Ship Ahoy! (A Cliffhanger Novel Book 3)

by T. J. Middleton

  ‘Is it? I’m very fond of your nymph, not that…’ he was getting all confused, ‘not that Mrs Durand-Deacon wouldn’t look lovely, up amongst the long grass, looking down at the fish. She wouldn’t have her back to them would she?’

  ‘No, no. When you’re gone I’ll get her out there front-on, see how she looks in situ as we say. That urn she’s carrying, well it could be water for them, or food. The Nymph isn’t really interested in the fish at all. She’s more interested who she can pull. Mrs Durand-Deacon will relate to them more. She has a thing about fish, carp especially.’

  ‘Does she?’ He was looking at her with added interest.

  ‘Loves them. The idea of a representation of her naked body in close proximity night and day, well, it makes her feel complete. Strange I know, but that’s the sort of woman she is. As a matter of interest, did she have any help?’

  ‘Who?’ Rump was still staring.

  ‘Audrey. I was thinking of Michaela, your ex. She’s not on these happy shores again is she, making more mischief? Honestly Adam, the women we choose.’ He shook his head in agreement.

  ‘Keep to carp, that’s my motto. So, she hasn’t tried to get in contact at all?’

  ‘Well why would she? She knows what I think of her.’

  ‘Quite. And if she does…’

  ‘I’ll be on that phone quicker than if I won the lottery. So, are we done here? Only I’d like to get on. It’s not easy, keeping up a pose like that.’

  ‘No I can see.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I was just wondering, if I could just pop down, take a look at the fish?’

  ‘Help yourself. All for carp and carp for all, that’s my motto.’

  ‘Right. I’ll be saying goodbye.’

  He put his hat on, not moving.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Yes. No use hanging around here.’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘No. Well goodbye then.’ He tipped his hat at Audrey’s rear.

  ‘She daren’t talk,’ I said. ‘It might upset the composition. Ruin the morning’s work.’

  ‘Of course.’ He raised his voice. ‘Well it was very nice meeting you Mrs Durand- Deacon. Very nice. Not that we actually shook hands or anything. Or talked. But it’s been a pleasure seeing you—not that I’ve been looking at you understand. Not at all. But I was very interested to hear what you didn’t say about fish. Very interested. Perhaps you’d like to see my fish sometime? Mmm?’

  The vase wobbled.

  ‘Marvellous. Well, just a quick trip down to the pond and I’ll make myself scarce.’

  He ducked out the French windows, walked down to the pond, took a quick peek, then went back up the path and round the house back to the police-car. I had said nothing.

  ‘What’s he doing now?’ Audrey said. ‘My arm’s killing me.’

  ‘Still poking around the pond. Don’t turn round. I must say, you were brilliant Audrey, bloody brilliant. I mean you weren’t even shaking. I could barely hold this pencil straight.’

  ‘Thank you Al.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  I sat back on the stool, lit a cigarette. It was nice, just sitting there, staring at her, not having to do anything, not having to say anything, Audrey standing there in the corner in the all-together. When I was a kiddie I had to stand in the corner of the classroom all the time. Christ I spent half my education with my face to the wall, teacher telling the rest of the class what a bad example I was. I didn’t mind, quite liked it in fact, counting the bricks, thinking of the dog shit that was going to get posted through her letter box later that evening, thinking about when this schooling was all over, how I’d be free of it, free to run about in the sand, run away to sea, just get the fuck out of it. And what happened? I married Audrey. And here she was standing in the corner.

  ‘Has he gone yet?’ she said.

  ‘Not yet. He’s still making fish eyes at the fish. Honestly Audrey, you should have seen his face, when he saw you. You were quite wrong about that. Couldn’t take his eyes off you.’

  ‘Really?’ There was a tone to her voice. She wasn’t displeased. ‘What’s he doing now?’

  ‘Still looking at the fish. No I tell a lie. He’s waving to me. Yes, I’m still drawing her, you prize pillock.’

  ‘Al. Don’t chance our luck.’

  ‘How times have changed eh? Last time Rump saw you without any clothes on, I was trying to drown you in the pond and he was pulling me off, trying to save you from me. Now, I’m trying to save you from him. Talk about circles.’

  ‘Is that what you’re going to do? If only I could be sure.’

  ‘Course it is. I’ll get you some other clothes, don’t you worry. I wasn’t thinking straight, what with Tina Pea-brain in tow. Did you hear what Rump said about a tip-off. That must have been her. Shoving her tits where they don’t belong.’

  ‘I was wondering when they’d make an appearance. You always did fancy her.’

  ‘What do you mean? I can’t stand the woman.’

  ‘When did that ever stop you. Sorry. Sorry. That’s all in the past. So, you’re going to help me.’

  ‘Looks like it doesn’t it. Turn round.’

  ‘What if he sees?’

  ‘I lied to you Audrey, just for old times sake. He’s long gone. I just wanted to keep looking at you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes. I like looking at you Audrey. You’d make a good model—you have that form about you that artists really go for—lust and life and every fucked-up thing all rolled into one. They look at you, and it isn’t always their paintbrush they want to hold in their hand.’

  ‘Al!’ She turned her head, looked over her shoulder, vase as steady as a rock. She looked magnificent, like a statue herself. First time I think I ever thought that about her, but she did.

  ‘Perhaps I can become your model for real,’ she said. ‘A woman instead of sharks. What did you say my name was?’

  ‘Mrs Durand-Deacon. She’d been a passenger on our last cruise, had a bit of a set too with my chainsaw.’ I caught her look. ‘You don’t want to know. Her name just jumped into my head, though to be fair you deserve something a little more exotic, Ruby or something, like a hot house flower, full of promise.’

  ‘Full of promise. I like that.’

  She stood there, looking at me, not moving. I was doing the same.

  ‘You don’t seem worried by all this,’ I said

  ‘I’m not any more. Are you?’

  ‘Not as much as I should be. It’s like, it’s all laid out for us, whatever we do, like we’re tied together again, come what may. Go on. Turn round. I want to take it all in, properly this time.’

  She put down the pot, turned round.

  ‘What if he comes back?’ she said

  ‘Then I’ll have to lie on top of you.’

  ‘Lie on top of who?’

  We turned round. Emily was standing in the door.

  Surprises. Don’t you love them?

  FIVE

  When I was little, when it was time for me to get dressed, my mum used to lay things out for me: socks, underwear, shirt, trousers, jersey, all in a little row at the edge of my bed. There was an order to them. That’s the way I did it, that’s the way I’ve always done it ever since, even when they were lying on the floor in some bird’s poky holiday flat-let or chucked all on a heap out onto the front seat of the Vanden Plas while I was demonstrating my Emergency Stop technique in the back. That’s the order they go on, no matter where; socks, underwear, shirt, trousers and whatever’s left over. It makes sense, starting from the feet up. What’s more, I like it. Often, when I’ve got the socks on, I stand there for a minute or two enjoying the sensation, me standing there wearing nothing else but my socks. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel almost more naked than when I’m standing there with nothing on at all. There’s something a bit forward about it, something a bit sexy, like I’m on show, offering myself up on a plate. The old fellow feels more important too, like he’s dressed up for s
omething. Sometime I’ll wander around the bungalow for a while like that, kitchen, conservatory, lounge, wherever I fancy, just me and my socks. I don’t know why but it makes me feel wild and in control at the same time, like I’m a caveman in his cave, ready to fuck with anything. Sabre-toothed tiger? Miss Neanderthal 1 Million BC? Homo-bloody-know-all-sapiens showing off his wheel up at the well? Bring ‘em on. I’ll show them.

  I suppose most people have their usual dressing order, men and women. Women of course have more to choose from. Em, though a free type spirit in many other respects, liked her clothes orderly, though putting them on it was what was nearest at hand that influenced the order. When she took them off, unless she was in a real hurry, she folded them up neat and tidy on a chair, or sometimes the Easy-Slumber SofaBed. Audrey on the other hand was of the take-them-off-and-kick-them-in-the corner persuasion. Monty the dog used to clean up after her, pick them up with his teeth and carry them of his basket, where he’d sleep on them all night, keeping them warm for her in the morning. Trouble was, if got bored, he’d start chewing on what was closest to his teeth. Cost me a fortune until I booted him outside. And then I ran him over. What a shame.

  Here, true to form Audrey had kicked her clothing all over the place, chaise longue, yucca plant, floor. Em had picked up one of her red socks that were draped over shark junior and was holding it by the toe like it was a dead fish.

  ‘Emily, my own! May I introduce Audrey, my ex-wife. You saw her picture in the papers? She’s ridden all the way here.’

  ‘Not like that I imagine.’

  ‘No, my sweet. This was a spur of the moment decision, precipitated by the unwanted arrival of the police. Adam Rump to be precise. You remember Adam? He came to see the fish once, dropped his mobile in the pond.’

  ‘Was that him in the police car I just passed?’

  ‘Probably. Patchy red face, thinning hair, stupid hat?’

  ‘I wasn’t interested in what he looked like. I was thinking about other things, coming home early, giving you a surprise instead of getting one. Here.’ She held the sock out. ‘Perhaps you’d like to get dressed.’

  Audrey stepped forward, took it. I didn’t like to say it, but that’s the trouble with surprises. They bite back

  ‘He looks like a fish,’ Audrey said, ‘Rump.’ She leant across, lifted the other sock from off the shark’s back. There was no shame to her at all. Prison does that to you.

  ‘Do you know Audrey, I never thought of that, but now you come to mention it, he does a bit, one of those big ugly ones, red in the face. Not a mullet but…’

  ‘Gurnard,’ Audrey said. ‘A bulgy eyed Gurnard.’

  She started to put them on, rolling one of the socks up, then balancing on the free leg, eased it over her foot and rolled up her calf. In the old days when she tried to do something like that she usually fell over. Christ, how I’d laugh. But now, she did it without even a leg-tremble, like she was a regular gymnast doing beam work, first one leg and then the other, me and Emily watching close. She straightened up, naked, both feet on the floor, toes wriggling inside the wool. She felt great, I could tell, looked great too, staring back at us as if saying, yeah look at me, look how great I am, how fucking strong and handsome. Em was staring at her like I was, couldn’t take her eyes off her, and it struck me that Audrey was showing herself as much to Emily as to me, currents of electricity pinging back and forth between the three of us. Emily broke the silence.

  ‘ I still don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Why all this?’

  Audrey pointed to the easel.

  ‘Al was pretending to be an artist,’ she said. ‘I was his model. It was the only way to divert Rump’s attention.’ I felt obliged to put her straight.

  ‘Excuse me Audrey. I was not pretending to be an artist. I am an artist.’

  ‘Really? Have you seen your drawing then?’ She walked back, picking up the skirt and underwear.

  ‘Strangely enough, my mind wasn’t on my pencil. It was more on whether we were going to spend the night in Dorchester nick or not.’

  ‘And who’d feed the fish, yes I know. So…’ she turned, brassiere and skirt back on looked Emily up and down. ‘This is my replacement is it?’ She stuck out her hand. ‘Well rather you than me, Emily. Though I don’t think he’s best pleased with you at the moment. I’m going to get us all a little stiffener. I think we all need one.’

  She grabbed the rest and marched off into the lounge. I could hear the drinks cabinet being opened, glasses coming out. Em had barely moved.

  ‘How’s your Dad?’ I said. ‘Leg sprung back to life, I take it.’

  ‘Never mind about that. What the hell’s she doing here?’

  ‘What do you think Em? She wants us to help her. Get her out the country.’

  ‘Well I hope you told her no.’

  ‘I did tell her, my sweet, in no uncertain terms, told her the moment she turned up last night. Made a point of telling her for the last twenty-four hours. I was holding my own pretty well, telling her no in no uncertain terms, until she found something of yours that made my position somewhat precarious.’

  ‘Something of mine?’

  ‘Something I sent you a while back. Something personal, something rather precious to us both, I thought, like a secret charm, or Wotan’s magic ring, or that sword that young King Arthur pulled out that fucking stone. Any idea of what I might be referring to?’

  ‘Al. I’m in no mood for silly games. What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘I am talking about the letter, my own, the letter I put in the post all those years back, the one you read and tucked into that pocket of that pretty flowery dress of yours and got in your car with, the one you drove here with and walked up to the Pimple with, where I was waiting ready to be carted off for the rest of my natural. The one you took out that flowery dress pocket and tore into little pieces before my very eyes, scattered them to the wind, before you had me up there on the Pimple with old Poke Nose down here with her binoculars trained on us.’

  ‘Oh. That letter.’

  ‘Yes. That letter. Those bits of paper are what we built our life on. Or so I thought.’

  ‘And so they were Al! But I never said it was the real letter did I? I was tearing it up symbolically for you, demonstrating that what you’d done was all in the past, that it meant nothing to me, that I forgave you. What you saw was me tearing up a couple of sheets of paper. You just assumed it was the letter.’

  ‘Emily. This doesn’t sound like you at all.’

  ‘It isn’t. I meant what I did Al. But a girl has to have some sort of insurance. I mean, I don’t want to fall of a boat or something, do I?’

  ‘It was unworthy of you Em. To not tell me the truth. I mean that’s the basis of our relationship isn’t it. Truth.’

  ‘You had form Al. I didn’t want to end up the same way. Keeping it was protection.’

  ‘How do you work that one out? I didn’t know you had kept the letter. If I had wanted to get rid of you I would have done so in complete ignorance. What you should have done, was told me you had given the letter to your lawyer, or left it with the bank, only to be opened in case of your death. Then you would be sure that nothing would happen to you.’

  ‘Nothing has happened to me.’

  ‘Yes, but not because of my letter. Because of me. Because what I think of you. Because of who I now am.’ I didn’t tell her I’d changed back. It wouldn’t be fair.

  ‘I never thought you would really. It was just…a safeguard.’

  ‘Yes, but as I am trying to point out to you dearest, as you constructed it, it wasn’t a safeguard was it? All you have done is a) deceived me and b) left it lying around so Audrey could get her thieving hands on it. If you wanted it to work, you should have told me.’

  ‘I couldn’t do that. It would be like me telling you that I didn’t trust you.’

  ‘But you didn’t.’

  ‘You sound put out.’

  ‘I am a bit. It was disrespectful of y
ou Em. Not a good foundation for what I was hoping what would be a life-enhancing relationship. Where did you keep it, just out of interest? Audrey is being strangely coy about it.’

  Em looked strangely coy herself. She coughed.

  ‘Up Torvill’s rear end actually. Some of her stuffing had come out. It was quite hollow in there. It was a kind of totem. I could look at her very day and think that all your history was nestling in the bowels of your beloved fish. You dusted her every week, and still you didn’t see it, as if you couldn’t see it. I felt that as long as it was there, I was safe. We were safe.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t there now is it, and we aren’t. Jesus, Em. What were you thinking of?’

  ‘Well I wasn’t thinking that your ex-wife would break out of prison and turn up here was I? Nor did I think she’d up-end Torvill and examine what is in fact, a very small aperture.’

  I didn’t tell her that I’d told Audrey to go and have a good look at Torvill, just to remind of her of what she’d done. It would be letting her off the hook a bit, and she didn’t deserve that. What she done was worse than bad. It was clever. It showed she had the sort of mind I didn’t think she had, devious.

  Audrey called out from the lounge.

  ‘Come and get it!’ Emily threw up her hands.

  ‘For pity’s sake. Anyone think she owned the place.’

  ‘She did once. Look, we have to sweet-talk her now, thanks to you. Don’t worry. I’ll sort it out. Just go along with it, OK?’

  We walked in. Audrey was sitting on the Easy-Slumber Sofabed, three large Bloody Marys in front of her on the magazine table, with a bowl of peanuts and a glass jug full of bloody refill alongside. The glasses had them swizzle sticks that I’d bought her once, the ones with Hawaiian hula-hula dancing girls up at the top. I didn’t know I still had them. She’d plastered a load of lipstick on her face too, thick and red, like she was going out for the night and looking for trouble. She looked fabulous, regal almost, a sort of Holy temptress, Pope Vampire the First. Most men would run a mile. But then I’m not most men. I’m Al Greenwood. Audrey was meat and drink to me.

  ‘Hope you made it good and strong,’ I said.