Cry for Kit

by Veronica Heley

  But real life wasn’t like that. Real life had to take other people’s wishes into consideration, and then the wishes of the people who were dependent on them...

  I was in pain, but I wasn’t sure whether it was Edward or Pat whom I wanted most.

  Another quarter of an hour passed and Jack came out, waving goodbye.

  ‘Nice cup of tea,’ he said. ‘Tennis tournament next. Priory Gardens.’

  He hadn’t been wasting his time, for he had learned where Johnny was to be that afternoon, and proposed to follow him there. He said that Hazel Meredith and her much younger sister Sally had lived next door to the Blakes for the last ten years. Hazel taught at a local primary school, and was Mary’s closest friend. Hazel was a fine girl, Jack reported, who had been putting up with a bloke who wasn’t sure whether he would marry her or not for years. This bloke’s mother didn’t like Hazel, or something, and although they’d got engaged, they’d never got married. ‘And not likely to now, either,’ said Jack, with satisfaction.

  Fast work! I thought, and suppressed a pang of jealousy for Hazel. I didn’t want Jack, and if my return had jolted him out of his depression into looking around for someone else, then I must rejoice for him. Hazel Meredith sounded suitable, if a little dull. I would have thought Marge Lawrence more in his line—and smaller than him, too—but he had pronounced himself uninterested in Marge and was finding it difficult to take his mind off Hazel.

  ‘Johnny is partnering young Sally Meredith in the Finals, Junior Section,’ said Jack as we drew up at the Priory grounds. ‘Due to start any minute, if they haven’t started already.’ He squeezed my elbow. ‘They’re unofficially engaged, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Hazel and...?’

  ‘Johnny and Sally. She is one year older than him, but she’s been mad about Johnny for years. Hazel says he’s never been out with anyone but Sally, although that might be laziness on his part, what with her being next door and playing tennis together and so on. The Blakes are very keen on the idea of their getting married as soon as he’s through university. He’s going to be some kind of engineer.’

  It had never occurred to me that Johnny would have found himself a girl already. I couldn’t think why, for I’d been younger than him when I’d fallen for Edward.

  Jack steered me into the club grounds and found a couple of seats for us. There were three tiers of benches around the main court, and we were on the topmost tier. There were people playing on the court, but at first I was too confused to distinguish between them.

  ‘Far side,’ said Jack, sotto voce.

  Then I saw him. Nothing in the black and white photographs which Mary had sent me had prepared me for the fact that my son’s hair was so outrageously red. It wasn’t auburn like mine, nor was it the bright corn colour that Edward’s had been; it was a true carroty-red, an exuberant mop which bounced around his ears and over his forehead as he leaped about the court. He was tall and well-set for his age, and in repose he was good-looking though not outstandingly handsome. He resembled me rather than his father, but in his mobility of expression he was like Jack, and because his features were rarely still, he did not give the impression of being a teenager. He looked older than he was. His personality was strong; he dominated the court. Now and then he laughed when he or his partner played a good stroke.

  I was bewildered, because his photographs had prepared me so little for the reality of him. I was so happy I thought I might well explode in tears.

  It was some time before I could take my eyes off Johnny to examine his partner. She was recognisably kin to Hazel Meredith but much smaller, and her long brown hair was tied back in a pony-tail. A serious, over-thin slip of a girl, she was not pretty, but she had an excellent forehand. Johnny covered her backhand with ease, demonstrating the hours of practice they had done together. I wondered if they also spent hours in bed together, and thought it likely. I was conscious of tearing jealousy, far worse than I’d felt when Jack announced his interest in Hazel.

  ‘They ought to win,’ opined Jack. ‘They make a good pair.’

  All right, they did. I fought jealousy, telling myself I was being ridiculous, hating a girl I’d never met because she spent more time in my son’s company than I ever would.

  They won the first set and changed ends. Passing the umpire’s chair, Johnny threw his racket in the air, spinning it, and as it came down he saw me. He let the racket drop.

  He knew who I was. He had Edward’s eyes.

  Sally spoke to him. He didn’t hear her. I saw him take a deep breath and transfer his attention from me to Jack. I saw him wonder if Jack was his father, but I couldn’t be sure whether he approved of us or not. I thought that, on the whole, he didn’t.

  The umpire turned in his seat to enquire the reason for the delay. Johnny walked to his place. It was his turn to serve; he served a double fault. And again. Sally spoke to him, her face hard. I started to pray. I thought: she’s wrong for him—small-minded—too self-willed. He served an ace. He played brilliantly after that, but he didn’t look at us again, and when the match was over and it was announced that he and Sally had won, he went off the court with her without a backward glance in our direction.

  ‘Well!’ said Jack. ‘I wouldn’t have missed that for worlds. A pity he doesn’t want us to introduce ourselves. Too public here, perhaps! I can’t help thinking I’ve seen the lad somewhere before, but where...? He’s like you, isn’t he? And yet not. When you know, you can see the likeness, but you wouldn’t spot it, without prompting. You look as if you could do with another drink, Kit. Where can we get one at this time of day? I know. Come back to my house and see what I can find. You’ve never seen my place, have you?’

  He put his arm under mine and set me in motion. I got into his car, fastened my seat belt and tried to think while he chatted away about this and that. Jack would have made a very inefficient criminal, because his stream-of-consciousness speech gave him away, time and time again. He was talking about Sally now, and instead of considering the girl on her merits, was comparing her unfavourably to her elder sister.

  I said, ‘You do realise, Jack, that if you marry Hazel, and Johnny marries Sally, you will be brother-in-law to your own nephew?’

  That stopped him. ‘I hadn’t got as far as that,’ he protested, and blushed so painfully that he had to stop the car and pretend that the windscreen needed cleaning in order to cover his confusion.

  ‘Have you arranged to see her again?’ I asked.

  ‘She wouldn’t look at me,’ he mumbled, getting back into the car. ‘Widower, and all that. Not exactly good-looking, either.’

  ‘Dear Jack, you know women have always fallen over themselves to make you notice them. I’m sure she’s no exception. She strikes me as being a very genuine sort of girl, who wouldn’t play around with you, but give you a straight yes or no. Why don’t you ask her if she’d like to go with you to Piers’ party tonight?’

  ‘She’d never come...short notice like that! Only met her today...wouldn’t have the nerve to ask her, anyway.’

  We were near the city centre by now. I got out of the car and shut the door. ‘Go and see her,’ I said. ‘I’ll walk from here, or get a cab. Goodbye, Jack, and the best of luck. I don’t suppose we shall meet again, but I’ll always remember you.’

  I walked back the way we’d come and turned into a side street knowing he couldn’t follow me against the flow of traffic. I hoped very much that he’d find Hazel at home, and that she would listen to him. I rather thought she would.

  *

  Time was getting on, but I couldn’t leave without having a final word with Tinker. I had forgotten that it wasn’t that easy to come by a taxi in my home town; normally you phoned for one, or picked one up either from the station or Market Square. I had to walk the whole way to the garage, cursing the heat and my tight shoes and whoever it was who hated me enough to blow up the car I’d been using. I passed the Municipal Baths and wished I had time for a dip, even in that gloomy hangar. I loved wat
er. On a day like this in the States I’d be beside or in the pool at one of the establishments Pat had left to me. In New York I would have had an air-conditioned apartment and car...

  Tinker was on the forecourt when I arrived. He was not pleased to see me. His son was in his office, and looked suspicious when he saw me arrive on foot. I could tell both men were thinking that I’d had an accident with their car. My arrival meant trouble all right.

  I marched into the office, commandeered Tinker’s chair, eased off my shoes and asked Tinker’s son to fetch his father, please. It was bliss to sit down and cool off, but I couldn’t help wishing Tinker had had a water-cooler installed.

  It was five o’clock, nearly. I could make the six o’clock train, with luck.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Tinker, returning with his son. ‘The car’s all right, isn’t it?’

  ‘If only it were a simple matter of a puncture...!’ I said. ‘Tinker love, sit down, will you? And your son, too? I’m in trouble, and I need your help.’ I told them everything that had happened to me since my arrival, omitting all mention of Johnny and his relationship to Edward, and confining my mention of the Strakers to talk of family discussions. I told them of the assault on me, and of the loss of my bracelet; at which Tinker looked startled and put his hand automatically on his desk. I learned later that the charm he had given me had been returned to him since our meeting that morning, and that he didn’t particularly wish his son to learn of its existence. I didn’t falter in my narrative, but went on briskly to describe the phone calls I had had, the people I had visited, and at last what had happened to the car they had rented me.

  ‘We’re insured, of course,’ said Tinker. ‘Although come to think of it, acts of terrorism may not be included in the policy...’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ I said. ‘The police don’t yet know that I hired the car, and I don’t intend to tell them unless I have to. If I do tell them, I won’t be able to leave town tonight, because they will want to take statements from me and you and everyone else I have contacted since I arrived. I have been trying to make out a list of the people they may wish to question and it goes something like this: both the Strakers, Morton Ferguson at the bank, Fred Greenwood the estate agent, Con Birtwhistle and you two. Then there is my sister Mary and her husband Tom, Sheila Greenwood and her lover, Amy Straker and her son Piers, and to round off the list I suppose I must include Marge Lawrence the interior decorator.’

  They gaped. This Was Life! they seemed to be thinking.

  ‘Which of them done it?’ asked the boy.

  ‘I wish I knew.’

  Tinker had gone into a slow burn. He reached for the phone and started to dial.

  ‘That’s my bloody car they’ve damaged,’ he said. ‘I’m phoning the police!’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘Stop that!’ Tinker’s son killed the call. ‘Use your common, Dad! Most of the people she’s mentioned are good clients of ours and they won’t want the bogies around asking questions.’

  He gave his old man the high sign, and I smiled to myself, wondering exactly what tax fiddle Tinker was running that he should prefer to keep the police at arm’s length.

  ‘What I thought was,’ I said, ‘that I could write you out a cheque to cover the value of the car, and that if you are put to any expense in recovering it, then I will reimburse you. I am leaving town tonight and I won’t be returning. I shall say nothing to the police about having been connected with the car in any way. In due course I suppose they may ask, as a matter of routine, whether you had hired this car out. You will act surprised, say yes you did and were wondering why the American lady had failed to return it at the end of her week’s rental. They will then contact me in New York, and I will say that yes, I did hire it, but had to return to New York earlier than I expected and simply had forgotten all about the car and wasn’t that terrible of me! Here’s my address in New York; you can contact me, reversing the charges, if anything goes wrong.’

  Tinker took my card, and frowned over it. ‘The police have a right to know,’ he said.

  ‘What good would it do?’ I asked. ‘I have an enemy in town but to discover who it is would mean raking up the past, old flirtations, old jealousies, causing trouble unnecessarily. When I go, the trouble will go with me, and none of my old friends will be hurt. Why should you, or anyone else, be investigated by the police for the sake of a few hours’ flirtation nineteen years ago?’ I stifled the memory of Tinker happily having it off with me night after night in the long grass down by the river. And me enjoying it. Skilful little brute, he’d been. I hoped his wife appreciated him.

  Tinker gave in. ‘Well, if you put it like that...!’

  ‘The police suspect it may have been an IRA bomb. Let them go on thinking that.’

  ‘While the real villain gets away with it? It couldn’t have been the Strakers, either of them. It would never occur to them. Not Fred—the great soft baby! Not Morton—he’d be afraid he’d be found out and lose his pension! The Blakes? I don’t know them. What does he do?’

  ‘I can’t really see him doing it,’ said I, thinking of my big, slow-moving brother-in-law. Yet he hadn’t been at home that afternoon, and he hadn’t been watching Johnny play tennis. I supposed he was at work. It would be easy to check up. No, I didn’t want to do any more prying into other people’s lives. I would go, and everything would return to normal.

  ‘A woman might have done it,’ suggested Tinker’s son. ‘That Marge Lawrence has got the devil of a temper, I know, because I heard her in action when one of our lads accidentally splashed her with petrol...’

  ‘I don’t know, and I don’t want to know,’ I said wearily. I picked up my handbag, eased myself back into my shoes and tottered out into the forecourt. How the devil was I going to get back to the hotel? I couldn’t rent yet another car from the Mayhews—or could I? A blue Mini cruised along the road before us. There was yet another blue Mini parked at the petrol pumps, having a refill. A young married woman was at the wheel, and there were two children in the back.

  A Mini. Blue. Driven by a dark man whom I’d thought I had recognised. He had followed me around all morning and, yes, he had parked in the Market Square when I went into the hotel to meet Edward. I closed my eyes in order to concentrate. The telephone call warning me that my car was in danger...going to the window...looking out...the explosion...people running, screaming...Yes, the man in the blue Mini had been leaning against his car watching as mine burst into flames. He hadn’t ducked, or run away, or shouted when the car went up.

  Just now...had it been the same man? I thought so.

  ‘Do you know a dark-haired man who drives a light blue Mini?’ I asked the Mayhews. ‘It’s not a new car, but not very old, either. Yellow number plate. Some kind of mascot dangling by the driving mirror. The man is tallish but not heavy, with stylishly cut smooth dark hair. He’s wearing a brown tweed jacket over a high-necked brown pullover, and black trousers. Pale face, long moustache. He’s been following me around all morning and I think he may have had something to do with the explosion.’

  ‘Mr Hinds!’ they said, almost together.

  ‘You know,’ Tinker prompted my memory. ‘The one they used to call “Slim Jim”. The one you couldn’t stand. He runs a blue Mini, though I’d have said it was more of a mid than a light blue. You think it might be him?’ He sounded pleased.

  Slim Jim Hinds. Yes, I remembered him now. He was Bet Hinds’ cousin, but not nearly so nice, and he had been one of those who used to pester me in the old days. I remembered now that I’d had to slap his face in public once. Could he have held a grudge all these years?

  ‘What does he do? Where might I find him? If I could have a talk with him before I leave it might help to straighten out the car business for you.’

  The Mayhews looked at each other,

  ‘He doesn’t do much since the divorce,’ said Tinker. ‘He tried to touch all his relations for money, until even Con grew tired of him and Bet told him to g
o on the dole like everyone else who was out of a job. He got slung out of his father-in-law’s firm, see, and had to take a job as a travelling salesman. I don’t know why he lost that second job. The last I heard he was answering ads for just about anything. He even had the nerve to ask if I’d take him on as a car salesman, but I said I valued my reputation too highly. Don’t know where you’d find him now.’

  ‘Mrs Greenwood’s place?’ suggested his son.

  ‘Ah, that’s about it,’ said Tinker. ‘But not a word to Fred, mind! Dick’—this to his son—‘take Mrs Neely out there, wait for her and then drive her back to the hotel when she’s ready to leave. Use your head, now,’—to me—‘leave Dick outside the house to time your visit. If you’re not out in half an hour, he’ll ring the police. Right?’

  Dick had a low-slung sports car which he had hotted up, and I found the ride uncomfortable, if informative. Dick was the chatty type. Sheila Greenwood had taken the children and gone back home to Mum and Dad Ferguson, who lived in an enormous house on The Hill, miles away from my sister; all the best people were to be found on The Hill, because it was close to the golf club. Sheila didn’t have a job, but helped her parents and the au pair girl run the house, and looked after the children. Jim Hinds was not allowed to sleep there, of course, but he had made himself useful as an odd job man while he was out of work, and the Fergusons didn’t actively object to his spending most of his free time in Sheila’s company. The odds were two to one that we would find him there.

  ‘She’s got the whole of the upstairs for herself and the kids,’ said Dick, as he drew up outside a big, nineteen-twenties house. ‘Her Hillman needs a lot of attention, and I’ve been out here several times to attend to it when she couldn’t get it to start. It’s in the garage, I see, so she’s here all right, but it looks as if she’s got a visitor.’ A Bentley stood in the drive. ‘Yes, it’s Lady Muck all right.’