Kiss and Tell

by Leo McNeir

  “You’ll enjoy it,” said Marnie. “It’ll be good fun. You probably won’t have to do much actual driving today, not the first time.”

  Anne made no reply. She went back to the kitchen area and stood staring into her mug.

  “You’re not really nervous, are you?”

  Anne shrugged.

  “You’ve no reason to be. You’ve always sailed through every challenge you’ve faced since I’ve known you. And you’ve only got to look at other drivers. Most of them shouldn’t be allowed out on the pavement, let alone drive a car. The roads are full of morons. You’ll soon be up to their standard.”

  Anne spluttered with laughter. “That’s a great comfort. Something to live up to.”

  “You’ll manage it.”

  Marnie caught sight of movement and turned her head to see Ralph at the door.

  “Am I interrupting a top-level meeting of Walker and Co?” he said.

  “You’ve barged in on our break,” said Marnie. Anne reached for another mug.

  “I only came out for a breath of air. And to boast that I can now operate the new mobile. Thanks for the lesson, Anne.”

  “No probs.” She brought Ralph coffee and went to sit at her desk.

  “Anthony returned the old one this morning,” said Ralph.

  Anne looked at her watch. “Gosh! I’ve got to get ready. I’ll be late.” She raced over to scramble up the wall-ladder to her room.

  “You’ve got ten minutes before we have to go,” said Marnie. “There’s no rush.”

  They could hear Anne moving around above them. To Ralph Marnie said, “You’ve seen Anthony this morning, then?”

  “No, he just dropped the mobile in on Thyrsis. Left it on the top step, probably when he went jogging.”

  “So you haven’t had a chance to invite him round?”

  “Not yet. I’ll catch him some time today or tomorrow.”

  Anne called down from the ladder hole. “Black trousers?”

  Marnie called back. “Too formal. Jeans are fine.”

  When Anne was ready, Ralph had returned to his office on Thyrsis. She presented herself for approval and was pleased when Marnie said she looked ready for action. Before leaving, Marnie announced that she would make a quick visit to the loo, a fact that Anne did not divulge when the phone rang in her absence.

  “Can I take a message?” she said.

  “If you could just say Simon rang and I’ll ring back some other time. It’s not urgent.”

  “I saw you yesterday when you came on the boat. My name’s Anne. I’m Marnie’s assistant.”

  “So you’re holding the fort while she’s out.”

  “Not exactly. She’s just getting ready to take me for my first driving lesson. It’s a red letter day, as they say.”

  “A red letter day, indeed. Good luck. I hope it goes well.”

  *

  The MG had attracted admiring looks all the way from Knightly St John to Northampton. Several cars passing in the opposite direction had flashed their headlights at the sight of the open-top sports car with its antique lines and throaty exhaust note. Marnie waved back gaily, and they sped on their way in spring sunshine. The little car drew up on the forecourt of the driving school.

  “Well, this is it,” said Anne.

  Marnie took hold of her hand. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see. Enjoy yourself.”

  “Sure. As long as I get the main things right, like remembering to breathe. We’re not late are we?”

  “We’re okay.”

  “You’ve no idea how nervous I feel about this.”

  Marnie looked at her. Anne was biting her lip, and deep furrows creased her forehead. If possible, she was even paler than usual. “You hide it very well,” Marnie said.

  “I wish I could keep cool like you, Marnie.”

  “You’re kidding. I can remember my first driving lesson like it was yesterday. For a start it was pouring with rain, so you’re luckier than I was.”

  “That must have been awful.”

  “Certainly was.” Marnie laughed. “The instructor, Mr Davies, stroppy little man with ginger hair, terrifying ex-Sergeant-Major, told me to test the indicators. I grabbed the controls ... and the sunroof slid open.”

  “No!”

  “Yep. We were drenched before I could get the bloody thing shut.”

  As they howled with laughter, neither noticed the man coming out of the office and walking towards them. “Good morning, ladies. You’re right on time.” They looked up in unison and their smiles vanished. The instructor wore a smart suit and tie. He had red hair surrounding a bald top.

  “They must breed them for the job,” Marnie muttered under her breath.

  *

  Ralph was using the photocopier in the office barn later that afternoon when Anne breezed in. She paused on the threshold and raised her arms in the air, beaming. “I survived!”

  “How did it go?”

  “Brilliant! I am now an expert on the pedals: clutch, brake, accelerator.” She went over to her desk and reached for the diary.

  “I didn’t hear the car,” said Marnie.

  “I got Mr Lawson to let me off at the field gate and walked down, floated down, actually.”

  “I take it the lesson went well.”

  “No probs. I stalled the engine twice before I got the hang of the clutch and accelerator, made some amazing noises. It was great.” She carefully selected a felt-tip pen from the desk-tidy and began shading in part of the desk diary.

  “What are you up to?” Marnie asked.

  “I’m colouring the whole day in red.”

  Marnie smiled. Ralph looked puzzled. “I’m missing something here,” he said. “Why are you doing that?”

  “It’s obvious. Wednesday the twelfth of May. From now on this will be my Red Letter Day.”

  8

  Thursday morning in the office, and it was business as usual. Marnie, engrossed in a design for Willards, looked up at the clock as Dolly walked in to mount guard on the fridge. Exactly break time. The cat was fitted with radar. Anne was deep in concentration on Ralph’s phone numbers, entering them into the memory of his new mobile.

  “I thought Ralph said he’d mastered that phone.”

  Anne glanced up. “That means he knew which button to press to switch it on.”

  “Impressive,” said Marnie.

  “I showed him how to do it.”

  Marnie noticed Dolly giving her one of Those Looks. She got up. “I’ll make coffee.”

  “Are you sure it’s that time already?” Anne asked without turning round. “I didn’t see Dolly come in.”

  Marnie filled the kettle and switched it on before pouring milk into a saucer on the floor. “I suppose Ralph’s taken his other phone now that Anthony’s given it back.”

  Anne shook her head. “Nope. He forgot to put it on charge.”

  “Typical! So he’s gone to his meeting without a mobile. That man is amazing. He is to technology what Mother Teresa is to lap dancing. So what happens if someone tries to ring him?”

  “I’ve taken two messages already this morning,” Anne said, waving a slip of paper.

  Marnie dried two mugs from the draining board. “Have you seen Anthony today?”

  “No. Actually, I haven’t seen him since the other night when he came for supper. You?”

  “No. Ralph thinks we should respect his privacy, give him time to sort himself out.”

  “I thought he seemed okay that evening,” Anne said. “I expect he’s all right.” Ralph’s mobile rang, and she pressed a button. “Hallo, Professor Lombard’s office.” Marnie brought over Anne’s mug and put it down in front of her. “No. I’m afraid he’s out at a meeting at the moment. He’ll be back this afternoon. Would you like to leave a message?”

  Marnie returned to her desk and was just refocusing on her drawing when she heard Anne scream and looked up to see her friend leap out of the chair. She had spilled the coffee into her lap. Marnie rushed across the office and g
rabbed a tea towel, quickly running cold water onto it and flying back to Anne, who was in a state of paralysed shock, grimacing with pain. Without hesitating, Marnie unzipped Anne’s jeans and pulled them down to apply the cold towel to her thighs. She heard Anne gasp, the breath trembling in her throat. “Oh god!”

  “Hold that there for a moment. I’m going to get another one.” Anne was breathing unevenly, tears of pain on her cheeks.

  Marnie was back almost at once with another tea towel, soaked in water. “Try this.” She picked up Anne’s chair. “Here. Sit down.” Anne staggered back and flopped onto the chair like a puppet whose strings have been cut, the towel in her lap, water dripping down her legs, past the jeans crumpled round her ankles, making a puddle on the carpet. She bent forward, breathing heavily, her face in her hands.

  “Oh Marnie. Oh god. Sorry. Sorry.” Her voice was barely audible, contorted by pain.

  Marnie held Anne in her arms, desperately trying to remember basic first aid for scalds. Carefully she raised the towel to look at the damage. The skin at the top of Anne’s thighs was vivid red. Her legs were thin like a child’s, and Marnie felt like crying with pity. She was unsure how long she had to keep the cold water treatment going. Somewhere in the first aid box she knew there was a booklet that would help. She turned the towel over to bring the colder side into contact with the skin. “Any better?”

  Anne replied in a whisper. “Yes. A bit. Thanks, Marnie.”

  “Shall I get more cold water?” Anne nodded. Marnie soaked the first tea towel again and was back at her friend’s side in moments. Marnie felt Anne’s breath on her face as she bent over the injured area. “I think you ought to stay like that for a while. Should I get you to casualty?”

  “I just want to sit for a bit. It’s sore, stings like mad, not as bad as it was.”

  Marnie squeezed Anne’s shoulder and went for the first aid box under the sink. She found the notes on treatment of scalds. ... keep the air out as much as possible ... Marnie pulled open the drawers: cutlery, a tea towel, a roll of cling film, paper napkins, food bags, cork mats ... keep the air out as much as possible ... not much help there. She picked up the tea towel. It was soft and would be comforting, but never airtight. She stared into the drawer.

  Seconds later Marnie was removing the damp cloths to reveal Anne’s tortured skin. Looking down, Anne was amazed to see Marnie wrapping one of her legs in transparent cling film. Marnie grabbed the scissors from Anne’s desk-tidy and cut across the roll before starting on the other leg. The film gripped her snugly.

  “This should keep the air out,” Marnie said. “It’s what you’re supposed to do, apparently.”

  Anne looked dubious, then smiled weakly at Marnie. “Do you think this counts as another red letter day? Red leg day. I look like the packed meat counter in Waitrose.”

  Marnie reached for the phone. “I’m going to ring the doctor’s and check I’ve done the right thing.”

  The receptionist confirmed that Marnie’s first aid was satisfactory and offered an emergency appointment with the doctor if Anne could be brought in.

  Marnie drove the old MG very carefully, aware of every bump in the field track as the firm sports car suspension coped with the ruts and clumps of grass. She did not speak until they were on the main road.

  “How did it happen? One minute you were doing Ralph’s phone numbers, the next thing you were leaping in the air like a ...”

  “Scalded cat?”

  “Exactly. But what caused it?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Just an accident.”

  Marnie glanced sideways at Anne. “Not like you to be clumsy.”

  Anne stared down at her lap. “I had a shock.”

  “Go on.”

  Anne did not look up. “It was really strange, creepy, a woman on the phone for Ralph.” Marnie drove steadily, avoiding even the cats-eyes in the road surface. “I asked if she wanted to leave a message. I couldn’t believe what she said.”

  “Believe what? You’re getting me worried. What did she say?”

  “She said to tell him that his wife had rung and she’d call back later.”

  *

  When they returned from the surgery, Marnie cancelled her afternoon meeting. Anne had protested that she was fine, but Marnie insisted.

  It was just after four when Ralph walked in. He smiled at Marnie who was on the phone to a supplier, and she waved back. He noticed that Anne was wearing a long dress of lightweight Indian cotton instead of her usual jeans and sweatshirt. “Not on the post run, Anne? I thought they set the clocks by you in Knightly.”

  “Not today.” Her tone was subdued.

  “What’s the matter? Are you all right? No. I can see you’re not. What is it, Anne?” Behind him he heard Marnie put the phone down and he turned to her. “Oh god. Is it Anthony? Has something happened to him?”

  “No,” said Marnie. “We haven’t set eyes on him. Anne has had an accident.”

  Ralph turned back to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “What’s happened, darling? What have you done?”

  Marnie answered. “She spilled hot coffee in her lap. A whole mug. She’s scalded her legs. I had to take her to the doctor’s.”

  “I’m so sorry.” He leaned forward, careful to keep clear of her legs, and held her gently, kissing the top of her head.

  “Actually,” Marnie began, “she had a shock when she got a message for you on the phone. It made her jump. That’s how it happened.”

  “A shock? How do you mean?“

  “It was a strange message.”

  “In what way?”

  “From a woman, saying she’d phone back later. She said to tell you it was your wife.”

  Ralph looked completely bewildered. “My wife?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Goodness! No wonder you were shocked, Anne.” Ralph frowned and took a breath. “Well, let’s start from the premise that it couldn’t have been my wife because, obviously, I don’t have a wife, at least not any more. We rule out the spiritualist option, presumably. So who could it’ve been?”

  “You’ve no idea,” said Marnie. It was a statement, not a question.

  Ralph shook his head. “It seems too weird to be a hoax call. That would be rather sick. Anne, can you remember anything about her voice that might help us? Did she sound young, middle-aged? Anything at all?”

  “I think she might’ve had a slight accent,” said Anne.

  “Foreign or regional?”

  “It might’ve been sort of north country, just a little, not a broad accent.”

  “Still doesn’t help much,” said Ralph. “And in case you’re wondering, Laura came from Canterbury, and I can assure you she’s definitely dead. It’s a pity we don’t have more to go on.”

  “I can tell you her phone number,” Anne said quietly. Marnie and Ralph stared at her. “I did 1-4-7-1.” She held up a note from her pad and handed it to Ralph. “That’s it there.”

  He looked at it and shook his head. “Still a mystery to me.” He picked up the phone and pressed three buttons. “Good afternoon. I wonder if you can help me. I have a message left on my answerphone. The number begins with 0115. Can you tell me where that is, please? ... Nottingham. Thank you. Goodbye.”

  “Does that help?” said Marnie.

  “Not really.”

  “Have you any connections with Nottingham?”

  “I used to be an external assessor to a post-grad doing a doctorate there, but that was some years ago.”

  “And you don’t remember getting married while you were on a visit?” Anne said.

  Ralph smiled at her. “Not as far as I recall. Or perhaps I’m getting absent-minded now that I’m a professor.” His expression suddenly changed. “Nottingham ...”

  “What is it?” said Marnie.

  “I was just thinking back to my student days. Good lord, it couldn’t be ...”

  “I think we can assume it might be,“ said Marnie, “whatever it is.
“

  Ralph stared at the number on the note. He stood up. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to make a call in private. I’ll go back to the boat. It’ll be all right.” He went to the door and looked back. Anne’s eyes had become dinner plates. Marnie was sitting with her chin resting on her hands, her expression calm. “Come for a drink on Thyrsis before supper. I’ll try and have it sorted out by then.”

  *

  The three sat in the saloon on Thyrsis, quietly pondering Ralph’s account of his enquiries. For once their drinks were untouched. Marnie spoke first.

  “Why do you think she chose now to get in touch? How did she know how to find you?”

  “The consultant said she saw a letter I’d written to The Times, giving my address as All Saints College, Oxford. She phoned up and they gave her my mobile number, as instructed. I can’t be incommunicado.”

  “So she just rang out of the blue, after more than twenty years?”

  “Yes. The doctor said she’d got quite excited about it. She only told him after she’d left that message. Of course, he had no idea what she’d actually said until I phoned.”

  “You didn’t speak to her direct?”

  “Not at that time. When I rang, I was put through to the unit where she’s staying. It’s a private clinic on the outskirts of town. I asked for her and got the consultant. She was having treatment, so I couldn’t talk to her in person.”

  “What were they doing to her?” Anne’s expression revealed that she imagined the woman covered in electrodes, writhing in a chamber that looked like the set from a Gothick horror film.

  “I think he said she was having aromatherapy.”

  “What is that exactly?” Anne was still suspicious.

  Marnie replied. “It’s an all-over body massage with essential oils, like lavender, geranium and that sort of thing.”

  “Oh, it sounds, well, sort of ... nice.” Suspicion had given way to incredulity.

  Marnie smiled at her. “It is nice, very nice, relaxing and soothing. I’ve had it a few times at a natural health clinic.” She turned to Ralph. “How did you leave it? Are you going to contact her again?”