Dark Undertakings

by Rebecca Tope

  ‘Well now you won’t need to. This is going to be much better.’

  Lorraine began to smile. She visualised Jim’s two mistresses standing either side of the coffin, wishing him a tearful farewell. In the midst of her trouble with Frank, this felt like something she could do for herself, something that might make things better. A statement she could make, regardless of the consequences. ‘Yes!’ she gasped. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Come on then. You can drive.’ Roxanne pushed her feet into a pair of frayed leather sandals and reached for a packet of cigarettes.

  They walked briskly across the field, saying nothing. But once in the car, conversation began to flow. ‘You’re divorced, aren’t you?’ Lorraine began, as soon as she’d turned the car round in the narrow lane. ‘What happened?’

  Roxanne blew smoke out of the open car window, and put her head back against the head-rest. ‘He had too much money,’ she said.

  Lorraine turned to stare at her. ‘You’re joking,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you?’

  Roxanne shook her head lazily. ‘Nope. Every time I needed anything – wanted a new pair of jeans, or to go away for a few days, or get my car fixed – he insisted on paying. I had a job, which I put a lot of effort into. I earned about a tenth of what he did, despite putting about six times the effort in. But it was impossible for me to feel I was getting anywhere. He just undermined everything I did. Do you understand?’

  Lorraine frowned. ‘Not really. I mean – why did it matter which one paid for things?’

  ‘Apparently it did.’ Roxanne watched the town getting closer: the square church tower, the land sloping down to the river, the housing estate a bright red and grey scab on what she remembered as a grassy hillside. Even now she could feel the poisonous creeping sense of futility which had washed over her every time Lennie had smilingly waved his credit card and removed all purpose from her daily grind at the garden centre.

  Lorraine made another attempt. ‘Well, I suppose it would be annoying. Like being a child. Never having proper responsibility. Is that what you mean?’

  ‘Exactly that,’ agreed Roxanne, exhaling another generous cloud of smoke. ‘And by the time I hit forty-five, I figured I ought to be allowed to grow up a bit.’

  ‘Didn’t you love him, though?’ Lorraine sensed the naivety of the question, but it seemed important to know.

  ‘Oh, love,’ Roxanne dismissed. ‘That’s something else entirely. Love doesn’t last – not the way you mean. I was in love for six months when I was twenty. I’m lucky to have had that much. It was like being picked up and squeezed by a giant hand until I thought I would burst. After that, you don’t use the word if you can help it.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Lorraine said, wonderingly. ‘But I know what you mean about money – sort of. Frank takes care of everything important. Except Cindy, of course. But he pays the bills and organises the holidays, and gets the car fixed. He’s a fantastically good manager. I’ve always told myself I was lucky. I never really thought of it in any other way.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m going to remember this day, aren’t I. Everything happens at once.’

  ‘Would it make any difference if Jim was still alive?’ Roxanne asked the question easily. ‘I mean – would he help you decide what to do next?’

  Lorraine was silent, slowing the car unconsciously, to give herself time to think. ‘He wouldn’t have offered to leave his wife for me, I know that much,’ she finally replied. ‘And probably he’d have been scared stiff at what Frank might do to rock the boat. Actually, I suppose it would all have stopped anyway, once he knew I was pregnant.’

  ‘So in a way it isn’t such a disaster that he’s dead, after all.’

  Lorraine gave a strangled yelp, half shocked, half amused. ‘You do say some awful things,’ she choked.

  ‘True, though. Look, it’s the same for all of us, when you think about it. Even Monica. You knew she had a chap on the side, didn’t you? We’re all in it together, one way or another.’

  ‘A chap?’ repeated Lorraine faintly. ‘No, I never knew that.’

  ‘Oh yes. Jim didn’t know though and I only found out last week. Everything was for the best, as it turns out. Nobody really has any cause for complaint. Except maybe your Frank. But real life never does work out as neatly as people like Frank – or Jim – wish it would.’

  ‘You sound as if you didn’t really like him. Wasn’t he—’ She interrupted herself as they reached a T-junction. ‘It’s left here, isn’t it? I’ve never been to his house before.’

  ‘Left, then second left again. Jim thought he could love everybody and be loved in return. He didn’t see the point of confining himself to one exclusive relationship. It suited me, most of the time. But I’ve been thinking since he died. I think he went too far, and now there’s just a trail of trouble and misery behind him. And bugger all to show for it.’

  ‘So why are we going to see him now?’ Again the car slowed, as Lorraine’s courage began to fail.

  ‘To tie up the loose ends. To be sure he’s really dead. Curiosity. Sentiment. Because it’s a chance to make a bit of mischief. Take your pick.’ Lorraine’s sigh brought her out of her bitter analysis. ‘Christ, sorry, love. But you did ask.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ muttered Lorraine. ‘What number is it? I think we’re there.’

  ‘Twenty-four. We’re here all right. Now, have a good blow, and keep your chin up. As you say, you’re going to remember this day for quite some time to come.’

  It was impossible to discern from Monica’s expression whether she knew the nature of Jim’s relationship with either Roxanne or Lorraine. Jodie had let them in, and taken them into the living room without a word. ‘I hope you don’t mind—’ Lorraine began, but Roxanne interrupted her.

  ‘Good of you to let Jim’s old friends come along,’ she said, with a jarring heartiness. ‘I see we’re not the only ones.’ She looked hard at Jodie, and then Jack. ‘Hi,’ she greeted him. ‘Haven’t seen you for a while.’

  ‘You know each other?’ queried Monica, scanning all the faces with a bemused expression. ‘Are you all from the King’s Head crowd?’

  ‘More or less,’ agreed Roxanne. ‘Everyone knew Jim, and most of us know each other, at least by sight. I’m Roxanne and this is Lorraine.’

  Monica nodded. ‘I know you by sight. You’re the one in the caravan, aren’t you? But I’m afraid—’ she faltered, eyeing Lorraine doubtfully.

  Jodie came to the rescue. ‘This is Mrs Dunlop,’ she said, with no further explanation.

  ‘Well, Jim’s here, as you can see. If you’d like to have a quiet minute with him, I’ll go into the kitchen. I was going to make more tea, anyway.’ Monica’s energy was being focused on maintaining her dignity; Jodie put an arm around her shoulders. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said.

  In the kitchen, Philip and David were sitting at the table, shoulders hunched, expressions fixed. ‘You look as if you’re in hiding,’ Jodie joked. ‘Probably wise. Stay out of the way, and let the women get on with it. There’ll be more yet, you see. Women seem to like dead people more than men do. Or maybe they’re just more accepting of death.’

  ‘Sarah and Dottie aren’t here yet,’ said Monica. ‘And what about Ajash?’

  ‘He’s not coming,’ said Jodie. ‘I meant to tell you. He said it would upset him too much. He didn’t want to blub in front of everyone. He’s a real softie. That rather proves my point, I suppose.’

  ‘I thought his people went in for public weeping and wailing,’ said Philip. ‘He’s missing his chance.’

  Jodie gave him a piercing look. ‘I think “his people” are from Solihull,’ she said tartly. ‘And probably wouldn’t know how to weep or wail if you paid them.’

  ‘Who’s that who just came?’ asked David, with minimal curiosity.

  Jodie glanced at Monica with a little frown. ‘Just a couple of women from the pub. They probably drew the short straws, and are representing the whole gang. They seem pretty upset.’

  ‘It’
s very kind of them,’ insisted Monica. ‘I wasn’t sure anyone would show up.’

  ‘Mum,’ said Philip, conveying worry and irritation and impatience in the single word.

  ‘Yes?’ she confronted him. ‘Mum, what?’

  ‘I just wish everyone would go away and leave us in peace to get on with it.’

  ‘They will,’ said Jodie, with bracing firmness. ‘The sooner we give them tea and cake, the sooner they’ll go.’ She filled the kettle and set it boiling.

  * * *

  The picture of Lorraine and Roxanne leaning over the coffin, not on opposite sides, as Lorraine had imagined, but shoulder to shoulder, in silent contemplation, brought a red hot anger to Jodie’s lips. Glancing back at the kitchen, she hissed viciously at them. ‘What do you think you two are doing?’ she demanded. ‘How do you have the nerve to do this?’

  ‘She doesn’t know then?’ said Roxanne, in a calm tone. ‘Well, don’t worry about it. We’re not going to tell her.’

  ‘And what about when she tells her friends that you came? Everybody else in town knows. They’ll assume she does, and the whole thing’ll be out, just at the worst possible moment.’

  ‘Calm down,’ Roxanne persisted. ‘You always were one for making everything complicated, weren’t you. Never just let things be, Miss Jodie Perfect. I’ve lost count of the times Jim’s told me about the way you stir up trouble everywhere you go. Okay, he was fond of you – I’m not denying that. I don’t want to hurt any feelings. But, Christ, just relax for once, will you? Stop looking for trouble. Lorraine and I just wanted to—’

  ‘And that’s another thing,’ Jodie continued, as if nothing had been said. ‘How come the two of you are so matey all of a sudden? That’s really sick, if you ask me.’ Again she glanced at the kitchen, ignoring Jack, who sat in the single armchair, apparently sunk in his own morose thoughts. ‘Jim’s two women, turning up here practically arm-in-arm. It doesn’t make sense. Something’s going on.’

  ‘Nothing’s going on, love. Believe me. Tell her, Lorraine,’ Roxanne invited.

  Lorraine met Jodie’s angry gaze warily. ‘We’re not here to make trouble,’ she said, hesitantly. ‘Mrs Lapsford said anyone could come. It looks to me as if she understands that a lot of people loved Jim. She seemed quite happy to see us, anyway.’

  ‘Nobody loved Jim,’ said Jack suddenly, from the armchair. His narrow face turned on them with a haunted look of sorrow. ‘Not any of you, not me, not his sons, or his wife. Jim was all for himself, you see. All those friends – you women panting after him like bitches on heat – he never cared about any of you. Jim Lapsford was all take and no give, if you want the truth of it. So long as he was all right, he didn’t give a damn about anyone else.’

  From the hall, a voice said, ‘Now that isn’t very nice, is it? Speaking ill of the dead.’

  When everybody turned towards her, Dottie went on, ‘The door wasn’t properly shut. I hope you don’t mind us letting ourselves in.’

  * * *

  By eight, the last of the visitors had gone, and Monica sat with her sons, still in the kitchen. Philip whistled his relief, as the front door finally closed. ‘Thank God for Jodie,’ he said. ‘We’d never have coped without her. I don’t know what was going on, but there seemed to be quite an argument out there at one point.’

  ‘Jim knew some funny people,’ Monica remarked. ‘I hope they all behave themselves tomorrow.’

  Her sons looked at each other warily. The unsavoury details of their father’s life were only just beginning to creep out from under the carpet, but already they both felt a sense of impending turmoil.

  ‘Do you want anything to eat?’ Monica asked them. ‘We could have a takeaway.’

  ‘Most of them are closed on a Monday,’ Philip reminded her. ‘I’m all right, anyway, after all that cake.’

  ‘David?’

  ‘It’d choke me,’ he said with a scowl.

  ‘Oh, here we go,’ groaned Philip. He gave David a disgusted look and pushed back his chair. ‘I’m going to phone Nerina, and tell her I’ll be home soon. Then I’ll sit quietly with Dad for a while. If you two have things to say, keep the noise down, and come and tell me when it’s over.’

  Monica turned to David, her manner much calmer. ‘We’re not having any more dramatics, are we?’ she said softly. ‘That’s all behind us, isn’t it?’

  David nodded. ‘I didn’t mean anything just now. Philip always assumes the worst. I’m okay, Mum, just tired.’ The twisted smile he gave her confirmed his words. If only his eyes didn’t look so sunken and strange, she might have been able to relax. As it was, she knew she wouldn’t be able to let him out of her sight the next day, for fear of what he might do.

  She patted his shoulder gently. ‘Go home and get a good night’s sleep. We’ll all feel much better this time tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll wait till Phil goes,’ he said. ‘He’s not the only one to want a few minutes alone with Dad.’ He gripped two handfuls of hair in a sudden spasm. ‘I’ll always wonder how he felt about me,’ he added bleakly. ‘Whether I was only important because I was a part of her.’

  ‘I hope that isn’t true,’ she said softly. ‘But I can understand that might be how it would seem to you.’

  ‘I have to know who my real father was. Can’t you remember Julia having a boyfriend? Am I the result of a one-night stand? There can’t be too many people to choose from.’ He was pleading, and she put a hand on his wrist.

  ‘It might be better not to know,’ she said gently. ‘He isn’t going to accept you now, any more than he would then. Jim did tell me one thing: when Julia told the father she was pregnant, he threatened her, persuaded her to keep his identity secret. Perhaps he was married. That’s really why she handed you over to us. She knew she would have to reveal who he was, or at least ask him for money, if she kept you. He can’t have been a very nice person.’

  ‘Did he go to her funeral, do you think?’ David’s train of thought was obvious, as he looked towards the living room and the coffin standing in the middle of it. There was no sound from Philip, and neither gave him a thought.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she shook her head. ‘It was a very small affair. She’d been in a nursing home for nearly a year, and people here just seemed to forget her. Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose. It was very sad. I remember watching that little coffin sliding away, and thinking that there really wasn’t anything to show for her life except for you. Jim said the same. It made him more ambitious, in a way. After that, he got started at the printworks, and worked harder than I’d have believed possible for those first few years. I think he was doing it for her. And for you, David. And now he’s gone as well.’ She sighed.

  ‘Taking the secret with him, damn him,’ said David bitterly. ‘If only I’d known—’

  ‘It wouldn’t have made any difference,’ she consoled him. ‘He’d never have told you. He promised Julia, you see. Now, we’ll have to tell Philip he’s safe to come back. We’re still friends, aren’t we, darling?’

  Tears stood in her eyes as she took his hand. The pathos in her voice filled his chest with a choking cloud of emotion, and he put his face close to hers.

  ‘Course we are, Mum,’ he said.

  Drew collected Karen from the hospital at seven. The nurses had tutted disapprovingly and made irritated remarks about the bed going to waste for a whole night: people went home in the morning, not the evening. Karen was made to sign an alarming form in which she promised to take all responsibility for her own welfare. Then she was free.

  They went to bed early. He stroked her bruises with butterfly fingertips and hummed her a lullaby. ‘Stop it, you idiot,’ she giggled. ‘Don’t be so sloppy.’

  ‘I feel sloppy,’ he said. ‘I feel as if I’m being rewarded for good behaviour at last. Just when I was thinking it might never happen. And it’s all much too good to be true. We’ll wake up tomorrow and find it was all just a dream.’

  ‘Stop talking about it. You’re spoiling it
.’

  ‘Am I? How?’

  ‘Tempting fate, for one thing. Two days ago you were telling me it was all my imagination. Now I suppose you’re writing your speech for when she gets married.’

  ‘She?’

  Karen giggled again and then followed it with a long sigh. ‘All right – I’m just as bad as you. I can see her now, with your nose and my hips. Aren’t we stupid.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  The bedside phone roused them from a long, contented cuddle. Drew reached for it. ‘Drew?’ came Daphne’s voice. ‘You’re not in bed, are you?’

  ‘I am, actually,’ he said, making no attempt to disguise his irritation.

  ‘Ah. Sorry. But I thought you should know now – just in case you were still thinking stupid things about Lapsford …’

  ‘What should I know?’

  ‘I had the dog’s body examined. You might have noticed it was missing. I went round late last night – accidentally setting off the alarm, as it happened; I wasn’t quite firing on all cylinders – and took it to a friend of mine at the animal hospital lab. They did a post-mortem this afternoon. She died of a large ovarian tumour. Nothing sinister at all. Must have had it for some time, but they don’t always show symptoms until the vital organs become affected. There wasn’t anything else.’ She was speaking slowly, with considerable emphasis. ‘I hope you understand what I’m saying. I don’t want any more nonsense. Jim Lapsford died of a heart attack in his own bed, and there’s nothing more to be said on the matter. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, and put the receiver down.

  So that was that, then.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tuesday

  Waking early, with Karen warm and solid beside him, Drew felt a weight of worry and apprehension descend, the moment he opened his eyes. Outside it was drizzling; summer was definitely finished. Even if there were more weeks of sunshine to come, the long days and high temperatures were over with for another year. And for Jim Lapsford, they were over with for ever. Jim Lapsford would be cremated today and Drew would have to let it happen. The dog had died of natural causes; wild tales about poisoned teabags and overdoses of herbal aphrodisiacs would only make him a laughing stock if he tried to convince the Coroner or police now. And yet, the conviction that Lapsford had been murdered still would not go away.