by Mary Wesley
‘So you’d better go.’
‘Yes.’
‘How?’
‘Like everyone else – train and plane on a busy day. Passport Control are very pushed, all those faces just become a blur.’
‘Why not a boat? One of the UFOs?’
‘That has stopped. I wouldn’t involve him anyway. I like him.’
‘What about me? I’m involved.’
‘Like you say, you’re a dead woman.’
‘And you don’t like me. Repellent, you said. Evil.’
‘Truthful. Truth may be a laughing matter but it is quite refreshing. Shall you miss me?’
‘I shall plan my picnic.’ She would not answer directly. ‘You can stay as long as you like,’ she added quickly.
‘What about Gus.’
‘I love him.’
‘That’s true, an uncomplex love to you, easy, but the poor bird’s so twisted he kills a goose when put with one.’
Matilda wasn’t listening to him. She tapped her teeth with her empty glass.
‘John, Sir Piers to be, was in this somewhere. I believe he was in on the smuggling thing. I think he and Tom worked together or Tom worked for him. I had the impression in London that he was trying to find out if I knew. No, that’s not right; I have the impression now. He said he was meeting you in Prague.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I pretended to believe him, played along. I didn’t exactly want to tell him you were here. He’s sinister.’
‘Maybe my brother is one of his minions infiltrating the Guerillas or some ploy of that kind. They train in Prague.’
Matilda stood up suddenly, startling Folly. ‘All I really mind,’ she said bitterly, ‘is being left out. I feel such a fool left out of the fun.’
‘Hurt pride.’
‘Of course my pride’s hurt, battered.’
Hugh said nothing, finding no word of comfort.
Matilda lay in bed that night hugging the bedclothes, full of suspicions. The annihilation of her pride was complete.
24
EQUALLY PERTURBED, FOR he had no reason to hurt her, Hugh woke Mr Jones in his bungalow, inviting himself in for a drink. Pleased to be needed, the lonely man arose, wrapped an old kimono round his hairy person, took the whisky from its cupboard, found glasses and set up the chessboard.
‘Your mind is not on the game,’ he presently said, checkmating Hugh too easily.
‘I have hurt Matilda.’
‘She is vulnerable.’
‘How did her husband manage?’
‘He had the knack. She is not all that bright.’
‘Bright?’
‘That is what I said. She is young for her age, she believes what she wishes to, always deludes herself.’
‘I think she is getting over it.’
‘A pity for her.’
‘Why?’
‘Well,’ Mr Jones looked uneasy, ‘it is far better for her to remember Tom as she liked to have him.’
‘You are ambiguous.’
‘Tom had her caged where he wanted her. She never knew he was a rogue, dishonest you might say, but there you are, she loved him.’
‘She loves that goose.’
‘It’s the same thing. Her gander is a fantasy, so was her husband, but she was satisfied, thought they’d live and die together. It was tommy rot, romantic. Tom would not have killed himself before he got old to save people trouble. My God, he would not. No, no, he would have had Louise, Mark, Anabel and Claud belting round waiting on him in his invalid chair.’
‘And Matilda?’
‘He would have let her die first, worked her to death and made her enjoy it.’
‘It sounds just as well for Matilda he died in Paris.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Mr Jones yawned and scratched his hairy chest. ‘She is finding out more about him, liking him less, getting disillusioned, it is a pity.’
‘She will find a modus vivendi.’
‘Not Matilda. Whatever anyone does she will remain what she is. She and the gander are well suited.’
‘I think she will kill herself. She should have some fun first though, take a lover, go abroad –’
‘She has no wish to go abroad. She has the goose.’
‘Gander.’
‘Okay. Now what did you wake me up for in truth?’
Hugh laughed.
‘Can you, if I give you the money, get me some foreign currency?’
‘Sure, of course I can.’ Mr Jones did not add that he had a trunkful of German marks and Swiss francs as he did not think Hugh would believe him. ‘How much have you got?’
‘A thousand.’
‘Bring it to me tomorrow. Do you want to go over in the UFO? Nice boat. It’s in the harbour.’
‘No. I shall go from London Airport, it’s the most crowded.’
‘Very good, you do that. That is how your murdered mother would travel.’
Hugh answered shortly, ‘There is no need to harp.’
‘Takes all sorts. Louise, Mark, Anabel and Claud would not kill their mother, only want to.’
‘Poor Matilda.’
‘She has the goose.’ Mr Jones had begun to look sleepy. Hugh got up.
‘I will bring the money tomorrow in cash.’
‘I will have the currency ready for you in a few days.’
I bet he has it stashed around the bungalow thought Hugh. He said goodnight and walked back to the cottage.
Gus, recognizing his step, gave a token honk from the scullery. As he climbed the stairs Hugh heard Matilda’s snores. By morning, he thought, she will have forgotten her unease, have buried the discoveries about Tom in her unconscious.
He stood in the dark, looking out of his window at the moonlit countryside, thinking of his mother, remembering her face looking up at him in terror and hearing her voice – ‘Oh Hugh, quick, please.’ Her eyes large, stone grey, fringed with, for an old woman, ridiculously long lashes, haunted him. He recollected how, as a boy at school, homesick, unable to sleep, he had tried to bring her face and voice to mind for comfort in the alien environment of his dormitory. He had had trouble in those days to see her clearly; now he both saw her and heard her voice. ‘Oh Hugh, quick, please.’ She would travel with him whether he willed it or not.
25
HUGH MADE HIS arrangements without consulting Matilda. While she was shopping he tried on Tom’s clothes, looking at himself in the glass, wearing various garments. Tom’s taste in dress was unlike his own. He felt unnatural in most of the clothes. From a store of trousers, jeans, suits, shirts, jerseys, he made a final choice of pale corduroy trousers, a tweed jacket, red socks. He hesitated whether to wear a polo neck jersey or a shirt, settling for the shirt as more respectable. He put aside, for packing, jeans, T-shirts, spare pants, a shirt or two, swimming trunks and sweaters. Ranging round the house he found several pairs of black glasses.
He dressed himself and waited for Matilda, listening for her car, standing out of sight in the hall. When the car drew up Gus honked from the back door and slapped his feet as he ran to meet her. Listening to her voice greeting the bird Hugh thought she sounded younger, happier, altogether more cheerful and full of confidence.
She dumped her parcels on the kitchen table. ‘Wait, Gus, wait,’ she said to the bird. ‘I’ll get you some maize.’ She kicked off her espadrilles. Her feet were barely audible on the stone floor. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘here, Gus, my love, eat this.’ She put the bowl on the step and straightened up. Catching sight of Hugh in the doorway she gasped.
‘Hullo,’ she said, ‘were you looking for me?’ Hugh came forward a step. ‘Or my husband?’ Matilda’s voice tightened. ‘He’s around somewhere, I’ll call him.’ She raised her voice and called loudly, ‘Tom. Darling? There’s a man here to see you –’ She edged towards the telephone.
‘Matilda.’ Hugh stepped forward. ‘It’s me, don’t be frightened.’
‘Oh!’ Matilda whispered. ‘My God, you scared me. I nearly wet my
knickers. How d’you do it? You’ve changed yourself completely. I thought you were the police.’ She sat down abruptly.
‘It’s good, isn’t it?’ Hugh turned around so that she could see him. ‘What do you think?’
‘Those trousers were Mark’s.’
‘Not Tom’s?’
‘No, and the jacket was Claud’s until he took to wearing suede. Where did you find the glasses?’
‘In the hall cupboard.’
‘Those were Anabel’s when enormous lenses were in fashion. They make your nose quite small. What’s this in aid of?’
‘I want to get out. I’m getting claustrophobia. I feel like taking you out to lunch and a swim. What do you say?’
‘Risky.’
‘I have to start some time. Come on, it will give me confidence if I’m with you.’
‘We can’t start off together, nobody knows you are here.’
‘Very well. I’ll go through the copse and meet you at the bus stop.’
‘I must change my clothes, get my bathing things. I don’t think you should risk it.’
‘Come on, Matilda, try.’
‘Wait a minute then.’
Matilda went upstairs and snatched up a cardigan, put on a clean shirt, combed her hair, excited.
‘Okay, I’m ready.’
‘Give me ten minutes’ start.’ Hugh left the house.
Ten minutes gives me time to ring the police. Ten minutes gives me time to make a plan with them. She watched the clock jerk its minute hand. ‘Ten minutes is a life,’ she said to Gus as she filled his bowl with maize. ‘Why does he tempt me with ten minutes?’ She locked the back door, put the key under the scraper, went to the car and sat with her eyes on her watch until the ten minutes had passed.
Hugh sat on a stile by the bus stop, Folly beside him. He got in beside Matilda. Folly sat behind.
‘First mistake was to bring Folly. She’s been seen with me. People think she’s mine. You mustn’t do that again.’
‘Right, I won’t.’
‘You shouldn’t have given me ten minutes. I might have phoned the police.’
‘But you didn’t?’
‘No, but please don’t do it again. I thought of doing it.’
Hugh laughed. ‘There are two Matildas, one who phones the police and one who is kind and loves Gus. For all I know there are many more; those are just the two I’ve met.’
‘How many of you?’
‘Count.’
‘There’s you hunted, about to go out with the tide. There’s you with Folly. There’s you with Gus. There’s you with me. There’s you –’
‘Killing my mother.’
‘I wasn’t going to say that.’
‘You were. Be honest, stay honest. We are near death, both of us.’
‘All right, there’s you killing your mother. End of conversation.’
Angrily, Matilda trod on the accelerator and drove fast on the main road.
‘Don’t drive so fast, there’s a Panda car behind you.’
Matilda slowed, letting the police car overtake them. ‘I’m frightened every time I see them. I was brought up to like them.’
‘So was I.’ Hugh looked at her profile. ‘Where’s the best place to eat?’
‘We’d better go somewhere quiet.’
‘No, I want a busy place. I don’t want a quiet place, as though I were hiding.’
‘All right. The best place is the Crab Inn if we can get a table.’
‘Does it have a bar?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right. Take us there.’
Matilda parked the car. They made their way to the restaurant along the crowded street. Hugh held Matilda’s arm, liking the feel of her skin, glancing about him at the people.
The Crab Inn was crowded. They agreed to wait for a table.
‘Let’s sit outside. Can we eat out, it’s pleasant.’
They were told they could. Hugh ordered drinks, sat facing Matilda who, with the sun in her eyes, screwed up her nose and sneezed.
‘I forgot my dark glasses.’
‘Stay here. I’ll get you some. Sit in my place.’ He did not offer Anabel’s glasses.
‘I’ll come too.’
‘Wait here. If there’s a free table, take it, start ordering. I shan’t be long.’ Hugh loped off up the street. He bought a plain pair of dark glasses for Matilda, guessing at the fit, then went to a travel agency. He enquired the times of trains to London before strolling back to Matilda.
‘They are just getting us a table overlooking the harbour.’
‘Nice.’ He handed her the dark glasses.
‘Thank you.’ She put them on.
A waiter brought the menu. Hugh asked for the wine list.
‘What’s good here?’
‘They do a delicious smoked trout paté. The crab’s always good. Sometimes they do a lovely goat cheese with garlic, blows your head off.’
‘We could finish with that. I shall have the trout paté. What’s the steak like today, waiter?’
‘Well – sir –’
‘Okay, not steak then. I’ll have the gigot of lamb, the paté first and the goat’s cheese. What will you have Matilda?’
‘Just the gigot, the cheese and salad.’
‘And a bottle of No. 17 please.’ The waiter scribbled on his pad.
‘It’s a nice place and Folly can sit with us.’ Hugh smiled across at Matilda who looked at him anxiously. She made a tiny sideways gesture with her thumb. Behind his dark glasses Hugh let his eyes swivel without moving his head. A rather vacuous girl sat at a table with her parents who were stolidly eating their pudding. The girl had finished eating and was idly flipping through the Express.
‘It says the police have a line on the Matricide, Mummy, and they are charging the dog-eater.’
‘The what, dear?’
‘The Matricide, Mummy, he’s been seen in Paris on a barge on the Seine.’
‘Can’t think why they haven’t caught the fellow.’
‘Oh, Daddy, he’s clever, grown a beard, it says here, a red beard.’
‘Have they arrested him, dear?’
‘No, Mummy, it says here one of his best friends recognized him.’
‘Can’t be his best friend if he tells the police.’
‘Oh, Daddy, he’d have to! He did murder his mother after all.’
‘Bribed I expect.’
‘Who’s bribed?’
‘Someone’s bribed the police. What the hell do I pay my taxes for, I’d like to know, if they can’t catch a simple murderer. Waiter, my bill.’
‘I don’t think he’s so simple.’
‘Don’t contradict your father, dear.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t call me “dear”, Mummy, My name is Inez.’
‘I know, dear, we chose it for you.’
‘There you go again, dear! It’s common to say “dear” all the time. Why can’t you call me Inez or “darling”. “Darling” is all right.’
‘So you call your mother common do you? You’ll be murdering her next.’
‘Oh Daddy, I’d never.’
‘Call me Dad. Dad’s common. This is a bloody expensive lunch.’
‘Poor man, I expect he regrets it now. Such a large nose. Rather an attractive man from the photograph.’
‘Mummy! Your taste, really!’
‘Well, dear, you can be both, dear, attractive and a murderer. D’you want to powder your nose before we go to the car?’
‘I want to piss.’ The girl got up, dropping the paper.
‘Who’s being common now?’ Her father tipped the waiter and roared with laughter, his stomach joggling as though it had a life apart. Matilda let out a sigh as the party left. Hugh was choking with laughter.
‘How can you laugh?’ Then she joined him, enjoying the food and the wine, the pleasure of being taken out to lunch, sitting in the sun.
‘I’d never thought of you as attractive to stout matrons.’ Matilda looked across at Hugh. The sun
had caught his nose, turning it red. ‘If you go on sitting in the sun your nose will peel.’
‘Mustn’t have that. Have you got any sun stuff? I can’t afford to draw attention to it.’
Matilda fished in her bag, found a tube of Ambre Solaire. ‘Try that.’
‘Hugh squeezed a blob onto his finger and applied it to his nose. ‘Thanks.’ He gestured to the waiter for the bill. ‘Let’s go and swim. Will you take me to your death beach?’
‘It’s a long walk.’
‘Our lunches can settle before we swim, then we won’t get cramp.’
Driving to the cliff, walking down the steep path to the beach, Matilda felt a surge of happiness. She called cheerfully to Folly who raced up and down the path, passing so close to their feet that she nearly tripped them.
‘It’s a golden afternoon.’
Hugh nodded, enjoying the moment, the pretty dog, the sun, the sea. Matilda ran barefoot on the sand at the cliff bottom, racing along to the flat rock she considered hers. They sat in the sun before undressing and Matilda, remembering the young people’s barbecue, told Hugh about it.
‘There was a girl who kept saying “super”, everything was “super”. They wanted me to go away so that they could use this rock. If it hadn’t been for them I shouldn’t have met you. I had my picnic with me, I was going to swim out.’
‘From here?’
‘Yes. See that smooth bit of water? That’s the current. It carries you out past the lighthouse. Tom was caught in it once. He was lucky, he was picked up by a boat.’
‘What was the plan? You’ve never told me.’
‘To eat my Brie and rolls, swallow my pills, wash them down with Beaujolais, then I reckon I could just make the water. The current would have done the rest. The tide has to be exactly right.’
‘Drowned people look disgusting.’
‘Not like Ophelia?’
‘Not one bit. The body bloats.’
‘I shall be picked up long before I swell up. One of the fishing boats will find me.’
‘Horrible for them.’
‘Oh rubbish,’ said Matilda. ‘They’ll enjoy it, tell their friends about it in the pub. I reckon my carcass is worth lots of rounds of drinks.’
‘Have you ever seen a dead body?’
