by Penny Kline
‘It was all lies. She admitted it later.’
‘Lisa did?’
‘Only by then the damage had been done.’
‘D’you know what she actually said to her teacher?’
Diane shrugged. ‘If you ask me she never said nothing. It was just that busybody woman seeing perverts all round her ’cos she was one herself.’ She grinned at me. ‘Anyway, Alan gave Lisa a good hiding. Well, he threatened to. Wouldn’t let her watch Top of the Pops. Shut her in her bedroom and took no notice when she said she’d rip the paper off the walls.’
‘Did she?’
‘Eh?’
‘Nothing. Then what happened?’
‘How d’you mean? Oh, well I suppose they forgot all about it. Anyway it was the end of that week Karen Plant was done in.’
I was thinking fast, wondering if I should have been in touch with Social Services before, found out more about the children. But it was Diane I was supposed to be helping. It was one of those no-win situations. If you contacted other agencies the client quite rightly started to wonder whose side you were on. If you kept things to yourself the social workers accused you of failing to cooperate and started holding forth on the need to coordinate the different services.
‘Look, Diane, no social worker would just go on what a child might or might not have said to her teacher.’
‘Eh? Are you accusing me — ’
‘No, of course not.’
‘No smoke without fire, that’s what they think. I know how their filthy minds work. They’re the ones that ought to be taken into care. She could’ve insisted we had her examined. Then they can say what they like and you haven’t a leg to stand on.’
‘And all this happened just before Karen Plant … ’
‘Alan told her to clear off or he’d be seeing a solicitor — or worse.’
She suddenly realized what I might be thinking.
‘Oh, Alan’s all right, just a big softie underneath, wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
Like Keith? She had used the same expression before. Keith wouldn’t hurt a fly. Now Alan was the same. But most likely it was simply a reflection of Diane’s general attitude towards men. She had never told me much about her first marriage and early life, only that during much of her childhood she had lived with her grandparents, that the family had often been split up, sometimes for months at a time. I had tried to find out more but always she was vague, didn’t want to talk about it, couldn’t see the point. It was fair enough, after all she seemed to have enough to contend with in the present without worrying about what was dead and buried.
‘What d’you think?’ she asked. ‘No, tell me honest.’
‘About Lisa and — ’
‘No, everything, the whole bloody mess.’
‘I think you’ve had a tough time. First the trouble with Lisa, then what happened to Keith.’
‘Ah, you’re ever so kind.’ She took a tube of mints out of her pocket, peeled back the paper, and offered me one.
‘No, thanks.’
‘Helps stop me thinking about the cigs. Well, it doesn’t really, but at least it’s something to stick in your mouth.’
‘Yes, it’s a good idea.’
‘Rots your teeth instead, eh?’
I smiled. I was thinking about what she had just told me. Surely if there had been any question of sexual abuse it would have been in a file. Or had Diane and Alan jumped to conclusions when Karen Plant made a few harmless enquiries about Lisa?
‘You should have told me all this before,’ I said.
‘You mightn’t have believed me.’
There was no answer to that.
‘What did this new social worker say to you?’
‘Eh? Nothing much. I thought he’d come about the washing machine. Just introduced himself, asked if there was something he could do to help. Anyway, Alan’s got a thing about do-gooders.’
‘Yes, so you said. That’s how you see me, is it?’
‘I didn’t say that. I know you’re all right — but Alan, that’s a different story.’
‘Tell me exactly what Karen Plant said about Lisa.’
‘I forget. Just that the school thought she was looking a bit peaky. Stupid, she’s always been pale. Takes after her father.’ She leaned forward till her face was only a few inches from mine. ‘I told Keith about it but he didn’t understand. That was one of the things about Keith, you had to spell everything out, go over it again and again.’
‘You told him Karen Plant had suggested — ’
‘He wasn’t too bright, see. You know me, I blow my top, then it’s all over. But Keith, it took time for him to take things in, then when he did, whatever it was would go round and round in his head.’
‘Look,’ I said, ‘about this social worker, who came to your house. I expect he just found your name on Karen Plant’s file and wondered if you wanted any help.’
‘Yes, well I don’t, do I, and even if I did they’d be the last to hear about it.’ She touched my knee again. ‘I’ve got you now, haven’t I? If I have any more bother I’ll know where to come.’
*
I had lunch with Martin and Beth. A cheese and pickle roll in the pub, washed down with a half of bitter after Martin had persuaded me it was for medicinal purposes.
‘You remember Elizabeth Barrett. Her father made her drink a glass of porter every day — to build up her strength.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ laughed Beth, ‘and then Robert Browning came and rescued her and she never touched another drop for as long as she lived.’
I wanted to tell them about Diane, but not while we were in the pub. It would have to wait for the weekly case conference. Then Martin would say I had no choice, I would have to get in touch with Social Services, and I would wish I hadn’t mentioned the case in the first place.
Beth was talking about the best diet for a pregnant woman and how the book she was reading made you feel you should live exclusively off fruit and vegetables.
‘Anna’s dreaming again,’ said Martin, pushing against me good-naturedly. ‘If I’ve told her once I’ve told her million times. Don’t get so involved. It’s bad for your health.’
‘Not that easy, is it?’ said Beth, taking my side. ‘Better to be over-involved than completely detached, clinical.’
Martin pulled a face. ‘Best of all to strike a happy medium.’
Beth stood up and stretched. ‘Love you and leave you, I have to buy something for Dominic’s supper. I ought to make him do the shopping but he’s so extravagant and we’re going to need every penny we’ve got. Have you any idea what prams cost these days?’
I had never seen her so happy. I envied her. Not because of the baby, just because…
‘Anna?’ Martin had squeezed up in order to let Beth past and was now sitting too close to me. ‘If there’s anything I can do.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘It’s tough ending a relationship, knowing you’ll have to start all over again from scratch.’
‘I’ll survive.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Look,’ I said, ‘there is something I’d like to talk to you about.’
‘Fire away.’
‘Someone’s been sending me post cards. Reproductions of paintings. Fairly harmless in themselves but the last two have described my movements, what I was doing the previous day.’
‘Any postmark?’
‘No, they’re delivered by hand.’
‘One of your clients?’
I shrugged. ‘I suppose so. I’ve a feeling it’s that young man I used to see. The one who kept turning up high on drugs.’
He made a pretence of trying to remember but he wasn’t really concentrating on what I was saying. His hand was on my knee and moving slowly up my leg. To remove it would have been to make too much of the situation. I shifted my position but the hand remained.
‘D’you think I should go to the police?’ I said.
‘Could do, I suppose, if you think it’ll set your mi
nd at rest. I used to get these ten-page letters from a man who wanted the entrance to the car park made into the exit and vice versa.’
‘What had that got to do with you?’
‘Exactly. Anyway, I answered the first couple of them, then realized what I was letting myself in for and chucked the rest in the wastepaper basket.’
‘I don’t have that problem,’ I said crossly. ‘The whole point is I don’t even know who they’re from.’
‘Sorry.’ His hand was still on my skirt. He squeezed a little, then began stroking me with his thumb. ‘I didn’t realize you were so upset. Bring the cards in and let me have a look. I could have a word with Howard Fry — inspector at the local nick — but I’m sure his advice would be the same as mine. Just ignore them, think of it as an irritating but harmless occupational hazard.’
‘Yes, I expect you’re right. Actually, there was something else.’
‘Oh, yes.’ He smiled and stared hard into my eyes. ‘You know I’m very fond of you.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You knew that already, didn’t you?’
I was silent but inside I was seething. He had offered to help, now he couldn’t be bothered to listen properly when I tried to explain what was on my mind.
Sensing that I was still upset he changed the subject quickly, removing his hand and placing it round his glass. ‘How’s the research?’
‘It’s not. I’m still struggling to get a proper proposal down on paper.’
‘Ask Owen Hughes to give you a hand.’
‘He can’t till there’s something concrete to discuss. Anyway, I keep putting off getting in touch with him. He’s such a dry stick. Typical bachelor, I’d say, probably one of those misogynists who think there are far too many women in higher education.’
Martin looked away. He was angry with me, disappointed. ‘Actually his wife died five or six years ago,’ he said. ‘Leukaemia, I think it was.’
*
My car was being serviced. Nick was away on a course but I could have asked Martin or Beth to give me a lift. Instead I decided to walk. The sky was cloudy but every so often the sun came out and for a few minutes the small front gardens, mostly a patch of grass surrounded by a privet hedge, looked fresh and green.
As I passed the comprehensive school a few of the older children were still hanging about by the gates, snatching each other’s bags of books and sports equipment, laughing and swearing.
I glanced at them then turned away just as a familiar car drove by. It pulled up fifty yards ahead on the double yellow lines outside the entrance to the playing fields and I slowed down to give myself a few extra moments. It was important to decide what I was going to do, how I was going to be.
‘Jump in.’ David held open the door and patted the passenger seat.
The whole car was pulsating with sound. Carmen Jones, one of his favourites. He liked to sing along as he drove. ‘One man gives me a diamond ring and I won’t give him a cigarette. One man treats me like I was mud and all I got that man can get.’ As far as David was concerned that was a pretty fair description of how things worked. Maybe if I had treated him badly everything would have been fine. But that wasn’t the kind of relationship I wanted with anyone.
‘Where are you off to?’ he shouted. ‘Not your usual neck of the woods.’
‘My car’s being serviced.’
‘I’ll take you to the garage.’
As soon as I climbed in he switched off the engine and moved closer.
‘I waited round the corner from your office, then when I realized you were minus your car I decided to trail you.’
‘Why?’
‘Why what? Why didn’t I pick you up in the car park or why did I want to see you? The first question has no answer. I just enjoy watching you walking along. The second needs no answer.’ He leaned across to kiss me but I jerked my head out of reach.
‘Oh, come on, it’s hardly my fault if I picked up a bug.’
‘You’re better then, are you?’
‘Fighting fit. What about you?’
‘Oh, I’m all right.’ His proximity was having the usual effect but this time I was going to use my head.
His voice was penitent. ‘Look, I should have been in touch before but you know how it is. Anyway, last time … it was so … I was so knocked out … I needed time. Time to think, make important decisions.’
I kept quiet. He wanted me to ask questions, which he might or might not decide to answer. Why hadn’t he phoned? Why did he need more time? What important decisions did he have to make? Last time we were together he had told me it was just a question of the two of us getting together to work out when he could move back in.
He patted me on the thigh. ‘Don’t you want to hear about it?’
‘Go on.’
‘Not if you’re in one of your moods.’
‘I’m not in a mood.’
‘Yes you are. I could tell just watching you walk along the road.’
‘Martin made a pass at me.’
‘Really? Has he done it before?’
‘It was nothing. I don’t know why I told you about it.’
‘Yes, you do, it was to make me jealous. I am. What did you do? Where did it happen? In your office, between clients? Seduction at the Psychology Service. Sounds like a good title for a — ’
‘Forget it, I was only explaining why I seemed in what you call “one of my moods”.’
‘No, you weren’t, you were telling me in your usual indirect way that I should have phoned ages ago, that you’ve been wondering what’s been going on.’
I sighed. He sighed too, imitating, mocking. We had only been together a couple of minutes and already it was a battle, a battle he always won. I thought about Jenny Weir, using her anger as a defence, opening her mouth to speak, then closing it again. Taunting me. Why couldn’t people just say what they wanted to say? Because they liked to stay on top? Because they enjoyed the feeling of power? Because they were afraid?
‘David, you know that social worker who was suffocated in her flat?’
‘What? What about her? You asked me before.’
‘I asked if you knew her.’
‘And I said I didn’t. Some odd-job man did it, didn’t he. Later he topped himself rather than be put inside for the next twenty years.’ He paused. ‘As a matter of fact I did meet her once — at a party.’
‘What party? You said — ’
‘What you mean is what was I doing at a party without you? Anyway it wasn’t a party, it was some boring function at the Housing Department. I was invited along because we’d just set up a new computer system. Bruce was there too. Well, he would be, wouldn’t he?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I didn’t want you to tell Chris about it. Bruce seemed fairly taken with Karen. Not that I blamed him. She had that helpless quality all men find attractive. Waif-like but tough as nails underneath. The combination is irresistible.’
‘There’s something else I wanted to ask you.’
‘What?’
‘No, it doesn’t matter.’ I wanted to know if he was still living with Iris, if Iris knew he had been round to see me. Most of all I wanted to ask if Iris could have ‘borrowed’ the key to my flat.
He switched on the engine and the music came on like a blow in the face.
‘Off we go then,’ he shouted. ‘I can tell I’ve caught you on an off day but I’ll be touch again sooner than you think.’
He pulled out to pass a motorcycle, then twisted round to kiss me on the mouth.
‘I love it when you’re angry. It really turns me on.’
Chapter Sixteen
Jenny Weir had failed to turn up for her last two appointments. When I realized she was going to miss yet another I wondered if I should phone to find out if she was unwell. But supposing her mother knew nothing of the missed appointments? Then I would be breaking a confidence.
It was nearly eleven. I decided to ring Dr Ingram and try to catch h
im between morning surgery and home visits. Perhaps he could give me some background information that might help me decide how to handle the situation.
The receptionist who answered my call was laughing when she picked up the phone. She wanted to know who was calling, wasn’t sure if the doctor was free but asked me to hang on. A few minutes later Dr Ingram came on the line.
‘Yes?’
‘Oh, good morning. It’s Anna McColl, Psychology Service. I wanted to have a quick work with you about Jenny Weir.’
‘Coming up against a brick wall? I did warn you.’
I had a picture in my mind of his smug, self-satisfied face. ‘I wondered if there was anything you could tell me about the family that might — ’
He coughed, blew hard into a handkerchief, and ended up with a kind of snort. ‘I doubt it. What did you have in mind?’
‘Well, Jenny’s father. When did he leave? What happened exactly — ’
‘Oh, the usual hoo-ha. Must be four or five years back. More. Went off with another woman, moved to a different part of the country. I only met him once — when he needed a medical for an insurance policy.’
‘Jenny doesn’t seem to see him at all. I don’t think he even writes.’
‘Sounds typical of the man. Of course it’s been hard for Val — Mrs Weir — but she’s a strong character and if you want my opinion she’s better off without him. Apparently it wasn’t the first time he’d gone off the rails. Never much of a family man as far as I could tell.’
‘No, I see.’
‘Is that it then? I expect Jenny’s told you about the bit of bother a few months back.’ And then, when I made no response. ‘Ah, well, no doubt she will, all in her own good time.’
I waited for him to elaborate, at least give a clue as to what had happened ‘a few months back’, but all I got was a muttered goodbye followed by another bout of coughing.
I was still seething at Dr Ingram’s high-handed attitude when the phone rang and Heather told me Mrs Weir was on the line.
‘Oh. Right. Good. Put her through.’
‘Is that you? It’s me — Val Weir.’ She sounded like someone who hardly ever used the telephone. But that couldn’t be right. Answering the phone must be part of her job.
