‘This is Rees; I remember you said something about pest control so thought I’d call you again, and again. I have a plan to liven up Cirencester, wanted to check you’ll be there.’
Shit, sounding like a twat. What next, begging?
He hears nothing. Why would she? She might be the best looking woman he’s ever seen and all she is going to remember is wiping lipstick off a beer-stink face. Fuck.
The next day he gets a text: Sorry so busy – Starbucks 8th Jun 18.30?
That’s the wrong day and René doesn’t concede to a swap of duties until Rees is up to two bottles of scotch, the extended version of Avatarts II and a full day in return. No matter. He checks out of the gate in the Land Rover at five thirty and has it cleaned out and is back in the driving seat in a change of clothes in ten minutes flat. It’s military but unmarked and he’s not the first to break the rules and use it on a personal.
Eva calls with half an hour to go.
‘Hi Rees, how are you?’
He’s sitting in traffic. The weather is a carwash.
‘I’m good,’ He says. ‘How are you?’
‘You still okay for later?’
‘Sure, I’ll be there.’
‘I hope you don’t mind but I have to do something and I was hoping you could help me. I didn’t want to cancel – I thought we could talk and, you know, just spend some time while I do some stuff. Is that too cheeky? Maybe easier to get to know each other, no?’
‘Whatever. What kind of stuff?’
‘Could you meet me at the main building – you come on to campus and follow the road to the old buildings at the back – before you get to the main car park. You’ll see some big steps. Could you meet me there? How much room have you got in your car?’
‘Huh? Plenty of room. It’s a Land Rover.’
‘Great. See you in a mo.’
There are tall trees lining the drive and the campus is a cluster of Cotswold stone buildings and some newer brick blocks. The old part has grandeur; an ancient college with a huge chapel, quadrangle and playing fields. The rain has stopped and when he finds the steps at the back he sees a group of figures in formal clothes and Eva standing apart in a stripe of sunlight. She is looking out for him as if for a bus approaching a bus stop and when he pulls up she is already coming down the steps. She’s wearing a dark shiny skirt and smart shoes with heels and manages an unhurried elegance despite the black suitcase she’s towing that wobbles and clunks down each step behind her. The buttons on her raincoat catch the sun as she moves and a red tint lights up her wind-blown hair as she sweeps it out of her eyes. For a moment she has an air of defiance but when he bounds up the steps to meet her she is all smiles.
They do a double kiss and he reaches for her suitcase but she holds him off to take a good look at him. Her gaze slides over his face, down his body and all the way back up. He’s taking her in too; she’s even prettier than he remembered, magazine cover skin, brown eyes glinting amber, weaponised mouth, and curves that bellow in a belted coat.
‘Leaving town?’
‘Hello Rees. I’m glad you could come! Are you feeling strong?’
He picks up the case. ‘Jeez, what’s in this?’
‘Sorry! I hope you don’t mind me asking a little favour, because otherwise I wouldn’t have had any time for us to meet and I thought – why not? – It’s a good thing to have something to do, isn’t it? And of course it’s easier for you because you don’t know anything to do here, do you? Anyway, there isn’t much to do. And yes, you’re right, I’m leaving.’
‘I’m in your hands,’ he says, ‘where are you moving to?’
‘Spain.’
‘Oh. That’s going to take a while.’
‘But not yet.’
‘Ah. Is that home?’
‘It used to be. I don’t know now.’
He opens the passenger door for her and watches her climb up into the front seat. She swings her knees in and her eyes flick around her, suddenly making him think that despite doing his best the Landy is filthy.
‘Sorry about the state of it, I did clean it out.’
‘Don’t worry, I grew up on a farm and we have much worse. I might even know how to fix it if it breaks – maybe I shouldn’t tell you that.’
‘That would be worth seeing – but not dressed like that.’
‘I had a ceremony this morning, now I have to get changed again and move my stuff out of my room. There are several boxes. It’s not too far. Is that all right? And then I promise I’ll take you to this lovely place I know where I can buy you a nice meal and find out all about you. How’s that?
‘Well let’s get you moved and then we’ll see who buys what.’
‘No. Don’t move. We have to be clear. You come here and then I ask you to help me – so I’m buying, okay?’
He starts the Land Rover up. It shudders and rattles and he helps Eva snap the broken buckle of her seatbelt shut.
‘How can I refuse?’
‘You can’t. It’s back around the front and out towards the main gate but then you turn right before the drive and I’m in a room there.’
The road swishes under the tyres. The sky ahead is black and the few passers-by are still carrying umbrellas but there’s sunshine slanting in from behind. A couple of students jog by in clinging wet clothes. There must be a rainbow somewhere.
‘It’s here, turn right and then left – yes by that van.’ They’re in a warren of low rise student apartments now. ‘It’s the one with the blue door – second on the right. You can park behind the red one. Oh shit!’
‘What’s up?’
‘Wait a minute. I thought – just pull over beyond there, would you?’
He slides the Land Rover up to the pavement twenty yards further on. Eva is looking behind through the back window.
‘Mierda, we’ll have to wait,’ she says.
‘Problem?’
‘Someone I was hoping wasn’t here. I’m sorry. See the BMW there on the other side? Can you see if there’s anyone in it?’
It looks empty.
‘He must be inside. Shit. She’s let him in. I knew it. Well I’ll just have to go in anyway. I’m very sorry. This might not be good. You stay here. I’m leaving the suitcase in here. Just keep an eye on it, will you?’
‘Don’t you want me to come in with you?’
‘I’d better go first. I’ll only be a minute.’
She slips out and he watches her in the wing mirror. She walks straight across to the black BMW parked opposite her apartment block. At first he thinks she’s going to smash something as she looks intently inside. Then she turns on her heel, heads up the path and lets herself into the block.’
He waits and watches. After several minutes he steps out of the Land Rover and stretches. The road is quiet. He locks the door and takes a few steps – at first away and then towards the apartment. Nothing moves. He checks his watch and gives it another five long minutes, sitting on the low wall with his feet in the pavement.
Two men come out. One is big and strides out; the other is small and follows hurriedly, looking about him. They see Rees and the Land Rover and pass a word but then cross the street and get into the BMW. The little one drives. They pass him and stare, turn at the top of the road and then pass again and take the drive down to the main road.
The door to the apartment block is open. Inside there are several identical numbered student bedrooms. He follows the sound of raised voices down the corridor. Through a partially open door he sees Eva sitting on a bed, pulling on jeans. Another female figure is talking loudly.
He catches a snippet. ‘What do you expect me to do? ’
He knocks and pushes the door. Eva has changed and is buttoning up a new blouse. Her cheeks are tear-stained when she looks up and she wipes her face hurriedly. Her companion jumps up, short blonde hair and red face.
‘Who the fuck are you? What do you want?’ Until Eva calms her down and explains.
Then Eva raises her hands and le
ts out a gasp of exasperation. Rees follows her eyes around the room. The several boxes and cases she had obviously packed have been messily searched, leaving the contents strewn around. The drawers are sticking out of her little cabinet and the wardrobe gapes open. One curtain is drawn. There’s a desk, clear except for a couple of paper clips and some dusty pens. The bed is stripped to the mattress. The walls have shadows where pictures have hung.
‘You okay?’
‘This is Angela,’ Eva says. ‘And this was my room. And now, thank God, we can leave.’
He sits down on the bed and puts a tentative arm around her. Angela stands facing them with her arms folded, a stocky girl in jeans and a green tee shirt with a horse’s arse on it.
‘He’s a dickhead. You know that. Do you want your plant stuff from my window? I haven’t even started my packing yet.’
‘Keep them.’ Eva says, rallying, ‘send me a picture when they flower.’
He watches her re-pack clothes and books into the cases. One crate has a broken lid but Angela finds some tape and they stick it down. He carries the heavy boxes out to the Land Rover and Eva pulls the suitcases. He watches while she hugs Angela and exchanges a few last words.
She doesn’t say much except to give directions as he runs her to her new accommodation – a room in a house a few miles away. They unload the boxes into a hallway full of landlady bric-a-brac and pictures of dogs. Two live ones buff his ankles as he marches in and out and the landlady watches from the kitchen doorway, nosing for personal chemistry and the likelihood of activities which her terms rule out.
It’s early evening when they sit down in the restaurant, a Sicilian place, an imagined terrace under vines and a cave of polished wood and gingham. It’s busy with families tucking in but they find a small table in a corner by a faded mural of cuboid buildings sliding into the sea.
‘Seems you’re a bit of a nomad,’ he says. ‘I think the new place looks nice. Homely. I hope you like dogs.’
‘She’s a sweetheart, really. And thanks for today.’ She says. ‘It wasn’t quite what I planned. I’m actually quite organised usually but things have gone a bit haywire. It’s just while I get my own place sorted out. Thanks for looking after me.’ She reaches forward and squeezes his hand.
The waiter brings menus and then bread and a wine list which he opens, as though for a signature. Rees is thinking mainly about how good Eva looks in her jeans and red blouse and also about how broke he is and that he really ought to be paying for this. She orders pasta and he opts for a steak. He doesn’t know much about wine and he picks the middle-priced of three Chiantis. It takes him a moment to realise she is laughing.
‘What?’
She doesn’t know how to tell him.
‘Just your face; it’s very funny, very…intense. Which is good. Sorry. I was just thinking about last time when we met. Very different, eh? And you’ve been so nice after all the trouble I’ve given you today.’
‘I’m used to trouble – I’m trained for it, remember? And you did say it would be your turn to be looked after.’
I didn’t quite mean it like that. Anyway, now I want to know about you.’ She leans forward. ‘How do they train you for trouble? Tell me all about it.’
He watches the waiter as he walks away.
‘Should I have gone for Sicilian? Why sell the damn stuff if…’
‘It’s a good choice; very nice.’
‘Don’t tell me – you’re an expert, right?
‘Well, a little bit. Actually quite a lot. We grow grapes. My family has a vineyard and so of course I grew up with wine and then started studying all about it…how you cultivate them, the different varieties, harvesting, problems you have to deal with, new ways and means…you know, all those things.’
‘Now she tells me.’
‘No, it’s great. Chianti is great.’
‘Is that how come you’re here? Studying I mean? But it can’t be about wine. We don’t do that very well, do we?’
‘Well, no. But when it comes to research – controlling pests which kill the vines and other crops – this place has a great reputation for that kind of work.’
‘Ah, typical – we’re good at the nerdy stuff. Don’t tell me – the moths!’
‘Yes of course – moths! But lots more than that.’
‘Well, cheers! Here’s to moths. They brought us together. Do they think they worry about moths in Chianti? Do they camp out there at night with strip lights too?’
‘Well, yes, perhaps they do. They do have grape vine moth in Tuscany of course. We all have to deal with that. But do you know I heard of a guy there who looks after his vines by playing them classical music out of huge loudspeakers – Mozart, Tchaikovsky. He claims it ripens them early and keeps all the bad things away – animals, parasites, mould, bacteria…He’s not even a nutter.’
‘You mean it works?’
‘They did some research at The University of Florence which bore out his results. How about that?’
‘Sounds very Italian, doesn’t it? I bet the workers hate it. I wonder what they played this one. Are you a music buff too?’
‘No, hopeless. I have terrible taste. I like Random Eye, Beaverbrooke and Missy Jay.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘And how about you?’
‘Music?’
‘Everything, you haven’t told me about the army, all you boys together training for trouble.’
So he tells her about the army. He tells her about the selection process and how many fail it. He talks about weapons and explosives. He doesn’t tell her the scheme he’s on. Doesn’t want to spook her. She’s hungry and eats pieces of bread while he talks.
‘You all live together – in the barracks? There are no women, right?
‘They have women in the Special Reconnaissance Regiment – we were attached to that.’
‘Are they sexy? Do you flirt with them?’
‘They’re all incredibly butch,’ he says, ‘we don’t really mix with them much but we’re expected to change their oil once a month. Anyway, they’ve moved us now.’
‘You’re wicked. No candidates to fall in love with?’
‘What? No. Even if you were tempted, you wouldn’t. We have a very vigilant sergeant major. I won’t be introducing you.’
‘Introduce him to Angela and get even.’ They both laugh.
But you’re very secretive, aren’t you, Rees? How do I get to know the real you – the you that is in here.’ She taps her chest. Something about her makes him want to tell her about himself. He doesn’t feel very good at it, doesn’t know where to start. But she does.
‘Tell me about your family. Have you got brothers and sisters? What about your parents? What do they do? Where do they live? Where did you go on holiday? What did your mother make him to eat? Did she buy his clothes? What did he do on his birthday? What are his favourite songs? How many girlfriends has he had? Who’s his ideal woman? She suggests Pandi McGraw’s body and Missy Jay’s voice. What last made him cry? She asks when his mother’s birthday is, where his parents met, what he thinks about when he tries to sleep.
‘Christ,’ he says, ‘you’ve asked more in ten minutes than my mates have since I joined up.’
‘I’m a woman. I want to know. You men don’t get down to business, do you?’
‘What?’
‘Okay then. When will you have to shoot people? Could you do that?’
The food comes as a ceasefire. He reciprocates her questions sporadically. She is one of four sisters, has two younger brothers, her parents live in Spain, she is an expert on disrupting mating moths by use of synthetic pheromones or parasitic wasps, knows all about toads, worms and mites. She has spent the last six months on a residential research programme. She doesn’t have a boyfriend…
He’s not big on sweets but the waiter rolls his eyes and waves his hands and somehow they finish up leaning in to share a slab of Cassata swimming in cream. She asks for a dessert wine she wants him to try.
&
nbsp; ‘Should we talk about what happened at your place?’
She sighs and considers for a moment.
‘I’d never have come if I’d met them at the beginning. I got on well with the old professor. It was because of him that I applied. His programme was very big picture and I had room for my interests. But when I got here it was all change.’
‘What happened?’
‘Different views, sponsorship. What we do is to intervene in nature in very specific ways – it’s very very detailed and you have to be painstaking and keep your eye on the complexities. Some of the impacts can be quite diverse and long term. Otherwise we’re back to endocrine disruption and food chain crises and all the rest of it. When it becomes industrial you just get pressure to produce results and in the momentum you lose the bigger sense of purpose, the balance. So there’s always an argument about pace and, in the end, I guess, integrity. But these guys? Oh my God!’
‘And your professor is out of it is he? He’s gone?’
‘Yes, he approved my application well over a year ago. By the time I got here he’d left. The new Director basically works for Melcheck – he’s a pesticides guy and it’s all sponsorship money. He thinks he’s going to be running a factory for them. And unfortunately, my research has come up with some problems with his new product. I probably only kept my place because they were behind schedule and thought I could plug some due diligence gaps. I was meant to do their set routines, just tick boxes and not find anything. It all blew up when I submitted my dissertation.’
‘He doesn’t like what you found.’
‘Not at all. His people say that I’m wrong – they have rerun my data, found, guess what, anomalies, basically wiped all my work. They will still grant my certificate if I let it go.’
‘Those guys today? The dickhead?’
‘Yes. Well, they are involved. The guy you saw is Tony Vinten. When I started here I worked with him. He shared with us. Remember what I told you about the little worms, the nematodes? Their pesticide damages some of the wrong ones. They want to know I won’t publish that. They have no right to go through my stuff…’
‘So what were they were looking for?’
Solomon's Keepers Page 5
