by Penny Kline
There was no way the student who had prompted the rumour could be Imogen Nash. The timescale was wrong, Imogen had only seen Jon five or six times, and she was adamant that it had been her decision to approach the Student Counselling Service. No member of staff had been involved.
Jon was gripping the arms of his chair. ‘There’s something else,’ he said. ‘When you came to my room in Kingsdown — ’
‘Look,’ I interrupted, trying to sound more sympathetic than I felt, ‘I’ve no idea how you feel about Imogen. She seems to think you’re in love with her. If you’re not I think you should talk to her.’
‘You think I haven’t tried?’
‘Well, you’ll have to try again.’
He nodded vaguely. ‘You knew Maggie, did you?’
‘No, I told you. I have friends who knew her but — ’
‘Which friends?’
‘Terry and Grace Curtis. One or two others.’
He closed his eyes, smoothing the lids with the tips of the fingers. ‘Maggie referred a post-grad,’ he said. ‘A boy who was having problems coming to terms with his sister being diagnosed as schizophrenic. Normally I wouldn’t have met the referring member of staff but for some reason she wanted to check me out, make sure I was going to be suitable for the student in question.’
‘You didn’t mind?’
‘Why should I? Anyway, as soon as I met Maggie I realized she was new to the job. Over-conscientious, over-involved with the students’ private lives. Still, that’s not such a bad thing. I liked her, we hit it off right away.’
Was this true? My first impression of him had been less than favourable. Still, we had met in different circumstances. If he didn’t feel threatened it was just possible he could seem quite attractive.
‘We went out for a drink,’ he said. ‘No, I don’t mean to discuss the student. I suppose we were both at a bit of a loose end.’
‘You don’t have to explain.’
He blinked several times in quick succession. ‘We met once more, just by chance, down by the Watershed.’
‘Yes, I see.’
‘I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression.’ He gave me a long, hard look. Neither of us trusted the other but we both wanted as much information as we could obtain, about Imogen, but mainly about Maggie.
‘So,’ he said, standing up and peering through the window at the traffic which was now more or less obscured by the driving rain, ‘now you know about Imogen it should make things easier for you.’ He lifted his jacket off the back of the chair. ‘It’s hard to explain but there was something about Maggie — she was so intense, so idealistic — but sometimes I had a feeling she knew something, had something preying on her mind.’
‘Something about the state of the world, or something more specific?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, I mean something important, something about the here and now.’
‘She didn’t hint at what it might be? What you mean, you’re wondering if it had some connection with the fire?’
He flinched slightly but attempted to conceal it. ‘She was divorced, separated. Oh, you know all that. Met the husband, have you? She told me they’d split up because they’d grown apart, had nothing in common, but I felt there was more to it than that. He sounded like a fairly screwed-up kind of guy. Anyway, I don’t suppose it makes much difference now. Death’s so hard to take in, and when it’s someone still only in their thirties… On one level you know it’s true, on another it has no reality at all.’
Five minutes after Jon left Martin’s head came round the door. ‘Was that Jon Turle I saw?’ He sounded as if he hoped I was going to provide him with the latest episode in a long-running television serial. ‘Looked like him but I only caught a glimpse.’
‘I thought you knew him.’
‘I do, but by the time I saw him he was driving off, nearly ran me down as a matter of fact.’
‘Really?’ I wanted to be left in peace. ‘Look, I’ve a new client this afternoon and I have to get in touch with — ’
‘Hang on.’ He settled himself in a chair. ‘This won’t take long. Just thought you’d like to know I’ve heard a rumour.’ ‘Another? About Jon Turle?’
‘Yes. But this time it has a ring of truth. Apparently he’s been living above his means. Renting the consulting room must take a chunk out of his income and he likes to live it up, frequent the most expensive restaurants, all that kind of rubbish. Anyway, this bloke I was talking to says Jon’s private patients have dried up. He’s trying to find more but there are too many people in Bristol doing long-term psychotherapy. Anyway, I thought I ought to tell you, just in case it threw light on something or other.’
‘Thanks.’
He paused by the door with a look on his face that was half-teasing, half serious. ‘Does it, Anna? Throw some light on why he came to see you?’
Ian had left the front door on the latch. I told him off for taking risks but he said there was no risk, he had heard my car then dashed back to his room to make sure the computer had copied his assignment on to a back-up disk.
‘Your father’s not in?’
‘Dad? No, he’s got an open evening or something.’
‘He had one of those last week.’
‘Did he? Oh, I must have muddled it up. I know, Chess Club. He coaches some of the boys, it’s part of a national award system, they get points for different activities.’
‘What about the girls?’
‘Oh, there could be girls too, I suppose, only they don’t usually go in for that kind of stuff, got more sense.’
We were still standing in the hall. I wondered if Ian wanted us to talk upstairs in his room or whether it was in a mess and he had decided to use the living room.
‘It’s warmer upstairs.’ He had his hand on the rail. ‘If you hang on while I put away some junk. By the way, if you want to use the bathroom it’s the first on the left.’
‘Thanks.’
I waited halfway up the stairs, listening as drawers were opened and closed, and the cupboard door banged shut. The room was probably a pigsty and Ian was stuffing in piles of clothes, as well as books and CDs. After a minute or two his head came round the door.
‘Right, you can come in. By the way, did you see any goldcrests — on the Blaise Castle Estate? That was your husband, was it?’
‘Just a friend.’
He reached out to switch off his computer. ‘I hope you didn’t mind me speaking to you.’
‘Of course not.’
‘Afterwards I was afraid you might think I’d been following you.’
I laughed. ‘Blaise Castle’s a long way from where I live, Ian. Just round the corner from your house.’
‘Yes, I suppose that’s right.’ He chewed his lip, as if he had to give it some serious thought before he decided what he was going to tell me next. ‘Dad used to follow Mum,’ he said, at last. ‘After they split up.’
‘That’s what he told you?’
‘I saw him. You see I thought I’d better make sure he was all right, if you know what I mean. He used to go out most evenings, for a walk, except Dad never walks if he can help it. I followed him on my bike. He’d parked the car round the corner when he came home from work, then driven off in it later, hoping I wouldn’t hear the noise of the engine.’ ‘When he said he was going for a walk.’
He nodded. ‘I nearly lost him but the traffic was bad and that gave me a chance to catch up every so often.’ He rubbed his mouth, with a hand that was smeared with red ink. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Dad knows about it. I mean, he knows I know. He was standing outside the house. Mum’s place in Bishopston. Just staring at the front door.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing. I waited till he came home then I said I could understand how he felt but if Mum saw him she’d go mad. She was going to buy the house, you know. The man who went to Australia had been offered a job in Melbourne. I think he was coming back for a month or two but he’d said Mum could stay there anyway.’
‘When did she tell you, about buying the house?’
He thought about it. ‘Must’ve been the last time I saw her. There wasn’t much furniture. I went with her to buy a decent bed. She wanted one that could be delivered straight away. Usually you have to order them and it takes about six or eight weeks.’
I remembered Howard Fry’s remark — about the bed that hadn’t been unwrapped, let alone had its legs screwed into place. ‘And you found one, did you?’
He nodded. ‘In a sale. At this shop called Dreams Come True. The salesman tried to persuade her to buy a kind of padded headboard but Mum can’t stand that kind of thing. I mean… ’ He was feeling under his own bed. He pulled out a box-file and lifted it on to the bed. ‘My research project,’ he announced. ‘I’m studying the different behaviour of birds. Some of them keep close proximity with others of the same species. Others are loners, or stay more or less in pairs.’ ‘Sounds interesting,’ I said. I was thinking about the shop called Dreams Come True. Where had I heard the name before? Then, with a nasty jolt, I remembered. It was the place where Trev Baker worked — as a delivery man.
Ian was shuffling through a pile of papers. ‘The best place for birds is the Chew Valley Lake,’ he said. ‘I go on my bike some weekends, if City are away.’
‘You follow Bristol City. You and your father?’
He nodded. ‘Dad hasn’t many friends. He and Mum… ’
‘Yes?’
But he wasn’t going to tell me any more.
‘How’ve you been?’ I said, bending down to retrieve a sheet of paper that had slid under my chair.
‘Oh, not too bad.’ He smiled broadly, as if he felt it important to convince me he was telling me the truth. ‘School work’s keeping me busy and I’ve had a go at tidying up the garden. Dad never did much housework, even when Mum was studying for her exams. He’s usually pretty tired after a day at school. I told him he should see the doctor, get some pills.’
‘What kind of pills?’ I was still holding the sheet of paper. As I passed it back to Ian I noticed that it was covered with what looked like names and telephone numbers.
Ian snatched it from my hand. ‘Don’t need that any more.’ He tore the paper into several pieces, then pushed them into the overflowing waste paper basket.
‘Notes for one of your assignments?’ I asked.
‘What? Oh, that. No, mallards. Dates, times, numbers in each group. Then some idiot started feeding the bastards and… Sorry.’ He broke off, pressing his lips together as though he had said something shocking. ‘Anyway the data’s on the computer now. When I’ve analysed it I’m sending it to Somerset Birds although I don’t suppose they’ll be interested.’
‘Your mother helped you with your research?’ I didn’t want to upset him deliberately, but it alarmed me the way he could talk about her with so little emotion.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ He knelt on the bed and started wiping the condensation off the window. ‘This house is always too hot or too cold. I told Dad we ought to have central heating put in but he doesn’t think it’s worth it.’
I thought about the two of them, father and son, living in the same house, but finding that without Maggie it was less and less of a home. Had Bill Hazeldean been depressed ever since she left, or perhaps long before that? Had Ian wanted to live with his mother but felt he ought to stay and look after his father?
Suddenly he jumped down, stretched his arms above his head and touched a point on the wall, almost as if he was measuring himself to see if he had grown. ‘I was wondering.’ He took an inhaler from his trouser pocket and held it to his mouth, neatly administering a quick puff. ‘I was wondering, would you be able to see Dad as well as me or would that be too great a drain on your resources?’
‘No, of course not. I mean, yes, I can talk to him again if that’s what he’d like.’
He looked a little awkward. ‘Well, I think it might help. Not at the school. When he told me you’d been there I realized it was probably to discuss me. I don’t mind. Why should I? Only really I’m not too bad. I mean, I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, haven’t I? Whereas Dad, well I hate to think what’ll happen to him, if you know what I mean.’
‘Ian?’ I had put off asking him but now seemed as good a time as any. ‘Just before your mother died she made an appointment with me.’
‘Really?’ His face looked flushed. ‘Why would she do that? She seemed all right the last time I saw her.’
‘That’s just it. The appointment was booked for the following week. I don’t like asking you this but have you any idea at all why she might have wanted to see me?’
He stared at the blank screen of his computer. ‘Sorry, can’t help I’m afraid. Oh, there was one thing. She got bad headaches that sometimes turned into migraine attacks, only that’s not really something a psychologist could do much about, is it? There was nothing wrong with her eyes, she had them tested and they were perfectly all right.’
‘The headaches were something new?’
‘Oh no.’ He shook his head vigorously. ‘They started before she did the A levels. I was only young at the time but I remember her telling me how people often waste their lives, doing jobs they don’t really want to do. I think she felt she was running out of time. She was very intelligent you know. I mean, you can tell if someone’s clever even if they’ve never taken any exams or anything. She deserved to do well.’
Owen and I were sprawled on the bed, hot, exhausted, slumped like two rag dolls. At moments like that I found it hard to remember why we had so many arguments, and about such trivial things.
‘Owen?’
‘Mm?’ His toes wriggled against my foot. The nails needed cutting.
‘Why did we have that set-to earlier this evening?’
‘What set-to?’ He turned on his side, reaching out a smooth, warm hand and sliding it across my stomach. ‘Oh, you mean about nasty number-crunching academics and warm, caring clinical psychologists.’
‘That wasn’t what I said. What I was trying to say — ’ The phone interrupted me.
Hearing the angry voice at the other end of the line Owen pulled the bedclothes over us and moved closer, trying to pick up what was being said.
It felt like several minutes before I could get a word in.
‘Look, I think you must have got completely the wrong idea.’ I put my hand over the receiver and mouthed the word Bill. ‘No, that’s ridiculous. Ian never said anything of the kind.’ It was useless. The abuse continued, getting louder by the moment. ‘Look, I’ll talk to you when you’ve calmed down,’ I said, pressing the disconnect button and placing the receiver on the bedside cupboard.
‘What the hell was all that about?’ Owen gave my neck a perfunctory kiss, then rolled on to his back. ‘Go on, then, tell me all about it, you’ve dragged all his darkest secrets out into the open, now he’s having second thoughts.’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Must be bad for him to phone at this time of night.’
I sat up in bed with my arms folded — to ward off Bill Hazeldean? ‘All it is, he’s annoyed because I asked Ian if he knew why his mother had made an appointment to come and see me. No, all right, it’s not just that. Somehow or other Ian seems to have given him the impression I think he’s a nutcase in need of long-term psychiatric treatment.’
Owen laughed. ‘Who? Ian or Bill or both?’
‘Bill. I don’t know what on earth Ian said. He was probably trying to help, poor boy, and Bill came back with his usual over-the-top reaction.’
‘Doesn’t like talking about himself, you mean?’
‘No, don’t start all that again, just tell me what you make of this. In the middle of his crazy outburst Bill came out with a rather strange remark. “If you must meddle in people’s lives why not start with that creep, Terry Curtis?”’
Chapter Thirteen
Paddy Jinnah sounded out of breath, as if she had run into the house, snatched up the phone, and put through a call before she had time to
change her mind.
‘Is that you, Anna?’
‘Oh, hello.’ I recognized her voice at once. ‘How can I help?’
Please God, she wasn’t going to ask me to go round to the house.
There was a moment’s silence then she started talking much too loudly, the way people do when they dislike using the phone. ‘I was wondering, what’s the procedure, for making an appointment — with a psychologist I mean? You’ve a waiting list, I expect, only the trouble is… ’
‘We do have a waiting list, but there are always a few slots left unfilled — for emergencies.’
‘Emergencies,’ she repeated. ‘I’m not sure this would qualify as an emergency.’ ‘Never mind.’ I suggested two or three times but, in spite of knowing she was being given preferential treatment, none of them seemed to suit her.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I sound like a right nuisance. It’s just that I wanted Sibi to come, only I don’t like the idea of her missing school.’
‘What about tomorrow at four-thirty?’ ‘Tomorrow? Are you sure? I won’t tell her till she comes home, then there’ll be no time for her to make an excuse.’
‘Is that really a good idea? What about Azim?’
‘What about him? Oh, he wouldn’t go near the place.’ She gave a falsely cheerful laugh. ‘I’m sorry, that sounds awful. Look, if you don’t mind I think I’d better leave it. I’ve just remembered Sibi goes to drama group on a Thursday. I tell you what, if you’re ever in our area, passing through.’ ‘No.’ It was time to resolve things, one way or the other. ‘Look, why don’t you come and see me on your own, and we’ll take it from there?’
There was a longish silence and I thought she might have rung off. When she spoke I could sense the anxiety in her voice.
