by Penny Kline
When I reached the car park I was surprised to see Lianne standing next to a black van with its back doors held together with a piece of rope. So it was someone else Janice had been waving to. Well, at least that meant she had one other friend. For some reason the thought came as a relief.
Lianne looked wretched. She was wearing a purple anorak with braid on the edge of the collar and next to the zip, and the vividness of the colour contrasted with the pallor of her skin, apart from her eyes which were red and puffy.
‘Are you all right?’ I called and she came closer, muttering something about being behind with my essay, although she hoped to get it finished by next week.
‘That’s all right.’ I gave her an encouraging smile which seemed to have very little effect. ‘Nothing to worry about, it’s always difficult changing courses. Actually I meant to ask you before, was there some special reason you wanted to change?’
She searched in her sleeve for a tissue. ‘It was Janice’s idea. I didn’t really like the one I was doing. She’s been ever so kind and now I’ve somewhere to live it’ll be easier to get the work done. I had to leave my last place, then I saw Janice’s card on the board.’
‘You’re sharing with Janice? I hadn’t realised she had an extra room.’
‘Best place I’ve ever had.’ She scratched the back of her head, suddenly looking quite animated. Her hair needed washing and I had to resist the temptation to scratch my own. ‘And I didn’t have to pay in advance,’ she continued. ‘Most people want a deposit and a month’s rent.’
‘Good.’ There were questions I would like to have asked, but anything I said was sure to go straight back to Janice. ‘Look, I have to go now, Lianne, but if you need any help just let me know, and I’m glad about the room.’
Standing there, with one foot twisted round the other one, she looked so thin and waif-like I wanted to tell her to be careful. What of? Janice Kirk?
*
I could see Faye through the plate-glass window, sitting with her back to the wall and a glass of orange juice in her hand. It was a restaurant I had never visited before, a newish one with discreet brown and cream decor, bare wooden tables, and the usual Post-Impressionist prints, and I wondered why Faye had chosen it. There were plenty of others, much closer to the toyshop.
When I joined her the slightly strained look was quickly replaced by a cheerful grin. ‘I’ve ordered soup but you may want something more substantial.’
‘No, soup will be fine.’ I scanned the menu, found soup of the day was chicken and leek, and signalled to the waitress.
‘You’ve been seeing a client?’
‘No, on Wednesday mornings I take a seminar at a college of Higher Education.’
‘Sounds interesting.’ She had a way of looking deadly serious, then suddenly amused. ‘See that woman over there? No don’t look round or she’ll know we’re talking about her. When you get a chance, it’s the one with a pink chiffon scarf and scarlet lips. She came into the shop a few days ago and bought a doll’s house and two hundred pounds of furniture.’
‘Really? For a child or for herself?’
‘Who knows?’
The waitress left a basket of bread rolls on the table. Faye took one, then apologised and passed the basket to me.
‘So the shop’s doing pretty well,’ I said.
‘Sorry? Oh, the shop?’ She seemed to be thinking about something else. ‘Not so bad. That time you came in I expect it seemed rather empty but earlier in the day I’d been rushed off my feet.’ She broke off a piece of bread, lifting it to her mouth then replacing it on her plate. ‘The reason I wanted us to meet, Deborah and I have been thinking about Nikki, trying to remember any names she might have mentioned, places she liked to visit.’
‘I called in at The Night Sky,’ I said, ‘met a few people who used to know her.’ I decided not to mention McGhee. ‘As far as I can tell she went there after work two or three times a week.’
‘I know.’ Faye had a disapproving expression. ‘I’m afraid we sometimes thought she should have gone straight home. I mean poor Eric had been looking after Charlie all day. I’m sure he needed a break.’
‘Oh, I don’t expect she stayed out more than an hour or so — just long enough to unwind. Men do it all the time.’
‘Yes, I suppose. You know, I can understand why Eric’s so desperate to know who killed her, well, we all are, but d’you really think it would make much difference to Charlie?’
I opened my mouth to say it would mean Eric was in the clear, then thought better of it. ‘You didn’t tell me Ronnie was Nikki’s supervisor.’
‘Didn’t I?’
‘Her real name’s Veronica.’
‘Yes, I suppose it must be. Oh, you thought it was a man.’ She thought about this for a moment. ‘You’ve spoken to her, have you, what’s she like? From what I could tell she was fond of Nikki, not that she’d have been your ideal office worker, at least I don’t imagine she would be — too noisy, excitable, although she said Ronnie had put her name forward for a pay rise so she must have been a good worker.’ She rummaged in her bag and I wondered what she was going to produce but she was only searching for her purse. ‘Sorry, had a sudden panic I’d forgotten my wallet. Llewellyn, that’s the name that came back to me. Did Ronnie mention someone called Llewellyn? Only after you’d gone I remembered how Nikki used to talk about him quite a lot. “Mr Wonderful”, she called him. He could get her tickets for shows that were supposed to be sold out. “Mr Wonderful’s done it again.” That’s what she used to say. “What would I do without him?” Then she’d ask if Deborah or I wanted any tickets, and warn us we might have to pay a bit over the odds.’
‘Shows here in Bristol?’
‘All over. Cardiff, Birmingham, London. She was mad about musicals, big casts, melodramatic storylines. You know, I often thought the trouble with poor Nikki was that when she had Charlie she was still not much more than a child herself, I mean, she never had a chance to have any fun, get about a bit, meet people.’ She broke off, looking embarrassed. ‘Oh, I don’t mean she wasn’t happy with Eric.’
We sat in silence for a few moments. Were we both thinking the same thing, that Nikki and Eric were so different it was almost impossible to imagine they had been happy together? Of course, my picture of Nikki was entirely determined by what other people had told me about her.
‘Listen,’ said Faye suddenly, ‘you didn’t mind me phoning you at your office, did you, only I couldn’t remember the name of the previous tenant at the annexe or even if she’d been in the book, and I wasn’t sure if asking Eric would be such a good idea.’
‘It was clever of you to find where I work.’
‘Oh, it wasn’t difficult.’ She picked up the menu and turned it over absent-mindedly, then passed it to me. ‘You’re sure soup’s enough?’
‘Fine, thanks, but don’t let me stop you —’
‘Oh, not for me. The silly thing was, later on I remembered her name, the previous tenant. Thurston. Tanya Thurston. For a time Nikki was quite friendly with her, then something happened. I know it sounds absurd but I wondered if she and Eric —’
‘Tanya Thurston and Eric?’
‘No, of course not,’ she laughed, ‘Nikki was one of those people who enjoyed letting her imagination run riot. The trouble was you never knew when she was speaking the truth or when she’d invented something just to make a good story.’
‘What did she say? About Mrs Thurston?’
‘Oh, nothing very much, just how she was divorced but seemed perfectly happy living on her own. Nikki had never lived on her own so she found this quite incredible. I suppose that’s why she convinced herself the poor woman had designs on Eric.’
When the bill came I insisted on paying. Faye protested, but not very strongly, murmuring something about how it would be her turn next time, almost as if we were old friends and were going to make a habit of meeting for lunch. I found my purse, took out a ten-pound note, then realised the purse felt m
uch lighter than I expected. Yesterday it had been weighted down with coins, given to me by the man at the off-licence who had run out of change. Now only two pounds and a few coppers remained.
I told Faye my car was parked quite near Fish Street and I would walk back to the shop with her. It was not strictly true but I was curious to see Deborah, and since my next client, a man with so many problems it was difficult to know where to begin, was not due until three o’clock there was no need to rush. On the way I asked Faye how she and Deborah selected which toys to sell.
‘Oh, just whatever happens to take our fancy, things the big chains tend not to stock.’
‘You do most of the buying, do you?’ I remembered Eric’s remark about how Deborah just stood about looking decorative.
‘No, not really.’ Faye looked at me curiously. ‘Deborah chooses most of the baby stuff and the soft toys. I suppose I’m more interested in the older children.’
‘Puzzles, games?’
She nodded. ‘And anything that stimulates the imagination. Puppet theatres, dressing-up clothes, farms, castles.’
‘Sounds like fun.’
‘Oh, it is.’ She stepped into the road, jumping back as a truck hurtled past. ‘I suppose it’s every little girl’s dream, owning a toyshop. Mine came true.’
‘What did you do before that?’
‘Public relations. Deborah and I worked for the same company, that’s how we met, then it was taken over and although we were kept on the whole ethos of the place had changed. We stuck it out for six months then decided to try something else. Of course, it took a little more time to amass enough capital. Deborah had been left some money by her grandmother but I wanted us to start on an equal footing.’ She glanced at me, a little nervously. ‘Look, if you can spare a couple of minutes Deborah would love to meet you. She and Nikki were quite good friends and I know she’s as keen as you are to …’ She broke off, taking hold of my arm. ‘Just one thing. She knows you’ve been to the shop but I didn’t mention our lunch date so it might be better if we pretended to have met coming up the main road. You see she’s worried in case Eric’s said things to you — about her and his father. Since it happened he never comes to the shop and if he phones it’s always at a time when he knows Deborah won’t be there. Anyway, I’ve told her you’re a psychologist and they never pass judgement, do they, they’re trained to be objective, keep an open mind.’
Deborah Bryant was so like what I had expected I thought Eric must have described her to me, although I had no memory of it. With her fair hair drawn back behind her ears and her long, elegant neck, she looked more like my stereotype of someone in PR than the part-owner of a toyshop. She was very tall, very thin, dressed in black beautifully-cut trousers, and a plain white T-shirt with its short sleeves rolled up and a discreet designer motif embroidered just above her left breast. All her jewellery, and there was plenty of it — dangling earrings, three or four bangles on her left wrist and several rings, one in the shape of a curled-up snake — was silver. Her face was fixed in a smile that vanished when the customer she was talking to moved away, then reappeared when Faye started to introduce me.
‘This is Anna. We met at the zebra crossing. You remember, I told you how she’s renting Eric’s annexe.’
Deborah responded warmly. ‘Yes, of course, nice to meet you. Charlie’s told me all about you. You’ve made quite a hit there.’
‘Really?’
‘The night he came to stay,’ she said. ‘The trouble is, the way he was talking I’m afraid he’ll be devastated when you return to your flat.’
The way he was talking? What had Charlie said to her? I thought about the missing money and wondered if he had taken some from Deborah’s bag too. Did he need it for something in particular or was it just the classic cry for help?
Faye had drifted off towards the stock room. ‘Ted was called out to see a patient,’ Deborah explained. ‘To tell you the truth I thought Charlie was asleep. In spite of all this …’ She gazed round the shop. ‘I’m not terribly good with children, not on a one-to-one basis. Still, I needn’t have worried, he told me all about how you’d taken him to school one day, and how you’d played football with him in the garden. I hardly got a word in edgeways.’
‘Really?’ Charlie had given me the impression he and Deborah had only exchanged a few words. And what had Faye been going on about? Deborah seemed more than happy to talk about Eric, and his father.
Our eyes met and I wondered if she resented what she saw as my relaxed relationship with Charlie. Then her expression changed and she pointed to the shelves of soft toys. ‘While you’re here do come and have a look at these giant pandas. They’re made in China — well, everything’s made in China these days, China or Indonesia or Taiwan, only I’m afraid Geography was never my strong point. Look, aren’t they fantastic, so soft and squashy. The kids are going to go wild about them.’
She was pressing a panda against her chest with one hand and smoothing its head with the other. I wondered if she and Ted were planning on having a baby. I wondered how Isabel Newsom would cope with that.
*
A woman answered the phone, the one who had filled the gap after Nikki stopped visiting? Eric knew nothing about her except her name was Moira and Barry called her Moy. When I asked to speak to Barry there was a short pause, then the woman said she would go and fetch him, then she came back on the line and asked if I was ringing from the health centre.
‘No, my name’s Anna McColl. I’m a friend of Eric Newsom. It’s about Charlie.’
‘Charlie?’ I heard a sharp intake of breath. ‘You mean Nikki’s boy? Has something happened?’
‘No, he’s fine.’
‘Oh.’ Another pause. ‘Hang on a moment, Barry’s out the back.’
While I waited I tried to work out what I was going to say. I’m phoning on behalf of Eric. No, that sounded much too formal. I’m a friend of Eric’s, he asked me to give you a ring — about Charlie. If something had happened in the past, something that made it difficult for Eric and Barry to speak to each other, perhaps there would be no need for an explanation.
When he came on the line his voice was soft, almost effeminate. ‘Hallo? This is Barry Haig. There’s nothing the matter, is there, he’s not had an accident?’
‘No, he’s fine. I was explaining to your wife, my name’s Anna, I’m renting the annexe attached to Eric’s house.’
‘Eric’s in some kind of trouble?’
‘No, nothing like that, only the thing is, Charlie’s been asking if he can see you.’
‘Charlie said that?’ I could hear the pleasure in his voice. ‘Would it be possible, d’you suppose? Eric wouldn’t have any objection?’
‘He’d have phoned you himself but he hasn’t been too well.’
‘Nothing serious, I hope. No, it’s all right, I understand. Charlie will be seven by now, no, not quite yet, his birthday’s on Bonfire Night. You’d bring him here, would you? Whatever you think best, whatever’s best for Charlie, only I haven’t seen him since … since it happened, so it could be a bit tricky.’ He broke off and I could hear whispering, then his wife urging him to go on. ‘Seems a bit of a cheek,’ he said at last, ‘only … only I was wondering, if Eric’s off colour do you think it might be possible for you to call round, just to put me in the picture? You see, I wouldn’t want to say the wrong thing, upset the boy, make things even harder.’
‘You’d like me to come to your house?’
‘Would you? I’d be ever so grateful. Any time after five o’clock, tomorrow if you like. Yes, if it’s not too inconvenient, tomorrow would be just right. You see, I wouldn’t want to leave it too long.’
After he rang off I went round to the house to tell Eric. The black van that was usually parked on the corner was coming up the road. A large dog was hanging out of the passenger window, the same dog that drove Eric mad when it barked after Charlie had gone to bed. Seeing the van reminded me of Lianne Fraser, standing in the car park at the college.
I had looked up her notes and been surprised to discover she was nearly twenty-one, technically a mature student although in her case it was a misnomer if ever there was one. If she had been ten years younger a social worker would have labelled her as a case of ‘failure of thrive’, not that she looked quite so unloved and undernourished as she had done when she first joined the seminar. Perhaps I had misjudged Janice, perhaps she was aiming to provide Lianne with the care and attention she seemed so desperately in need of, but if Lianne was so deliriously happy to have moved in with her, why had she looked as if she had been crying her eyes out?
Chapter Eleven
She was late. She could hear Don tearing round, asking all the girls if anyone had heard from her.
‘There you are.’ He glared at her, then relaxed his grip on her arm and patted her bottom. ‘We was worried, thought you’d had an accident.’
‘Traffic was bad,’ she said, squeezing past him, trying not to brush against his groin.
Later, on stage, the whole pantomime threatened to disintegrate, turn into farce. Wanda and Denise had been replaced by Melanie and Justina, who were younger and more attractive, but they were having trouble remembering the routines.
‘Over here,’ she whispered, but nothing happened and she was forced to walk across and push them unceremoniously towards the wooden seat that was supposed to represent the doctor’s waiting room. Justina stumbled, opened her mouth to swear, then thought better of it and adjusted her tiny strip of leather skirt. Someone in the audience started coughing, another gave a loud grunt.
‘Next please,’ she roared, suddenly aware — these days it often happened this way — that she was right inside the part, relishing her black stockings, royal blue uniform, white starched hat, and the nurse’s watch pinned to her chest. Unsmiling, authoritarian, sadistic, a role that disgusted her, something she just did for the money, had brought out a hidden aspect of her personality and started to provide a deep satisfaction.
