I went back inside to fetch her an orange, make her feel a bit more at home. Michaela was lying back on the sofa with her feet and her white hat stuck on the magazine table. Bit of a liberty, if you ask me. It’s a magazine table, designed for magazines.
‘Comfy?’ I said.
‘Just getting my breath back. That was quite a show you put on.’ She laid her arms along the back settee. She was having fun and wanted me to know it.
‘Couldn’t be helped. They were nicking my fish, can you believe it, running away with it in broad daylight. Anyway, what now?’
‘What now?’ She nibbled her lip a little. ‘We let him sweat for a day, then tomorrow, you make the call.’ I looked at her trying to look so cool. What did she think I was, a complete idiot?
‘I make the call?’
‘He’d recognise me, Al. I was married to him, remember?’
‘Yes, but did you ever speak to him?’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s just that all seems a bit cack handed to me, Michaela, rather than the mastermind caper you originally outlined. I’m just wondering where all this was leading to, the cruise and everything.’
‘Ah. I’ve been thinking about that. Judging by your performance on the pedalo I’m beginning to wonder if you’re entirely suited to a cruise. Perhaps we should just go our separate ways.’
‘You mean now you’ve got me to do the dirty work. There’s still the money to get.’
Her leg slid out of her beach robe. She prodded me with her bare foot, like she did the first time.
‘But I don’t need you to help me with the money, Al. I could just pick it up under the water and swim away. Leave you holding the baby, or I should say, holding the fish.’ She laughed, wriggled her toes against me. She knew where this was going. This time yesterday I’d have gone there too. This time yesterday I hadn’t met my Emily. Still, she didn’t know that. I took hold of her foot. I could feel the pulse of it in her ankle.
‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you, make a fool of me?’
‘Of course I would. You’d like it too, or for me to try to. We’re like peas in a pod, you and me. Getting one over, that’s what it’s all about for people like us.’
‘How about we get one over this afternoon? Even though you find me repulsive.’
‘Al! I never said I find you repulsive. I said I find you disgusting. The two are quite different.’ She gave a body a little shiver. She thought it was so easy for her. I stepped closer, ran my hand up the calf of her leg.
‘Well then how about getting one over and coming clean at the same time. Tell me what she said.’
‘Right now?’
‘Why not? Strip it all away, open everything up.’ I reached down, pulled the cords of her beach robe loose.
‘Everything?’
‘Absolutely. You don’t want me there on a cruise do you?’
‘Not unless you were the waiter. Not unless I could order you up, have you standing there with a neat little napkin folded over you. That’s the wonderful thing about cruises. There’s no morality on board at all.’
‘Bit like here then, in this bungalow. There’s not much morality here either. I mean you just want to leave me high and dry.’
‘If only I could.’
‘Tell me what she said then. Then you can do whatever you want.’
‘Really.’
‘I can look after myself you know. You play your game, I’ll play mine.’
‘With a little warm up practice to start off with.’
‘Ah. You’re a tennis player.’
‘Just a player.’
She moved her foot across, finding what she was looking for. I eased her robe open. I was standing on a different cliff edge this time, no chance of falling off, no chance of a meltdown.
‘So?’
‘Can’t you guess?’
‘I’m passed guessing Michaela. Stiff little certainties, that’s what I’m looking for, full of blood, ready for action.’
I reached down, dug my fingers into the top of her one-piece. I was going to pull it down. She knew I was going to pull it down. She wanted me to pull it down. It was part of the deal. She breathed in, deep.
‘Someone asks you your name. You give it to them. What’s their natural response?’ She played with the edge of her robe, enjoying every minute. I couldn’t see it. Then my face broke.
‘Jesus Christ. You mean…’
‘Precisely. They tell you theirs.’ She was smiling, sure of herself, enjoying every minute. She’d known the woman’s name all along and hadn’t told me. ‘She didn’t tell me her full name because I hadn’t told her mine. It was what we call a reciprocal confidence. I said “My name is Michaela.” She held out her hand. She said. “Nice to meet you Michaela, my name’s…” She lurched forward, yanking my hand away. ‘Carol!’
‘Carol?’
‘Coming up the road. She’ll be at the door any minute.’ She snatched her shoes up, jumped to feet. ‘ I shouldn’t be seen with you.’
‘But…’
‘Later. Come by later. I’ll leave the back door unlocked.’
She skipped out through the conservatory. No need for that, I nearly called out, but didn’t. I was up in the hall, waiting for Carol to open the door, ready to keep her there so she couldn’t see Michaela hop over the back wall. My hands were clammy. She should have told me the name. I’d have come over that night just to hear her say it again, stretched her out, the name ready on her lips. Carol had a light floral dress on and sunglasses not unlike Michaela’s. As for the leg, there was no sign of it, if you see what I mean. They both looked exactly the same. No wonder I got confused.
‘Carol! I thought it must be you. Have a nice stay over?’
‘Couldn’t wait to leave. They live like pigs the Travers, did you know?’
‘I did actually. Doc Holiday has paid them any number of visits over the years. If he can he stays outside, gets them to shout the symptoms through the letter box.’
‘I’m not surprised. You know those polo mints, the ones with holes in. Well when he’s watching television Mickey Travers stuffs the hole with his nose pickings and then pops the whole thing in his mouth. No one says a word. I’m having a shower. I feel a thorough going over is needed. What’s that?’
She was pointing to the white hat on the table. That was the second piece of headgear Michaela had left behind. There was a pattern here.
‘I bought you a present while I was out, sweetheart. Hope it fits.’
She stuck it on, adjusted the fit round her head and took herself to the mirror in the hall.
‘Oh Dad,’ she called out, ‘it’s brilliant. Very Audrey Hepburn.’
She hopped back and planted a big kiss on my cheek, the first proper kiss she’d given me since she’d arrived. Things were looking up.
‘Let’s have a drink,’ she said. ‘Pour me some wine, while I take a quick shower. Sparkling if you’ve got any.’
I had as a matter of fact, that Asti Spumante stuff I’d got in special for a summer punch that Alice and me could top ourselves up with when bashing out the next batch of fish. I couldn’t find any proper glasses but what the hell. The bubbles still came up, hit you on the nose. I poured us both a glass. She took hers out, wandered down to the pond. I followed right behind. I didn’t want her snooping round there too much, but I could hardly keep her away. Besides I wanted to see how Mother Teresa was getting on. I’d almost forgotten she was there.
The pond was dead still, like it was empty, no sign of her at all. I was a bit worried to tell the truth. Carp usually like to explore their new surroundings, check out the neighbourhood, see what’s what, but she’d gone to ground. Unusual. Least she hadn’t died or anything. If she had she’d be floating belly up on the surface and I’d never be able to look myself in the face again, killing a creature like that for no good reason. But something wasn’t right. I made the call sign, pretending I was yawning, making a joke out of it to Carol, but not a ripple. Could it really be that she was u
nable to swim around on account of the nymph’s top half? It sounds far fetched I know, but I had responsibilities here.
‘Carol, sweetheart, I don’t suppose I could have a borrow of one of your bras?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I was thinking. The nymph here. You have to admit she’s unnecessarily provocative in the upstairs department. If I’m going to have people traipsing round to look at my sculptures, I was thinking maybe I should cover her up a bit, so as not to distract them from what’s on offer.’
‘She’s a nymph Dad. They don’t do bras. There was no call for them in Arcadia.’
‘I know that, but I don’t want to get any potential customers the wrong idea.’
‘They’d get a very funny idea if you started strapping my underwear on her. Imagine the Venus de Milo with a bra on.’
‘The what?’
‘Never mind. Honestly dad, sometimes I don’t know what to make of you. I thought you liked the nymph. You certainly used to look at her often enough.’
‘All right. No bra. What about a T-shirt then? You got one of those to spare haven’t you? Go on, do your old Dad a favour. Nothing too revealing mind. Nice and plain. Like what a nun might wear.’
She put her glass down, went back inside. I made the call sign again, properly this time, but still no joy. Carol came out a minute later, a white T-shirt draped over her arm.
‘This do?’
It was a good deal harder to get on than I thought, because unlike most birds when you help them in and out of their clothes, the nymph wouldn’t move her arms about. Still I managed it. It came down to a couple of two inches above her knee, not that I was too bothered about down below, as the nymph was protected in that area by the outsize shell she was holding, though she wouldn’t have picked up something like that from one of our beaches. Carol stood back, knocked back her fizz.
‘It looks ridiculous,’ she said. She took her hat off, stuck it on the nymph. ‘There that looks better.’ She shook her head. ‘Only you Dad.’
The way she said it, I could feel the tears coming up inside of me. She’d come all this way to put me behind bars and now she was smiling and laughing saying that. ‘Only you Dad.’ Cause that’s what I was. She’d remember this, the day her Dad put a T-shirt over the nymph, perhaps remember it as the start of something, something good, something that she could take back with her, tell her kids, what a silly thing their grandpa did. Maybe I’d go back there with her after all, take Miss Prosser with me, start a new life. God, if I hadn’t been in love, would I ever have thought this way? Who knows. But I was in love, and everything was different, possible. I laughed with her. It did look ridiculous. I was just about to take it off when Mother Teresa poked her head out from underneath the rock overhang at the far end and flashed across the length of the pond, flashed and turned in splash of colour, breaking the water with a dip and dive that Torvill would have been proud of. Bloody hell, it had worked. Carol gave a little squeal.
‘You got some fish in, Dad!’
‘I’m thinking of it– maybe. It’s all a bit up in the air Carol. The thing is…’ I poured her some more bubbly. This was it. I had to tell her, be honest with her, straight, get her on my side. Even ask her advice. ‘The thing is, I’ve met someone.’
‘Dad! You don’t mean.’ She put her hand to her mouth, looking over to old Kim’s place.
‘You must be joking. No, in prison.’
‘Not you too! Can’t I have one parent…’
‘Not that either. My art teacher there, Miss Prosser. Emily. It was she who put me onto the sculpting, A talent for spatial awareness, that’s what she said I had, and at the time I thought, what a load of bollocks, pardon my French, but now, I can see what she was driving at. She encouraged me to see things differently Carol, tunnelled her way into me without me realising. I knew I was fond of her but it was only a few hours ago I realised how much. I met her earlier today, quite by accident, and there she was right next to her, grinning up at me.
‘Who?’
‘Cupid. Cupid with his bow and arrows. Right in my heart he put them, one after the other. Robin Hood couldn’t have done a better job himself. I know it’s sudden, but there it is.’
‘Cupid my arse. How old is she?’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’
‘Everything. How old?’
‘I’m not sure, sweetheart. But it’s not like that. I mean we haven’t…’
‘Not yet maybe, but you plan to, don’t you? Jesus Dad, don’t you ever change.’
‘Carol, Carol. Listen to me. Why do you think I’m telling you this? I needn’t have done need I? I could have kept it to myself, met her on the q.t, had my evil way with her and nobody none the wiser. But I don’t want that Carol. Yes I have feelings for her, like any man in love would, but they’re proper feelings Carol, feelings I haven’t really had before, not even with your mother. I know, I know, but there it is. The thing is I thought I might invite her over, to meet us, to meet you. I’d like your approval Carol. Can’t you see that?’
‘Is that why you wanted the nymph covered up?’
‘Like you said, ridiculous isn’t it. It’s just I don’t want her to think bad of me. There’s enough bad of me in the past floating around without me adding to them now.’
‘Dad, she’s an art teacher. Your nymph isn’t going to worry her. In fact she’s probably posed like that herself in her time, art college and all that.’
‘Really?’ I didn’t like the sound of that, drawings of my Emily starkers for any Tom, Dick and dirty Harry to ogle at.
‘Dad, a lot of them do, to earn a little extra money. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure she’s…everything you think she is.’ She looked all soft again, knowing, indulgent, like she felt for me.
‘You’ll meet her? If I call her? Look. She wrote her name on my arm, in lipstick would you believe. Practically used the whole thing up so it wouldn’t wash off. I mean, this isn’t just a one-way street sweetheart.’
‘So you hope. She’s on holiday I take it.’ I nodded. ‘Well it may not be for life for her, Dad. You thought of that?’
‘Course I have. So what? Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try does it. Doesn’t mean that she might go for it too. We always had something going, her and me, in prison, but it’s not a good idea to show your feelings there. She likes me Carol, I know it. So what do you say? Shall I invite her over.’
‘It’s your bungalow Dad.’
My bungalow. My daughter. My Emily.
‘I’ll get some real champagne in, not this kills-ninety-nine-per cent-of-all-known-germs-mouth-wash crap. Invite Alice over too. Make a party of it.’
I dashed inside, picked up the phone. My hand was shaking, my leg jiggling as I leant up on the back of the sofa. I was that nervous I could feel my bladder filling up like a hot water bottle.
‘Hello?’ There it was, her voice, like I knew it would be, all light and sparkling dancing like sun on the waves. Suddenly I could see it all, what our future could be, her and me, me the rough wood, her the sandpaper, how she’d smooth me out, how we’d fit then, all entwined, like one of Henry Moore’s couples, never to part. We’d talk and laugh, learning from each other, loving each other too. I’d tell her all about my mum, how she meant the world to me, just like she was going to. I’d build her a little studio here next to the pond where she could paint and paint while I sculpted my fish out on the patio. I wasn’t having her teaching in the prison anymore, not after knowing what the lags did after she’d gone, often all over her sketches she left behind. I’d take her away from all that. We’d be a pair of artists, dedicated to our art, exploring what we saw, what we thought. Who knows maybe we’d become famous, maybe even invite Damien Hirst over for a cup of tea so he could see what a proper fish sculpture looked like. And I’d be good to her. Christ knows I’d be good.
‘It’s me. Al. Al Greenwood. The fugitive from the beach.’
‘I know who you are Al.’
�
�I’m ringing like I promised.’
‘I never thought you wouldn’t.’
‘I was wondering if you might like to come round tomorrow, see where I live. My daughter’s just come back from Australia…’
‘Oh. I don’t want to butt in.’
‘You wouldn’t be. We’d like you to come. She won’t be here all the time anyway. She’s seeing friends too. We’d have plenty of time…for the two of us.’
‘Right. Then yes, I’d love to come.’
‘Brilliant. I’ll come round for you, pick you up. Around six?’
‘No need for that.’ She said it quickly. ‘I’ll drive over. What’s the address?’
I gave it to her. That made sense. She could get away if it didn’t work out.
‘Around six, then,’ I repeated. ‘I’ll get some lobsters in. We’ll barbecue them. I make a wicked sauce.’
‘I bet you do. I bet you’re quite wicked all round.’ There was a silence. I could feel her wishing she hadn’t said it.
‘I didn’t mean…’ She broke off.
‘Doesn’t matter if you did. I was in prison after all.’
‘But you’re not now. You’re free, like me. Free at last.’
‘You’re the second person who’s said that. Or rather she played the record.’
‘She?’
‘My neighbour, Alice Blackstock. She’s over eighty, if you’re wondering.’ She started to laugh. ‘That’s better. Now back to the sun-bathing with you. Don’t get too burnt though, and don’t…’
Fish Tale (Cliffhanger Book 2) Page 21
