Seeker, The

by Brindle, J. T.

  Carter couldn’t believe his ears. ‘Keep you company, Mr Fellowes?’ Socialising now, was it? My, we were coming up in the world.

  ‘Sit with me for a while, eh? It’s bad for a man to drink alone.’ Handing Carter the half-empty bottle, he said, ‘Better get yourself a glass before I change my mind.’

  ‘Well, thank you, I must say.’ Carter took the bottle, fetched a glass and sat down beside his boss. ‘This is all very nice.’ He was growing bolder by the minute.

  Inhibitions drowned by the booze, Larry went on, ‘From as far back as I can remember, Father owned his own business. He started out with a small cafe by the beach at Weymouth and ended up with a fine hotel on the promenade. He was a busy man, but he always had time for his family. During the holidays, he’d take us inland. We’d picnic in the park and boat on the river, and oh, they were such good times.’

  ‘I envy you, I do.’ He wouldn’t swap places though, thank you all the same. He envied Larry Fellowes his money and position, and that was all. He wouldn’t want to be burdened with no old invalid, however much of a ‘hero’ he’d been when he was younger. Nor would he want to be lumbered with a woman like Ida. Pretty at a pass maybe, but dark-mooded and untouchable. He liked a woman that was red-blooded and accommodating, like the ones he paid on a Saturday night.

  Still immersed in his own thoughts, Larry rambled on. ‘I remember once the boat began to sink, and the man had to tow us back. We were soaked to the knees and Mother was worried we’d drown, but we laughed about it afterwards. We laughed a lot. Like children, we were, all three of us.’

  ‘Sounds like your parents loved each other a lot.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Just for a moment he couldn’t go on. The harsh realisation of how it had all turned out was too real, too shocking. ‘She was a lovely, warm-hearted creature, full of life, always smiling. My father adored her.’ The suspicion of a sob broke his voice. ‘No two people ever loved each other more than they did.’

  ‘Then they were fortunate. That kind of love doesn’t happen often.’

  After considering this remark, Larry replied quietly, ‘Sometimes a love like that can be dangerous too.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Larry declined to answer. Instead he took another soothing sip of whisky. It helped him forget. ‘When he was young, my father was a rock of strength, and now look at him.’ He wanted to smash his fist into the nearest thing. He needed to hurt someone like he was being hurt. Like his father was being hurt. Reduced to an empty shell, threatened by an unknown force that was way beyond his understanding – beyond all their understandings.

  ‘I’ve never seen your father.’ Carter wondered if he was treading on dangerous ground and would be held responsible tomorrow. ‘I know nothing about him except that he’s been bedridden these many years.’

  ‘Bedridden. Senile. He can’t talk and his hand shakes so much he can’t even write. If he could, it wouldn’t make too much sense.’ Cut to the heart, he spat out the words. ‘It’s wicked! Half the time he sleeps and the other half he stares out of the window.’ His voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes big and afraid as he turned them on Carter. ‘Stares and stares, like he’s waiting for someone. Do you know what I mean?’

  ‘Can’t say I do.’

  ‘He can’t tell us, you see. We never know what he’s thinking.’ Suffocating his sorrows, he took another gulp from his glass. ‘I’ll never be the man he was. I’m too much of a coward. I can’t sit with him for too long. It’s too painful, you see. But she’s wonderful with him. Ida sits beside his bed for hours, never tires of talking to him. She knows all about these things.’

  ‘My father ran off when I was a kid. It never bothered me, not really. I can’t even remember what he looked like.’

  ‘Oh yes, he was a handsome man, my father.’ When Carter was slow to pour his drink, Larry took the bottle and did the job for him, then he half filled his own glass and sipped constantly at it, fuelling the need to empty his soul. ‘When my mother died, he went to pieces. It took him years and years to recover.’

  ‘That’s understandable, when you lose someone you love, like you say he loved her.’ Sadly, he had never known such love.

  ‘When my father began failing, I devoted my life to him. It was the least I could do. I vowed never to marry but what with one thing and another, it just happened. My father was committed to hospital. Ida was there, taking care of him, and we got to strolling out, you know how you do.’

  ‘Not really, no. I’ve never had a woman of my own. Don’t particularly want one.’

  ‘Ida took a real shine to my father. It was her who put the idea into my head that he should be brought home where he might be happier. She carried on nursing him, and it wasn’t long before we got married.’

  ‘Seems an ideal arrangement, I’d say.’

  ‘Of course as she got older and Father got more difficult, I brought a nurse in to help.’

  ‘Eileen?’

  ‘She’s good with him, it gives Ida a breather.’ Hiccupping, he laughed out loud. ‘I’m drunk!’

  ‘What did she look like, your mother? Pretty, was she?’

  This time Larry lapsed into a deep silence.

  ‘Was she dark-haired? Blonde? Tall, short? What?’ Feeling warm and merry now, Carter’s curiosity was aroused.

  The silence thickened.

  Fearing he’d outstayed his welcome, Carter replaced his glass on the bar. ‘I’d best be off, eh? See you tomorrow then, Mr Fellowes.’ As he turned to slide off the stool, he felt the other man’s fingers grip his wrist.

  ‘Sit down!’

  Doing as he was told, Carter apologised. ‘Sorry if I were getting a bit too personal, Mr Fellowes.’

  Silence descended as Larry glanced furtively round the room. ‘Ssh! What was that?’

  Carter shivered. ‘I didn’t hear nothing, Mr Fellowes.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Returning his gaze, he said softly, ‘What makes evil?’

  ‘Evil?’ Fear was infectious. Carter began to tremble.

  ‘I mean, why would someone who was always good suddenly become evil?’

  ‘I dunno. Something bad would have to happen to make a good person become evil, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. That’s just what happened, something bad.’

  ‘In what way, Mr Fellowes?’

  ‘Was your mother pretty, Carter?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘My mother was like no other woman you’ve ever seen.’ A smile filtered through the sadness. ‘Long, dark hair, and eyes the colour of midnight. Small, she was, and slim. Her face was childlike, full of joy. She was fun-loving and so natural, everyone loved her.’

  ‘No wonder your father adored her.’

  Larry continued in a mutter, talking to himself. ‘They were like two sides of the same coin. Inseparable.’ He laughed, but it was a grim sound. ‘That’s the trouble, you see. He adores her, even now.’

  ‘So? He’s not so senile then?’

  Surprised, Larry swung round. ‘She gives him no peace.’

  Out of his depth now, Carter wished he’d never sat down. ‘I’m sorry. I’d better go.’

  ‘There was a terrible accident, you see.’ Larry stared at Carter, who visibly cringed. ‘She was horribly injured and died soon after. My father was not expected to live but somehow he survived, in body if not in mind.’ Impatient, he shoved his glass away, sobering a little as he recalled the event. ‘He never really recovered. Never will.’

  ‘Sounds to me like he’s had more than his fair share of tragedy.’ Not that he cared one way or the other. He had his own problems, and this pompous bugger was one of them.

  ‘What would you know, you smarmy little bastard! Get out of here!’ Grabbing the bottle, Larry threw it against the wall where it smashed. Carter made a hasty exit.

  From the upstairs window of the house, Ida could see through the trees and into the bar. She had noticed the two of them sitting talking, and it made her smile. When later she saw
Carter scurry from the building, she actually laughed out loud. ‘I wish I could have heard what they were talking about,’ she said, returning to the old man’s bedside. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting they were talking about me, and you. I expect your son was asking how that little girl got to find her way into this house.’

  The old man lay inert, face white as chalk and eyes tightly closed. His hands were clasped over the sheets; long, strong fingers which she couldn’t help but touch. ‘Such beautiful hands,’ she murmured. ‘What a pity they won’t ever again stroke a woman’s body.’ Cradling one in her fists, she raised it to her face and held it there. ‘So soft,’ she whispered. ‘Sensual.’

  For one fleeting moment the hatred ebbed away and in its place came an irrepressible feeling of belonging. ‘You’ve loved two women,’ she whispered. ‘One the mother of your son. The other the mother of your daughter.’ She glanced at the window before returning her gaze to the old man. ‘One waits out there. Not to harm you like I make him believe. She loves you too much for that. All she craves is for you and her to be together again. You want it too, don’t you, old man? You sense her whenever she’s near. I’ve seen you looking towards the window. I’ve seen the tears roll down your face.’

  The rage wouldn’t be held back any longer. ‘But what about the other one? Do you ever think of her, old man?’ There was such pain inside her she could hardly breathe. ‘Why did you do it?’ she pleaded. ‘Why did you make her suffer when she loved you so much?’

  Slowly turning back the sheets, she opened his pyjama top and roved her hands over his chest. The chest was deep and strong with small erect nipples on a bed of hair, the short thick hairs still surprisingly dark in places, and the chest muscles taut underneath.

  His face was turned away and she looked at the once-virile features, the profile that still held a semblance of the looks that had made him stand out from others. ‘I can see why they loved you,’ she said. ‘In a way I envy them.’

  Taking hold of his pyjama bottoms, she slid them down until his nakedness was complete. The waist was thick, the hips narrow, the shape of the young man still embedded in the old. Though inactive for so long, the legs were surprisingly firm. Not so the penis, which lay sadly to one side, hidden in deep folds of skin which once were plump and full. ‘Where is your dignity now, old man?’

  When he made no move, she sighed long and deep. ‘Don’t blame me for hating you,’ she whispered. ‘Whatever I am, it’s what you’ve made me.’

  Folding her arms on the bed she laid her head against them. She was incredibly lonely, needing another soul to talk to, to laugh with, someone she might confide in. The nights were too long, the days too short, and always, always, she must stay on her guard. She knew no love, no comfort. She had no hope of a future. All she had was this old man, and her memories; memories that made nightmares and stalked her every waking minute.

  She began to cry; soft racking sobs that gave her some release but brought no comfort. The sound of her crying stirred him from his slumber. When she peered over her arms, she found herself looking straight into his eyes.

  Shaken, she sat bolt upright, seething with anger that he had seen her weakness. ‘You old bastard!’ she gasped. ‘What are you staring at? What is it you want from me?’

  His gaze didn’t flinch, nor did he look away. Instead he seemed to smile. His lips parted as if he was trying to speak.

  Like a cat she pounced on him. ‘What is it you want to say?’

  The smile slid away.

  ‘Can’t talk, can you? Cat got your tongue, has it?’ Disgusted with herself, with him, she leaned away, but her eyes held his for what seemed an age. ‘What are you thinking, old man?’ she murmured. ‘What would you say if you only had the strength?’

  She paused, as if waiting for him to comment. The deep brown eyes held fast to hers, speaking volumes, Searching her soul.

  She had never seen him look at her like that before. Unnerved, she screamed at him, ‘You know something, don’t you? What? What do you know, old man? Was it the girl? Why was she here? What did she say that upset you so much?’

  The eyes bored into hers, unafraid. Wonderfully dumb.

  Incensed, she prodded him with sharp fingers. ‘The girl brought something with her, didn’t she? I saw her hide something when I spied on her in the car.’ Taking him by the shoulders she shook him hard. ‘I’m waiting, old man! What did she say to upset you like that?’

  The eyes closed. But not the heart.

  She covered him and moved away. ‘Never mind, old man.’ Holding the door open, she muttered angrily, ‘I’ll find out. There are ways and means, and I can be very clever when I need to be. After all, they believed that young man killed himself, didn’t they?’ She giggled like a girl, or a crazy thing. ‘The fools thought he leaped to his death, but we know better, don’t we, you and I?’

  She returned to the bed and leaning over him said softly, ‘The man who came here tonight, Dave Walters. A handsome man, like yourself when you were young. She’ll use him, you’ll see. And when she realises he can’t help her any more than the other one, she’ll be angry. Just like she was the last time.’ She went quietly back across the room, pausing at the door. ‘There is nothing you or I can do, old man. It’s already written.’

  On closing the door, her parting words echoed in the darkness of that small prison: ‘Dave Walters is destined to go the same way as the other one.’

  4

  It was Friday afternoon, a week before Christmas. The day was glorious, the sun poured down and it seemed as if everyone had a smile for their neighbours.

  ‘Evening, Mr Walters.’ The butcher’s daughter had long fancied Dave, though always from a distance. ‘You look pleased with yourself. Had a good day, have you?’ She was on the other side of the street and had to raise her voice to make herself heard.

  ‘I can’t complain,’ he called back. ‘All the same, I’ll be glad to get home.’ Giving her a smile that made her weak at the knees, he swung away, heading at a smart pace down the street towards his offices, nodding and smiling as other locals greeted him. By the time he reached the office, he was whistling a merry tune.

  ‘You look like the cat who’s got the cream,’ Mandy remarked. ‘Did you get sole agency for the manor house?’

  He kept her waiting for a second or two.

  ‘You did, didn’t you?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  She squealed with delight. ‘I knew you’d do it,’ she cried, planting a smacker on his mouth. ‘How long for?’

  ‘I tried for a year. The big man wanted to screw me down to three months. In the end I managed to persuade him to give us six months’ sole agency. After that it’s wide open. So,’ he leaned forward, ‘do you reckon you could get it all off the ground before you swan off on your holiday and leave us stranded for a month?’

  ‘Leave it all cushy for the new recruit, you mean?’

  ‘Something like that, yes.’

  ‘Have I ever let you down?’

  ‘Not until now.’ He saw her face fall at his remark and added quickly, ‘Only joking. Of course you’ve never let me down. What’s more, you deserve a month off.’ He gave her a wide grin. ‘Even if I could strangle you for it.’

  ‘You won’t even know I’m gone,’ she said wryly. ‘I’ll leave everything so easy to follow, the temp will slip into my place like a hand in a glove.’ Her expression became serious. ‘As long as she doesn’t slip into my shoes, so I don’t have a job when I get back.’

  ‘There’s no fear of that, I can promise you.’ He winked. ‘Unless she’s a stunner, then I can’t promise anything.’

  Shaking her head, she chided him, ‘I’ll never see the day when you have eyes for anyone but Libby. I mean, look at the queue of women who’d give their right arm for you. There’s me for a start, then there’s the butcher’s daughter who can’t take her eyes off you, and what about that other little girl who worked here for a while? She got all in a jitter every time you called
her into the office. In the end she couldn’t stand it.’

  ‘Oh, so that’s why she suddenly upped and left.’

  They were still chuckling when the phone began ringing. Dave was nearest. Picking up the receiver he answered, ‘Walters Estate Agency. Dave Walters speaking, what can I do for you?’ The caller quoted an advert from the week before. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Dave confirmed. ‘Ninety-five thousand, but we do have an offer on that property, I’m afraid.’ A pause, then, ‘Yes, you’re quite right, I am obliged to put your offer to the vendor.’

  A moment later, after making some notes, he thanked the caller, replaced the receiver and handed the notes to Mandy. ‘Drake’s Close,’ he said, satisfying her curiosity. ‘Looks like we have two interested parties.’

  ‘Right.’ Sliding her rimless spectacles over her ears, she began tapping into the computer. ‘Down to business.’

  As Dave went into his inner office, she heard him yell, ‘Feet off, you bugger!’

  Mandy laughed out loud. ‘Told you,’ she called out. ‘I knew you’d cop it when he found your big feet sprawled over his desk.’

  Having spent the last few minutes on Dave’s phone, Jack Arnold swiftly curtailed his conversation, slammed down the receiver and leaped out of the chair. ‘Be Jaysus, here y’are! And I thought you wouldn’t be back for ages yet.’ He began an exaggerated bowing and scraping, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he pleaded in lilting Irish tones, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Walters, sir. Please don’t sack me. Sure, I’ll never do it again.’

  Shaking his head, Dave put his briefcase on the desk and sat down. ‘You’re incorrigible,’ he laughed. ‘I should send you packing, but then who’d make the tea while Mandy’s away?’

  ‘Ah well, now yer talking because sure, don’t I make the best pot of tea outside o’ the Emerald Isle?’

  Removing documents from his briefcase, Dave gestured for Jack to sit down. ‘We’ve got the manor house,’ he said. ‘Now all we have to do is sell it.’

  ‘For how much?’

  ‘Half a million, and it’s worth every penny.’