by Jane Adams
‘I didn’t like him, see, but my dad, he left him some little things. Nothing valuable, but things that ought to go to a man’s brother. That’s where he wanted them to go.’ He paused again, reached out abruptly and began playing once more with the cruet set.
‘I only stayed on ’cause of my dad. I’d’ve left there long ago, but he never wanted to be no place else. Then when he died and I asked the Elders about giving his stuff to his brother, well, they were all fire set agin me finding them. Said as how he’d disgraced the house and I should leave well alone.’ He stopped again and frowned, as though struggling with a painful memory still very close to the surface.
John glanced over at Embury. Elders? What was the boy on about?
Embury shook his head slightly. Sam should tell his tale in his own way and in his own time. Tynan looked back at the young man and waited. Soon he began again.
‘Then I left, see. When I’d met ’manda.’ he lifted his head and flashed a swift, bright smile at Tynan. The effect was almost revelatory in the way it brightened Sam’s plain features.
‘’manda’s my girl, I met her last September and when I left the House her dad gave me work on his place till I got meself sorted out here.’
‘They’re getting married next April,’ Embury put in, the pride in his voice almost paternal. ‘And Jack Arnott will be getting himself not just a son but one of the best stockmen anyone could wish for.’
Sam made a dismissive gesture. ‘But the thing is, Mr Tynan, ’manda’s a good girl and a good Christian, but she’s not the same as us and I knew she wouldn’t come and live at the house. Well, it just wouldn’t be right for her. So I talked it over with the Elders and we agreed. It was time I went. And with my dad gone, there was nothing to hold me there, so off I went. And I got to thinking, then, since I’d left and the Elders weren’t around to tell me things any more, that I’d better start to shift thinking for meself. So I think it through and I talk to ’manda’s family and they think like I do. Eric Pearson was my dad’s brother, after all, even if I didn’t like the man. Even if he did give us all a bad name with what he done. So I decided. I’d ask the Rev’rend here how to go about looking for him and he said he’d talk to you.’
He looked up, hopefully, then got to his feet, clearly relieved to have got everything out into the open like this.
‘Well, I’d best be going now. I’m late back to work. But it’s been nice meeting you, Mr Tynan, and if you can tell the Rev’rend what you think I’d be more than grateful.’
He was gone, pacing rapidly across the room and out of the door, before John could say another word.
Embury was staring at him closely.
Eric Pearson, John thought to himself. Wasn’t that the man . . .? Could it be the same one?
He saw Embury get up, go to the sink and fill the kettle once again.
‘Now, tell,’ Embury demanded, sitting back down at the table. ‘What did my friend Sam say to you that brought such a gleam to your eye? I see a story there, John Tynan, and if I don’t get it all I’ll have to make one up myself and that will never do. Oh, dear me no, that wouldn’t do at all.’
* * *
Tuesday night, late
Jaques imagined that the extra weight in the boot of the car slowed it somehow. He had driven out of the city and into the winding, darkened lanes beyond. It seemed that at each bend the load shifted, writhed, as though living. Something that fought to be free.
But, when finally he stopped, opened the boot and looked inside, there was nothing but an anonymous package, wrapped tight in black plastic.
It moved in his arms when he picked it up. Lay heavily across his shoulders as he staggered through the gate and across the field.
There were better places for this, Jaques knew that. But time was not with him. He was due at work on early call. He could hardly go through the entire shift with this thing in the boot. Awkwardly Jaques made his way to the far side of a clump of trees. Then he dumped his burden on the ground and left it where it lay.
Chapter Ten
Wednesday 11 a.m.
They had a late and leisurely breakfast, an unexpected bonus on a weekday morning, when Rezah would usually have left early for work. He would have to go soon, probably not be back until late, most of his work on the stores programme having to be done when the warehouse was not in full use.
There had been so many long days lately. So little time to sit down and really talk.
Rezah had Farouzi on his lap, feeding her tit-bits from his plate. She’d already devoured her own breakfast and investigated Ellie’s, but Daddy’s could always be counted on to be the most interesting.
Rezah smiled across at Ellie.
‘You look a bit better this morning. Less tired.’
Ellie nodded. ‘I feel it,’ she said. ‘It’s been nice to wake up naturally, for once, and not have to dash about.’
Rezah smiled at her. He had a rather austere face, high cheekboned, thin-lipped, aloof. In looks, Ellie was the complete opposite, soft blond hair and a pretty, round face that showed every emotion with unnerving transparency.
‘I was thinking,’ Rezah continued. ‘Maybe you should go to stay with mum and dad for a few days, until this trouble blows over.’
Ellie picked up the teapot and refilled her cup. Rezah drank coffee in the mornings. Black and strong and very sweet. Far too strong, she thought. She sipped her tea and then, slowly, shook her head.
‘I’ll be all right. It just shook me up a little bit and I’ve still got so many things I want to do before the baby arrives.’
He switched Fara to his other knee and reached out to touch Ellie’s hair. ‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘You know they’d be more than glad to have you.’
‘I know that.’ She smiled at him. ‘I just want to hang on here for a bit longer, just in case . . .’
‘In case she calls?’ Rezah’s voice grew a little harsher. ‘Ellie, Ellie, when are you going to realize that she just doesn’t care? Your mother didn’t even visit when Farouzi was born. When I phoned her to tell her the good news she hung up on me.’ He paused, reached out again to gently caress his wife’s neck and shoulder. She lowered her head, stroking her cheek against his hand. He could feel the wetness on it as the tears began to fall.
‘Oh, Ellie. Don’t let her hurt you any more. It isn’t worth it.’
Farouzi wriggled off his lap and went to find her box of toy cars. Rezah got up and stood by his wife, stroking her hair and murmuring vague sympathies. He hated to see her hurting this much, but there was nothing he could do. Maternal disapproval was not a problem which was in his power to solve.
He watched his daughter sending her cars crashing one by one into the kitchen cupboard. Chattering to herself in her own odd mixture of English, baby talk and Arabic. He hugged Ellie closer to him.
‘If she calls,’ he said, ‘then I’ll drive you over there. I’ll even stay outside in the car if she doesn’t want me there and she can see you, see Farouzi, see the new baby. But, Ellie, you have to understand, I won’t have her here. This is my house. Our home. It’s not a place she will be welcome in.’
For a moment he thought she was going to argue with him, then he felt her nod slowly.
‘I know, I can understand that. And I know I’m probably better off without her. But it’s not right, Rezah, it isn’t right.’
‘I know, I know.’ He sat down again, watching as Ellie groped for a tissue in the pocket of her dungarees. He was afraid the tears would start again and that he would have to leave for work, knowing that she was still upset. He searched around for something to distract her.
‘What Dora said last night, about the Pearsons taking pictures?’
Ellie glanced up at him, her eyes red rimmed, but he could tell that she too was glad of the change of subject.
‘I don’t know why he does it,’ she said, ‘but he does. Takes them of everyone. He’s a really weird man, Rezah. Gives me the creeps.’
‘You should h
ave told me this before,’ he said. ‘I don’t like it, Ellie.’ He paused for a moment, thinking. ‘Have you had other trouble from him?’
‘No. I’ve really not seen much of him. You can’t avoid hearing him, though. He’s always shouting at the kids, especially if they go on his front. I’ve talked to Mrs Pearson a couple of times, though.’
‘Oh?’
‘Hmm. She’s hard to get away from. The sort that backs you into a corner and preaches.’
‘Preaches?’
‘Oh, I don’t mean literally. It’s just her way of talking, I suppose. Just stands there and criticizes everybody.’ She smiled. ‘I mean, everybody. The neighbours, the police, the town planners, the council. If she has a little black book, Rezah, then I think half the population’s in it.’
Rezah frowned. The hours he worked meant that he was away a good deal and had little to do, directly, with his neighbours. What he had heard about Pearson, though, and the tail end of the strange and violent situation he had witnessed last night, worried him.
‘I should talk to him,’ he said.
‘Talk to him? But why? What happened last night . . .’
‘What happened last night frightened you and Farouzi. I can’t go to work this morning knowing that I’ve done nothing to protect you.’ Ellie looked at him, uncomprehending. ‘Talking to the Pearsons isn’t going to change anything around here. They won’t listen, Rezah. They don’t listen to anybody. And it wasn’t just the Pearsons last night. It was everybody.’
‘I can’t just let this go, Ellie, you must see that.’
Ellie wasn’t sure that she saw anything. The Pearsons were, clearly, not people you could reason with and, after last night, they were going to be even more defensive.
She sighed. She could see that Rezah had made up his mind and wasn’t going to be dissuaded.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Talk to him, if it’ll make you feel better. But, Rezah, I don’t even know what last night was all about.’
He shook his head rapidly and got to his feet. ‘I don’t care about that, I just worry about you both when I’m not here. You know that, don’t you?’
Ellie watched him go, a worried frown creasing her brow. She felt, instinctively, that any interference on Rezah’s part would only lead to more trouble. Farouzi had come back to the table, knelt on her father’s chair and begun to run her cars in and out of the remnants of the morning’s breakfast.
Sighing again and feeling the tiredness once more settling around her, Ellie began to stack the breakfast pots and carry them over to the sink.
The cul-de-sac seemed unusually quiet. Children had gone to school, workers to work. Rezah was aware, though, of the curious scrutiny of several pairs of eyes as he made his way round the corner and on to the Pearsons’ front. Now that he was committed, Rezah was far from certain what it was he wanted to say to the man and, looking at the state of the house, some of the anger he had been feeling dissipated.
Whatever the man had done, did it really warrant this?
Every window in the house had been broken and was now boarded up. Men had come during the night, their banging and hammering sounding for hours. The police had stayed on until the work was finished.
Looking, now, at the blank, unseeing windows, Rezah felt more than a pang of sympathy for those inside. Was in half a mind to turn away and leave his errand incomplete.
It must be so dark inside the house now. Not even a crack where the strong, summer sunlight could filter through. The Pearsons’ children must feel like semi prisoners inside their own home.
Resolutely, conscious of the twitching nets and watching eyes, Rezah stepped forward and knocked on the door.
‘Yes? What do you want?’
The voice came from above him, accompanied by the crash and creak of an unwillingly opened window.
‘Mr Pearson?’ Rezah questioned.
‘Yes. What do you want?’
‘I am Rezah Masouk.’
‘I know who you are. What is it that you want?’
Rezah frowned. The man’s attitude was eroding a little of his sympathy.
He tried again. ‘I just wanted to talk to you, Mr Pearson. My wife was very upset by what’s been happening.’
Above him he could hear Eric Pearson laughing. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. Rezah stepped back so that he could see the man’s face at the crack in the window.
‘Your wife was upset. Your wife! What about my wife? My children? What about them?’
‘I had nothing to do with that, Mr Pearson. I am concerned—’
‘So you say. You’re in it with the rest of them.’
‘Mr Pearson, I can assure you—’
‘In it with the rest of them. You come here, saying you want to talk. That your wife was upset—’
‘Mr Pearson, I came here with the best of—’
‘I don’t give a damn why you came here, Masouk. We don’t need your so-called concern and we don’t need you coming around here nosing into something that doesn’t concern you.’
Rezah had lost all sympathy now. The man was downright unreasonable. ‘Not concern me! You’ve taken photographs of my wife, made her feel afraid every—’
‘Pictures of your wife, is it? Well, let me tell you, Masouk. I’ve got pictures of the whole damned lot of them. You worry about your family, Masouk. I’ll defend mine any way I choose. Now get the hell off my front.’
Rezah was incensed. ‘I am on a public footpath in a public street—’
‘On my front. Get off or I’ll call the police, tell them you’ve been harassing us again.’
‘Harassing you! Again! You need not telephone the police, Mr Pearson. I will call them.’
Angrily, Rezah turned and strode back towards his house. The eyes were watching him again. Rezah was left with the uneasy feeling that Ellie had been right. He should have left things well alone.
Chapter Eleven
Wednesday midday
The switchboard put Tynan on hold and kept him there for quite some time, forcibly assaulting him with sweet muzak. He was on the verge of hanging up when he heard the phone begin to ring again and Maria’s voice, very welcome and far more melodic, on the other end.
‘Ah! I was just about to give up on you, damned tin tacky watch tunes. Hope this isn’t a bad time.’
He heard her laughter. ‘No, you’ve struck lucky, caught me between a patient and a meeting I don’t want to go to.’
‘Good. Well, I won’t keep you.’ He paused for a moment, not certain of how to phrase his next question. He settled for, ‘Any chance of meeting me for lunch tomorrow?’
‘Lunch? No, I’m sorry, John, booked solid all day. I doubt if I’m going to get any lunch.’
‘Oh,’ he said, disappointed but not surprised. ‘Friday, then?’
‘Friday . . . well, I could, but it would be a rush job. Evening would be better, be glad of an excuse to abscond. I could meet you over at your place if you like.’ She paused. He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, ‘Now come on, John. What’s all this about?’
‘Maybe I just like your company.’
‘Maybe you do, but you’re ringing in your John Tynan the policeman voice, so come on. What gives?’
Tynan laughed at her. ‘All right, all right, I’ll tell you. Do you know anything about a religious group called the Children of Solomon? They’re based out this way, apparently, have been for years though I’ve got to admit today’s the first I’ve ever heard of them.’
‘Something on your old patch you don’t know about? Well, that’s a shock. Children of Solomon.’ She paused again. John could see her in his mind’s eye, leaning back in that clumsy old leather chair she kept in her office, eyes half closed, seeing what she could dredge up from the deep recesses of her memory.
‘It rings a bell, John, but I can’t quite place it. You got anything more than just the name to go on?’
Tynan frowned. ‘Well, to be honest, my dear, not a lot. I believe it was founded by on
e Norman Luther. Couldn’t tell you if that’s his real name and it seems he died quite a time ago anyway. They own a farm out towards Otley, some kind of commune, it sounds like.’
‘And what’s your interest?’ Maria asked him.
‘A young man I met today who used to live there.’
‘Well, that’s all right, then. Had me worried for a moment, John, I’d begun to wonder if you’d caught religion.’
‘At my age! I hope I’ve got more sense.’
‘So, this young man . . .’
‘He’s got a problem. No, not one that needs your professional services, my dear. More of a personal thing.’
‘Oh?’
‘He’s looking for his uncle. Seems the uncle left this religious group about five years ago. Some scandal, I guess, more from what he didn’t tell me than what he did. But anyway, Sam Pearson’s trying to find his Uncle Eric.’
He waited for a response, got none, so he carried on. ‘Well, there’s an Eric Pearson tied up in this Fletcher thing Mike’s got himself lumbered with and I thought . . .’
‘And you thought,’ she was laughing now, a deep, throaty sound, warm and indulgent, ‘you thought, John Tynan, that Eric Pearson wasn’t such a common name and there’s an outside chance it might be the same one Mike’s looking at.’
‘Well.’ He laughed with her. ‘You’ve got to admit, my dear, it is possible.’
‘John Tynan, you’re an old busybody who doesn’t know when to retire — ’ She broke off abruptly. Tynan could hear that someone had opened a door and spoken to her. ‘Sorry, John, I’m going to have to go. I’ll see what I can turn up for Friday night.’
‘OK, my dear. And thank you.’
‘Welcome, John. Try and get hold of Mike, will you? I don’t think I’ll have the chance from this end.’
Tynan smiled and nodded, forgetting that she couldn’t see him. ‘Certainly will, my dear. Look forward to seeing you.’
