by Jim Bennett
‘Just you now, is it? What happened to this friend of yours?' He said it in such a grandiose manner, as if he had caught her out in some great scheme. Julie wondered whether this little dictator was related to DI Morris.
‘Well obviously it’s just me sitting here now. That other woman will be back along shortly'.
‘That other woman?’
‘Yes, I told you. The one who the bags belong to'.
‘What’s her name?'
‘I don’t know, she didn’t say'.
The security guard laughed as if this was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever come across. ‘Now I’ve heard everything', he said, lifting his hands above his head. ‘You mean to tell me some random stranger came up to you, scattered a loaf of bread over the floor and asked you to look after all her worldly possessions stuffed into carrier bags?'
‘Pretty much, yeah'.
‘Well I very much look forward to meeting this friend of yours. In the meantime, I’m afraid I’m going to have to issue you with a community disturbance notice'. He reached into his pocket and took out a long rectangular notepad like the type that traffic wardens carry.
Julie looked at him with disbelief. ‘I’m hardly disturbing anyone, am I? It’s just a bit of bread. I’m sure the birds will get at it in a minute'.
‘The rats, don’t you mean? We’ll have hundreds of them streaming in with all this lot on the ground. And what about the foxes? Badgers even'.
Julie got the distinct impression that this security guard didn’t have much to do. ‘Badgers?'
‘People think that they’re just feeding the pretty birdies. They forgot what happens after they’ve gone home and the bread stays where it is. What happens then, ey?’
Throughout this bizarre exchange, Julie had attempted to keep an eye on the entrance of Jerryman Bloors, but understandably her attention had wavered. It was only by chance then that she had once again remembered her overall purpose here and looked up at the exact moment that Charles Bond was walking out of the building. Or at least she thought it was him, it was hard to tell from this distance.
‘Could you excuse me for a moment?' Julie said to the security guard. He looked at her incredulously, as if he was some great agent of the state rather than someone who might not even have the authority to tell her to pick up some stray bread.
‘We’re not finished!' He shouted after her. Julie was already away. Unless she was quick, Charles Bond would be out of the courtyard and into the throng of the capital before she had been able to speak to him, and she definitely wasn’t going to repeat this orderal again. It was now or never.
‘Excuse me', she said as she approached him. To begin with, he wouldn’t make eye contact with Julie at all. He increased his speed and continued to look at his shoes, like someone who was attempting to evade an especially persistent beggar. ‘Sorry’, Julie said, falling into step next to him, ‘can I talk to you for a minute?'
The security guard had pursued her as she had walked towards Mr Bond. ‘I wasn’t done talking to you love’, he said, ‘we need to sort out this mess’.
‘In a minute', Julie said, momentarily turning back to him before returning her attention to her mark. ‘I need to speak to you’, she repeated, ‘I need your help’.
‘No I can’t help, sorry', he said, not looking at her. ‘I’m sure you can sort it out between you'.
‘If you don’t move these bags, I’m going to have to call the police’, the security guard said from behind Julie. She ignored him and continued to follow the banker.
‘Mr Bond’, she said, speeding up to step in front of him, blocking his path. ‘I need to talk to you about a crime'. There was half a second when she thought that he wasn’t going to stop and just crash into her. Luckily he paused just before their bodies collided and looked up at her the first time.
‘Journalist, are you? Anything like that should be addressed to the press office', he said, but didn’t move to go. Julie saw that he looked exhausted. He looked like the type who would have a pint for his lunch. His hair was greasy and there were great, dark rings under his eyes. Julie wouldn’t have been surprised if he had been sleeping at the office.
‘It’s not to do with your company. It’s to do with you'.
A glint of panic appeared in his eyes. ‘Oh yeah?' He said, attempting to mask his unease with what Julie expected was his accustomed bravado. ‘What would that be then?' The security guard observed the two of them from a few feet away.
‘I was there at Nixons. You know, the bar near Kings Cross?' He looked at her blankly so she continued. ‘You got into a fight with a young man called Jack Harper'.
‘Doesn’t ring any bells, but if I hit him, I’m sure he had it coming’. He looked relieved that Julie’s accusation had been so mild and went to walk past her. Julie once again blocked his path and waited for him to return her gaze before delivering the next blow.
‘You might not have heard, but Mr Harper was found dead a few days later. The police suspect foul play'. Julie studied his reaction. The only way she could think to describe it was absolutely bloody dumbstruck. His eyes bulged out of their sockets and several more beads of sweat formed on his forehead than had already been present when they first began their conversation.
‘Can I ask where you were in the early hours of Monday 26th July please?'
‘Jesus, I don’t know’. He put one hand on his brow. It was like this was another in a long list of hassles that Mr Bond didn’t want to deal with. ‘So what, I have to come to the station with you?’
‘Well no’, Julie said, feeling as if she was treading a very dangerous line. ‘Not if you can tell me where you were and give me a good enough reason to believe you'. He ran his hands through his greasy hair.
‘What day did you say, the 26th? I think I was here'. He thought quietly to himself for a moment before a light came on behind his eyes. ‘No wait, I definitely was. It was the day before those bastards from Japan flew in to break my balls. Had to pull an all-nighter with the troops, try and get ourselves prepared'.
‘And what time did you leave?'
‘I didn’t. The girls in the pool keep the sheets on a few beds in the back clean in case we need to hang about. Much easier than trekking all the way home only to be back again in a few hours'. He sounded more sure of himself now despite a definite look of apprehension still present on his face.
Julie’s heart sank. If this greasy old toad had been here for most of the weekend, it didn’t bode well for her theory that he might have had something to do with Jack’s death. She was sure that he had been up to no good, but he didn’t look like he had the slightest clue who she was, let alone Jack. For someone as unpleasant as him, perhaps being clocked in face was such a common occurrence that you didn’t feel the need to take note of it.
‘Can anyone verify this?' In a reasonable approximation of Mrs McGrath, Julie reached into her pocket and extracted a small notebook.
‘Arkwright was here. Jonathan Arkwright that is. Oh, and Sampson. Can’t remember his first name, the new chap on the Asian desk. The receptionist will be able to point you in his direction'.
‘Very good’, Julie said, making a note of the names despite knowing that she would never have any use for them. ‘That’s all for now Mr Bond, I know where to find you if I have any more questions. If you’re leaving the area, please first notify your local police station'.
Charles Bond nodded obligingly before racing out of Julie’s sight. She continued to look down at her notepad until he was far enough away that she wouldn’t risk bumping into him on her way back to the tube station. As she went to leave, a voice called out behind her ‘sorry love’. She had forgotten the security guard lurking just out of sight. ‘I don’t care if you’re a copper, you still need to clear that mess up'.
Chapter Twenty-One
The journey home had done nothing to improve Julie’s mood, even with the two cans of gin and tonic that she had bought from the convenience store in the station. The train had bee
n so crammed that she had not only been forced to stand the entire way, but worse still, she had only just managed to fit into the carriage before the doors closed. No handrail was available for her use, and she had to wedge herself between the wall and one of her fellow passengers to stay upright.
She had continued to refuse the pushy security guards calls for her to clean up the rubbish until he had once again threatened to call the police. Knowing her luck, it would have been DI Morris or one of his underlings who arrived to resolve the situation, and she would have found herself in a very precarious situation. It was only when she was picking up handfuls of dirty bread off the ground under the watchful eye of the courtyard comandante that the rightful owner of the bags had returned to claim her belongings. The guard didn’t apologise. He just refocused his attention on the old bag lady and seemed to instantly forget that Julie had ever existed.
When Julie arrived at Brumpton, the crush of people making their way home from a day of working in the city quickly took all of the available taxis. Initially, she had waited in the queue for the returning minicabs, but ultimately her impatience and her general feeling of dejection won out. She couldn’t bear to be around anyone else for however brief a time. From start to finish, this episode had been a disaster. Arguably her solo investigations formed the most painful chapter, having been borne out of her own imagination. She decided that she would be better off on the move. It didn’t matter that it would take her longer than if she just waited for another car. At least this way, she wouldn’t be forced into an awkward conversation with the driver.
Standing at the bus stop, she opened her second can of gin and tonic and necked it warm in several desperate mouthfuls. She then turned and began the long walk home. The whole way there, she couldn’t get the voice out her head reminding her what a silly woman she was. It wasn’t that long ago that she had chastised Mrs McGrath for her delusions of any discernible skill in the art of the detection only to then go and run off on a fool's errand herself. What had she been playing at? Who was she to think that she could do anything useful? She was done. Done with all of it. If Brian was innocent, then the police would work it out in the end. If her recent experience had taught her anything, it might take them a while to get there, but she was sure they’d reach the right conclusion.
Walking across town, it seemed as if at every possible opportunity, some idiotic pedestrian was in her way. On a warm summer evening like the one they were currently experiencing, no one was in any sort of a rush. She frequently found herself stepping into the road to navigate herself around them, huffing as she went. She made a quick detour into Mr Baker’s shop, grabbing a few bottles, some ready meals and a loaf of bread with the view to not coming outside again until the supplies were depleted. Luckily, the little gang of hoodlums weren’t standing guard at the shop’s front door, as Julie was fairly sure her patience couldn’t stand seeing them again.
By the time she reached her road, Julie was ready to close herself from the world and never open it again. Absentmindedly, she noticed that the police cordon around Brian’s house had been removed. She made her way into the house and once the door was closed, she immediately began to engage the locks. Safely barricaded in her house, Julie went to talk towards the kitchen only to be confronted by the hedge clippers propped up against the wall. They sat there, taunting her. She needed them out of the house. They were a reminder of her own stupidity throughout this whole sorry ordeal. While they were still sitting there, she couldn’t start to put it out of her mind. Mrs Sinclair had said they weren’t hers, and she didn’t own any garden equipment of her own. Therefore they must belong to Brian.
A moment later, the door was once again unlocked and Julie was walking across the street, hedge clippers in hand. She walked up Brian’s drive and knocked on the front door. When there was no answer, she tried again. After a third and final attempt, she considered leaving the clippers propped up against the door. Would it bother her if someone stole them? Julie tried to convince herself that it wouldn’t, especially in light of her new devil may care attitude, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it.
Unlike Julie’s, the houses on this side of the road were terraced. Because there was the need for communal access across the back gardens, the inhabitants seldom locked their back gates. Julie decided that if she left the clippers at the rear of the property and then someone pilfered them, she could live with it. At least then she had taken reasonable care to stop them from being taken.
Without thinking, she walked down the alleyway at the end of the block of houses. Initially she was perturbed to find the back gate locked. However, reaching her hand over the top, Julie was able to pull the bolt back and gain access to the path that led across the neighbour’s garden through to the rear of Brian’s house. It was only when Julie began to walk across the grass that she remembered this was Mrs Sinclair's garden. That in itself was less of a surprise than the general state of the space. The grass was unkempt and weeds had sprouted up from between most of the paving stones. Only the hedges looked as if a passable effort had been made to keep them tidy.
‘Can I help you?' Julie turned to find Mrs Sinclair standing at the top of the steps leading up to her back door.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I wanted to return these hedge clippers that you brought around to Brian'.
‘Right’.
Julie began to walk across the garden to the gate leading next door before she stopped herself. ‘It doesn’t look like Jack did a very good job for you', she said, turning to face the woman who had been watching her progress. She was holding a tea towel and was drying her hands.
‘I’m sorry?'
‘Jack said that you had been paying him to keep your garden tidy, but it doesn’t look like he did much'.
‘You know what most young people are like'.
Julie nodded and said ‘that’s true. Only I know that he wasn’t working on Brian’s garden much, so I wonder what he was spending so much time doing on this side of the street'. She looked into Mrs Sinclair’s eyes, but she gave nothing away.
‘Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?' Mrs Sinclair said, finally breaking the silence. She forced a small smile. ‘Criminal really that we’ve been neighbours for so many years and I’ve never invited you in'.
‘That’s very kind of you, but I really should be getting back’. Forgetting her mission, Julie turned back the way that she had come intending to return to the street.
‘No no, I insist’, Mrs Sinclair said, taking a step forward to block her progress. ‘I’d like to. To apologise for being so rude to you. Twice'.
Feeling as if she had no other choice, Julie made her way up the steps into the house, with Mrs Sinclair following closely behind her. Once they were inside, Mrs Sinclair closed and locked the door behind them.
‘It was nice with it open’, Julie said, feeling a bit nervous. ‘You know, let a bit of air in'.
‘I’ll keep it shut if you don’t mind. Don’t like the insects buzzing around when I’m trying to make dinner'. Julie saw that there was an assortment of chopped vegetables on a chopping board on the counter.
‘But you had it open before?’
‘I don’t have anything posh I’m afraid', Mrs Sinclair said, ignoring the question entirely, ‘it’s either instant coffee or English breakfast tea'.
‘A coffee would be lovely, thank you'. Julie hadn’t been told to sit down, so she stood in the corner of the room with her hands crossed over her front.
Whilst the kettle boiled, Mrs Sinclair returned to chopping vegetables. Not sure of anything else to do, Julie kept her eyes on her host's preparations for dinner.
‘Your hands are very red', Julie said in an idle attempt to make conversation. She had noticed it before, when she had bumped into Mrs Sinclair at the summer fete. ‘It’s funny, I have these flowers in my front hall. Weeds really. That’s why they lasted so long. I took them from work, you see. Mr Peg, that’s my boss, he’s always chucking perfectly good
stuff out, so I take it home with me. Only I didn’t realise that the pollen in these flowers stains like nothing else you’ve seen before. It’s still under my nails and my fingers are still pink with it. There’s a great red patch on the front seat in the car'.
Mrs Sinclair stopped chopping, but kept the knife in her hand. With the other, she placed her hand flat on the surface of the counter.
Julie had her hands tucked into her armpits, giving her some small comfort. ‘But you know that already, don’t you? Because you’ve been in my house'. Mrs Sinclair spun around and stared daggers at Julie. The absolute malice in her eyes only lasted a second before her entire posture slumped and she stood in front of Julie looking absolutely dejected.
‘You were having an affair, weren’t you?'
‘And what if we were?' Mrs Sinclair spat. ‘Does it even count as an affair if you’re married to a vegetable?'
‘Was it an accident?' Julie asked, trying to keep her voice kind. ‘He was experimenting, and it all went wrong maybe. So you ran, scared of what the police might say'.
Mrs Sinclair said nothing.
‘Or maybe not’.
‘It was flattering, you know'. Mrs Sinclair started. ‘It made me feel young again. Such a disgusting cliche, but it’s true. Back before I married Paul, I had an endless line of them trying to take me out. All that falls away though, doesn’t it? When you find the right one. Then of course there was the accident, and I was trapped. No partner to speak of but no way of starting up with someone else’.
‘Who wants to be involved with someone when their permanently disabled husband comes as part of the package? I’m not saying I ever seriously considered leaving, but you know, it was nice to fantasise every once in a while'. Her features softened as she talked, although Julie was very aware that she had still kept hold of the knife.
‘I probably would have said yes to anyone, truth be told. I mean, of course he was handsome. It wasn’t about that though. It had been so long since someone had taken notice of me as anything but a carer that his attention was just, well overwhelming'. Julie thought about that first night with Jack when they had got drunk together and he’d first turned on the charms. The thought that only a few small circumstances separated her with the woman standing before her who had started to cry gently made her feel overwhelmed, like she was perched on the edge and the smallest pressure would tip her over.
