Kiss and Tell

by Leo McNeir

  The newsagent remembered at once. He was a tall stately Indian, very dark and handsome, with clear unaccented English. They both thought he should have been in films instead of running a shop in the East End.

  “Yes, of course, I remember you coming in and giving me the card. I stuck it up on the board behind the counter. That’s why I thought of you when the police came in asking about a missing girl. I thought it might have been you. I’m glad it wasn’t. But did I do the wrong thing?”

  “Not at all,” said Marnie.

  “Good. I didn’t want to cause you trouble. I wanted to help find you.”

  “Very kind of you.” Marnie reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a folder. She slid out a cutting from the Globe and held it up. “This is the girl we’re looking for. Her name’s Marlene, or sometimes she was called Avril.”

  The man studied the paper with dark intense eyes. “I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell.”

  “When she was here,“ Marnie said, “she sometimes wore a yellow cagoule, like a light jacket, with a hood.”

  “Mm ... maybe. I think I did see her, but that was weeks ago. Is that the girl the police were asking about?”

  “No. The girl they found had darker hair, like mine but more auburn ... reddish.”

  “Oh, yes, yes,” he said thoughtfully.

  “You’ve seen her?”

  “I think so. I may have seen them hanging around together once or twice.”

  31

  Friday morning’s major achievement was to persuade the council’s planning officer of the logic of fitting Welsh blue slates to the farmhouse, matching the existing cottage roofs. Marnie tried not to gloat when confirming the order to the man at the builders’ merchants. He tried not to smirk when informing her that the price of victory would be a four week wait for delivery and a twenty per cent increase in cost.

  Anne had recovered well from her ordeal in London. Marnie had asked if she wanted to sleep on Sally Ann and offered to stay on board with her, but Anne was adamant. She reminded Marnie that a young woman had hanged herself in that very barn, directly beneath Anne’s loft, back in the time of the Civil War, and she did not believe in ghosts. The only anxiety for Anne was discovering on their return that there was no message from Marlene.

  When Randall rang just before ten, Marnie suspected they would be having a visitor at break-time, but she was wrong. That evening he was coming to Knightly to take Angela to a concert. Anthony had asked if he could travel with him to do things on his boat. He had not sorted it out since the journey with Andrew and Kate and he wanted to clear the decks for action, as he put it, in case he found himself needing to make a discreet getaway in the near future. Marnie thought this made sense, though she did not want Anthony arriving while she was talking with Simon. They agreed that Anthony would go straight to his boat and stay on board overnight. That would leave Randall flexible for the rest of the evening, and Marnie or Ralph would deliver Anthony back to Brackley some time the next day.

  Ralph set off at the end of the morning for a meeting and dinner with his publishers in London. He would be back late. With Simon due to arrive after work, Marnie left Anne running the office while she went to prepare supper for three on Sally Ann. As she chopped vegetables she turned over in her mind the problem of Marlene. Although she was thankful they had not found her body in the mortuary, she despaired that they would ever bring her out of hiding.

  By six-thirty Marnie was beginning to be concerned about the ratatouille, fearing it might turn into a glutinous mass. She was bending towards the oven, trying to find the lowest possible setting, when her mobile rang. It was Simon.

  “Hi, it’s me. Am I eating in the doghouse? I’m sorry about this, Marnie, but the meeting over-ran and I should’ve been okay, but I’ve hit roadworks.”

  “Where are you exactly, Simon?”

  “Coming off the M6, picking up the M1. Traffic’s crawling.”

  “You’re facing south?”

  “South? I suppose so.”

  “Can you see a big black cloud in the distance?”

  “A big black ... All right, I’ll buy it.”

  “That’s our oven going up in flames ... with your supper in it.”

  Simon laughed, an open full-blooded laugh. “You haven’t changed! You and your one-liners! I do love you, Marnie. See you in a bit. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  Marnie lifted the casserole dish from the oven and set it down on top of the cooker. It was like old times. Too much like old times. She knew he had probably not given any thought to what he had said, reacting to her joke, but the words were still echoing in her head. Looking at the mobile lying on the workbench, she had an overwhelming urge to ring him back and ask him not to come. Later, she had reason to wish she had picked up the phone.

  *

  Simon came through the spinney at a rapid pace, clutching a bunch of flowers. They had the look of the bouquets on sale at motorway filling stations – usually for husbands with a guilty conscience – but the thought was there.

  When he came aboard Sally Ann, he kissed Marnie on the cheek and shook hands with Anne. Marnie was wondering about drinks, with the ratatouille heating up again in the oven. Simon opted for water; he had more driving to do that evening and he could not stay late as he had to get ready for his early start the next morning. Anne produced three tumblers filled with chunks of ice, sparkling water and a slice of lemon. They took their seats for supper as Marnie cut up a French stick and Anne tossed a green salad in vinaigrette.

  “This looks great,” said Simon. “No sign of fire damage. Nice of you not to hang the guilt thing on me for coming late.”

  Marnie shrugged. “Ratatouille doesn’t suffer from being re-heated, as long as it doesn’t dry out.”

  Simon smiled. “I know.”

  Over supper they talked over the Anthony campaign and their lack of progress. Marnie briefly outlined the visit to London the day before, and Simon listened without comment. As soon as they finished eating, Anne looked at her watch, announced that she needed an early night and excused herself. She walked back through the spinney as dusk was falling, and Simon volunteered to clear things away while Marnie made coffee. She lit the two oil-lamps, and they settled back in their safari chairs in the soft glow.

  “That was a wonderful meal, Marnie. Thank you.”

  “Just something simple. Thank you for the flowers.”

  He laughed. “Think nothing of it! I mean that.”

  “I ought to say something about the thought counting ...”

  “Yeah. I’m glad you’ve got your life worked out, Marnie. I know you’ve got this Anthony thing hanging over you, but that won’t last. It’s got to be resolved sooner or later, and you’ll get back to normal.”

  “Normal. I live in hope.”

  “I think you do, literally. And I’m glad you’re happy. You are, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You know, I’m sorry about us, our marriage failing the way it did. I really regret that.”

  “I know. Me too, but it is in the past now. It’s history.” Marnie hoped she did not sound harsh.

  “Yes. Still, I hope I haven’t only been a negative experience in your life.”

  “Of course not, Simon. We had some great times, lots of them. Things just didn’t work out.”

  “More’s the pity. Marnie, this is difficult, but ... I don’t think it’s a good idea, seeing you the way I have been.”

  “Oh ...”

  “I wanted to know you were okay and I’m glad about that, but I think on balance it was probably a mistake. I’ve been finding it tough, and I can’t think it’s easy for you, having me barging into your life like this.”

  “It has been good seeing you again, Simon.”

  “Yeah. But I know I keep seeming to forget how much things have changed and I start saying things that are over-familiar and, well, you know. I don’t want to disrupt things for you.”

  “No.” She felt this was a l
ess than adequate response and added, “I understand.”

  He stared into his cup and without looking up said, “Do you know the idea they had in the Middle Ages about wounds bleeding?”

  “About what?”

  “When someone was killed, to find the person who’d done it, they’d get people to stand one after another next to the victim. If the wounds opened up and started bleeding again, that person was the murderer.”

  “I’ll have to tell Bartlett and Bruere,” Marnie said quietly. “They could find that useful.”

  “That’s how it is for me, Marnie ... seeing you again ... like opening up old wounds.”

  *

  Arriving back at the office barn, Anne went straight to the answerphone. No light glowing, no messages. It was her usual habit to switch the machine to immediate reply and turn the volume control to zero when she went to bed, but that evening she left the machine in daytime mode in case Marlene rang.

  Climbing the wall ladder to the loft, she slipped into bed and settled down with the latest edition of Interiors magazine. Finding concentration difficult, she let her gaze wander round the room. It was her Aladdin’s cave, softly lit by three table lamps, with colourful fabrics setting off the pastel-washed stonework and dark oak beams, Oriental rugs scattered over oatmeal carpet and a Moroccan throw as bed-cover. How gorgeous it all was, she thought, compared with the squalid house in Stoke Newington where Marlene had to live. Marlene ...

  A soft scuffing sound reached her, and she began smiling seconds before she saw movement over by the wall. At the top of the loft ladder a head appeared by the open trap door. Dolly had mastered the art of climbing the ladder and now leapt expertly onto the platform. The big black cat trotted straight to the bed and jumped up beside Anne with a warble, turning in circles to make a nest for herself.

  Anne reached down to stroke her. The steady sound of a motor on tick-over.

  “You’re right, Dolly. For us, it’s purrfect. Aren’t we the lucky ones?”

  *

  Simon looked at his watch and shifted in his seat. Marnie was surprised how apprehensive she felt. After their divorce, she had never expected to see Simon again, and now she was feeling the same old jumble of emotions as when they were splitting up. Half of her wanted him to leave quickly; half of her wanted to find the right words to draw a line under that part of their lives, before he went away.

  Suddenly his head snapped up from contemplating the dial. “I meant to tell you. Did you know Leyton-Brown had been sighted?”

  “What?”

  “Yes. It was on the car radio. I seem to have been listening to news bulletins for hours on the way here.”

  “Where was he seen?”

  “Edinburgh.” Simon chuckled.

  “Edinburgh?”

  “Yep. That’s what they said. Apparently the Globe has offered a reward of £1,000 for a confirmed sighting. They’re going to run a competition in the paper starting tomorrow.”

  “You’ve got to hand it to them,” said Marnie. “They sure know how to keep a story running and sell papers. You see what we’re up against?”

  “You’d better tell your guy what’s happening and warn him to be extra-vigilant in his hiding place, wherever it is.”

  “You could tell him yourself. His hiding place is here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s on his boat. Randall was bringing him over for this evening. He’s there now, moored just along from Thyrsis.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Sure. You really could tell him, if you wanted.”

  Simon inclined his head on one side. “Yeah. That might be quite interesting. Do you want to come with me? I can’t imagine he’d open up for a casual visitor.”

  Marnie shook her head. “Knock on the hatch twice, pause and knock twice again. He’ll open up.”

  Simon smiled. “Cloak-and-dagger stuff, eh? I’m intrigued. Okay, I’ll hop along and see him before I go. I shouldn’t be long.”

  Simon grabbed his jacket, blew a kiss to Marnie and went out, still smiling. While he was gone, Marnie washed up without noticing the dishes.

  *

  After a while Marnie got absorbed in an article on new architecture in Catalunya and lost track of time. She was surprised how dark it was when she looked up as the boat rocked gently and she heard a footfall on the stern deck. Simon and Anthony must have had a heart-to-heart talk rather than a quick chat.

  But it was not Simon’s voice that called through. “Hallo. Anybody home?” It was Ralph.

  Marnie quickly examined her watch. “Hi!” she called out. “You’re early.”

  Ralph walked through to the saloon. “I got away as soon as I could. You seem surprised to see me.”

  “Actually, I was expecting to see Simon. He went over to have a word with Anthony. He’s been gone a long time.”

  “I’d better hide in the cupboard if your husband’s due back at any minute.” He smiled, put down his briefcase and kissed her.

  “Would you like coffee or something stronger?”

  Ralph opened a cupboard and extracted a bottle of brandy. “Do I put out one glass or two?”

  Marnie shook her head. “Not for me.” She checked the time on the wall clock.

  “Are you worried about Simon?” said Ralph, sitting down opposite her, where Simon had sat.

  “No. It’s just that I was sure he’d be coming back before he went home.”

  “He drove here, presumably?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then he’s gone. His car’s not at the farm.”

  “Oh well,” said Marnie, “I expect he stayed longer than he planned with Anthony and had to get off. He said he was in a hurry.”

  *

  Marnie was restless that evening and eventually allowed Ralph to pour her a brandy, while she struggled to maintain concentration on her magazine. Simon’s rapid departure had left a feeling of unfinished business, even if it was only to say good-bye. Had he planned it that way, deliberately leaving so that there was no farewell scene between them? At around ten she suggested a stroll before she and Ralph retired to Thyrsis for the night, and they walked hand-in-hand through the spinney towards the office barn. Marnie saw that Anne’s light was on and she quietly opened the office door and crossed to her desk.

  “That you, Marnie?” Anne called down from her room.

  “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

  “No probs. You didn’t. Don’t bother with the answerphone. No message from Marlene.”

  Marnie smiled up towards the hatch at the top of the wall ladder. “Thank you, radar.” She walked back to the doorway where Ralph was standing. “Anne?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did your antennae notice when Simon’s car left?”

  A pause. “Quite a while ago ... couldn’t tell you what time. It was dark outside, I think, not long before Ralph arrived.”

  “Thanks. Goodnight, then.”

  On the way back to Thyrsis, they could see lights still showing round the curtains on Anthony’s boat.

  “Marnie,” Ralph said quietly. “It’s none of my business, but did you and Simon possibly have an argument? You seem a little anxious about something.”

  “Oh no, not at all.” She squeezed his hand. “No. It’s just not like him to go off like that, somehow out of character.”

  “You did say he was in a hurry.”

  “Yes. That’s what it was.”

  “But it’s still bothering you,” Ralph said as he reached in his pocket for the boat key. “You could call in on Anthony and check how Simon was when he left. The light’s still on.”

  Marnie frowned. “I don’t want to involve Anthony, really.”

  “Couldn’t you give Simon a ring?” said Ralph. “He’ll have easily got home by now.”

  “Mm ...”

  “Why not? Then you can put it down. I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to have a shower.”

  Marnie leaned forward and kissed Ralph, and they went on boar
d Thyrsis, going in opposite directions at the foot of the steps. In the saloon Marnie rang Simon’s flat. The answerphone immediately cut in. She disconnected. Same result with his mobile. From her wallet she took out Simon’s card and checked the number for the Porter’s Lodge.

  “No, madam. Mr Walker hasn’t been in this evening.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Quite sure. I’ve been on duty since seven o’clock, here all the time. His mail hasn’t been collected, and there are two messages marked urgent waiting for him.”

  “Perhaps he’s been held up somewhere,” Marnie muttered.

  “I’m just checking the car park cameras, madam. One moment ... No. His space is empty. He hasn’t returned yet. If you’d like to leave a message I’ll ask him to phone you as soon as he gets back.”

  Marnie gave the porter her mobile number asking Simon to ring at any time, however late it was. An idea was growing in her mind. What if Simon had not been going back to his place after all? Perhaps he was staying with someone. Perhaps that was why he wanted to stop coming to see her in future. Someone. She got up to draw the curtains and noticed the lights again on Anthony’s boat. On an impulse she rang his number.

  “Simon?” said Anthony. He sounded surprised. “That was ages ago. He was only here a couple of minutes, said he had to be away, some meeting or other.”

  *

  Marnie jumped. She had not noticed Ralph enter the saloon. He was in his dressing gown, rubbing his hair with a towel, when he sat down beside her.

  “Sorry. Did I startle you? Didn’t mean to. You were lost in thought there.”

  “Yes.”

  “Am I disturbing you?”

  “No, of course not. I was only thinking. Actually, I was wondering if Simon had a girlfriend.”

  “A girlfriend?”

  “He didn’t go back to his flat and, well, he said he probably wouldn’t be coming here any more.”