, you two,’ said Carey tiredly. ‘It’s Christmas, remember?’
John was staring in astonishment at Charles. Then he said, ‘There’s only one thing wrong with Parc-Reed.’
Bad Medicine- A Life for a Life; Bed of Nails; Going Viral Page 25