The man behind the bar looked toward her and smiled. A handsome man in his mid-forties wearing a white shirt, a plain red tie and sports jacket with the corner of a red silk handkerchief hanging out of the breast pocket. She didn’t expect to see such formal dress, in fact, she hadn’t expected anything to be like it was and for the first time in her life Jackie did not feel uncomfortable in a pub.
‘Hello, Miss, please don’t think me rude, but I have to tell you we had all the roof tiles replaced last year so I can assure you it’s safe to take your ‘hat’ off.’
‘Fish.’ Jackie’s hands shot up and removed the dripping shopping bag from her head, unable to hide her embarrassment. ‘And I thought your customers were giving me a smile of welcome.’
‘I’m sure they were, Miss. What can I get for you? Looks as though a change of clothing might be useful, but I’m afraid I can’t help there.’
Before Jackie could answer, the occupier of the stool against the far wall shouted an instruction. ‘Barman, give me another and be quick about it.’ She didn’t raise her head, just continued to look into the glass as she tilted it towards her willing the final drops of liquid to form a reasonable swallow.
‘One moment please, Miss, it’s best I sort her out first.’
Jackie acknowledged with a nod.
‘How many times must I tell you I’m not the barman, I’m the bloody owner. And, when I’m serving, may I suggest a little politeness wouldn’t go amiss. Much more of this and, I’m sorry, but you are going to be barred from here.’
The woman on the stool raised her head and glared at him. ‘Okay, Mr Bloody Owner, give me another G & T. Please . If it’s convenient, that is.’ The expression on her face didn’t change and her eyes remained fixed and empty of emotion.
Mr Bloody Owner smiled at her. He liked Trish, always had done. More than liked her if the truth were known. Just now, though, the great sadness he felt was tearing at his heart. He leant across the bar until their faces were inches apart. ‘Show me your money, Trish,’ he whispered, ‘you’ve caught me out so many times before, but no more.’
‘That’s not the way to treat your most regular of regulars,’ she said pulling a dirty plastic purse from her raincoat pocket and tipping the contents over the bar. ‘And I know you wouldn’t bar me.’ She winked at him, but no smile.
‘My other customers always pay in full for what they have,’ said Mr Bloody Owner stretching far to his right to catch a ten pence piece as it rolled over the edge of the bar. He collected the money, all small change, counted it and placed it in three piles next to the till. He walked to the other end of the bar, where Jackie was standing, and took a tonic from the fridge.
‘Sorry Miss, almost there,’ he said to Jackie as an apology.
He placed the glass and bottle of tonic in front of Trish telling her to make it last because she wasn’t getting another.
Her mild grunt of indignation exploded into rage as she began pouring the tonic. ‘What the hell’s this?’ she yelled. ‘Only one ice cube and a short measure of gin.’
Mr Bloody Owner picked up the money by the till and counted it out in front of her. ‘You’re forty pence short of a full measure so I’ve adjusted the gin, the ice and, if you look again, you might recognise the slice of lemon as being the same slice as was in your last drink. You get what you pay for from now on.’ He put the money in the till and turned away.
‘Bastard,’ she said, just loud enough for him to hear.
He raised a hand in acknowledgement and smiled a sad smile.
‘Sorry, Miss, she’ll be quiet now for a while. What can I get you?’
‘I’m sorry, but it’s not a drink I’m after. It’s just that I’m looking for someone and I thought she might be in here?’
‘Well, Miss, as you can see we’re not that busy at the moment. Best have a look around.’
‘Trouble is I don’t know her and so I wouldn’t recognise her even if she was here. I need to get in touch with a good private investigator and have been recommended a Trish Grant. Do you know her?’
Mr Bloody Owner turned his head in the direction of the lady on the stool. ‘You’ve almost met her.’
Jackie followed his gaze to the crumpled mess he had just served. Her profile showed no signs of make up, her hair was uncombed and knotted, and her coat creased and stained. ‘Oh, my gosh. That’s her? All she needs is a cigarette in her mouth.’ Jackie didn’t know why she had mentioned the cigarette, but put it down to the shock of finding out her investigator was a drunk.
‘Oh no, Miss, she doesn’t smoke. Used to, but gave it up after her husband disappeared with a wealthy client. When her money got short she said it had to be a choice between fags and booze. As you can see, booze won the day. Gives her more comfort, for longer. So she says.’
‘Does she still work?’
‘You’re joking, love, not in her state. Can’t stay sober for long enough. I’ve known Trish for years, she and her husband had a great business and it was a hell of a shock when he shot off with ‘Lady Muck’. You can see how Trish took it. I keep trying to get her back on track, but she won’t listen. She was the best investigator in the area, much better than her old man. Had clients queuing up for her.’
Jackie just shook her head, unable to think of an appropriate response.
Mr Bloody Owner wasn’t deterred. ‘Don’t go away, Miss, all I need is a minute and I’ll arrange a meeting.’ Without waiting for a reaction he was gone, to the woman on the stool. ‘Got a client for you, Trish, that young lady at the other end of the bar.’
She didn’t turn her head. ‘Don’t even think about it. Don’t want any clients and you know that.’
‘Yes you do, I’ll send her over.’
Trish remained bent forward over her glass.
‘Go on, Miss, she’s ready to receive you. Don’t take any notice of her rants, just tell her how much you need her. If you can get her back to work she’ll do you proud, whatever it is you need her for. One word of caution. Don’t call her Grant. She refuses to hear it and will only respond to Lister, her maiden name.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. She doesn’t really look like the kind of person I’m after. I need someone I can trust to do a good job for me. I would say she needs more help than I do. Sorry, I’ll find someone else.’ Jackie turned to leave.
Mr Bloody Owner stretched across the bar and touched Jackie’s arm. ‘Please, Miss, give her a try. Please .’
Trish didn’t move as Jackie edged closer, but the whiteness of her knuckles increased as she squeezed tighter on the glass. Jackie expected it to splinter any second.
‘Miss Lister, may I speak with you.’
‘She’s not in.’ Her tone sharp and persuasive.
Jackie hesitated, half turned towards Mr Bloody Owner who was urging her to carry on with a wave of his hand. ‘Er… I think you probably are in, Miss Lister. I’m in desperate need of a private investigator and you have been recommended to me.’
Trish turned, but preferred to look at the floor rather than her prospective client. She wore no make-up and struggled to keep her eyes open. Her skin was a deathly white, but unblemished and her teeth almost perfect. The nails of her neglected hands were varnished although not all with the same colour and some were badly chipped. The long white coat must have cost a bomb, Jackie thought, but it looked as though it hadn’t been removed for weeks. The black leather belt had slipped out of one of its loops and was resting on the floor. Her denim slacks were too long and both hems were badly frayed. The black plimsolls did nothing to improve the overall shabbiness. Despite the way she was looking, Jackie believed, it wouldn’t take a great deal of work to transform Trish into a very attractive woman. Jackie felt herself beginning to feel sorry for her.
‘And who might have recommended me? Obviously someone who hasn’t seen the state I’ve got myself into. Just look at me.’
Jackie was surprised at her clarity and assumed she had only rece
ntly commenced her drinking for the day. ‘Detective Inspector Deckman. He did tell me that things had gone wrong for you, but he also said you were the best investigator in the area. He told me he wasn’t allowed to recommend, but , in my opinion, by giving me your name he’s as good as done so.’ Jackie saw the flicker in her eyes. A glimmer of hope, she thought.
‘Shit, it would be him. Did he also tell you I owe him a favour?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I do. A big one, from years ago, so I suppose this must be pay-back time. The bastard. Tell me what the problem is while I finish my medicine.’ Trish took another sip. ‘Good job you caught me early in the day, a few more of these,’ she said, raising her glass, ‘and it would have taken a bomb to wake me. No promises though, is that understood?’ Her voice was deep with a slight huskiness about it. Jackie was almost jealous believing there were a great number of men who would find it very sexy.
Jackie had only said a few words when Trish interrupted.
‘That’s enough, how am I expected to concentrate with Mr Bloody Owner looking at me out of the corner of his beady little eye and grinning like that wretched cat whose name I can’t think of at the moment. Guide me back to the house and we’ll talk there. Be warned, it’s not tidy and I’m not at my best. Never am these days.’ She staggered as she got off the stool and grabbed Jackie’s arm to avoid ending up on the floor. Jackie bent down and picked up the belt that had finally displaced itself.
Jackie couldn’t resist a glance over her shoulder as she escorted the unsteady Trish to the door. She nodded towards Mr Bloody Owner as he pulled another pint. She couldn’t understand why he was showing such clear signs of delight and hoped he was not banking on her to put Trish right. Jackie was very much undecided as to whether she had found her investigator.
*
The room was gloomy, a single shaft of light penetrated a small, high level window covered with a net curtain. The French windows had the floor length curtains overlapping and secured in position by two chairs. Jackie walked straight over and opened them. She had expected there would be empty bottles heaped everywhere and the floor littered with rubbish, but it wasn’t like that. The room was untidy and in need of a good clean, but she had seen worse.
It took Trish a few moments to realise the room was lighter. ‘Hey what the hell are you doing? I don’t need light. Half the time I don’t even know what time of day or night it is anyway so what’s the point.’
‘Stop talking like that, you make it sound as though your problem is with you for life.’
‘Probably is, but who cares. We’ll talk in here,’ said Trish. ‘The office is through that door,’ she pointed, ‘and I’ve not been in there since he left.’
‘I have a feeling it won’t be too long before you are back in there.’
Trish flopped down on the leather sofa. ‘You sound very confident, Miss er… Sorry, I don’t even know your name.’
‘Jackie. Jackie Salter.’
‘Okay, Jackie, what makes you think I will be back to work soon? Just look at me, I’ve had it. I lost it all when that bastard of a man walked out on me.’
‘Look, Miss Lister, I know exactly what you are going through. Although we were never married I lived with a man for five years until he got tired of me and found a new model. He had been having the affair for twelve months before I found out. I was told by a work colleague that she had seen him with this other woman on a number of occasions. When I confronted him he admitted it. It hurts badly but we get over it. We have to. We will be all the stronger for the experience, no matter how bitter it is. You will be no different. We are women and can’t let this hurt tear us apart and ruin our lives.’
‘You don’t strike me as a being a women’s libber.’ For the first time she looked into Jackie’s eyes as she spoke.
‘I’m not, but I wouldn’t want any man to think he’s got one over on me, even if he has. But listen, Trish, if I may use your first name, drink is not the right way to get over this setback.’
Trish’s reaction frightened Jackie. She leapt off the sofa, picked up an empty vase from the table and threw it at the office door, followed by the two cushions from a chair. ‘What the hell do you mean? Are you accusing me of being a drunk? How dare you. What right do you have to come into my house and call me a drunk? You bitch.’ She was shaking, a mixture of anger and gin.
Jackie was furious with herself again; she thought she had said everything right, knowing Trish might be a bit volatile. She decided there was no point in changing her approach. ‘Sorry, Trish, but that’s the way it looks to me and, no doubt, everyone else. You have a major drink problem. Face up to it, woman, or you’ll have drunk yourself to death within a year. Your choice. And I was just beginning to feel sorry for you.’ She grabbed her bag off the table and made for the door. ‘Good luck, Miss Lister,’ she shouted from the hall, ‘I think you are going to need it.’
‘Bastard,’ shouted Trish as she slammed the living room door. She pounded on the closed door and continued to scream abuse.
Jackie hesitated, her eyes filling. Unsure what she should do. If she left and Trish did ‘something silly’ it would be her fault. She knew she could not live with that.
It went silent. Jackie put her ear to the door. Nothing. She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. Trish was sitting on the floor, knees raised with her head lowered.
Jackie knelt down and placed her hand on Trish’s shoulder, expecting her to become violent at any moment.
She raised her head. ‘You came back, why?’ All signs of anger having vanished.
Jackie felt more comfortable. ‘I couldn’t leave you like that. Didn’t know what you might have got up to. Come on, Trish, up you get, my knees are throbbing.’ She took her hands and helped her up.
‘Thanks for coming back, I hoped you would. I did consider suicide you know. Not long after he left me, but couldn’t do it.’ Trish couldn’t hold out any longer, she threw herself into Jackie’s arms and cried. Six months of repressed emotion was unleashed.
Jackie said nothing, as she stroked the back of Trish’s head and allowed her to cry it out.
When the sobbing stopped Trish remained silent for a while before stepping back. ‘Sorry about the wet patch on your blouse.’ She tried brushing it away with her hand.
‘Don’t worry about it, glad to have been of some use.’
Trish sniggered, only momentarily lightening her melancholy. ‘You are right with everything you said and I know it, but why bother when there’s nothing left?’
‘Nonsense. There’s the rest of your life left. Use it. You’re luckier than most, Trish, you have a business to get stuck into.’
‘I’ve a lot to thank Inspector Deckman for, but who, in their right mind, would employ me now? Just look at me.’
Jackie looked at her and was filled with sadness for the woman in front of her. She couldn’t help herself when she spoke. ‘Trish Lister, Private Investigator, I need you to work for me. Will you do it?’ Her tone softened, ‘Please say yes.’
‘I… I don’t know, Jackie. I want to say yes, but I don’t want to let you down and I’m sure I will. I rely so much on the bottle at the moment. I don’t have anything else.’
‘Look, I want to give you that something else. A means to put that wretched bottle behind you. You will get there in the end, but it will be hard and you will need some professional support. I will be about to help you as much as I can, but you must accept there will be the odd set-back along the way. The most important thing, Trish, is a longing to get better. Nobody can help you if you don’t have that wish and are not prepared to help yourself.’
‘I do, I do.’ Trish grabbed hold of Jackie again and held her close. ‘Thanks, Jackie, I have no sisters or friends and my dear mother died last year. No one for me to talk to. I guess I’ve been waiting for someone like you to come along. I need you. I can’t do it on my own and I hate myself for not being able to.�
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‘I’ll be there don’t worry, but we need each other, Trish. Right, first of all we are going to get you smartened up. You look an absolute mess and your hair is disgusting.’
Despite them having just met for the first time they hugged and laughed together. It felt right to do so. Trish had not laughed for six months and it made her feel good. An hour later Trish’s appearance had been transformed. Shower, hair-do, clean clothes and a touch of make-up.
‘You look great,’ said Jackie, ‘and that dress is gorgeous.’
‘Thanks, I feel great,’ replied Trish looking at herself in the full-length mirror that she had taken from under the settee and leant against the wall. ‘I hid all the mirrors months ago; couldn’t bear to look at myself. Can’t remember where half of them are.’
‘Okay, so now you can put them all back, when you find them. Right, let’s go across the road to The Study for a celebratory drink.’
A look of alarm spread across Trish’s face. ‘A bit risky isn’t it?’
‘Don’t panic, coffee only and a bite to eat. You look as though you need some real food inside you. And then we can talk about what I need you to do for me. I’ll make sure Mr Bloody Owner doesn’t bother us with his beady eyes. So, do I take it that you are going to work for me?’
‘Yes, but I don‘t think…’
‘No arguments, Trish, you are going to be fine.’
*
The Study was busy, the early evening trade had begun. Heads turned and eyes homed in on the two attractive new arrivals. A few wasted no time on them, they were not the friends who were expected. Some of the single men hesitated, considering whether it was worth an approach. Most of the regulars rubbed their eyes in disbelief as they had grown used to seeing Trish much the worse for her G & Ts and an open-mouthed Mr Bloody Owner cursed as he allowed the pint he was pulling to overflow.
Jackie grabbed Trish’s arm and rushed her the final few steps to the bar. ‘Mr Bloody Owner,’ she said, ‘I have the greatest pleasure in presenting the real Trish Lister.’
A Perfect Likeness Page 2
