by Leo McNeir
“Yes. We’ve got builders in at the moment making everything safe and secure. We want to get the place up and running again as quickly as possible, show those – the people who torched it – that we’re not defeated.” A hardness had entered her voice.
“I could meet you there tomorrow. Would ten-thirty be convenient?”
*
As Anne laid the table for lunch beside Sally Ann, she kept looking across the canal to the ‘U-boat’ moored by the bank opposite Thyrsis. The owner had not returned; there was no bike attached to the roof. She heard a faint ringing from inside Sally Ann. The timer had sounded for the pizzas, and she heard Marnie open the oven door to inspect them. Anne hopped onto the stern deck and called down into the cabin.
“Are they done?”
“Yes.”
“Shall I go and check whether Estelle and her friend are ready?”
“No need,” Marnie called back. “They won’t be late.”
Sure enough, within seconds Estelle emerged from the spinney with Luther. Anne tried not to gape and almost succeeded. She managed to close her mouth before anyone noticed and stepped carefully down onto the bank. Estelle approached holding hands with the most handsome man Anne had ever seen, either in reality or on the cinema screen. Luther looked as good as a Hollywood film star on a well-lit film set on a good day. The words magnificent specimen floated into her mind.
At that moment Marnie came out from the boat, smiled at Luther as if he was a normal person from planet Earth and held out a hand. The smile that greeted her was of chalk white teeth, and the hand was as big as if he had been wearing wicket-keeper’s gloves. Anne feared for Marnie’s safety as her slender hand disappeared into Luther’s grip, but it reappeared unscathed, and Marnie was still smiling. When Anne shook hands she was transfixed by dark piercing eyes and was only dimly aware of the warm, firm grip that was no bone-crusher. The introductions were completed, Estelle glowing with satisfaction.
“It’s just something quick and simple,” Marnie was saying. “I grabbed pizzas from the freezer. Hope that’s all right with you.”
“That’s fine, Marnie. It’s really nice of you to offer me lunch at such short notice.”
Thank God for that, Anne thought. Luther’s voice was slightly high-pitched, so he was not perfect. If he had sounded like James Earl Jones, it would have been unbearable. Anne went below to fetch fruit juice from the fridge. When she returned, Marnie was speaking.
“I thought it’d be best if we stayed off wine as it’s so warm and we have work to do today.”
“Good idea,” said Luther. “Actually, I don’t drink alcohol anyway. My usual tipple is diet Coke.” He flashed the Colgate grin.
Offering juice, Anne was able to take another look at Luther without staring. He was dressed simply in a white shirt, faded blue jeans and trainers. He moved gracefully like an athlete, pulling back Estelle’s chair before sitting beside her. The material stretched over his thigh muscles as he sat down. Anne reckoned he stood well over six feet tall, with broad muscular shoulders, skin the colour of caramel, hair shaved to a stubble. Throughout the meal Estelle remained almost silent, basking in an aura of self-confidence that for once had little need of words.
Marnie seemed anxious not to turn the meal into a kind of interview, and the conversation flowed easily round the table. They talked of Marnie’s plans for Glebe Farm. Luther asked about Anne’s career. He explained he was starting a Master’s degree course at Leicester University in business studies in October and had a great deal of preparatory reading to get through. In his view, somewhere like Glebe Farm would be an ideal place to have peace and quiet for study.
“You didn’t notice the cement mixer,” Marnie said lightly. “One drawback of Glebe Farm is that it’s a building site.”
“How do you get away from the sounds when you need quiet, Marnie?” Estelle asked.
“I come down here and work on Sally Ann or sit out by the water in fine weather at this table under the parasol.”
“And Ralph works on Thyrsis, doesn’t he?” Estelle said.
Marnie saw which way the discussion was going.
“Yes. I’m sure it is possible to find peace and quiet here.”
Estelle reached over and put her hand on Luther’s. “Ideal,” she said quietly. Suddenly changing the conversation, she added, “Did you say you had a meeting at the community centre in Northampton that was fire-bombed, Marnie?”
“Tomorrow morning, yes.”
“Mrs Frightfully-Frightfully recommended Marnie to the management committee,” said Anne.
Luther grinned. “Who?”
“Mrs Vane-Henderson,” said Marnie, “one of our clients. We did a full scheme on her place, Hanford Hall. It’s the big house in the next village.”
“She’s not black is she?” said Estelle.
“No. I think the committee is one of her Good Works, capital G, capital W.”
“This was a racially motivated attack?” said Luther.
“That’s the assumption. I don’t think anyone’s actually claimed responsibility.”
“There’s a lot of trouble up here at the moment with far right groups,” said Anne. “Marnie saw them in Leicester last week. Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to sound negative.”
“That’s OK,” said Luther. “These things come and go. It may seem odd, but I’ve never encountered racism personally in my life.”
“Luther can take care of himself,” said Estelle, resting her hand on a powerful shoulder.
“You look as if you could take care of most things,” Marnie said to Luther.
For a second, Estelle’s smile dropped before returning, broader than ever.
*
Marnie and Anne walked slowly through the trees towards the canal at the end of a productive day. Estelle had taken Luther to the station to catch a train back to London. Marnie could still picture him swinging his overnight bag onto the back seat of the Golf before waving as he climbed into the passenger seat, every movement fluent and easy. Estelle was trying – and failing – not to look like the cat that has wandered into the kitchen to find a whole salmon laid out on a platter.
Estelle had wandered over to have a quiet word with Marnie as Anne was setting off to the post-box at four.
“So,” she said, perching on the corner of Marnie’s desk. “What did you think of Luther?”
“He’s very nice.”
“And you don’t mind him coming to stay with me?”
“I’m sure he’ll fit in very well. He can stay as long as you’re here working with us.”
Estelle leapt from the desk, raised both hands in the air and spun round like a top.
“Great!”
For a second, it seemed to Marnie a curiously adolescent reaction, and she looked on bemused. Estelle stopped, grabbed Marnie by the arms, kissed her on the cheek and bounded out of the office.
When Anne returned from the post, Estelle was starting off up the field track on her way to the station with Luther, and Marnie told her of their conversation, omitting to mention the effect it had had on Estelle. By the end of their working day around seven o’clock, Estelle had not returned.
“You’re quiet, Marnie,” said Anne.
“Am I? It’s been a busy day, and I’ve got a lot done … considering.”
“Are you glad you’ve got Estelle sorted out?”
“Sorted out?”
“You know, with her boyfriend. The hunk.” She grinned.
“I suppose so. Yes, it is good to have that settled. I don’t think he’ll be a problem. He seems a very steady type, sensible. I’m sure he’ll …” Her voice petered out.
“Be a calming influence?” Anne suggested.
Marnie smiled. “Something like that.”
“But it’s all change, isn’t it?” said Anne. “I mean, is it like you imagined when you first decided to come here and make a new start?”
“Not exactly. I thought I was going to be working on my own, if you remember, Anne.
Then a certain person inveigled her way in on the act.”
Anne linked arms with Marnie. “And you’ve never regretted it once! So change isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
They were emerging from the spinney, turning from the path towards Sally Ann where supper awaited. Both were smiling, arm in arm.
“No,” said Marnie. “Change isn’t a bad thing. Of course it isn’t.”
As they passed Thyrsis, the dark grey shape of the new boat on the visitors’ moorings came into view across the water. A bicycle could be seen attached to the roof, and the ‘pigeon box’ flaps were raised for ventilation. The hatch at the steerer’s end had been pushed open.
Marnie’s expression became more serious. “It’s just … there seems to be a lot of it about right now.”
*
There was a clear sky that night and, after taking her shower, Marnie pulled on a T-shirt and pants and went through the routine of shutting the windows and hatches on Thyrsis. Her last task was to lock the stern doors, and she looked out as usual down the canal. It was mirror-smooth in the moonlight. She recalled her conversation with Anne about change. She had no problem accepting new situations, new challenges. They could make life stimulating. But sometimes … She leaned out and gazed across the water at the visiting boat with its strange colour scheme.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a warbling from the sleeping cabin. She skipped back along the corridor and dived in to grab the phone from the shelf. As she expected, it was Ralph. He filled her in on the conference and seemed to be having an interesting time. For her part Marnie told him about Estelle and Luther.
“And you really are happy about the arrangement, Marnie? You don’t feel you’ve been bounced into it?”
“Oh, I’ve certainly been bounced into it, but with any luck Luther will prove to be a stable influence. I was only worried about Estelle and possible rebound problems. Luther’s fine.”
“Good. That’s settled, then. What about the unrest? Any more developments there?”
“I haven’t heard of any more riots or fire bombings. Things must be getting dull round here.”
“And the strange characters that Bartlett warned you about?”
“No. I don’t think …” She fell silent.
“Hallo? Marnie?”
“Still here.”
“I thought the line went dead. Is everything all right?”
“Strange characters, you said.”
“And?”
Marnie thought for a moment. “It’s probably nothing …”
“What is?”
“I’m probably way off beam but, well, there’s a boat come to moor opposite Thyrsis. It arrived yesterday, or at least it was there when we got up in the morning. It had come in the night.”
“In what way is it strange?”
“It’s painted all over in dark grey like a submarine, and all the detailing is black.”
“Could be just primer or undercoat,” Ralph suggested.
“It’s not that kind of paint job. This is really well finished. It looks somehow … menacing.”
“What are the people like? Have you seen them?”
“Just one, a man, quite young. I think he’s on the boat by himself. He wears black and grey as well.”
“Along with half his generation,” Ralph observed. “A lot of my students look like that.”
“Sure. But that wasn’t all. The timing seems … I don’t know … somehow more than just fortuitous.”
“Marnie, why would anyone want to keep an eye on you or Glebe Farm? It doesn’t add up.”
“Well, if it’s about racism, we often have taxis coming down here with clients. The drivers are mainly Asian. And there was that young couple the other day. They were Indian. We could be the only people who have that kind of connection in the village. Maybe there’s a link there?”
“No.” Ralph sounded emphatic. “A lot of the local taxi drivers are Asian, I grant you, but that would hardly get you singled out for attention. I really don’t see any cause for concern if that’s all that’s bothering you.”
“What about swastikas? Should that bother me?” Marnie bit her lip. She had not meant to go on about this at such length.
“Swastikas? Where have you seen swastikas?”
“I haven’t, not personally. But Anne thinks she saw one in the grey boat across the canal.”
“She’s been on board?”
“No. Through the porthole.”
“Thinks she saw one? What does that mean?”
“Just that. She looked in and saw one in a picture on the wall.”
“What was the picture?”
“She couldn’t tell. It was too unclear.”
“So on that basis, you think there are Nazis – or one at least – keeping you under surveillance from across the canal on the grounds that you’re a regular customer of Asian cab drivers. Is that right?”
Marnie laughed. “Since you put it like that … Yes, of course, it’s absurd.”
“I think so.” Ralph chuckled.
“I think it’s time I went to sleep.”
“Good idea. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“No. You’ve reassured me, Ralph. Thanks.”
“It’s the conference dinner tomorrow evening; I’ll ring you afterwards. Good night, darling. Sleep well.”
After she disconnected, Marnie remembered that she had meant to tell Ralph about the project at the West Indian community centre. On balance, she was glad she had forgotten to mention it.
11
An acrid smell hung in the air, sour and gritty, leaving a bitter taste in the mouth. Marnie walked from room to room, treading carefully on the uneven floor where lino had burned and buckled. What furniture might have stood here, had all been cleared out. Knowing the kind of devastation to expect, she had arrived wearing jeans, a sweatshirt and walking shoes.
The room nearest to the entrance hall of the community centre had a large chunk of its external wall missing and had been boarded up, with scaffolding inserted like pit-props to keep the building stable. It had taken the full force of the blast when the gas tank exploded.
The rooms were dark where the window spaces had been filled in, and emergency lighting threw a harsh glare over the interior. Looking up, there were places where Marnie could see through charred gaps in the ceiling. Beside her, Serena McDowell walked in silence leaving Marnie free to take in the extent of the fire damage and assess what had to be done. She too was dressed for the occasion in jeans, cotton sweater and boots, but her version of practical clothing had something of the designer label about it. At times when Marnie glanced at Serena, she saw anger inscribed in her features. She also saw determination.
“This was quite a blast,” said Marnie.
Serena nodded. “It was seen by people almost twenty miles away, apparently. Can you imagine that?”
“I can. I was one of them. We saw it in Knightly St John where I live.”
“Did you really?” said Serena. “I heard the explosion from the other side of town. Do you know what the fire officer said to me? He said it was lucky we had the explosion when we did. Can you believe that?”
“What did he mean?”
“At that time of night there was no traffic to hold up the fire engines. The fire station’s less than a mile from here. And the size of the explosion was so great it alerted people straight away. If that’s lucky, then I suppose we were.”
“Plus no-one from the centre was hurt or killed,” Marnie added. “It’s not much consolation, but things could’ve been much worse.”
Serena stepped out into the hall and looked up at the ceiling. All the surfaces were smeared with a greasy black coating. “Lucky,” she muttered.
Marnie decided it was time to get on with the business. “What were these smaller rooms used for?”
“The general office … manager’s office … two meeting rooms.”
Serena pointed as she spoke. Marnie made notes and rough sket
ches on her pad.
“Ideally I’d like plans of the building if you’ve got them.”
Serena walked over to the corner of the room.
“The filing cabinets were about here, where I’m standing.”
“I see.” Marnie walked to the doorway leading into the main hall and scanned the building. “I’ll come over with Anne and a tape measure. We’ll do a rough survey and produce our own drawings.”
“Will that add a lot to the costs?”
“Some,” said Marnie. “We’ll have to talk about the budget in detail. We usually work with architects on a percentage basis plus materials as part of the overall tender. I can see this might be different.”
“I’m not expecting you to work for nothing, Marnie. Is it OK if I call you Marnie?”
“Sure. What I meant was, if the building’s just going to be reinstated as it was, you might want me to work out some schemes and give you some comparative estimates. Our work would then be on a fixed-price basis depending on how much time we put in on the job.”
Serena frowned. “I see. This is all very new to me. Dorothy Vane-Henderson said you were totally reliable, as well as being a great designer. I’m in your hands.”
Marnie smiled. “Don’t worry, we can keep to a budget. I’ll work something out. And I’ll make sure we stay within the agreed amounts. When you’re a small outfit like us, you earn your good reputation by delivering within budget and on time.”
“That’s my main worry.”
“You’re insured, aren’t you?”
“Yes. But it’s the timing that’s the biggest problem.”
Marnie had spent much of her working life dealing with people who took ages to make up their minds, only to demand that the work be completed immediately. She had not marked Serena down as that type of person.
“What sort of timing did you have in mind?” Marnie asked.
“You know we’re running a big activity programme for school-kids this summer? It starts at the beginning of the holidays in just over two weeks. We were planning to run everything from here.” Her voice matched her expression.
“Oh boy,” said Marnie.
