Crime in the Community

by Cecilia Peartree

  Chapter 9 Monopoly money

  The rest of the evening was in its own way just as unbelievable as the day leading to it had been. Amaryllis joined in Monopoly with gusto, taking huge risks and plunging recklessly into property development, going bankrupt twice and apparently enjoying herself hugely. Faisal, who almost never spoke to strangers, came right out of his shell and had a long conversation with her about an obscure computer game which Christopher had banned him from having in the house on the grounds of extreme violence but which Caroline had nevertheless insisted on buying him for Christmas, and on which Amaryllis claimed to be an expert. She certainly knew a lot about weapons and their effects. More than a well-brought-up girl should know, said Christopher's inner old lady firmly.

  As an uncle he felt he was just starting to make up for lost time. For just a few moments he looked at the world through rose-coloured spectacles and imagined the three of them as a proper family. He had to come down to earth when the phone rang.

  'Mr Wilson?' said the anonymous voice on the other end. 'Mr Christopher Wilson?'

  'Yes, speaking.'

  'It's Kirkcaldy Memorial Hospital here. About your sister, Mrs Caroline Hussein.'

  'Yes?'

  'I'm afraid we're having to keep her in overnight. She's quite distraught.'

  So what else is new? thought Christopher. 'Oh, dear,' he responded automatically.

  'Yes, it has been very distressing for her daughter. Marina shouldn't really have had to witness this. We need somebody to take her home.'

  'I'm sorry,’ said Christopher, feeling useless again as he spoke. ‘I'm looking after Caroline’s son Faisal. I can't leave him on his own.'

  'We need you to come in and collect Marina. She can't stay here.'

  'Well, there isn't anybody else to - '

  'You'll have to collect her before the end of evening visiting. There's nowhere for her to stay here.'

  'But - '

  'We're considering a psychiatric referral for Mrs Hussein. Your sister obviously needs help.'

  The voice was reproachful. Christopher wanted to say, yes, I told the GP there were serious problems ages ago, and he didn't do anything then, so why is the NHS suddenly springing into action now, but he didn't. Instead he replied weakly, 'Thanks for letting me know. I'll be there as soon as I can but I don't have any transport....'

  'I'll take you in the car,' said Amaryllis, suddenly appearing at his side. 'Faisal can come too - he might enjoy the ride.'

  'Thanks,' he said, wondering if she would still be this keen to help once she had encountered the sullen Marina. He said to the hospital spokesperson, ‘We’ll be there in half an hour or so,’ and rang off while the voice was still complaining about visiting times, people who were inconsiderate enough to live twenty miles from the nearest hospital and doubtless about other injustices he didn’t have time to listen to.

  So the three of them drove through the starry night over to Kirkcaldy to pick up Marina. Amaryllis was rather a scary person to be driven by - she seemed to think she was being followed everywhere, and would dive down side streets randomly as if in a chase scene from the movies. From the relative safety of the back seat, Faisal just laughed with excitement, while Christopher surreptitiously clung on to the passenger door pocket and hoped he wouldn't humiliate himself by being sick with fear.

  Waiting on her own on a bench outside the main entrance, Marina didn't want to come with them; she did a very good impression of a child who was being molested by sinister strangers. Fortunately for Christopher, who had had enough drama for one day, all the passing health professionals studiously ignored her. He guessed that they had had enough of her and probably wouldn't have been too bothered if the Wyrd Sisters from Macbeth had arrived to take her away, as long as somebody did.

  Once in Amaryllis's car, permitted to sit in the front seat as a special treat, as well as a treat for Christopher, who no longer flinched as they went round corners but was still in danger of embarrassing himself and everybody else by throwing up, Marina miraculously turned into a young girl again, apparently impressed by the sleek lines of the car’s exterior, the dashboard resembling that of a jumbo jet, or just by Amaryllis's turn of speed.

  Christopher felt his world had been turned on its head - almost literally as they cornered at sixty on the coast road between Kinghorn and Burntisland - by the day's events. Who would have thought Amaryllis would be so supportive in an emergency? From being some sort of ice woman she had turned into a model childminder, a perfect aunt.

  He had been able to look in on Caroline briefly as she lay there, sedated, in one of these hospital gowns that drained all the colour from people's faces as well as robbing their bodies of all shape. There was a drip, and her hand was bandaged. Now that she was quiet and calm, he had a brief resurgence of brotherly affection.

  'It's nice to see her so peaceful,' he commented to the nurse who came along to see if he wanted to ask anything.

  'Yes, isn't it?' said the nurse grimly. 'It only took enough sedation to knock out an elephant, too.'

  'Oh, dear,' he said.

  She put a hand on his arm.

  'This is for the best, Mr Wilson. I expect you've been through the mill with her.'

  'Sort of,' he admitted. 'Will they keep her in?'

  'She could get transferred tomorrow,' said the nurse. 'To ERI or Ninewells maybe. We'll let you know.'

  'Thank you.'

  Christopher wasn't sure how much to tell the children - how much they might have worked out for themselves - but as they went in the front door at home Marina said, 'They're sending her to another hospital, aren't they? A special one.'

  'I hope they keep her there,' said Faisal.

  'No!' said Marina. 'I hope they make her better and send her home.'

  'I think that's what they're hoping too,' said Christopher. He was willing Amaryllis to stay and not to feel she should leave them alone to get on with it. Fortunately she didn’t seem to be the kind of person who used sensitivity as an excuse for inaction, and she organised and played two more games of Monopoly before Marina and Faisal went to bed. After that she left, pleading tiredness - so why did he picture her prowling about in the night like a sleek pale cat, playing games with the darkness?

  He didn't sleep much that night. The events of the day replayed themselves on a repeating loop, sometimes in slow motion, sometimes on fast forward, mostly in black and white and occasionally in colour. Even when he played chess with Faisal he had a limited amount of control over the pieces, but in real life he was a pawn in a bigger game played on a larger board by someone as yet unseen, for he didn't think either Simon Fairfax or Amaryllis was actually controlling him, although it had seemed like that at times over the past few days.

  During Sunday morning, as he read the paper with very little attention to any of the stories, a nurse phoned him from Kirkcaldy and asked him to come into the hospital. It would be a hellish journey on a Sunday, but the request was peremptory, more of an order really. He didn't know what to do about Marina and Faisal. He knew if he took them with him, they would be completely impossible en route, whether the small party travelled by train or bus – they would complain about the journey, they would want to go to the toilet when there was no toilet, they would want to gorge themselves on luminous sweets until they were physically ill, and want Diet Coke when there was only Pepsi, and Pepsi Max when there was only Coca Cola. Anyway, he didn't know what sort of situation was waiting at the hospital. It was possible - though it didn't seem very likely, in view of what had been said about psychiatric assessment - that they were about to discharge Caroline. It was equally possible that she had become very much worse and not fit for the children to see. He couldn't leave them at home on their own. There were no friends he could call on. Mr Browning was completely out of the question as a babysitter. He couldn't ask Amaryllis to step in again – in spite of the events of the previous day, he hardly knew her, after all. She could still be a serial killer, even though he and the child
ren got on well with her.

  The door-bell rang.

  It was Jock McLean. Christopher could have hugged him if he hadn't known Jock's extremely politically incorrect views on men hugging each other. Jock would be the ideal person to leave with the kids.

  'I'm going over to my son's at Milngavie this morning,' Jock said, unwittingly squashing Christopher's urge to hug. 'Just wanted to let you know I won't be at the PLIF meeting tonight.'

  'PLIF meeting?'

  'Aye, it's the regular monthly meeting at the Queen of Scots, not one of your extraordinary meetings in the Elgin Arms - comes round quickly, doesn't it? Time passes...'

  Jock gave a great sigh.

  'I've got to go over to Kirkcaldy,' said Christopher. 'Caroline's still in hospital.'

  'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that... Some journey, too, with the kids. Dear, oh dear.'

  Jock shook his head sorrowfully and refrained from offering help. He made a quick getaway after that.

  The phone rang.

  'I can't make it to the PLIF meeting tonight,' said Young Dave abruptly, as was his style. 'Got to go and see the wife's mother. She's worrying about something or other to do with her pension - typical! Don't know why she can't save the worrying for the last Friday of the month when the wife goes round there to do the recycling.'

  'Well, if you're worried, you're worried,' said Christopher nonsensically.

  Another one down. He wondered if Big Dave and Mrs Stevenson would be next, more rats deserting the sinking ship. He might have to cancel the meeting anyway, since he had no idea how long this thing at the hospital would take. Probably better to cancel now, in fact. He had lifted the receiver to call Big Dave when the door-bell rang again. For goodness' sake, it was like Waverley Station in here.

  'Everything all right?' said Big Dave, looming reassuringly on the doorstep. 'I heard there was a bit of trouble.'

  'Yes,' said Christopher. 'It's Caroline - she's in hospital. I've got to get over there today and speak to the doctor.'

  ‘Kirkcaldy?' said Big Dave.

  'Yes. But they might be transferring her later on. I was just wondering what to do about the kids.'

  He looked past Big Dave - quite a tricky feat in itself - and saw a very large white van outside the house.

  'I'll take you all over there now in the van if you want,' said Big Dave. He brushed aside any attempt to thank him, apparently embarrassed to have caused gratitude to be felt. Once they were at the hospital, he kept Marina and Faisal in the van with him while Christopher went in for the confrontation with the doctor. There were sweets in the van, and as Christopher got out, Big Dave was starting a game of I-spy with Faisal. Marina had of course plugged herself into her iPod on leaving the house and, if past experience was anything to go by, wouldn’t disconnect until the battery ran down.

  Christopher half-expected them to discharge Caroline without warning and leave him to provide transport and nursing care on the spur of the moment - in fact, he was pleasantly surprised that they hadn't yet dumped her on his doorstep with a label tied round her neck - but on this occasion they seemed to have taken things seriously, and he returned to Big Dave's van with the news that she would probably be transferred to a psychiatric bed as soon as possible, and that she might be in hospital for some time. 'Then there's the liver situation,' one of the doctors had commented cryptically. 'There's no knowing how that's going to play out.'

  'It's all for the best,' said Big Dave. 'Do you give up yet?'

  Apparently the question was directed to Faisal, although Christopher felt it might well have been aimed at him.

  'I'm going to have to cancel the PLIF meeting tonight,' he said to Big Dave on the drive home. 'Jock's gone to Milngavie and Young Dave rang up with a sob-story about his mother-in-law’s pension.'

  Big Dave sighed. 'And there was me and Mrs Stevenson looking forward to it,' he said. Christopher couldn't tell whether he was joking or not.

  'And weren't we going to do anything about the Midsummer Party?' he added.

  'Oh, yes, I think we were,' said Christopher. 'But it won't be any use if we don't have a quorum.'

  'What about the lassie?'

  'Amaryllis? She isn't strictly speaking on the steering group.'

  'This is no time to be abiding strictly by the rules,' said Big Dave darkly. 'Jock McLean and Young Dave won't be missed. The rest of us can work out a strategy without them... Mrs Stevenson's quite a strategic thinker, you know. Hidden depths, that woman.'

  Christopher's mind boggled.

  'All right,' he said reluctantly. 'But it'll have to be at the house, not in the Queen of Scots. I can't leave Marina and Faisal on their own.'

  He ruthlessly squashed the guilt he now felt at having left them with Caroline so often when, as he now realised, her drinking had caused her to become unstable and violent. He couldn't do anything about that now except to try and be a better parent than she had ever been. The vague idea that someone, such as a social worker, might now come along who wouldn't give him the chance to be a parent or even an uncle, crossed his mind, leaving him more shaken than he had been at any time during this crisis.

  'I'll bring a carry-out,' said Big Dave happily. 'And Mrs Stevenson. You can let Amaryllis know. Eight o'clock all right with you?'

  When Big Dave dropped them off at the house, Christopher looked at his watch and realised it was around lunch-time - he had imagined it to be much later. He felt so tired that he would happily have gone back to bed, instead of having to play several more games of Monopoly with Faisal, who seemed reluctant to return to his usual splendid isolation and the comfort of killing aliens on his Playstation.

  By tea-time, Christopher was seriously starting to flag when a voice said from the sitting-room doorway,

  'Fish 'n' chips anybody?'

  It was of course Amaryllis, bearing the gift of three fish suppers with onion rings on the side. Faisal greeted her like an old friend and Marina graciously agreed to come downstairs and eat for once.

  'Monopoly money,' said Amaryllis, dreamily running the contents of the bank through her fingers as they ate all round the room, contravening previously enforced house rules. She herself insisted she had already eaten, and certainly to judge from her figure fish and chips would never have been on the menu in any home of hers. 'That's what we need.'

  'Monopoly money?' said Christopher through a particularly big chip. Oh, God, I'm doing it again, he thought. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to keep doing that. Repeating what you say, I mean. I’ve been trying not to… What do we need it for? Oh, the village hall, I suppose.'

  'Yes, among other things,' said Amaryllis. He wondered idly if she was planning to rob a bank or if she just really liked playing games. Both, possibly.

  'How did you get into the house?' said Faisal suddenly, folding up his fish and chip paper and then rolling into a ball.

  'I've got a way,' said Amaryllis.

  'Does that mean burglars could get in that way too?'

  'Only if they had special training,' replied Amaryllis.

  Christopher started to feel very uneasy. He had been trying not to think about this ever since his conversation with Simon Fairfax the day before. But now that Faisal had mentioned the word 'burglars' he wasn't sure he could help mulling it over. Which side of the law was Amaryllis on? And was she always been on the same side or did her loyalties change with the wind? He didn't want to think badly of her after the help she had given him but she did have certain skills that would have been very useful to someone who was up to no good.

  'Are you staying for the meeting?' he asked politely to take his mind off the other things.

  'Meeting?'

  'There's a PLIF steering group meeting tonight. I've asked them to come here for it. Young Dave and Jock McLean won't be here though.'

  'Another meeting already? It only seems like - well, a day or two - since the last one.'

  'The last one was an extraordinary meeting. We've gone over to regular weekly meetings now because of the emergency.
'

  'Have you ever thought that you might be taking this meetings thing a bit too far?' Amaryllis enquired, still clutching several five hundred pound notes from the Monopoly bank. 'They must be taking up all your spare time.'

  'You can't have too many meetings,' Christopher muttered. 'It's democracy in action.'

  'That isn't what you said when you came home the other night,' Faisal pointed out. 'I heard you on the landing swearing about meetings. You said meetings were - '

  'Thanks, Faisal, I don't think everybody in the world needs to know what I said. I was over-tired and – ‘'

  'And over-emotional,' said Marina. Christopher felt his jaw drop. He couldn't remember the last time Marina had even attempted to bandy words with him and Faisal in the way that, until he actually had a family living with him, he had fondly imagined ideal families would do. She almost sounded as if she had been listening and taking in what was going on, and not as if she inhabited a faraway place that nobody else could reach. For almost the first time since Christopher had met her, she seemed like the kind of person it would be worthwhile taking an interest in, encouraging and -

  Christopher once again deliberately stopped his thoughts in their tracks. He didn't want to get too interested in what happened to those two children, in case they were effectively kidnapped by the authorities in the wake of their mother's departure. If he didn't care too much, he wouldn't feel so desperate on the day the social workers came in and took them – that was the theory, anyway.

  He had to go out of the room for a while then, pretending to gather up the fish and chip papers and put them in the bin, but actually standing in the kitchen and trying to stop himself breaking down.

  Big Dave and Mrs Stevenson arrived soon after that, restoring normality by looking and behaving very much as they always did, and soon the sitting-room had turned into a rough approximation of a PLIF meeting venue. Christopher, almost always a stickler for procedure, felt somehow reluctant to pursue the usual agenda at this small and strange meeting, and they sat in easy chairs, drinking, staring out between the curtains at the dark garden, and talking inconsequentially.

  The door-bell rang again. Christopher jumped, realising in that moment that the picture of the social workers dragging Marina and Faisal screaming down the garden path had been lurking just under the surface in his mind. He glanced quickly round like a cornered animal looking for a hiding place.

  'You all right, son?' said Big Dave, who was probably not old enough to be Christopher's father but who often took a quasi paternal interest in him nevertheless.

  'Yes, fine,' said Christopher, taking a deep breath. Amaryllis was also observing him closely.

  He went to the front door.

  A strange man stood on the doorstep with a package that looked very much like fish and chips. Christopher peered at it.

  'Fish and chips?' he said, feeling stupid.

  'I think you dropped this outside in the street,' said the man, perhaps an American, handing the package to Christopher.

  Christopher sniffed at it cautiously. It smelled of salt and vinegar.

  'Fish and chips?' he said again.

  'I don't think so,' said the American.

  'I don't want it,' said Christopher, trying to hand it back. He had a lingering sense of danger, as if perhaps the package contained an explosive device, or a quantity of drugs which would later be used to frame him, or.....

  The American refused to take it back. He pushed it at Christopher. 'Open it,' he said.

  'No,' said Christopher clearly. 'I don't want this and I want you off my doorstep. Now.'

  Putting forty odd years of upbringing and restraint behind him, he closed the door in the man's face.

  The door-bell rang again a few times, but he refused to open the door, standing instead in the hall with his arms folded and a smug little smile on his face. Then there was a different sound, and the package appeared, rather squashed, on its way through the letter-box. Christopher tried to push it back out again, but it resisted - the flap was only designed to work one way, evidently, although he had never thought of that before - and eventually it fell in an untidy heap on the door-mat. He gathered up the messy package with a sigh and carried it through to the kitchen, where he planned to throw it straight in the kitchen bin. He didn't really care at this point if it did contain a bomb or millions of pounds worth of cocaine, he just wanted to get it out of the way. As he put it down on the kitchen table, the wrapping fell apart.

  There was a large amount of money in hundred pound notes.

  Amaryllis chose that moment to make an entrance through the door from the sitting-room.

  'Monopoly money!' she said with glee.

  The kitchen was suddenly full of people: the lure of money had drawn in Big Dave and Mrs Stevenson, and had brought Marina and Faisal down from upstairs. They all stood around the table marvelling like shepherds clustered around the baby Jesus.