by Penny Kline
Chris laughed. ‘I wish I’d known your mother.’ Then she relapsed into silence, holding her breath, then suddenly speaking in a rush.
‘Anna, I have to say this. I always feel you despise me. No, not despise. You humour me, pretending to take an interest in my humdrum life, the children — ’
‘How can you say that? I’m not pretending.’
‘Oh, it’s not your fault.’ She was almost in tears.
‘But how can you possibly think that?’
‘I’m a bore. No don’t say anything. Staying at home all day, talking about teething and nappy rash.’
‘That’s not like you at all. Anyway, what’s brought all this on? Is it because of Bruce?’
‘I expect you earn as much as he does.’
‘I doubt it, but what’s that got to do — ’
‘Bruce didn’t want another baby. I went on and on at him until he gave in, but he’s resented it ever since.’
‘Of course he hasn’t. I’ve seen him with Barnaby. He adores him.’
‘He thought once the other two were at school I could go on a training course, find a job. Then we wouldn’t have such a struggle to pay the mortgage. We could have proper holidays and a decent car.’
‘If you want my opinion holidays are greatly overrated.’
She rubbed at her eyes. ‘It’s easy for you to say that.’
Suddenly I felt angry, upset. ‘Look, I enjoy my job and I like being independent, but you know perfectly well it’s not that simple. How d’you think it makes me feel, both of us more or less the same age, you with a husband and three children, me with — ’
I broke off, feeling ridiculous, as though I had given away my innermost secret.
‘But there’s plenty of time,’ said Chris calmly. ‘You could have a baby, find someone to look after it, and return to work. By the time Barnaby’s started school I’ll be too old to do anything.’
‘Oh, rubbish, there’s all kinds of things you could do.’ But she was right in a way. All those training courses for mature women returning to work, that promised so much and led to so little. Who wanted to start at the bottom of the ladder when they were already approaching their forties? How many people even got the chance to try?
‘We can’t win,’ I said.
‘Women in general or us in particular?’
‘Both.’
She brushed a fast-food container off a wooden seat and sat down heavily.
‘Envy,’ she said, ‘I suppose everyone feels it whatever they’ve got.’
‘You can’t envy me getting involved with David.’
She managed a feeble grin. ‘Idiot, that’s what I envy most of all.’
I stared at her. She knew what had happened between me and David. She knew how unhappy he had made me. Yet here she was making out it was all a bit of fun.
I watched her lift Barnaby out of his buggy and sit him on her knees. She used him as protection, bounced him up and down, turned him round to face her so he hid the expression on her face. I had never thought of her as self-absorbed, she was the one person who really understood, yet when it came to the crunch all she could think about was her own frustration.
‘Anyway,’ I said, refusing to smile at her but trying to sound as though the tension between us had been resolved, ‘I wish you’d told me all this before. I thought you were cross about the baby-sitting. And I’m sorry about the other business. If I’d known I would never have mentioned Karen Plant.’
‘I haven’t told you all of it,’ she said, letting Barnaby grab hold of her hair and twist it in his fist. ‘Karen threated to report Bruce for sexual harassment. If she had he’d have lost his job.’
‘But she didn’t, not when it came to it?’
‘No.’
‘So it wasn’t a serious threat.’
‘She couldn’t report him, could she?’ said Chris quietly. ‘Somebody smothered her the very next day.’
*
It was dark when I arrived home and David was waiting outside the front door.
‘You’ve got a key,’ I said flatly, ‘why stand in the cold?’
He pulled a face. ‘You don’t honestly expect me to let myself in?’
‘No, I suppose not.’
He followed me into the flat. Instead of his usual suit he was wearing shapeless jeans, a check shirt, and a rather unpleasant bomber jacket made out of some shiny brown material. He looked different, his hair had bits of dust in it, and he smelled of kitchen cleaner.
‘Haven’t you been to work today?’ I said.
‘Yes.’
‘I was wondering about the clothes.’
He didn’t answer for a moment. ‘Oh, you think I’ve been repairing Iris’s water tank. As a matter of fact I moved out the day after I gave you a lift to the garage. I’ve been helping Oliver with some decorating.’
‘Oliver, the osteopath?’
‘The very same.’
I made no comment. It was an effort. My heart was beating faster and my skin felt cold and shaky.
‘Where’ve you been?’ he asked. ‘Martin lured you into the pub, did he? You never really told me what happened. Mind you, I bet you encouraged him. You’ve always had this special technique, a way of taking an interest in people so they think it’s a subtle form of seduction.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, David.’
But wasn’t that what Rob had meant. ‘You sit there like a giant spider luring people into your web.’ But Rob had not been describing me, personally. He meant all psychologists, psychotherapist, social workers …
‘You’re angry,’ said David, sitting down at the kitchen table, pulling open the drawer, which had once housed my picture post cards, and fiddling about with the corkscrew.
‘No, I’m tired.’
‘Same difference. Anyway, how’s everything going?’ It was a ridiculous question. He didn’t expect an answer. ‘You didn’t think I’d move out of Iris’s place, did you?’
I shrugged. ‘It’s Iris’s place now, is it?’
‘All right,’ he said, ‘I’d better go. If you’re in one of those moods it’s a waste of time trying to talk.’
He wanted me to ask what it was he had come to discuss. I was silent. The battle had begun. When he stood up to leave I told him to sit down again, offered him a drink. He smiled, satisfied that I had relented because I couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving so soon.
He caught hold of my hand as I walked past him and I almost weakened. I had made the mistake so many times before, wanting to believe him, playing into his hands.
‘Any beer?’ he said.
‘Yes, I should think so.’
I looked him in the eyes and I could see, although I must have seen it many times before, that winning, staying on top was more important to him than anything. More important than love, attachment, companionship.
‘Go on, then,’ I said, taking a can of lager from the fridge and handing him a glass, ‘let’s hear what you’ve decided.’
‘It’s not just up to me.’
‘No, I suppose not.’ For the first time I felt in control, almost high. ‘But we’ve got to start somewhere.’
‘I told you in the letter. The trouble is you’re always so impatient. All I needed was some time. Time to think, to let Iris down lightly. After all you wouldn’t have wanted me to do the same thing all over again, dithering about trying to keep everyone happy, ending up pleasing nobody.’
‘Oh, no, I wouldn’t have wanted that.’
He sighed and gave me his woebegone look. ‘If you’re going to be sarcastic I might as well go.’
But he didn’t. He stayed sitting at the table, still fiddling with the contents of the drawer.
‘David,’ I said, ‘did you know Karen Plant accused Bruce of sexual harassment?’
‘What?’ His eyes lit up. This was a far more promising topic of conversation. ‘Did she go ahead with it? It doesn’t matter what really happened, they always believe the woman. Poor old Bruce.’
/> ‘She didn’t have a chance to go ahead with it. She was murdered.’
‘What? You’re not suggesting … ’
‘No, of course not.’
‘I wouldn’t put it past him, not if his job was under threat. After all, he’s got all those kids to support. Did Chris tell you about it?’
‘Yes.’ I wished I hadn’t told him but I was curious to find out if he had known about it all along. He hadn’t. I could tell. It was time to return to the real business in hand.
‘So,’ I said, ‘you told Iris you were moving out. What did she say?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes.’
‘She asked if we could give it another try.’
‘But you were adamant.’
He nodded. He was lying. I don’t know how I knew but there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that he was still incapable of telling me the truth.
I sat down at the other end of the table. ‘She kicked you out, didn’t she.’
‘Shows how little you know about Iris.’
‘I know nothing about Iris but I can tell when you’re trying to pull the wool over my eyes.’
‘You never used to be able to.’ The moment he’d spoken he realized it had been a mistake. ‘Only joking, only quoting back what you always said. You were right, you know, about trusting people. If you haven’t got trust you’ve got nothing.’
He looked genuinely depressed. All the time we had been talking I had been standing, out of his reach, leaning against the fridge. I moved towards him and he stretched out his hand.
‘Oh, God, Anna, I’m so tired. Yes, I know it’s my own fault, but I don’t think I can take much more. All I want is some peace and quiet. Is that what you want? No more bickering, picking each other up on every other word. We ought to be kind, take care of each other.’
My eyes and ears were aching, rather like the start of a cold. I stepped forward and kissed him on the forehead.
‘Oh, Anna, how could we have been so stupid?’
His voice was a whisper. He had his arms round my body and his head leaning against my stomach. Then he raised his eyes to look at me and I saw the familiar victorious expression.
‘No!’ I shouted, pulling away from him and moving to the other end of the room. Then I started laughing.
It was something to do with the shiny brown bomber jacket. For the first time I saw him through Iris’s eyes, or imagined I did. David, the great love of my life, but if Iris didn’t want him neither did I. For weeks, months I had hung on to the fantasy of how it might have been, of how I had thought it would be. Bending over backwards to find complicated psychological reasons why he felt unable to commit himself, why he was afraid of close relationships, afraid of being rejected. He had told me about his mother — at length. Her inconsistent behaviour, her preference for his younger brother. And I had believed him. Because I wanted to.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘I don’t blame you. You want revenge. The fact that I’m here with you now means nothing compared with — ’
‘I don’t want revenge, David.’
‘Yes you do. That’s all that matters to you. Everything we had is unimportant compared — ’
‘Stop it!’
I sat down and leaned against the hard uncomfortable bars on the back of the chair. I felt exhausted, but it was the kind of exhaustion that comes from a feeling of relief. Mixed with the relief, of course, was an awareness of loss. Not of the real David, but of the mythical person I had created.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
He didn’t ask what about. He knew. He stood up. ‘I’d better go. Thanks for the beer.’
Just for a moment I wanted to ask him to stay. After he left my false euphoria would evaporate. I would come down to earth and part of me would long for him to come back. But I would have to live with those feelings until eventually — it might take months, even years — they began to fade.
He walked towards the door and I knew he wasn’t even going to kiss me goodbye.
‘Try to remember the good times,’ he said quietly, sadly. He could keep up his play-acting right to the bitter end.
Chapter Twenty-One
I sat quite still for four or five minutes, staring at the pattern of mock parquet-tiling on the kitchen lino, then I took my coat off the back of ‘David’s’ chair and went out to look for Rob.
It was nearly eight. I could try his lodgings but I doubted if he spent many evenings at home and it was much more likely I would find him in one of the local pubs. The Old Globe? The Star? I decided to start Rob’s side of the river, then work my way round the area surrounding the floating harbour. I would find him eventually, it was just a question of going about it patiently, methodically. Besides, it was better than staying in the flat.
As I walked I thought about the small white headstone. I had made such a mystery out of it but probably there was a simple explanation. The stone marked the grave of a much-loved pet. The cat Val had told me about? Jenny was just the kind of girl who would have become deeply attached to a cat — or a hamster, guinea-pig, or rabbit. She must have told Rob about it, then taken him to see the grave. But why hadn’t the pet been buried in her garden at home? And why, after several months, did the thought of the cat’s death cause tears to pour down her face?
Cat or no cat I still had no idea how Rob and Jenny could have got to know each other.
Standing outside the Bear I caught a glimpse of Diane Easby. She was talking to a large grey-haired man and when she saw me approach she let out a high-pitched squeal.
‘Fancy seeing you. We were just talking about you, weren’t we, Al? Oh sorry, love, but it wasn’t anything bad.’
She was dressed up in her best clothes, just like she had been the very first time she came to see me. Fun-fur coat, black high-heeled shoes. But this time under the coat she wore a bright red dress, nipped in at the waist and with a plunging neckline so that her breasts were clearly visible, pressed together by the tightness of the material.
She put her hand on my arm and gestured with her head towards the grey-haired man. ‘This is Alan. Alan, this is Miss McColl who I’ve told you about.’
I held out my hand. Alan took hold of it firmly. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
He didn’t look it. He was wearing a dark suit and an open-necked shirt, which could have been lilac or pink. It was hard to tell under the glare of the street-lamp.
‘Having an evening out?’ I said.
‘That’s it, love. Al’s got a mate in this band. Jazz. That kind of stuff.’ She pulled a face and put her hands over her ears. ‘I’ve been meaning to come and see you but we’ve been ever so busy. We’re moving see. Alan’s got a job in Redditch. In the Midlands, isn’t it, Al?’
‘Near Birmingham,’ said Alan. He looked impatient to get away, but Diane wanted to talk.
She came closer and lowered her voice. ‘I’d never have left without saying goodbye. You were right about Keith all along. You always thought he’d done it, I could tell. Anyway, I reckon when I told him what that Karen Plant had said about Lisa and … Well, I reckon he turned against her, don’t you, Al?’
Alan had moved a few paces away. ‘Something like that. I’ll wait for you in the pub, shall I?’
‘No, hang on,’ said Diane. ‘Listen, the thing is, I blame myself. I should never have told him, not with the way his mind worked. If you told him things he assumed you wanted him to do something about it otherwise why would you have said.’
‘I should forget about it,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll ever know for sure, but I certainly don’t think you should blame yourself.’
‘Ah, you’re ever so kind.’
‘I must go,’ I said. ‘Come and see me if you want to. If not, good luck with the move.’
‘It’ll get us away from that social worker bloke, won’t it?’
‘Yes, he hasn’t been back, has he?’
‘No, thanks to you. See you then and thanks for everything.’
S
he leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek, then she turned and ran after Alan. I felt a mixture of relief and uneasiness. Relief that she was moving so it would be unlikely there would be any trouble with Social Services, but a certain amount of anxiety that Karen Plant might have known something about Lisa and her stepfather that she had failed to put on file.
I turned the corner and walked towards the Rose of Denmark to see if Rob was in the bar. He wasn’t. Returning along Hotwell Road, on my way to the Crown and Anchor, I thought about what Diane had said and it occurred to me that her acceptance of Keith’s guilt might be a way of quelling any fear she had that Alan was responsible for attacking Karen Plant. He looked quite capable of such an attack, but perhaps I was just indulging in a common prejudice. He was large, broad-shouldered, and a touch morose, but that didn’t mean he was violent.
Diane seemed to think I had contacted Social Services and got rid of her unwelcome visitor. Presumably Social Services thought I was dealing with the case, but this seemed unlikely since it was their responsibility, not mine, to look after the welfare of the children. Had Diane imagined that she was being persecuted by social workers, that Karen Plant suspected sexual abuse when really Karen had just been doing her best to help? And what was it she had once said about Alan’s temper, how he threatened her now and again but really he was as soft as butter?
Tomorrow I would have a long hard think about the case and decide if I needed to take any action. In the mean time I had enough to concentrate on, continuing what would most likely turn out to be a futile search for Rob Starkey.
Half an hour later, just as I had almost decided to give up and return home, I remembered a small pub near the cathedral, a dark gloomy place I had only been inside once though I could remember the decor. Nets trailed across the ceiling, plastic crabs and lobsters, a collection of dusty tropical shells.
It had started to rain and the wind was blowing through the bare branches of the elm trees. A group of teenage boys were coming towards me. They were shouting and one of them jumped up at a tree, trying to catch hold of a branch and tear it off. As they passed me they let out piercing shrieks and started running across the road. But the shrieks had nothing to do with me. I was imagining things, expecting to meet malevolent strangers round every corner.
