‘With the box or without?’ asked Bones. ‘Your call.’
Donkey’s eyes seemed closer together as she tried to make a decision. It seemed to work. ‘Take the box. It will get us more.’ They silently but thoroughly turned over every drawer. They looked behind the curtain and pulled the bed out to ensure nothing of value was missed. They correctly concluded her interests were few, beyond her treasured harmonicas.
It would have surprised Donkey and Bones that Sally could find a new interest in life and indeed she had. Elsie had been approached by a couple also on holiday with their son. Eric and Beth were, like her, in their late seventies or early eighties and their son Tom was fifty-one. He was an Asperger sufferer and that was one bond which sealed this holiday friendship. All five met for dinner that night and Elsie noticed her daughter could not keep her eyes off Tom. He was not fazed by the attention. He stared back at her. When she smiled, he smiled. When she ate, he ate. It was like a mirror image of activity but one that both Elsie and Tom’s parents were aware of and ignored. Both sets of parents quietly encouraged their early platonic interest. It only seemed natural.
A veil of doubt and misunderstanding had been pulled from Sally’s eyes. She felt for almost the first time for many, many years, she had feelings for someone other than her mother. She showed no reticence. It seemed she was less confused for the time being. Her autism had dictated her perception of herself. Her differences defined her. Now she felt being herself was not such a bad thing. The journey, her journey, to find herself, to find out what was wrong had not come to an end. But having met Tom, it seemed to have come to a new beginning.
That evening before the sun had set Sally and Tom went for a walk alone. It was a stroll along a cliff path. Small colourful fishing boats lay in the bay bobbing to a growing nocturnal beat of the waves. They sat down on the grassy cliff to watch the twitching boats.
Sally got straight down to reality. ‘Have you a best friend?’
‘No, I have no special friend. Do you have a best friend?’
‘Yes, Becky is my best friend.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Tom was aware of same sex relationships as an avid soap viewer. ‘So will you marry her?’
‘No,’ she giggled. ‘She’s my sister.’
It took a few moments for them to make sense of their conversation. Their eyes wandered over the waves while Sally wound the long grass beside her around her fingers. Tom fiddled with his dark blue Fitbit strap on his wrist. He tapped it twice. He had only walked 8K steps so far, that day.
‘Do you like my jersey?’ Sally asked.
Tom turned his head towards her. ‘Yes, I like your jersey.’
They did not say anything else for the best part of twenty minutes but they sat closer to each other inch by inch and eventually their sides met and gave each other some warmth. Then Tom arose.
‘We should get back soon,’ he said. ‘Dad will be worried.’
‘Yes, my Mum might be too.’
Both needed to recharge. It was good that they both realised this simultaneously in making their excuses.
On the way back to the hotel Sally took Tom’s hand and smiled at him. He momentarily withdrew his hand and gasped. Sally felt awkward. What had she done? But Tom then took hold of her hand and he smiled back at her. They were not happy photo smiles, more of a tense stretching of the lips. They were still holding hands when they returned to find their parents sitting at a table by the pool.
‘Did you have a good time, Tom?’ asked Eric.
‘Yes, I had a good time.’
‘And how about you Sally, was it a good walk?’ asked Eric.
Sally lifted her sleeve to her mouth and gnawed her jersey gently.
Donkey was now in Elsie’s bedroom going through her jewellery. Elsie had obviously not taken the best on holiday but again how much could they take without it being noticed? Donkey settled for a broach with a jade green stone surrounded by small pearls. On its other side was a Birmingham silver hallmark. She put it in her pocket. Meanwhile Bones was going through all of Elsie’s pockets and bringing out coins and some notes. In one drawer there was a purse with more than one hundred pounds in ten and five pounds notes. Donkey took £45 hoping the remainder would not arouse suspicion.
It was now after 10 p.m. and they still had another floor to explore.
‘Hey Donkey, slow down. Best to sleep overnight here and leave tomorrow morning. You agree?’
‘Yeah, up in the attic we can get some kip. I fancy going up to bed, having a second floor instead of being at home on the ground floor.’
‘Not yet though. Let’s do the spare bedrooms next.’
‘Okay darling,’ said Bones.
Bending under the windows as a shaft of moonlight pierced one room, Donkey came across a trunk under a bed. She struggled to pull it out. She asked Bones to help. They were pleased to find it unlocked. There was a cloth cover which she removed and saw two boxes. Donkey opened the first. Then the second lid came off the solid cardboard box. Donkey’s eyes dropped, comics only, but so many. She took the contents of the last box and looked at the last copy on the bottom of the pile. It had a special cover. “First Edition 30th July 1938” it declared in large bold though slightly faded print. Then it dawned on her and her face lit up. In her hands were The Beano comics in numerical order from the very first edition to edition number 6000.
‘Frickin’ brilliant, Bones.’
‘What d’ya mean, luv?’ he asked bewildered at her excitement over comics.
‘We’ve got to take these,’ said Donkey flicking through some more magazines then stopping to gaze at the cartoons of Lord Snooty and Denis the Menace.
‘What, lots of comics? You’re crazy, that’s what you are. What’s great about them?’ asked Bones.
‘Yes, but maybe it’s big money when you have the full set.’
Bones looked at the boxes packed with comics.
‘We’ve got to be selective. They are a bit bulky. That’s all I’m sayin’.
Donkey was not to be put off.
‘Then we take this because they’ll not touch this trunk for some time, even years. Keep what we’ve pocketed but this is the icing on the cake, believe me.’
Her eyes were gleaming bright as she imagined the ching-ching of the cash earned from these boxes of comics in her mind.
‘Don’t touch them. Keep them in good condition. No spaniel ears.’
‘Okay, if you think they’ll sell well.’
Donkey nodded enthusiastically. ‘They will. Trust me. Now, I’m ready for bed.’
The attic stairs creaked. The door was closed. Donkey opened it slowly then turned to Bones.
‘Christ, we’re not going to sleep just yet. Look, a bloody snooker table.’
5
Malta Romance
The skies were clear and if an ear was cocked towards the sea, the waves could be heard collapsing on the golden sand near the rocky shoreline. Sally and her mother had arrived at the breakfast table by the poolside. There was already warmth in the air. Not from the hotel kitchen but the fresh sea air was wafting its way through the open breakfast area. Elsie set off to the self-help breakfast table where under fly nets could be found the hams of Europe, the tropical fruits of nearby Africa and the Mediterranean and of course the ubiquitous Cornflakes amid different plain and flavoured yoghurts. Sally returned to her table without anything. She was off her breakfast food and her mother noticed.
‘Have some orange juice, Sally,’ she said as she balanced the plate of hams and kept an eye on the mesmerising movement of her mug of tea to the table.
`No, don’t want any orange juice.’
‘But you must have something. A slice of melon, perhaps?’ she suggested sympathetically realising the cause of her heart flutters.
Sally went to the table and brought back a slice of watermelon. She had pleas
ed her mother.
But Elsie recognised the ailment of her heart.
‘How long have you been feeling under the weather, darling?’
Sally’s eyes wandered round the tables. Her heart missed a beat. Tom was approaching with his parents. It was too late to respond.
‘Can we join you for breakfast?’ asked Eric.
‘Yes, do,’ said Elsie as Sally stood up and gazed at Tom.
Eric pulled out a seat for his wife next to Elsie and then the seat for his son next to Sally. She remained standing. She continued to stare at Tom. Nothing was said. It was appropriate not to. In time Sally sat down.
There were not one but three skyline windows that night providing sufficient light for them to distinguish the colours of the snooker balls. After the first game Bones took the chalk and approached the board and recorded the score.
‘For God’s sake. Put the chalk down, ya bugger. Trying to name and shame us?’
‘I wasn’t. I was only going to write the scores,’ said a defensive Bones.
‘You don’t understand do you? Sally eventually comes up here and sees the board has had an entry. She may be daft but she’d know someone had been up here.’
Bones nodded reluctantly. He wiped the board almost clean with his sleeve. ‘Okay one more game and its bedtime. And no smokes either for that matter.’
The next game took more than an hour to complete. That brought the score to one game each. They felt a decider was required. They had that competitive streak. But they were hungry too.
They went down to the kitchen and looked into every tin. Some were empty. They came across Jaffa cakes in one tin and they took two each. Sure, they wanted more but again they agreed that four would not be noticed missing as the pack had already been opened. They washed their biscuits down with a glass of lemon barley water making sure they washed and dried their glasses thoroughly before putting them away where they had taken them from. Then they took four cushions from the lounge and headed back to contest the final game before retiring.
It was almost 1 a.m. when the decider was over. Donkey accepted defeat.
As they prepared for sleep, Bones noticed a rocking chair in the corner. He looked at Donkey with lingering eyes, those same eyes which told Donkey he had further plans on his mind.
‘You sleepy, luv?’ he said glancing between her and the rocking chair like a metronome. Donkey got his message clearly and it was one which was heightened by the excitement of where they were and what they had achieved that night. It had them aroused. Bones approached and gently lifted her jersey over her head. As her hair fell backwards into place, he felt his trouser zip being pulled down. His trousers flopped to the floor. He turned her around and drew her close to him. His hands came over her shoulders and clung to her breasts. He pressed hard adding a circular movement and Donkey’s eyes closed. He stepped out of his trousers and kicked off his trainers. His socks remained on. To remove them would interrupt. He pulled at her bra strap. ‘Hey easy, luv.’ The release came soon after and he let her bra fall to the ground. He continued to play with her nipples and felt them harden to both his pleasure and hers. Donkey let out a child-like cry. She turned around to grab his manhood and brought it towards her.
‘Wait. I’ve an idea.’ Bones tiptoed quickly to the corner of the attic and gathered a tartan rug and draped it over the rocking chair.
‘Come here, luv,’ he said curling his index finger towards her.
Bones sat stately on the chair his penis proudly aroused and awaiting attention. She lowered herself gently to allow the union to take place. She then leant back permitting Bones’ right hand to hold firmly her right breast while the fingers of Bones’ other hand teased her softness between her legs. But Donkey was in control. She gripped Bones’ thighs and her nails dug into his flesh as she used his legs to propel her forward and backwards to the swaying of the rocking chair. It brought them to new heights of pleasure. The strangeness of the room, the illegal but quick entry to the house, the treasure finds and the excitement of the snooker all conspired to make this a most memorable night. A night which was far from over.
Then they crawled under the snooker table with Sally’s duvet over them. It was a hard floor but the discomfort did not delay sleep. Their sexual activity brought instant sleep and both soon succumbed to the powers of Hypnos, the Greek God of sleep, satisfied with feelings of mutual love.
It may have been around 2 a.m. when a scream came from Donkey’s anguished mouth. She had hit her head on the table above her as she prepared to visit the loo.
‘God that’s sore.’
Bones was disturbed and slowly came to life. He sat up and could see blood starting to run down the side of Donkey’s face.
‘Don’t get any blood onto her duvet. For fuck’s sake, you’ve spilt some on that cushion. Cover your head with your hand and I’ll get some loo paper.’
Donkey crawled from under the snooker table. She stood up and made her way to the loo. Her blood started to drop on the floor but it was the patterned linoleum flooring she was on and that could be easily cleaned. Bones found the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and took some bandages, two plasters and cotton wool. He parted Donkey’s hair and the source of her injury appeared. He wiped the growing bump with wet cotton wool and dried it with some more. Then he placed a bandage over the wound.
‘Get that cushion soaked,’ was all thoughtless Donkey could say.
Eric and Beth ran a chemist’s shop in Bolton, not a long distance from Wigan. Eric was pleased to see Sally take an interest in his son. So too was his wife. There were signs that family friendship might survive this Mediterranean holiday. After all they were almost Lancashire neighbours, with a common experience of autism and now Malta.
Tom and Sally left the table and parted at the entrance to the hotel where Sally mounted the stairs.
‘She’ll be going to brush her teeth,’ said Elsie. ‘Never leaves any dining table to go anywhere else.’
Beth gave a knowing smile. ‘It’s good for her to have a routine. Best to leave them in their own silent world. We learned from our mistakes, you know, the denial that your child is really ill. It took us some time to adjust, didn’t it Eric?’
‘Yes, fifty years ago, they thought it might be cured some day but no, they got that wrong. I suppose we did our best as everyone did but there wasn’t a real understanding of the condition. Little support either at that time.’
Elsie nodded her agreement and replaced her cup on its saucer and pushed it further onto the table.
‘It was very much the same for us. My husband, Ian, who died four years ago, felt it was a stigma at first. He got frustrated that Sally wasn’t trying to improve but fortunately we began to see autism in a better light.’
‘Yes, they have their own personalities,’ said Eric stretching his arms over his head.
‘Not just personalities. Sally plays several different harmonicas really very well indeed.’
‘Really? Has she got any with her on holiday,’ asked Eric excitedly.
‘Yes I think she’s brought just one. Goodness knows which one it is.’
Eric smiled. He unbuttoned another shirt button.
‘It’s getting warmer by the minute,’ Elsie found herself saying on seeing more of his hairy chest.
Beth moved her chair further in and tipped it forward. ‘Elsie, you don’t mind Tom showing an interest in Sally?’
‘You mean Sally showing an interest in Tom? She’s quite off her food at present and that’s not like her.’
‘I’m pleased for them. They are relaxed around each other and that will provide comfort for them to explore,’ said Eric.
Elsie opened her mouth as she thought through her question. ‘Has Tom had many girlfriends?’
‘Girlfriends? Thousands. Every holiday, every trip to the supermarket or even the recycling centre he comes back and
tells me about them. I ask who they are and he tells me they are all his girlfriends.’
‘Oh, so I can relax then,’ she said winking at Eric.‘No Elsie,’ he dropped his voice. ‘It’s sad but as a couple they could not survive. They live in their own worlds and they’ll never co-ordinate to manage the task in hand,’ said Beth.
Elsie agreed through more of her silent nods. ‘Has Tom ever worked?’
‘He had a job for a few weeks but he stopped going. It was his choice. They could not keep him on their books. He was not reliable enough for them. Mind you I don’t think they went out of their way to support him or show him the ropes in a slow gradual manner.’
Elsie’s face showed concern. ‘May I ask where he worked?’
‘Yes, he packed tea at Martin’s Supermarket. Well, tea bags and loose tea, Ovaltine, hot chocolate drinks and coffees. You can imagine all the types of coffee there are these days, let alone infusions of all sorts.’
‘Yes, that’s too much to handle. Probably not the best department with that number of drink items. Perhaps he could have coped better gathering the trolleys.’
‘You are right. It is one thing for a company to be proud to employ the disabled but they have a responsibility to make sure the jobs given match their ability. Too often they manage to fit round pegs into square holes,’ said Eric shaking his head in despair.
‘Sally worked in a store too. Same reason she gave up. Lost interest. Happier at home. So I didn’t push it.’
Smiles were seen all around the breakfast table as the realisation and comfort was shared by the common paths their children had taken.
‘Sally sees her role in life is to be with me,’ Elsie said with a distant look.
‘That can’t be a bad thing,’ suggested Beth.
‘It’s fine just now but when I die, I really don’t know what Sally will do,’ she said misty-eyed.
The Trials of Sally Dunning and a Clerical Murder Page 4
