‘In so many words. The fact –’
‘The last thing she said to me on the subject was that she wouldn’t come back to me if I was the last man on Earth.’
‘But what had you said to her just before that, I wonder?’
It was a perceptive question and I tried to answer it honestly. ‘I’d asked her what she wanted. She told me that she’d left Charles and then added: Don’t look so alarmed, husband dear, I wouldn’t come back to you etcetera etcetera.’
‘That was her pride talking, you know that. I was trying to say that the… the event of Grace makes a difference – no, hear me out –’
I was shaking my head again, but then he said,
‘Please…’ he said again, and I could see the effort this cost him and listened.
‘…before that, I think your marriage was finished. But now, it has a… a focal point to re-group around… daughters need their fathers…’ He looked at me – ‘I know that …’
That cost him as well – he hadn’t been a good father, and this was the closest he’d ever get to admitting it. He went on –
‘You both made mistakes. Her behaviour was disgraceful, but the fact is you had been neglecting her. Even I could see that. And the devil does find alternative occupations for the neglected.’
I felt obliged to defend myself. ‘I only neglected her inasmuch as I wanted to do justice to my new job. You can’t do that and party all night.’
‘I think she just wanted a bit of a social life.’
‘And I think we’ll have to agree to differ on that.’
He said tightly, ‘If you say so.’
I didn’t reply.
He said, trying to be emollient, ‘You did both make mistakes and I think that if you could find it in yourselves to acknowledge that and say you were sorry, you could start again.’
‘That I should apologise, you mean?’
‘That you should apologise to each other.’
‘Who goes first?’
It was his turn to close his eyes for a moment, then – ‘If you could somehow find it in yourself to do that, Hereward, I think it would bring results. By which I mean genuine contrition on her part. She is aware of how badly she’s behaved.’
I’ve wondered since what would have happened if, at that point, I’d genuinely tried to engage with him. But Sarah wasn’t the only one with pride and instead I said,
‘And in spite of her behaviour, you think that I should apologise to her?’
‘As a gambit,’ he said, still trying.
‘No,’ I said. ‘If she sincerely apologises to me, then I shall accept it, and concede that I shouldn’t have neglected her. And that may be a basis for an understanding. That’s the best I can do.’
‘It’s not enough,’ he said, ‘and you know it.’ I could tell from his tone that he’d given up. And I was glad. He went on, ‘You knew what she was like when you married her, and you should have taken it into account.’
‘I thought I did.’
‘Not enough, evidently. When you marry into a family, you have to accept some of their ways.’
‘Did you?’
He hadn’t, and he knew I knew it.
‘It’s not the same thing, as you perfectly well know.’
‘Why not? What exactly is the difference between you and me that I have to accept some of another family’s ways, while you don’t?’
That did it – he went white, the usual signal that he was about to ignite, which he duly did –
‘One of the differences is that you would never have got that job if it wasn’t for me. And the quid pro quo was that you look after my daughter. This, you signally failed to do – as you are now signally failing to look after your own…’
‘Not true. I’ve said I’ll play my part, now that I know she is my own.’
‘Just go, will you? Go on, get out of my sight. Now.’
I carefully put my glass down on the occasional table and went. He said to my back,
‘This won’t be forgotten.’
I drove away, too full of adrenaline to think properly, but by the time I got back to my house, I was shaking. I brewed some strong coffee, but it only made it worse.
Was it my fault? Well, some of it, obviously, but how much? How guilty should I feel?
I suppose it was a case of three proud, bigoted and resentful people who simply couldn’t mix. Any two of them might, so long as they made an effort, but add in the third and you got chaos.
Would it have made any difference if I’d insisted that Sarah and I had lived somewhere a long way from her parents? I don’t know. It might.
*
Monday morning was busy. First, there was a call from Brigg, asking me how I felt about the lab in Bristol Cabot.
‘Is it serious enough for us to have a proper look at?’ he said.
‘Yes – although that depends to an extent what you mean by a proper look.’
‘I’m thinking of sending a Health and Safety Inspector in there, accompanied by you.’
‘Can you really do that?’
‘Certainly…’ He sounded surprised I should even ask. ‘We’ll say that your man had reported the lax security to you, and you’d reported it to the Health and Safety Committee, who’d decided to look for themselves. We’ve got a tame inspector.’
‘When were you thinking of?’
‘Tomorrow.’
I thought for a moment. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘You realise that if we found nothing, it wouldn’t necessarily put them in the clear?’
‘Yes, I am aware of that. Can you meet her at Temple Meads – say at ten?’
I agreed and he said he’d fix it up now. ‘If you don’t hear from me in, say, an hour, assume it’s on.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Donna Williams.’
He didn’t ring me back, but two hours later, Fenella did, to inform me that His Nibs had just phoned her, saying he’d been apprised of my domestic problems and was pressing for my replacement as Team Leader by Dr Wade-Stokes. She thought that Roland must have been on to him earlier.
‘I can’t imagine how he found out,’ she said.
‘I can,’ I said heavily, ‘I think my father-in-law’s probably the prime suspect.’ I told her what had happened. ‘He would have either told Roland, or maybe gone direct to His Nibs.’
‘Would he know him?’
‘Probably, he knows an awful lot of people.’ I sighed. ‘I thought he might make trouble, but I wasn’t expecting this.’ Another pause, then I asked her, ‘Is it inevitable?’
‘No. After what you told me about Commander Brigg, I decided to contact him. He’s pleading your case as we speak.’
After she rang off, I reflected on the irony that although I hadn’t wanted the job, now that someone was trying to take it away from me, I was clinging to it like a child with a toy. And there was another irony: that the existence of a child could spark off such political manoeuvrings…
In the event, Brigg prevailed. He phoned me himself to let me know.
*
The trip to Bristol the next day bore no fruit. The Head of Microbiology at Cabot, Professor Lee, was livid with me for not sorting it out with him informally and didn’t bother to hide his feelings. Donna Williams, an attractive woman of around thirty, made a very thorough inspection, which allowed me to poke my nose into every corner I wanted. I found nothing, but that still left the chance that someone may have hidden what they were doing very cleverly.
Donna found plenty. Security and Safety were both lax, and Prof Lee was likely to be in receipt of some fairly robust scrotal discipline.
The look he gave me as we left made me hope fervently that the positions would never be reversed. Another day, another enemy…
Chapter 12
There were around 25 BTA members in the hall, not counting the committee, Rebecca thought. They were a pretty eclectic lot, more women than men, but the ratio of weird to non-weird was around 50/50 for both sexes.
There were a couple of women with serious buzz-cuts and others with some fairly uncomfortable looking piercings. There were two men with shaven heads, one with an eagle tattooed atop, and another man who was a dead-ringer for John McCurrick, with long grey hair, even longer bushy sideburns and glasses attached to chain round his neck. Looking at him, Rebecca instinctively realised he must be Ron-the-pain. Next to him was a conventionally dressed gent with a square body, square face and dark hair.
Marc checked his watch, then banged on the table for silence. Once he’d got it, he presented the minutes of the last meeting and asked if there were any objections. There weren’t, so they moved through Matters Arising and then Marc introduced Rebecca as their new treasurer. He looked at her and she realised that a few words were required…
‘I’m very pleased to be joining you,’ she said, ‘and I look forward to meeting you all.’ Pause. ‘Especially those who haven’t paid their subs yet.’
This got her a laugh, but she wondered afterwards whether it went with the dormouse image she’d cultivated. Oh well, the dormouse that roared...
Then came the announcement from Craig that he’d persuaded Richard Firlow, the local MP, to chair their forthcoming public discussion on Starvation – The New Slavery?
Ron-the-pain cheered and clapped, but no one else joined in, although most people seemed pleased. Craig spoke briefly about what a great opportunity it was for BTA to raise its profile and asked for as many as possible to attend.
‘On reflection, I thought it best not to invite him along tonight,’ he finished. ‘It would have been a shame to put him off too soon.’
There were a few laughs, but a woman at the back put up her hand.
‘With that particular title,’ she said, ‘aren’t we at risk of trespassing on the Anti-Slavery League’s ground?’
She was tidily dressed, had long dark hair and a rather attractive face, and Rebecca wondered why she’d felt it necessary to wear two large rings in her upper lip that hung down over her mouth like fangs.
Craig passed the question to Marc, who said, ‘Thank you, Shirley –’
Shirley…!
‘– but you’ve anticipated the next item on the agenda…’
It was rather a neat way of moving things on, Rebecca thought, as Marc told them how he’d already cleared it with ASL.
‘We’ve invited them to take part, of course, and told them how we’ll support their demonstration in Bristol next month.’ He gave them the details, together with the hope that some of them would go, then moved onto the Treasurer’s report. Rebecca read out the balances and how they were made up, then moved a vote of thanks to Alan for leaving them in so healthy a state.
As soon as this was carried, she said, ‘May I raise another point at this stage, Mr Chairman?’
‘Chairperson,’ called out Shirley.
‘Sorry, Mr Chairperson.’
Marc signalled for her to go ahead. She told the meeting how she’d noticed how much the charity shop had contributed to their funds and had made a point of visiting it herself.
‘I’m a sucker for charity shops, anyway,’ she added, looking round… part of her was wondering whether it was such a good idea to bring this up so soon after the police visit, but she felt overall she had to move things along. ‘I do wonder whether we couldn’t make more of it, considering how much it contributes, despite the out-of-centre position and the – er – rather down market quality of the goods.’
Sophie asked what she had in mind.
‘Well, move nearer the centre and try to attract better quality goods?’
Alan and Hannah were both frowning, but Craig looked interested.
‘It’d be worth exploring,’ he said. ‘More funds’d certainly help us generally – not to mention the gratitude of head office for their cut.’
There were one or two chuckles from the membership at this, which allowed Rebecca to study them without it seeming too obvious.
The young couple at the front were looking rather worried; the man whispered something to the woman and Rebecca wondered if they were Will and Emma, the tenants of the flat above the shop, in which case, they might well be worried – her eyes moved on…
Ron-the-pain was studying her, as was the conventional looking gent next to him. Shirley and her man were whispering and a respectable looking woman in the second row who wouldn’t have been out of place at a Conservative Party meeting was nodding in agreement…
Then Hannah said, ‘While I must applaud our new Treasurer for her initiative, I do wonder whether it would be wise at this point. Isn’t it possible that the shop makes money because it caters for its particular clientele?’
You had to hand it to Hannah, Rebecca thought, she had no equals when it came to putting the boot in – both physically and metaphorically…
Alan was nodding thoughtfully, and Sophie said,
‘Why don’t we ask Rebecca and someone else to make a study on it and report back to the membership?’
‘Good idea,’ said Marc. He looked round… ‘Anyone interested?’
Ron-the-pain’s hand went up. ‘I will,’ he said.
‘Then perhaps the two of you could get together after the meeting.’
Rebecca made herself smile and nod. Well, I asked for that, she thought – but then again, it might be useful…
Marc made the Chair’s report, Sophie drew their attention to one or two other events, and then they came to Any Other Business. Rebecca caught the note of resignation in Marc’s voice, and sure enough, Shirley put her hand up.
But so had the Tory look alike. Shirley jumped up, but Marc said,
‘Anne, you were first, I think…’
Shirley sank sullenly back into her seat as Tory Anne rose from hers.
‘There was a rather disturbing report in The Times yesterday – I am right in thinking we send both food and money to the Horn of Africa, aren’t I?’
‘You are.’
‘Well, they sent in one of their reporters undercover and he says that the food is only going to towns and villages that have a record of supporting the president. It is being actively withheld from those even suspected of not supporting him. This worries me very much – I don’t give my money and time to prop up President M’yonga’s regime. I want to help all the people there.’ She sat down again to a buzz of comment.
Ron put his hand up. ‘May I reply to this, Chair? As you know, the Horn of Africa’s my speciality.’
Marc waved for him to go ahead. Ron stood up.
‘I read this report as well. It’s one report, by one reporter, in one newspaper… But let’s suppose for a moment that it’s true.’ He paused theatrically. ‘It still means that the food we’ve sent there is feeding hungry people. Of course it should go to everyone, but to be fair, what leader of any country, including ours, wants to succour those who are trying to overthrow him? It may offend our sensibilities,’ he went on, ‘but the fact remains that the people there know what they have to do in order to get the food.’ He sat down again to several cheers as Tory Anne shot up.
‘I have never in my life heard such weasel words used to justify one of the most vicious dictators in Africa –’
‘I’m going to bring this debate to a close,’ Marc cut in. ‘I’m sure some people here sympathise with your position Anne, but we, as a charity, are in no position to do any dictating ourselves. We simply cannot apply conditions to the aid we give, no matter how desirable this may seem.’
Someone cried out, ‘Why not?’ but Marc said,
‘Shirley, you wanted to say something?’
Shirley stood up and waited until she had everyone’s attention.
‘Quite a lot’s been made of our co-operation with The Anti-Slavery League, which of course I applaud. However, our committee have had nothing to say about Open Door, who are holding their own demonstration next month. I happen to know they’ve asked for our support, so why hasn’t this been put to the meeting?’
There were several of cri
es of ‘Hear, Hear’, but also a few groans.
Marc said, ‘It has been discussed at committee level, but we made a collective decision not to refer to it this evening because of its divisive nature.’
There were cries of ‘Shame’, a couple of people spoke in favour of supporting it, and a couple more against. Then Ron’s conventional companion put up his hand –
‘May I say a few words on this, chair?’
Marc nodded. ‘Go ahead, Malcolm.’
‘Anyone who didn’t know how divisive this issue is can be under no illusions now… So let me remind you all of what our organisation stands for. Bristol To Africa. We are about trying to feed and help as many people as we can in Africa. We are not about bringing a lucky few over here. Let Open Door pursue that aim, while we pursue ours.’
There were quite a few emphatic nods at this, but Shirley came in quickly,
‘How dare you refer to them as lucky? I move that as a branch, we give Open Door our wholehearted support, and I furthermore move that we vote on this now.’
Her companion seconded it, there were several cries of agreement and Rebecca thought that whoever had put Shirley up to this had chosen well.
Marc, meanwhile, had been looking carefully round the hall…
Then he said, ‘In the interest of transparency, I’ll allow the vote. All those in favour of Shirley’s motion…’ he repeated it, word for word.
Eight hands shot up, followed by a ninth, and then a tenth.
‘Those against?’
Six hands were raised, then seven… eight… nine… There was a pause and Shirley was about to speak when a tenth rose, followed by an eleventh.
‘Abstentions?’ Marc called, his voice quite steady. Then – ‘The motion falls. Those of you who wish to support Open Door’s demonstration are of course free to do so, but we will not be giving formal support.’
Shirley got up and walked out, followed by her companion.
Then Marc declared the meeting closed and people began drifting away. Ron, Malcolm and a couple of others started folding chairs and stacking them.
Alan was saying to Marc, ‘What I’d like to know is who put her up to it. Was it you, Hannah?’
‘No, it was not. The question demeans you, Alan. I abide by committee decisions, whatever my own feelings.’
Bad Medicine- A Life for a Life; Bed of Nails; Going Viral Page 44