I found my way into a food hall and, surrounded by people who were mostly pushing trolleys laden with all sorts of food and drink, picked out a few ready made meals for one which would save me having to think about cooking during the next week or so.
On my way out of the food hall, I was preparing to rejoin the battling crowds when I heard a voice from behind my left shoulder.
“Well, look at who we have here!”
I turned around to see Ryan Clarke smirking at me.
“Ryan” I said without much enthusiasm.
“I hear you’ve not been having such a good time of things recently. You can imagine how upset I was to hear that.” He sneered.
One of the downside of the success of films like “Reservoir Dogs” and “Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels” is that everyone thinks that to sound tough, you have to try and talk like a gangster. “If you can call finding the murdered body of a good friend “not having such a good time of things lately”, then you’re right.” I replied. “It’s nice to see how cut up you are about it.”
“Oh, I heard it was more than that,” he smiled. “The way I heard the story, the police think you might have something to do with it. Surely “Mr. I’m so perfect” doesn’t have his own dark side.”
I could feel anger rising inside me, but decided that the most sensible response was to walk away. As I left, Ryan had one parting shot,
“I’d be very careful if I was you. You never know what might happen to you next.”
I turned back to demand to know what he meant by this threat, but the crowd had packed behind me and there was no sign of him.
Back at home, there was still no message from Christopher Upton and the phone stayed silent all evening. I made up my mind to go to church the following day, and see if he was back at work. It seemed very unlike him to have withdrawn completely from everything, especially so close to Christmas.
Sunday morning dawned clear and very cold. It was a great temptation to stay longer in the relative warmth of my bed, but I managed to hold onto my resolve of the previous evening and got showered and dressed.
By the time I arrived at the church, it was packed. The reason for this substantial increase in attendance was immediately clear as I noticed that the front pews were filled with children dressed as angels and kings, or with tea towels wrapped around their heads. Clearly this was the service which centred on the Sunday School’s performance of the Nativity. I scanned the church in the hope of spotting somewhere to sit. In good Anglican fashion, the back rows were the most densely packed so I moved down the church. I eventually found a spot at the edge of a pew on the very left hand side of the church and sat down gratefully. Only then did I realise that the reason this was the only unoccupied spot was because the stone pillar immediately in front cut off all sight of the front of the church.
The first blast of organ music signalling the start of the service ended any thoughts I had about trying to move. When the hymn was finished, I recognised Christopher’s voice doing the welcome and introduction. He didn’t have too much to say over the next half hour or so as the children acted out the familiar story, interspersed with a few Christmas carols. It finished to a loud burst of applause, and with a few prayers from Christopher, it was over.
I waited for the main throng of people to disappear, before standing and making my way towards the door. As usual, Christopher was there shaking the hands of each person as they left. Waiting my turn, I could see that although he was smiling and talking enthusiastically, his eyes looked drained and empty of life.
“How are you now?” I asked as I approached him.
“Still a bit tired, but much better thanks. I’m sorry I didn’t manage to get back to you but I wasn’t feeling up to talking to anyone. Thanks for the concern, though. It meant a lot.”
I would have listed Christopher as one of the most open and transparent people I have ever met. Even so, as I walked home I couldn’t shake the strong instinct that he was hiding something important.
Chapter Ten
It’s a fact of life that when you’re dreading something, the time before it seems to go by at least twice as fast as normal. So Thursday, and the Christmas Dinner, arrived with predictable speed. Although I had a fair idea of what I was going to say, I felt increasingly nervous as the day drew on. George tried to encourage me not to think about it, but just to look forwards to a decent meal for a change. Unfortunately I was fairly sure that the fact that our speeches were to come at the end of the dinner ruled out any possibility of my enjoying the food.
Katie seemed far more relaxed about the whole thing as, of course, did George although he was rather more flustered when he came out of his office late in the afternoon.
“I need a big favour, Jack.”
“Go on,” I said.
“I’d promised to give Katie a lift to the Dinner. But Ian Jacobs has just rung and he wants to meet me for an hour beforehand. Is there any chance you could pick her up for me?”
I had planned to walk there, more for the convenience of it than for the freedom it would give me to drink. It wasn’t really a major issue though.
“Sure,” I said, “I don’t mind driving.”
“Great!” George beamed. “Her address is on this bit of paper, and I was going to pick her up at about 7.30. I’ll give her a ring and let her know that you’ll be doing it instead. I think he just wants to go over his introduction but it seems a good idea to try and keep him sweet.”
His face took on a concerned expression. “And how are you? I know the last week must have been an awful one to cope with.”
It was nice of him to be concerned, but I would have much preferred it if he hadn’t said anything. I had years of practice at burying things that were painful, and so avoiding any uncomfortable feelings – or any feelings at all for that matter. So I could honestly have said to George that I hadn’t let myself think about Jennifer at all. There was no reason for him to know that the hideous image of her grinning death mask had woken me up several times in each night since.
“Well, obviously it did shake me up.” I admitted. “But I’m coping with it, thanks. I just wish they’d hurry up and catch the maniac who did it.”
George looked unconvinced. “You of all people should know that it doesn’t do any good to bottle things up.”
“I’m not bottling anything up,” I said, far more sharply than I’d intended to. “I’m fine.”
“If you say so. You know where I am if you change your mind, and need a friend to talk to.”
George stood up, and left me alone in the room with my thoughts.
The house Katie shared was out of the city centre towards the University of York. I pulled up outside just a little before half past seven. The night was already cold and my breath steamed out into the atmosphere as I climbed the few stone steps to the front door. On reflection, I wasn’t too sorry that I wasn’t going to be facing a late night walk home in sub zero temperatures.
The door opened and a pretty dark haired girl greeted me.
“You must be Jack. I’m Rebecca. Come on into the warm.”
She showed me through to a small living room which was simply furnished with a couple of battered couches around a real fire with a small portable television and DVD player in the corner.
“Katie will be down in a couple of minutes so just make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink?”
I passed on the drink, but settled onto one of the couches which was surprisingly comfortable. Rebecca sat on the opposite one and leant forwards.
“It’s the first time I’ve met one of the people Katie works with. Is she as scatty at work as she is at home?”
I smiled back, “We all work fairly independently, I’m afraid, so I don’t get to see Katie all that much. She always struck me as very organised and efficient.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you had to clear up the bathroom after she’s swept through it.” She grinned broadly. “Actually she’s not too bad as a house
mate. I was really pleased when she decided to come up to York and move in with me. Have you lived here long?”
We spent the next few minutes in fairly easy conversation, before a voice interrupted us from the doorway.
“I hope you haven’t been telling him what a nightmare I am to live with, Becky.”
We both turned to the door, and my breath caught in my throat. Katie was standing there in a stunning black dress. Her eyes sparkled, and the reflection of the firelight shimmered in her hair.
“She scrubs up quite well, don’t you think Jack?” Rebecca said with a mischievous smile.
“You look absolutely beautiful, Katie.” I said as my voice returned.
“Thanks.” she smiled, “We’d better get going before Becky thinks of some really embarrassing story to tell you about me.”
“Oh, we’ve already been through all of those.” Rebecca teased her as we left.
We spent the short journey into the city going through what we each planned to say after the meal. We reached the restaurant and were shown upstairs to a large dining room with spectacular views of the Minster. A waiter hurried over with a tray laden with glasses of champagne, and we both took a glass and moved to the side of the room. The room was set out rather like a wedding reception, with a table set at the head of the room, and a number of other long tables crossing the purple carpeted floor. All around the room, groups of people – mostly men – were talking animatedly.
“Ever felt like a spare part?” Katie murmured to me and I nodded in agreement.
“Katie! Jack!” A cheerful voice boomed across the room and we saw Ian Jacobs striding towards us. He approached with a welcoming smile.
“Let me show you where the two of you are sitting. I’m afraid I only managed to fit George onto the top table, but I’m sure you won’t mind missing out on the privilege of having everyone watch you while you’re eating.”
As he talked, he was leading us to the furthest of the tables. At the end nearest the door, Katie’s name was on the card marking the final place. My name was on the place opposite.
Ian continued talking. “You look totally stunning, Katie. Now I don’t want either of you to worry about your presentation. Just relax and enjoy the meal and you’ll both be fine. Remember that by the time it’s your turn to speak, everyone will be stuffed with food and wine, so they’ll all be in a benevolent haze. Let’s see what I can tell you about the people you’ll have sitting next to you.”
He bent forwards to examine the name tags on the next couple of places, and then looked up with a slightly concerned expression.
“I’m afraid you’re due to be next to the group from A.G. Taylor. They’re a nice group, quite young, which was why I thought this would be a good place to put you. Unfortunately their MD rang a little while ago to say they were having a bit of a crisis and may not be able to get here.” His frown deepened. “We don’t want to leave the two of you out on a limb. Perhaps I should try and move you, but the first course is ready to be served and if they do manage to get here …” Ian’s voice trailed off.
“Don’t worry.” Katie interrupted, “I’m sure Jack and I will manage to entertain each other if we do end up next to empty seats.”
“Yes, but” Ian began, but had to break off as the head waiter banged a small gong.
“Ladies and gentlemen, could you please take your seats for the feast.”
As people began to mill around the tables, Ian gave us an apologetic look. “I’d better go and sit down then, I really am terribly sorry.”
After he’d gone, Katie grinned “Actually it will be a bit of a relief not having to make polite conversation to complete strangers. But can you cope with having to talk to me all evening?”
“I dare say I’ll put up with it.” I said, and began to read the menu.
Sure enough, the chairs next to us did remain empty as the meal began. As a result, the two of us seemed to have exclusive rights to four bottles of wine (two white and two red with all of them looking very expensive) and a basket of warm bread rolls.
“If we work our way through all of this, I won’t be able to stand up at the end of the meal, never mind speak coherently.” Katie commented as I poured her a glass of the Chablis.
“Well, you’re pretty much on your own with the wine, unless you feel like walking home.” I reminded her.
At this, she got up from the table and made her way to the top table where George was sitting. I noticed that quite a number of heads turned as she passed. Soon she was back.
“It’s alright, George isn’t drinking anyway so he said he’d drop me off at home. He did say we weren’t to embarrass him, so we’d better not polish of all the wine.”
I took a long drink of the wine and toasted her. “So, how long have you and Rebecca been friends?”
“We met at college about ten years ago. We just seemed to hit it off straight away, and then shared a house for the second and third years. Then she got a job here in York, and I stayed in London.”
As we worked through our first course – a delicious assortment of mushrooms and a creamy sauce – and the following winter fruits sorbet, Katie told the story of how she had ended up in York. It was the tale of a long term relationship which had ended very unpleasantly and acrimoniously.
“David was very angry and bitter, and as all our friends were joint ones, it made for an awkward situation. They all felt they were being forced to choose sides and, as I was the one that had ended it, David tended to get the sympathy vote.”
She managed to keep her voice very light as she recounted this, but the long pause before she continued suggested that the reality wasn’t quite so painless.
“Anyway, I got a letter from Becky mentioning that her house mate was moving soon. About the same time, I saw the job at the Crisis Centre in the paper so it looked like a good way of escaping.”
I looked at her. Again her eyes seemed paler. “That must have hurt a lot, feeling everyone was against you.”
She gazed directly back at me, her expression unreadable. “I can see why our clients find you so easy to talk to. Yes, it did hurt. Unreasonably I felt very let down. Just because I ended it didn’t mean that it wasn’t just as painful for me. If it hadn’t been for Becky, I would have really struggled.”
I had never seen her looking vulnerable before, and for one mad moment I wanted to move around the table and give her a hug. Fear of how she would react kept me pinned in my seat though, and the moment passed. Katie shook her head slightly as if to clear it like an etch-a sketch, and then smiled.
“In the end, it all worked out for the best. I love living in York and I love my job. Becky’s great fun to be around and it’s been nice to have a break from serious relationships. Anyway, now you’ve had my life story, it’s your turn.”
My reply was postponed by the arrival of our main courses. I had gone for the duck breast in a raspberry sauce, while Katie was having the traditional roast turkey. As we made our selection from the seemingly endless trays of potatoes and vegetables, I had to acknowledge that my reaction to hearing that Katie didn’t have a partner had been one of relief and excitement. Suddenly my fixed position that I was never again going to risk a serious relationship didn’t feel quite so secure.
“Come on then,” Katie interrupted. “You can’t keep being the man of mystery for ever.”
Keeping it as casual as possible, I told her about my marriage to Liz and its eventual collapse.
“Do you still see her?” Katie asked.
“No,” I replied. “She’s moved to Bristol and started a new life there. We exchange the odd letter or phone call but that’s all. She’s hoping to get married again next summer.”
“And how about you since then?” she pressed. “No special person in your life?”
I took another bite of the delicious meat while I considered my answer.
“The job doesn’t leave much time for a social life. I suppose I’ve just concentrated on that. Being with Liz taught me th
at I’m not exactly cut out for domestic bliss.”
Katie’s eyes had now turned to the deepest of green, filled with warmth. She looked on the brink of saying something but then appeared to change her mind.
“OK, that’s enough comparing scars for now. Let’s talk about more cheerful things,” she suggested.
Perhaps the wine was helping the process, but we seemed to naturally fall into relaxed conversation. It was soon clear that Katie was a dangerous combination of qualities – not just beautiful but also intelligent, witty and kind. Most refreshingly she seemed to savour life, laughing out loud when something amused her. I couldn’t remember an evening when I’d enjoyed someone’s company so much.
The desserts came and went and suddenly Ian Jacobs was banging on the table to bring the room to a hush. “Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you’ve all enjoyed your meal.” There was a general buzz of approval around the room. Ian continued,
“The tradition is that you now have to pay for the meal by listening to me making a speech. Just to warn you I’ll be starting in about ten minutes. The bar is open in the room next door, so if you need something to fortify yourselves before the speeches, this is your chance.”
He sat down, so I turned back to Katie and asked if she wanted anything.
“I’d probably better start sobering up,” she mused. “A glass of mineral water would be nice.”
I made my way out of the room and towards the bar where a scrum was already forming. Waiting for my turn, I heard a voice behind me. “Enjoying your evening, Mr. Bailey?”
I knew who it was at once and, with a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, turned to face Michael Palmer.
“I hadn’t realised that you were a member of the Executive Club, Detective Inspector.”
His face wore an amused look. “Thought us dumb policemen too lowly to be invited, did you? In fact I’ve been a member for a few years. I don’t often get to the meetings, but when I heard you were going to be speaking to us, I couldn’t wait to see you in action.”
Shaping the Ripples Page 7
