by Peter Martin
The man got up abruptly going directly over to Garry. He turned back a few pages, and went forward a few more, without saying anything, then clearing his throat uncomfortably asked. ‘But what were you expecting to find on that front page?’
Something about his curt attitude struck Garry as odd. And from the expression on his face, Garry knew something was wrong.
‘Well we’re not one hundred percent sure, but we’re looking for a story about a little boy who was saved from drowning in the sea.’ Then after a few eerie seconds Garry continued, ‘You know something about this, don’t you? I know you do, I can sense it. You’d better tell me because I’m the little boy whose life was saved that day.’
The man was shocked by Garry’s brusqueness and started to breathe erratically; he glanced around at the archivist sitting close by. ‘All right, all right, but not here,’ he whispered nervously. ‘I’ll meet you somewhere and we’ll talk.’
‘So where and when?’
‘Have you heard of the Café Cabana?’
‘Is that the café at the top of the hill overlooking the town?’ Garry asked.
He nodded. ‘Meet me there at eight o’clock tonight. I’ll be sitting outside at one of the tables.’
Before he had a chance to agree the man turned round, rather deftly for his size, and disappeared without a word.
‘So what do you make of that Deel? Never thought a man of his size could move so quick!’
‘Well, I wasn’t expecting any of this, but I must admit it sounds a bit more promising than our other efforts.’
Giddy with excitement, Garry knew she was right, they’d finally got a lead out of nowhere. Perhaps once and for all, they’d get to the bottom of this.
With Delia’s help, he put all the papers back into the binder and placed it in order in the bookcase. Then having thanked the archivist for all her help, they left the office and stepped out into the hot bright sunshine.
‘Phew! I don’t know about you Deel, but I could do with an ice cold drink and a bite to eat?’
‘Sounds good to me. Let’s go back to the hotel it’ll be much cooler there.’
Afterwards, while Delia, wrote, yet more postcards for home, Garry sat out on the balcony pondering over this latest development. He felt impatient and on edge – uneasy about what tonight may bring. How he wished they could go now and didn’t have to wait until eight o’clock.
‘Finished writing those postcards yet?’ he asked, walking back into their room.
‘Nearly.’
‘So why don’t we go out for a couple of hours, we can post those cards on the way?’
‘Sure, where do you want to go, love?’
Garry took in a deep breath. ‘Anywhere – I’m fed up of being indoors. Although at least it’s cool in here.’
‘All right, how about shopping – the Mall is under cover and I quite fancy looking in those designer clothes shops again. I wouldn’t say no if you offered to buy me something nice!’ She teased.
‘We’ll see, but you do deserve the best,’ then adding slightly tongue in cheek, ‘My sweet.’
So they spent a pleasant afternoon browsing for women’s clothes. Delia tried on a multitude of outfits, from skirts to shoes and even a swimsuit. After several hours, she finally came away with a white silk top, a long flowery skirt and a pair of very expensive sandals. But it didn’t matter to Garry how much she’d spent, it helped take his mind off his troubles.
Back in their hotel room they were now both famished and decided to order a snack to eat in their room. Sometime later still captivated by the events of the morning, Garry asked, ‘So are you sure you want to come with me to meet this guy?’
‘Of course, I do. Why shouldn’t I? I’m just as eager as you to find out what he has to say.’
‘That’s great love, but I do keep worrying you’ll get fed up. You will say if you’ve had enough, won’t you?’
‘Don’t be silly. Ok, it doesn’t mean as much to me, but I understand how important this is to you, so I’m with you all the way.’
‘Thanks, you’re a real treasure.’
‘So shall we get ready to go?’
‘Yes, all right,’ he smiled. ‘Better hurry, because that café is quite a distance and I’m not sure how long it’ll take to get there.’
‘Why did he pick somewhere so far away, and it’s all uphill too? That won’t do us any good, I can tell you.’
‘Not in this heat it won’t, but the exercise will help us shed a few pounds,’ he smiled.
Both casually dressed they set out, Delia in her new silk top and skirt, Garry in a checked short-sleeved shirt and grey trousers.
The café wasn’t difficult to find, but due to its location, it took them twenty minutes to get there.
‘You’re sure this is the place?’ Delia said looking at the front of the deserted café, its paintwork peeling.
‘Positive - it says so on the front. That man probably chose this place because it’s secluded. Whatever he’s going to tell us, must be significant because he was so reluctant to speak and afraid of being overheard.’ And when Delia neither agreed with him or gave an opinion he continued, ‘I don’t know whether you’ve given it any thought, but we don’t know his name. We keep calling him ‘that man’. If he doesn’t turn-up we can’t enquire where he lives or any other details.’
Delia nodded in agreement. ‘True, but there can’t be many people meeting his description, I mean he towers above you, and you’re not exactly short.
Garry didn’t comment just looked at his watch, seven-thirty, and as if Delia had read his mind she said, ‘We’re a little early, shall we sit down? My legs are like lead weights, after walking up that hill. We should have come in the car.’
‘Yes, well I’ve had a couple of glasses of wine. But come on let’s take the weight off our feet, we’ve another half an hour to wait at least and in the meantime, I’ll get us a drink.’
Inside the café was much the same as outside, drab and unwelcoming. Two customers sat at the bar, and from their attire, Garry guessed they were farmers who’d called in for a drink at the end of a hard day. The barman too was a little standoffish, but having been served Garry quickly left with their drinks.
Outside he sat beside his wife, saying, ‘I don’t think they like strangers in this place.’
‘Well it doesn’t much matter, we’re not likely to come here again, are we?
‘I wouldn’t think so. So what’s the time now?
‘About seven-forty,’ she said looking at her watch. ‘Not much longer to wait.’
The view from the front of the café afforded a broad overall view of the valley below. A few houses were dotted about on the hilly terrain and beyond lay Thame and the beautiful coastline.
As the time ticked by Garry became impatient, and drumming his fingers on the table suddenly said, ‘Where the hell is he? It’s now ten past eight.’
‘I don’t know love. We can’t have missed him.’
‘No that’s impossible. We’ve been here since seven-thirty, and at least one of us has been looking out for him the whole of the time.’
Garry got up from his seat, walked around, grinding his teeth. So angry that they should be kept waiting this long. All that anticipation and hope had been for nothing.
‘You stay here in case he turns up while I have a wander around the place. I’ll make a few inquiries at the bar – all right?’
‘Yes, but hurry up – I don’t like sitting here on my own.’
Garry nodded, and walked briskly into the café, cautiously approaching the barman now in deep conversation with his customers, the two farm labourers. But after asking at the bar and giving a description of ‘the man’ no one claimed to know him.
He walked back outside to see Delia still sitting alone. It was eight-twenty.
‘Any joy?’ Delia asked.
‘No; have you seen anyone go by?’
Delia shook her head.
‘He’s not coming. That mak
es me so mad. If ever I see him again, I’ll give him a piece of my mind. Come on, Deel, let’s go. No point staying here any longer.’
Delia got up slowly, and they made their way back down the hill towards the town, feeling so despondent.
‘I don’t know about you love, but I don’t fancy going back to the hotel yet – let’s get a drink somewhere?’
‘Sure, why not? I suppose you want to drown your sorrows.’
‘Something like that.’
They’d passed a number of bars on the way back, but feeling a tad disillusioned because of what had happened, and not in the mood for live music, they called in at the hotel bar. Now sitting in an alcove Delia asked, ‘Bet I can guess what you’re thinking about?’
‘It’s not difficult, is it? I’m going back to those newspaper offices in the morning. I need to find out ‘that man’s’ name.’
‘They might not know. It may have been somebody off the street, and if that’s the case, we’ve no chance of finding him.’
‘God Delia, don’t say that you’ll make me even more depressed. But whoever he was, I’m sure he knew something. It’s obvious from his reaction when he found out what we were looking at, it struck a chord with him.’
‘Maybe he could throw some light on why the front page was missing.’
‘I’d put money on him knowing the whole story. Although we’re never going to know unless we can talk to him,’ Garry said taking a sip of his lager. ‘And then we need him to tell the truth.’
They had one more drink, before returning to their room. Garry felt subdued, which Delia seemed to sense squeezing his hand reassuringly, before kissing him on the lips. He was certainly glad of her support, and not for the first time since his mother’s death, knew it would be difficult to carry on without her.
<><><>
Walking down to breakfast together early the following morning, Garry suddenly felt a little guilty. They were spending most of the holiday searching for his birth parents. But after what had happened the night before, he felt almost compelled to find out the name of the guy they had arranged to meet. And with this in mind, he cautiously asked, ‘Listen, Deel, I’m wondering whether you’d come over to the newspaper offices with me after breakfast? I promise I’ll be as quick as I can, and once we’ve found out one way or the other if anyone knows him, we’ll enjoy the rest of the day together. Maybe investigate further tomorrow. I’m trying my best not to spoil the holiday for you, but I simply need to get at the truth.’
‘All right darling, I understand how you feel, and to be honest I’m a little curious myself.’
‘Right, that’s settled. We’ll go straight there when we leave here.’
Luckily the same woman was on reception at the newspaper offices. As they approached her Garry felt sure she’d remember such a big guy.
‘Hallo,’ she said giving them something resembling a smile.
‘I don’t know if you remember us, but we came in yesterday to look through some back issues of your newspaper,’ Garry said.
‘Of course, yesterday afternoon. Mr and Mrs Flynn, isn’t it? What can I do for you?’
‘Well, there was a guy sitting next to us, appeared quite friendly at first, but then when he saw the article we were looking at, although it was obvious he knew something he seemed loath to discuss it. Eventually, we agreed to meet up later at a café just up the road, but he never turned up. The unfortunate thing is we don’t know his name or where he lives and we’re wondering if you or someone here knows him?’
‘What did he look like?’
‘A big guy, I’d guess he’s probably in his seventies, and he had a very deep voice.’
‘Oh, you must mean Marvin!’ The receptionist exclaimed.
‘Marvin?’ Garry repeated, his heart jumping with hope – this woman actually knew him.
‘Yes, his name is Marvin Whittle. He used to be the best reporter The Gazette ever had before he retired. And even now, at times, he can’t keep away from these offices. He still keeps digging for new stories, or finding new angles on old ones. Rather a character is Marvin. He had such a reputation for finding things out that folks used to call him, ‘Sniffer’. She nodded, ‘You know if he got the slightest hint of a story he’d be off like a bloodhound’
‘Have you any idea where this Marvin guy lives?’ Delia asked.
‘Sure do. Right at the top of the hills, past the airport, there’s a flat, what you might call, a plateau that stretches out into miles of picturesque countryside. Anyway, like I’ve said take the road up past the airport and eventually you come to Belle Vue, I think it’s called. You can’t miss it. Let me tell you, on either side there are literally dozens of the most expensive and beautiful homes you’re ever likely to see. Marvin owns one of those, number seventy-seven I think. It’s a large bungalow, absolutely gorgeous as a matter of fact. So if you’d like to look him up, he’s a friendly guy, I can’t see any reason why he wouldn’t be pleased to see you.’ She smiled, ‘Must have been some misunderstanding over how you missed each other.’
‘I hope you’re right. Will you write down his address for us? And if you’ve got his phone number that would be even better,’ Garry said.
She wrote down the address but had to go and ask someone for Marvin’s phone number, returning within a few minutes with all the information, neatly written on a sheet of paper. Garry thanked her, and then they were on their way.
‘Yes!’ Garry shouted punching his fist into the air as soon as they got outside.
‘I can’t believe how easy that was,’ Delia remarked. ‘But it still doesn’t tell us why he didn’t turn up after he’d agreed to meet us.’
‘Too true, love. It was no misunderstanding that’s for sure. But that doesn’t matter now. What does matter is that we have his name and address and even his phone number. Delia, I have a feeling our luck’s turning at last.’ He laughed.
‘What you waiting for? Try that number, Garry? Perhaps arrange a meeting with him?’
‘What – do you mean right this very minute?’
‘Why not?’
Garry tapped out the number on his mobile, but it just rang out over and over again without being answered.
‘Damn it, Marvin’s not answering his calls.’
‘He’s probably out ‘sniffing’ around for another story.’ Delia said trying to lighten his mood.
‘Yeah, maybe he is, but surely someone should be in,’ Garry said putting his phone back in his pocket.
‘There’s only one thing to do – drive up there and pay the man a visit.’
‘You’re absolutely right, but when’s the best time to go?’
‘How about around tea time? There’s bound to be someone in then, if not him, or his wife, perhaps he’s got a maid if the house is as big as we’ve been led to believe.’
Garry nodded.
After eating sandwiches in their room, they made ready to visit Marvin Whittle and his family. It had turned six o’clock when Garry carefully drove the car up the winding roads in the hills. And although they were travelling at a reasonable speed it seemed to take forever to get to the top. He was glad, however, that he was driving as one wrong move would have sent them tumbling down the valley. Delia on the other hand, blown away by the stunning scenery and the spectacular exotic greenery, was blissfully unaware of the dangers of the terrain.
Almost twenty minutes later having passed the airport they emerged from the hills to arrive onto the flat plateau the receptionist had described, which did indeed stretch out for miles in front of them. After travelling on for approximately half a mile the flat arid land gave way to a landscape of trees, grass and flowers - the beginning of Belle Vue. Here amongst the cultivated land stood great mansions sparsely spread out and set back a fair distance from the road. Each property quite individual and no doubt belonging to moneyed people who’d previously visited and fallen in love with the sheer beauty of Montriga. As they drove through the grandeur of the area, Garry wondered how an old news
paperman had acquired a place like this. No way would Marvin’s salary have stretched to one of these homes.
‘Delia, try to see the numbers on the houses if you can, and remember we’re looking for number seventy-seven.’ He continued to drive slowly.
‘I can’t see anything; you’ll have to stop and one of us should walk up to one of the houses to take a look.’
‘Ok, I’ll stop the car and we’ll both get out. You have a look at the numbers on this side and I’ll go over the road.’
With Delia’s nod of approval, he stopped the car and they both got out. Within a couple of minutes, they had returned to the car.
‘This house just here is number six.’
‘Right, those two,’ he pointed to the houses opposite, ‘are numbered nine and eleven. That means we’re travelling in the right direction and number seventy-seven should be on my side of the road, but it’ll be quite a bit further on. Count the houses for me as we drive down, will you?’
‘No problem,’ she smiled. ‘Getting excited again are you?’
‘Yeah, just a tad. This Marvin guy could be our lifesaver.’
It must have been close to a mile at least before Garry reached the houses numbered in the seventies.
‘It’s the next house,’ Delia pointed to a large L-shaped bungalow-type dwelling.
Garry stopped the car and got out. This guy must like his privacy, he thought, with the six-foot high hedge round three of its borders. And once again what struck him was the sheer size of the property and the fact that no cars were parked on the large tarmacked drive in front.
‘Deel, something tells me there’s no one at home. Better take a look just to make sure.’
‘Ok. We haven’t got anything to lose.’
They walked up the drive, which Garry surmised must have been all of a hundred yards long. He noticed that in addition to the absence of cars on the drive the windows were shut.
