In Search of Love, Money & Revenge

by Hilary Bailey

  One day, after Vanessa had been obliged to take a day off to look after Alec, who had a bad cold, she’d said to Annie, ‘It’s no good asking Mum. She won’t help. She’s quite annoyed with me because of all this. On the surface it’s all, “Oh, poor Vanessa. Geoff’s a villain. Fancy doing a thing like that”, but underneath it’s like I’m a leper and I’ve let the family down.’ She added gloomily, ‘I think she’d stand by my brother more if he’d done a real crime, like robbing a bank, and got arrested. She’d be able to find excuses, like his wife was nagging him for money, or he’d been led into it by a friend – it’d be somebody else’s fault. He’s the son, the only boy and the sun shines out of his backside. Girls are there to get married and have the lovely grandchildren, a nice house and all that. That’s the way she is, Mum. There’s no point trying to get her to help.’

  Annie tried not to show how much she disapproved of Vanessa’s mother but Vanessa noticed and said defensively, ‘Well, when it comes down to it, where’s your mum? We could do with an extra pair of hands, couldn’t we?’

  ‘She’s getting her exhibition together—’

  ‘Same difference,’ Vanessa claimed. ‘That’s the point, isn’t it? In a situation like we’re in the family’s supposed to roll up its sleeves and help you out. But nine cases out of ten they don’t. You look round and there they are – gone. Families like winners – people who do what they should do and make a go of it. Your family doesn’t think much of you running a snack bar – mine thinks I should have managed to keep my husband – so we’re not getting the support. I bet if I told them tomorrow I was getting married to a wealthy man they’d be all over me, congratulations, invitations, the lot. They’d rush off for new outfits, get their hair done, tell the neighbours who he was and what car he drove – that’s what they’re like.’

  Vanessa yawned as she dried the ladles, the big knives, the sieves. She dropped the cloth into the laundry bag behind the back door and yawned again. There it was – she’d got it all straightened out. They could look the public health officer in the eye again if he happened to turn up. But Annie wasn’t satisfied. She wanted to go further and, in fact, she was right to want to expand the business, because it wasn’t producing enough income for them to live on. She would not have been able to pay her gas bill if Geoff hadn’t given her £70 the last time he came round.

  Vanessa fantasised about a wealthy and handsome lover, a man who would give her, Alec and Joanne a nice home in a nice area – a garden, a modern kitchen, two bathrooms. The end of the day had come and it was time to close the café. She put on her coat, picked up her bag and stepped out into Foxwell Market, emptier now, and full of paper blowing about. Cabbage leaves and old cardboard boxes lay on the pavements.

  It was quite dark. She started as a man came out of a doorway opposite, laughing a high-pitched laugh, then made his way with a stumbling gait into the High Street. She sighed and had taken only two paces away from the café, after locking the door, when a thickset man in a donkey jacket put his hand on her arm. He had come up quietly behind her without her noticing.

  ‘I want to talk to you,’ he said. ‘Let’s go inside.’

  ‘In the café? No way. And let go of my arm,’ she said vigorously.

  ‘You open that door for us,’ he said. ‘Or I’ll have you arrested.’

  He had a northern accent. Vanessa pulled free and started to move away from him quickly, towards the lights of the High Street. ‘Come back here,’ he called.

  ‘What’s happening?’ said Annie coming into the market from the High Street. She flew towards Vanessa. Vanessa grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the market towards the High Street.

  ‘You’ve got my daughter. I want her back,’ shouted the man in the donkey jacket. ‘Aye. That’s right. Melanie Pickering,’ he went on as the women turned round. ‘Now will you come back here and open up? Unless you want the whole world to know you’re keeping her and exploiting her.’

  ‘Better do it,’ muttered Vanessa.

  They returned to the café. Vanessa unlocked the door and they went in. The man was broad, fairly tall and had large blue eyes, from which he now stared fiercely at Annie and Vanessa. ‘So,’ he said. ‘I understand from my wife that you’ve got Melanie. Which one of you is Mrs Vane.’

  ‘I am,’ said Annie.

  ‘Well, I want her back home where she should be. I’ve told my wife she’s coming. Where is she now?’

  ‘At my house,’ Annie said. ‘She’s been at school all day.’

  ‘School?’ he said, his voice rising. ‘School? What right have you to send her to school? She’s got a school, at home, where she should be. What’s the name of the school? I’ll soon go there and tell them what’s what.’

  ‘Melanie’s mother knows all about it,’ Annie said. ‘She thinks it a good idea for Melanie to stay—’

  ‘Thinks – thinks,’ Pickering said threateningly. ‘Mrs Pickering is my wife. I’m the child’s father. I say where she’s to go and not go. It’s not for a pack of women to decide between them what happens.’

  ‘She has a right to say—’ began Annie.

  ‘She’s no right,’ he contradicted.

  ‘Melanie herself wants to stay,’ Annie said.

  ‘She’s told you a pack of lies, no doubt,’ David Pickering said. ‘She’ll have got round you like she does at home. You ought to know better than to believe what a child of thirteen tells you. Now, I’m telling you two, you’d better let her go. I want my daughter back.’

  Vanessa went behind the counter. She withdrew some of the day’s takings from a canvas bag she had concealed in her shopping bag. Pickering watched her. ‘Mr Pickering,’ she said, ‘Melanie’s very useful to us while we’re just starting the business. I’m wondering if she could stay on a little longer with us?’ She held up some banknotes. ‘Could you see your way …?’

  ‘I might,’ he said, regarding the notes closely. Vanessa added two more.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I suppose working for you is a form of training – could come in useful when she leaves school and wants to go to work.’

  ‘That’s what I think,’ Vanessa came slowly round the counter, holding the money in front of her. Annie stood paralysed. ‘After all,’ Vanessa went on, ‘she’s in good hands, she’s going to school so …’ David Pickering’s hand came up to meet hers ‘… you’ve nothing to worry about.’

  Pickering carefully put the notes in an inside pocket and turned as if to leave. ‘Well, ladies,’ he said, ‘I can’t see any harm in her stopping on for a little while. Plainly she’s being looked after …’

  Vanessa nodded, held open the door and watched as he strode across the street.

  ‘That’s that, then,’ she said, turning back to Annie. ‘I’m glad you came down, though. I wouldn’t have fancied facing him all on my own.’

  ‘I only came to see if you wanted a hand,’ Annie said in a stunned voice. ‘But I still don’t believe it. How did you know he’d take money.’

  ‘I’ve seen it all before,’ Vanessa said. ‘It’s an instinct.’

  Annie was shaken. ‘He took money for his daughter! How much – fifty pounds was it?’

  ‘Seventy,’ Vanessa said, adding grimly, ‘And he’ll be back.’

  They turned into Foxwell High Street. Vanessa gestured at the people, the traffic, the borough in general. ‘What makes you think all this is different from Dickens’s time – a few cars, shops with videos and fridges, different styles – but where’s the real change? It’s the same underneath. You’ve still got rich and poor, people desperate enough or rotten enough to do anything for a bob or two. D’you know what I mean, Annie? It’s all still here – women going on the game, or stripping for the rent, people doing dodgy things for money. Still here, the lot of it. Just the same.’ She was walking rapidly, talking quickly. She glanced at Annie. ‘I’ll tell you, though,’ Vanessa continued, her voice still fast and nervous. ‘I’ve decided we ought to go ahead and try for the lunchtime
contracts and the more health-conscious food. Looking at that man taking money for his daughter made me realise what we’re up against. It’s dog eat dog and we’re going to have to be that little bit better to survive and not get eaten. I can’t afford to mess about. I’ve got my kids to think of. I don’t want them fetching up like Melanie. It’s love, money and revenge, like we said, from now on. I’m serious.’

  ‘Thanks, Vanessa,’ Annie said. They walked along for a little while. ‘Do you think he’ll come back for more money?’ she asked.

  ‘I expect so. It’s too attractive, isn’t it? Getting money from women for a young girl. Next time we’d better be ready for him,’ said Vanessa.

  As Annie, Vanessa, Melanie, the children, Tom Pointon and Lady Mary walked back from the pigsties a great red sun was setting to their left over the trees and hills in the direction of Froggett’s.

  The Heads left and then there was tea in the drawing room, where a log fire burned. Vanessa sipped her tea politely, staring at the paintings on the walls, the huge Renaissance picture of a biblical subject, the Romney painting of an ancestress which Lady Mary had brought with her when she married Sir Bernard. Sam Anstruther had cornered Annie on the sofa. ‘Do you imagine,’ he was almost pleading, ‘there’s any chance at all of my persuading your parents to let me just take a peek at the contents of the suitcase? Even if your mother doesn’t wish to offer her aunt’s papers for sale, or, it may be, is prevented by the terms of the will, I’d really like to ascertain what there is. It would be of enormous interest to scholars of Christian Cunningham’s work—’

  ‘I can ask,’ Annie replied wearily, ‘but I don’t think it’ll make any difference. They just don’t want the disturbance. I don’t think, you see, that my mother really believes, deep down, that the case is hers, anyway. It was left behind by accident…’

  ‘I do understand,’ he assured her. ‘Your parents are busy people with a right to their privacy. I understand that. But quite frankly, I’m a little afraid that the case is vulnerable to an accident – fire, flood, something like that, however minor, could irreparably damage the contents. There’s the insurance, too – that ought to be considered …’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Annie said, her eye caught by the sight of Nigel flirting with Vanessa. ‘I don’t suppose you get out much, because of the children,’ he was suggesting.

  ‘Oh – I went out to a disco last night,’ Vanessa said. ‘Didn’t enjoy it much, though.’

  ‘Why not?’ he asked.

  ‘I went with the wrong man, didn’t I?’ she said, looking at him from under her eyelashes.

  After tea they walked back across the fields to Froggett’s. ‘I wouldn’t trust that Nigel very far,’ exclaimed Vanessa. ‘He’s a real flirt.’

  ‘He even propositioned me at their wedding!’ Annie said.

  ‘Never!’

  ‘I don’t think he really meant it,’ Annie said. ‘I think he loves Jasmine very much.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ Vanessa said. She thought of the rotten evening she’d had at the disco with a friend of her brother’s who’d asked her out. She’d felt old, every woman there was younger than her. The friend had taken her home, expected to come in and make love to her and been angry when she’d sent him away. She was hoping this wasn’t the best she could expect in future. She said, ‘Guess who that bald man is?’

  Annie said, ‘I know. Max Craig. The company astrologer. Apparently it’s not uncommon these days for firms to have them. They’re supposed to predict snags, advise on what the market’s going to do next. It does seem strange, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Thought that stuff was for women – you know, am I going to get married, who to, will my first child be a girl or a boy?’

  When Annie and Vanessa got back Tom and Melanie were already in the kitchen, talking about the foxes. ‘I’ve put the kettle on,’ Tom said. ‘I’ll make some tea. Or would you rather have a drink? Nothing’s changed,’ he added, looking round the room. ‘I haven’t been here for seven years.’

  ‘Where are Howard and Juliet?’ asked Annie.

  ‘They went out to see friends in the village,’ he said. ‘They’ll only be gone an hour. Howard put some baked potatoes in the oven for the children. There are sausages in the fridge. Shall I cook some for their tea?’ He put the frying pan on the Aga. Vanessa, her head on one side, watched his long, gangling figure going about his business with ease. Digging in, she thought.

  Annie poured some wine. ‘I don’t think Lady Mary’s really all that comfortable with the house now it’s been done up. I think she preferred it before Sir Bernard and Nigel made it more like a film set.’

  Tom was capably sorting out the children’s supper, cutting up a tomato, splitting the baked potatoes and turning the sausages in the pan. He said, ‘Well, she was trained to deal with what was handed her. She probably feels a bit strange with the house full of businessmen and astrologers and so forth – foreign bankers – but she doesn’t let it show.’

  Annie was leaning against the big dresser, framed by a cascade of strung-together sea horses on one side, and half a Roman pot Howard had found in the garden. Tom, at the table, was getting Alec and Joanne to sit down. The trouble was, Vanessa reflected, that the tension between Annie and Tom was enough to make you twitch. It was obvious that he’d left Durham House a few minutes after them and driven rapidly to Froggett’s by road. Now he was in charge of the Aga, doing an imitation of an old friend of the family which wouldn’t have deceived a child. Annie was staring at him as if he was doing magic tricks. It was, Vanessa thought, pathetic to see two grown-up people, both with hundreds of degrees, going on like that. She said, ‘Why don’t you two hop off for a quick walk while Alec and Joanne have their supper?’

  Tom and Annie went out and without thinking about it turned towards the orchard, where they’d always gone after supper when they were lovers.

  ‘Well?’ he said as they walked down the orchard path. It was piercingly cold. They both had their hands in their pockets.

  ‘Well?’ responded Annie.

  ‘I love you, Annie,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you’re free.’

  She pulled his hand from his pocket and held it.

  ‘It was a shock. Julian going like that – I’m not…’

  ‘You are,’ he said. It was without surprise that Vanessa, spying on them from the kitchen window, saw them kissing as they later made their way back to the house.

  8

  A Picnic in Savernake Park

  ‘Thanks a lot,’ cried Melanie indignantly. It was only 1 March, but the temperature had soared into the 70°s and so they were having a Sunday picnic lunch on the grass in the beautiful setting of Savernake Park. Once the estate of the Rodwell family, Barons Savernake, owners of many ships carrying wool out of the country in the seventeenth century and tea, sugar and cotton back in the eighteenth (the usual slaves on the middle passage) to the left of the park now lay a council estate built on the site of the original house. The view down to the river where the Savernakes must have enjoyed watching ships go by was unfortunately now broken by a couple of high commercial buildings, but you could just glimpse the water between the buildings down a long stretch of rolling grass, interrupted only by some swings, hanging tyres and a dilapidated slide. Two traffic-laden roads circuited the acres of parkland and flats, turning the area more or less into a triangle with Foxwell at the top, as the broad end, and the River Thames as its apex.

  The picnic party consisted of Annie, Melanie, Vanessa, Joanne and Alec who sat on a rug under a chestnut tree. Annie had only just revealed to Melanie that her father, for the second time now, had paid a visit to the café. Melanie was furious.

  ‘Thanks a lot! Thanks for telling me. And you gave him money!’ she was saying angrily. ‘That was the last thing to do. Now he’ll think he’s on to a good thing, and keep on coming back.’ She paused to think. ‘I wonder if Mum knows where he is. Honestly,’ she said, ‘you two are daft. I had a right to know he’d come round
, you know. I had a right to be told.’

  Joanne asked, ‘Can’t we start on the sandwiches, Vanessa?’ To Vanessa’s irritation, now Geoff had left Joanne had taken to calling her mother by her Christian name. Vanessa felt as though she had lost authority but complaining about it made no difference.

  It was pleasant in the park, but in spite of the gleam of the Thames at the foot of the grassy incline, and the sunshine, the party was tense. Alec and Joanne were upset, Vanessa anxious about them. Annie wasn’t sure what to do about Melanie, and Tom hadn’t been in touch since they’d met over a fortnight before.

  So no one answered Joanne.

  ‘If he goes to the police,’ Vanessa said, ‘he could accuse us of being kidnappers.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid – I’ve not been kidnapped. My mum knows where I am.’

  Joanne, who was furtively picking at a packet of sandwiches, stared at the word kidnappers. She looked round, as if one might be lurking in a bush. Alec, wanting a sandwich, began to cry.

  ‘Give him one, Joanne,’ Vanessa instructed absently.

  Annie said, ‘I hope she feels all right, with two of you gone.’

  ‘Two?’ demanded Vanessa. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘My sister Ruth ran away,’ Melanie told her flatly. ‘Nobody knows where she is.’

  ‘Oh, my God,’ Vanessa said. She looked at Annie, who shook her head, meaning the story Melanie told was sad and serious. But Vanessa saw complications and imagined herself in the dock giving evidence. She looked desperately at Joanne and Alec and said, ‘Oh dear.’