Lost Summer

by Stuart Harrison

  ‘My hero,’ Adam had said sarcastically.

  David had grinned with embarrassment and then a minute later had produced a small package. ‘I nearly forgot. This is for you.’

  It was a boxed pen. The kind David’s dad used to give to his good customers, but this one was inscribed with the words:

  FOR ADAM, CONGRATULATIONS

  ‘What if I hadn’t passed?’ he remembered asking through his amazement, to which David had shrugged.

  ‘I knew you would.’

  The following year the gypsies had arrived. After that nothing had ever really been the same.

  ‘Adam, what is it?’

  He turned to Angela, startled. He realized he was gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles were white and his jaw was clamped tight. ‘Nothing, it’s okay,’ he said. ‘Just my leg.’

  When they were near Castleton again, he said, ‘Can I ask you something? You can tell me it’s none of my business if you like, but the other night I got the feeling that things are a bit strained between you and David.’ She looked away, avoiding his eye, and he thought maybe he’d overstepped the mark. ‘Look, forget it. It really isn’t any of my business.’

  ‘No, it isn’t that. You’re right, things have been difficult lately. I suppose I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s just the business.’

  ‘I meant what I said the other night, if you need to talk. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who’s removed from the situation.’

  ‘That sounds as if you’re speaking from personal experience.’

  ‘I was.’

  ‘You were married once weren’t you?’

  ‘For a while.’

  ‘What was she like?’

  How had the conversation swung around to him, he wondered. ‘I thought we were talking about you?’

  ‘Sorry. Anyway, to be honest I wouldn’t know where to start. David has changed. I suppose you must have noticed how much he was drinking.’

  ‘He did seem to be knocking it back. I saw him in the pub last night, did he tell you?’ He could tell from her surprised look that he hadn’t. He wondered about that. If somebody he hadn’t seen for almost twenty years practically accused him of bribing council officials, wouldn’t that be something to mention when he got home?

  ‘He doesn’t tell me much these days,’ she said.

  She looked both sad and angry at the same time. ‘Nick was there too, and Graham. Actually I went by the cottages where Nick used to live yesterday.’

  ‘He still lives there,’ Angela said.

  ‘I wondered if he did. I ran into a girl there, a young woman anyway. She seemed a bit strange.’

  ‘Mary. She and Nick live together.’

  ‘Is there something wrong with her?’

  ‘I think she has some kind of mental illness. She doesn’t go out much. How was David anyway when you saw him?’

  ‘He was alright. We had a bit of a disagreement actually. Seems that the media poking their noses in aren’t too popular with some people.’

  ‘Was he drinking? I mean did he seem drunk?’

  ‘Not especially.’

  ‘He’s been drinking a lot lately,’ Angela said. ‘He never used to be a heavy drinker at all. He might go to the pub with Nick or somebody once a week and have a few pints, but that’s about it. He hardly touched spirits before, but you saw the way he was hammering the Scotch the other night. I don’t even know how much he’s getting through now.’

  ‘Is it the business? I suppose he’s been worried about it?’

  She shook her head, a gesture of what he wasn’t sure. Was it frustration, or did it mean there was more to it than worry about the business?

  ‘He won’t talk to me. That’s the whole bloody problem.’

  ‘Communication breakdown. Sometimes there are things one partner can’t tell the other.’

  She looked at him curiously. ‘Is that what happened to you, Adam? Is that why your marriage broke up?’

  ‘Partly.’

  ‘Sorry, now it’s my turn to say it’s none of my business.’

  ‘No, it’s okay.’

  ‘What was your wife’s name?’

  ‘Louise.’

  ‘Do you still see each other?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘The truth is we should never have married in the first place. We only lasted a couple of years anyway. Not like you and David.’

  Angela frowned. ‘I suppose that’s what I don’t understand. I used to think I knew him so well, that we knew each other. But none of this is like David. Sometimes I wonder if I really know him at all. I can’t help feeling that there’s something eating at him. Something he won’t tell me about. He doesn’t even sleep in our bed any more.’ She stopped short, and he had the feeling she was surprised at herself for revealing such a personal detail, even embarrassed. ‘Anyway, all marriages go through this sort of thing at some point I expect,’ she added.

  There was a note of closure in her tone, and he got the impression she didn’t want to talk about it any more so he let the subject drop. They were almost back in Castleton anyway and ten minutes later he pulled up outside her house. She thanked him for lunch, and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

  ‘Don’t get out. And thanks for listening.’

  ‘Any time. Look, before you go, there’s something I meant to ask you.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The journalist I mentioned earlier who works at the Courier? She said that David was lobbying the council on behalf of the Forest Havens development, is that right?’

  ‘Yes, as a representative of the local small business association. He worked hard to get support for the development. Why do you ask?’

  ‘No particular reason. It just surprised me when his name came up, that’s all.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, though she wore a slight frown as she got out. He watched her go to the door, and returned the brief wave she gave him.

  As he drove away her scent lingered in the air.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Angela turned out the kitchen lights. Outside the window it was dark. She had been sitting at the kitchen table, thinking about her lunch with Adam. As she went along the passage to the stairs she paused outside the partially open study door. A single lamp cast a dim yellow light that left the corners of the room in darkness. David’s profile was heavily shadowed, giving his eyes a strangely hooded appearance. He didn’t even realize she was there until she tapped on the door.

  ‘Do you want something to eat?’

  He looked startled. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  She glanced at the bottle on the desk, thought to say something and then changed her mind. What was the point? She turned to leave.

  ‘Where’s Kate?’ he said suddenly.

  ‘She went to bed an hour ago.’

  He looked at the time and appeared surprised that it was so late. ‘She didn’t say goodnight,’ he murmured, almost to himself.

  ‘She probably didn’t want to disturb you.’

  He looked up, and they both knew that wasn’t the reason. Wearily he ran his hand back through his hair.

  ‘I saw Adam today.’ His expression changed at the mention of Adam’s name. He looked suddenly what? Defensive perhaps? Wary; maybe that was a better word.

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘We had lunch together.’

  ‘Lunch?’

  Her temper flared. ‘Yes, you remember that, David. When two people sit down and have a meal. Perhaps even talk.’ She took a breath. ‘He said he’d been talking to a journalist at the Courier about the development. She told him there are rumours that some members of the planning committee might have been bribed to vote for the Forest Havens plan.’ She watched him carefully, and noted that he didn’t seem surprised. ‘Did you know about it?’

  ‘I know who he’s been talking to. Her name is Janice Munroe.’

  ‘Is it true?’

  ‘Of course it isn’t! If it was true they would have splashed it all over the front page
.’

  ‘Adam said she couldn’t prove it. That’s why the story never ran.’

  ‘Well, there you go then.’

  She lingered in the doorway. Something about his reaction bothered her. It was partly the knowledge that he must have already known about the rumours but had never mentioned them to her, but also the way he dismissed the subject without looking her in the eye. ‘How do you know it isn’t true?’ Angela asked. ‘After all, you weren’t on the committee.’

  ‘I know Janice Munroe is a troublemaker. She’d say anything if she thought it would do her career some good.’

  ‘You were lobbying for Forest Havens,’ Angela said, almost to herself.

  He stared at her. ‘Of course I was! Without that development the mill is bloody finished.’

  She’d been thinking all evening about the way Adam had almost casually mentioned David’s name. Of course it hadn’t been casual at all. She had known he was hinting at something.

  ‘It’s true isn’t it?’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, David, don’t treat me like an idiot!’

  ‘Does it matter what I say?’

  ‘Yes, it matters. I want to know if you were involved. I want to know if you promised anybody on that committee something in return for their vote.’

  She saw the answer to her question in his hesitation, it was written all over his face.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I say, does it,’ he said. ‘You’ve already made up your mind. For Christ’s sake Angela, life isn’t always so fucking black and white. Do you really think this kind of thing doesn’t happen all the time? So, some builder wins a contract. Maybe he gets a look at his competitors’ tenders before he does his own. Compared to the kind of stuff you read in the newspapers every day is it really such a big deal?’

  She shook her head in disbelief. She was angry, angrier than she could remember being for a long time. Her hands were trembling.

  ‘What was I supposed to do?’ he said. ‘Was I supposed to just stand by and do nothing? What if the plan had been turned down? Think about all the people who would be out of work.’

  ‘So, you did it for them, is that it?’

  ‘Alright, I admit I was thinking of myself too. Of us.’

  ‘How can you say that? How can you say you were thinking of us? For weeks now you’ve barely spoken to me, or your daughter. All the time you said it was because of the strain you were under. The truth is you were worried you would be caught!’

  He looked away, reaching for the bottle.

  ‘That’s it, David. Have another bloody drink. Salve your guilty bloody conscience.’

  ‘Look, the only reason I didn’t tell you is because I knew you’d react like this.’

  ‘Is it David? Is that the reason?’ She stared at him, trying to read what she saw in his eyes. It was partly the truth, but not all of it. Maybe he’d been afraid she would talk him out of it, but the committee had passed the plan now. There was something else, something he wasn’t telling her.

  Later, as she lay in the darkness of their bedroom she couldn’t sleep. She was angry. If David had been involved in some sort of corruption, was that really so bad? She didn’t approve of it. She didn’t condone it. And yet as David had said, that kind of thing must go on all the time. A contract awarded. An agreement reached quietly over drinks between associates. She wasn’t so naïve as to think any differently. So why was she so angry?

  Was she angry with David, or was it Adam? Both of them, she thought. David because of what he’d done, and how she’d learned of it. Adam for what? Being the messenger? No, that wasn’t it. What had he told her earlier when he’d picked her up from the house? That somebody had sent him a message when they had smashed his headlights, to warn him off. He had talked about the accident when those lads had been killed as if perhaps it wasn’t an accident. That maybe somebody had wanted to stop what they knew from getting out. Whom had he meant? He’d asked about the sawmill, what would happen if the development didn’t go ahead. Had he been suggesting that David had something to do with what had happened to those lads? She couldn’t believe that he had. But why mention it otherwise?

  Christ! A gnawing unease kept her awake. She was restless, unable to stop her mind working. There was an unfamiliar sensation in the pit of her stomach. A kind of clenched feeling. She was afraid, she realized.

  But afraid of what exactly?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  In the morning Adam looked for a car breaker in the local phone book. He knew from experience that these were the best places to find affordable parts for his car. It turned gout the closest one was just off the A69 outside Brampton.

  It was still early by the time he arrived. A chain-link fence ran along the edge of a little-used road, behind which piles of rusting car bodies were stacked. At regular intervals signs warned intruders to beware of the dog. He drove through the open gate and followed a dirt track to a wooden barn-like building outside which a four-wheel drive was parked. A figure inside looked over his shoulder at the sound of the car and came towards the door wiping his hands on a rag. It wasn’t until Adam got out that he realized that it was Nick.

  He watched as Adam limped over with what seemed like a glint of amusement in his eye, then his gaze flicked towards the Porsche. ‘Have an accident then, Adam?’

  ‘Not exactly. I wasn’t expecting to find you here; is this your place?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You were working at the sawmill last time I saw you.’

  ‘Well, that was a long time ago, wasn’t it? I still do a bit there now and again.’

  Gesturing towards his car, Adam said, ‘I was looking for some headlights.’

  The old antipathy between them was as keenly felt as it had been the first day they’d met, and the same sullen contempt he remembered was still present in Nick’s expression. It occurred to Adam that Nick could well have been the figure he’d seen on the road, which made the irony of their present situation something Nick would no doubt find amusing. He thought maybe he should try somewhere else, but before he could say anything Nick turned and went towards the rows of wooden racks that filled the barn.

  ‘Wait there, I’ll see what I’ve got.’

  He vanished for a few minutes and when he came back he was carrying a headlight unit, which he put on a wooden counter near the door while he examined the connections. ‘It’s a bit rusty, but it should be alright. What year is your car?’

  ‘’Seventy-eight.’

  ‘Should fit then. I might have another one. There’s a wreck somewhere I haven’t finished stripping yet. Not a lot of demand for Porsche parts, around here,’ he added pointedly.

  Adam ignored the comment. Nick picked up a heavy wrench and grabbed a sack that clinked with a metallic sound and slung it over his shoulder. ‘You can wait here if you want.’ He brushed past and headed out to the yard.

  Because he didn’t have anything else to do Adam followed through a desolate landscape. During the night it had rained, and in the early morning light, under a heavy grey sky, wrecked cars rested like abandoned carcasses in the mud, their paintwork rusting, most of them stripped of anything that might be remotely saleable. Where windscreens had once been only dark, gaping holes remained. Along a muddy avenue minor oil slicks shimmered on the surface of puddles, and the ground was littered with all kinds of rusting discarded junk. In the heart of the yard the scene was reminiscent of a sepia toned photograph. It felt as if the sun never penetrated. The colour was all leached out of the landscape, leaving only black streaked mud, and the reddish-brown rusting bones of old cars under a grey sky. The air was tainted with the heavy cloying stench of dirt and oil.

  Apparently having found what he was looking for Nick started clambering up a pile of old cars towards what Adam recognized as the remains of a Porsche like his own, only this one lacked a roof.

  ‘It was hit by a cement truck,’ Nick said, as he started working on the light. ‘The bloke driving it was sh
owing off to his girlfriend. Her head was ripped clean off. They found it in a field.’ He grinned with grim amusement.

  Adam left him to it and wandered off among the piles of old cars. By the time he went back to the barn Nick had the headlight and was examining it outside.

  ‘Do you get all the accident wrecks around here?’ Adam asked.

  ‘Depends. Most of them.’

  ‘What about the car those three boys were in when they were killed?’

  Nick glanced at him, then gestured vaguely. ‘Yeah. That one’s around somewhere.’

  Nick said the light would fit and offered to fit them both. ‘It’ll cost another thirty quid mind.’

  Adam agreed, having long since become used to paying other people for repairs that most old Porsche owners would have happily done themselves, but which he lacked the knowledge or inclination for. ‘By the way, I went by your house the other day,’ he said casually, as Nick went to work. ‘At least it used to be your house. The cottages near bottom end?’

  Nick paused and gave him a thoughtful look. ‘That was you Mary saw? She said somebody had been around.’

  ‘Is she your wife?’

  Nick picked up a screwdriver and grunted a reply. ‘We’re not married.’

  ‘I might’ve scared her unintentionally.’

  ‘She’s not used to people.’

  ‘Well, tell her I’m sorry.’ He let a few moments pass then said, ‘So, have you found somewhere else to live?’

  Abruptly Nick stopped what he was doing and looked up. ‘What makes you think I’m looking?’

  ‘I heard you were selling up.’