AN AWKWARD SITUATION

C1

Tony followed Evvie up the stairs, the florets that patterned her leggings varied in size from delicate little flowers around her slender ankles to larger ones stretched out around her small but rounded bottom.

Tony watched as the flowers moved, as if floating on water, her leggings were tight and of elasticised material, this had the effect of varying the size of the florets and causing the line of her pants to show through, he was aware of the reinforced gusset across the lower part of the garment. To be more exact he was aware of a horizontal line impressed into the soft material, his ignorance of the technical term didn’t detract from his enjoyment of watching the line of the seam ripple gently.

‘Where do you want to look?’ asked Evvie innocently.

Tony hesitated; he would have liked to have said something entirely inappropriate but said instead ‘Only above where the kitchen is.’

‘I think that’s around here’ said Evvie entering the main bedroom and briskly gathering up some articles of clothing that were lying at the foot of the bed, dropping them into a linen basket and pulling the sheet over the unmade bed in one movement.

‘Excuse the mess, I wasn’t expecting that you to needed to come upstairs’ she said.

Tony Tanner would have preferred to have been somewhere else, it was Saturday morning and he had called to give an estimate for some alteration works that George and Evvie Chisholm had planned, to convert their kitchen and dining room into one area.

To achieve the plan the wall dividing the two rooms would obviously require removal and he was checking if this was practical.

George Chisholm had started the proceedings explaining their requirements but the telephone had rung soon after he had started and, as he had been closest to the instrument when it sprang into life, he had answered it.

Upon hearing him say ‘Oh hello Bethy’ Evvie had taken over, explaining to Tony that the reason for George’s change in priorities was that Bethy was their daughter, phoning from abroad, therefore she would continue to describe their requirements.

Tony took the chrome plated tape from the pocket of his jeans and measured from the external wall across to the partition with the dressing room.

‘Two point three’ he muttered then, with the same clenched fat fist that had struck the kitchen wall below, thumped the partition wall.

‘Studding’ he said.

‘Studding?’

1 ‘Yes, timber framed, not load bearing’ asserted Tony.

Evvie regarded Tony, his belly overhanging his once black jeans, red polo shirt pulled tightly around his stomach, like a big red football she thought, pockets bulging with various bits of equipment essential, she supposed, to giving an estimate.

‘Only a partition wall’ he explained ‘not carrying any weight from above’ looking up as he spoke.

‘Trussed roof’ he muttered inexplicably as he hitched up his trousers weighed heavy by the various bits and pieces he had rammed into his pockets.

Evvie looked at Tony again and for some reason remembered a dried out wheat field, long ago, in another life.

‘Should be able to sort that.’

‘Sort what?’ Evvie hadn’t really been listening.

‘Take down the kitchen wall’ Tony attested.

‘Oh. Good.’

As they walked back through the bedroom Tony was surprised to see a short shiny satin leopard skin print dressing gown hanging on the back of the door.

Not George’s, he resisted saying.

George had finished his phone conversation with Bethy when they arrived back downstairs and had spread out a piece of graph paper on the kitchen table showing a layout of the proposed new kitchen that he and Evvie had drawn up the previous evening. A discussion programme was on the radio, the volume was turned down.

‘Cup of tea Mr Tanner?’ asked Evvie.

‘Call me Tony please.’

‘Tony’ repeated Evvie.

‘Thank you. That would be good’

‘Sugar?’

‘Two and a half please, I’m cutting down’

Bloody stupid, thought George, two and a half of a fairly undefined measure, how does he know the size of our teaspoons, does he want a big spoon or a little spoon? Looks as if he ought to lay off it all together with that fat stomach.

‘Come and sit down please Mr Tanner, Tony’ George said quickly correcting the formality of his address.

2 As George outlined their ideas Tony was aware of the florets on Evvie’s leggings moving about behind her husband’s shoulder, it made it difficult for him to concentrate.

‘…and move the dishwasher to here…..’ George droned on ‘….then we need some more space for the fridge….’

Evvie delivered the tea to the table and settled herself opposite Tony where he now became aware of her cleavage, slightly wrinkled and freckled brown where the fold darkened her skin.

She leant forward; beige lace, white skin, more freckles, paler this time.

‘The sink must still be in front of the window’ Evvie insisted ‘I like to see out when I’m at the sink.’

‘But I told you last night’ said George ‘that doesn’t work Evvie, there isn’t enough space to fit the extra cupboards you want if we do that.’

‘We could move the window’ volunteered Tony.

Evvie seized upon the opportunity that Tony had offered and the couple engaged in a lightly contested argument about the cost and disruption involved in such an operation.

‘It shouldn’t cost too much’ suggested Tony, helpfully, he hoped.

Depends what you call too much, thought George, bloody builder, all he wants to do is spend our money.

‘How much isn’t too much?’ enquired George in what he thought was a friendly tone.

‘Well I’ll give you a separate quote if you like’ offered Tony ‘I’ll need to look outside and see how I can do it.’

Tony finished his tea,’ I’d better get on and take a few details’ He pushed his chair backwards, it made a loud graunching noise on the tiled floor.

‘You must fit some more of those felt pads to the chair legs George’ snapped Evvie.

George thought that if Tony wasn’t so bloody fat and awkward he could have lifted the chair rather than slide it backwards; instead he said ‘Yes dear.’

Tony went outside and gathered his writing pad, a pen and some other equipment from his truck, he took some measurements and looked around the area, taking a few photos on his phone and made sucking noises as he wrote on his pad.

Tony’s mobile phone made a noise resembling a foghorn ‘Ah, got to be going. I’ve got all the details I need’ he said.

‘Mr Chisholm, Mrs Chisholm’ he nodded at them.

‘ Evvie and George please’ simpered Evvie.

3 Tony climbed into his truck, a big black shiny thing. ‘I’ll give you a call Monday evening with some prices George’ and with that fired up the engine, wound up his electric window and dieseled his way out of their drive.

George noticed, as the vehicle went out through the gates that the word Animal was stencilled across its tailgate. How strange, he thought, probably appropriate though.

‘He seems nice’ Evvie said, slightly dreamily.

‘He’s a bit fat’ commented George ‘I bet he doesn’t do much of the work himself.’

‘Peaches said he made a lovely job of their conservatory. Gave them a potted palm to put in it too.’

‘Yes, I can believe that’ muttered George.

C2

Had he been there when the work was started George would have seen he had been correct in his prediction, Tony turned up with a couple of other men, one about forty years old, quiet, and a chirpy, younger man, probably in his early twenties, dark and swarthy, a bit like Tony. He introduced them to Evvie as Corky and Pete.

Tony outlined the project to the two men, pinned a set of plans and a typewritten specification to a board that he then leant against one of the walls, then, leaving the two to get on with the work, accepted Evvie’s offer of a cup of tea in the study, which she and George had converted into a temporary kitchen for the duration of the works.

‘That thing alive?’ joked Tony looking at the flexible timber framework upon which George had fixed an old stainless steel sink top that had been lying around in the garage. It was rocking from side to side as Evvie arranged the two mugs and fiddled about with the milk and two and a half sugars.

‘Be back in a moment’ Tony disappeared back into the kitchen where Corky and Pete were busy removing the old kitchen units.

Evvie heard the noise of an electric saw and Tony re-appeared with some triangular pieces cut from her old kitchen unit doors and a portable drill with what resembled a magazine of bullets draped out of one side, like a lop-sided Mexican moustache.

In what seemed like a moment he’d screwed half a dozen of the triangles to the corners of the flexible framework that George had spent the last three days cutting and assembling.

‘That should be a bit better’ he said shaking the newly braced structure with a hand that resembled a plateful of fat sausages.

Evvie beamed ‘Very impressive. Gusseted’ she said ‘Thank you Tony.’

‘S’okay Mrs Chisholm, here to help’ he had a warm feeling creep over his more than adequate body.

‘Evvie please.’

4 ‘Evvie’ Tony repeated obediently ‘is that short for something?’

‘Evelyn’ Evvie explained ‘I hate the name.’

‘I think Evelyns rather nice, I had an Aunty called that’ lied Tony ‘but I do prefer Evvie. Mmm this shortbread’s nice’ he added.

A loud crashing noise came from the kitchen.

‘What the ff…….my giddy aunt’ said Tony and went back into the kitchen.

‘The old cabinet doors, the glazed ones – Pete’ said Tony as if that explained everything as he returned to the study lifting his eyes as he spoke. ‘Well, love you and leave you’ he went on ‘thanks for the tea and love the shortbread’ and returned, once more, into the kitchen from where Evvie heard him giving the two men more instructions, above the sound of Abba singing Mama Mia on their transistor radio, before seeing his shiny black truck disappearing through the driveway gates.

She ran her fingers through her fringe and smoothed down the sides of her slightly too short skirt which had ridden, unnoticed, by her, half way up her thigh.

Tony smiled to himself as he drove off towards the Angling Shop, with the sound of Lou Reed’s’ Walk on the Wild Side’ on his radio.

Later that day, as Tony sat beside the lake, watching his line for any indication of movement and brushing a particularly annoying and persistent fly from his face, he reflected upon his good fortune and thought to himself how well he’d done for someone who had left school without any particular educational qualifications.

‘Wasted your opportunity Tanner’ McPhee, the bad tempered, moustachioed head teacher had remarked when Tony had said his goodbyes ‘but I wish you luck all the same’ he had added disingenuously in his annoying, rasping, Scottish accent.

When he left school Tony had started a builders labouring job for Jim Moon, a local jobbing builder. Jim had ‘taken a bit of a shine’ to the young, willing and cheerful lad and it wasn’t long before Tony himself was spreading the backing coats of render and laying a few bricks and blocks under Jim’s avuncular tutorship.

As Jim became older and slower, Tony developed a wider range of skills and gradually took on more responsibility within the small firm.

No money changed hands and nothing was ever formally discussed but, gradually, Jim took on the paperwork and Tony either carried out, or arranged, the sitework and they shared the resultant profits of the enterprise which became known locally as Moon and Sixpence.

Then, when it all got a bit too much for Jim, they employed Vera Simms to do the books as well as ‘doing’ for the two men who, by this time, both lived in the same house.

Jim had died several years ago leaving the house and barn workshop to Tony.

5 Tony, since then, besides carrying out contracts, had bought old houses, improved and extended them, selling them on after a couple of years of living there, thus avoiding the need for payment of taxes on the profit. He hadn’t lived in a finished house for years.

He had converted Jim’s old house and workshop into flats and these were let out.

Not luck Mr McPhee, he thought as he sat watching his line, just hard work. Well, perhaps a bit of good luck too. ’A wee bit’ he said out aloud to himself in a mock Scottish accent looking around slightly furtively in case anyone had heard him talking to himself. No-one else had, it was quiet at the lake today.

Tony had never married ‘Don’t like being tied down’ he had explained on a number of occasions to interested parties, who, mostly, were women who had hung around a bit longer than his usual liaisons, these were often wives of the clients for whom he worked. He had discovered that many of these women were frustrated and unhappy with their lives; they didn’t have the will or courage to leave their comfortable lives but might risk a brief affair with a passing builder, just to give a little frisson to their humdrum world. The last thing they wanted was to run off, or be found out, so, as far as Tony was concerned, it was a winning situation. ‘Perk of the job’ he considered it.

When that particular source of sex was scarce Tony had also discovered that a couple of the tenants in his flats could be ‘quite accommodating’ when they were struggling a bit with the rents, they were mostly girls who worked in the local stables. He chuckled at his own good fortune.

Now he had recognised in Evvie that lonely wife syndrome and would, when the contract was more or less through, and assuming things had gone well, suggest that she might like a couple of nights with him at his caravan near the coast in Dorset. Just his sort of woman was Evvie, wouldn’t want to leave her husband, still attractive, nice legs, but unappreciated. The sound of the saxophone fading at the end of Lou Reed’s song remained echoing around his brain.

The line twitched and he tugged sharply on the rod…….

C3

‘You can be a boring old curmudgeon George.’ Jim and George had been out since lunchtime organising and participating in the erection of a timber shed at the local allotment used by the local Mencap Group.

‘Just because I don’t want to drink myself into oblivion doesn’t necessarily mean I’m boring’ retorted George.

‘Necessarily is an interesting word George, it indicates I have a point.’

The two had known each other since their teens, some thirty or so years ago, so such comments did not give the offence they might in more recently formed relationships.

‘I don’t want my judgement clouded by alcohol’ George continued.

‘More like you don’t want to risk doing anything funny or dangerous’ suggested his friend.

6 George had cajoled Tony Tanner, the builder who had carried out alteration works at his house, to lay a concrete base, George and Jim had sorted the fundraising for the supply of the shed, at a discounted rate, and they had gathered in what volunteer support they could muster to erect the structure.

Julian Chivers and Gill Rainsbury had turned up on this day to help the two friends.

Gill had volunteered to paint the structure once the building had been completed and help ‘by holding things’ whilst it was assembled. Julian was one of those people who just turned up, he had no particular skills but was a willing clearer upper and provider of refreshments.

There wasn’t much else left to do, the roof needed felting and the door had to be hung, but it was August and there was no rain forecast, so they agreed to meet again the following day to finish the job.

Jim switched off his old transistor radio, it was playing ‘Waterloo Sunset’ and suggested they all retreat to the Kings Arms ‘for a pint’ before they went home.

Evvie was away at her sister’s in Dorchester and George was aware that she was likely to phone him just after Hollyoaks finished and before Eastenders began and that she wouldn’t be best pleased if he wasn’t at home to take her call, especially as she was aware that the ‘ Ms Rainsbury’ was involved in the allotment project.

Evvie didn’t like Gill Rainsbury, not since the Annual Village Dinner Dance last autumn, when she had been openly flirtatious with George.

‘A couple of Chardonnay’s and she’s anybody’s’ Evvie had snapped when the two of them had returned home.

George, it must be said, was somewhat worse for drink that night and very wet after embarrassing Evvie by doing the Lambada, whatever that was, wearing Miss Berry’s hat and wielding his umbrella, sword-like, in the last quarter of an hour before the band played the last waltz and they put the lights on.

‘She was just being friendly and having a bit of fun’ George had protested.

‘Friendly! If that’s being friendly I’d hate to see her if she really tried – she had her hand on your backside for half the dance.‘

It was true, although George had been ‘in a bit of a state’ he had been well aware of the sensual nature of Gill’s hand on his buttock as he’d leant back waving the brolly over her head.

‘Anyhow’ George had said ‘you called her a lesbian after the barbeque last summer just because she’d taken in a student lodger.’

‘Well she’s probably that too, I don’t like her at all, she’s a predator’ Evvie had replied.

George had felt it was probably better to shut up and endure a few days of Evvie’s bad temper than argue his case any further.

7 So now, although he’d have loved a pint to revive his body after sweating through a hot early August afternoon, he didn’t want to incur his wife’s wrath at finding him ‘absent without leave’ when she undertook her daily check on his whereabouts.

‘I bet Evvie’s phoning you, isn’t she?’ Jim taunted. Jim was well aware of George’s wife’s control over his friend’s activities ‘She knows Gill was helping and you’re worried she’ll think you’re down the pub with the predator.’

Jim had heard Evvie refer to Gill as a predator when he’d called around a couple of days after the Dinner Dance, to return George’s umbrella, and had called her that ever since.

‘She usually calls early evening’ admitted George in a defensive tone of voice.

‘Well, come down after that’ Jim said ‘I tell you what, you have a shower then I’ll call around to your place with some fish and chips and we can go down for a pint or two after that.’

It was the ‘or two’ that troubled George. It was alright for Jim, he didn’t have the responsibility of a wife that he, George, had.

Jim had been ‘ditched’, his words, ten or eleven years ago when Barbara, his then wife, had run off with Terence who had come to repair the washing machine.

The two lovers had first had an, apparently, very passionate affair before she left Jim to go and live with Terence on his houseboat. It had been very exciting and romantic for Barbara at the beginning but Terence didn’t have a regular mooring for his houseboat and the River Authority moved them on after every couple of days and then, during the winters it was cold and the towpaths were muddy making life in the boat dirty and damp. Jim knew all this because Barbara often phoned him up, when Terence was out, presumably mending other washing machines, suggesting she came back, but Jim was enjoying his new life too much to agree to a reunion.

‘Made her bed, let her lie in it’ he had said to George on more than one occasion.

It did mean, however, that he and George lived very different lives to each other these days.

George decided to forestall Evvie’s phone call to him and telephoned Nora, Evvie’s sister, just before seven and asked to speak to his wife.

‘Oh, just a minute’ Nora said ‘I’ll see if she’s finished.’

Finished what? George had wondered.

‘I think she’s just popped out’ Nora said when she returned to the phone ‘I’ll get her to call you when she comes back.’

‘Where has she gone?’ asked George.

‘Oh just taken the dog out’ Nora had asserted.

8 Evvie had sounded very agitated when she phoned back, not her usual confident self at all. They exchanged assurances that both were fine and that had left George a free man for the remainder of the evening.

Jim arrived a bit later with the fish and chips and they drove down to the pub in Jim’s car after they had eaten them.

The Kings Arms was quiet, except for a light background noise of a loop playing a Dire Straits album, when they arrived.

‘Pint of the usual please Bill’ said Jim as they approached the bar ‘you ok?’ he added, realising he hadn’t wished the portly landlord good evening.

‘Fine thanks Jim and yourself?’ Bill replied ‘Rosewater for the saxophonist?’ he continued, apparently assuming from Jim’s demeanour that he was fine and required no words from Jim to confirm this state of affairs.

No matter how many times he had been told, Bill Landsbury, the landlord of the Kings Arms, didn’t seem to understand that George Chisholm, as had been seen on black and white TV in the latter part of the last century, had played the trombone, not the saxophone but Bill insisted on calling George, with whom the performer shared a name, the saxophonist. The landlord also referred to red wine as rosewater, another affectation that George found extremely irritating.

‘Got anything better than ASDA’s finest?’ George asked in an attempt to score some points of his own.

‘A cheeky little Cab Sauv here’ replied the landlord, his shiny fat forehead showing some beading of sweat.

‘I’ll risk it’ George said unenthusiastically ‘certainly overpriced and probably corked.’

‘Pleasure to see you here squire’ came the ironic response.

‘Julian and Gill will be in soon’ said Jim turning to Bill ‘I’ll get them a drink and pay you when they arrive.’

George’s heart rose and sank in a single action. He found Gill Rainsbury very attractive but, at the same time, he was terrified that if news of them drinking together in the Kings Arms, whilst she was away, ever reached Evvie he would be dead meat however innocent the arrangement.

There was a banging of the bar door, Gill came in, her chiselled features in a broad grin ‘That bloody door, it opens the wrong way, it did the same last week too. Why do they put pull handles on doors that you are supposed to push? George, you’re looking more handsome than ever.’

George was never quite sure with Gill if she was being flirtatious or sarcastic, but then he’d never been able to understand women during the whole of the fifty something years of his fairly ordinary life.

‘Gin, long glass?’ asked Bill.

9 ‘You’re a mind reader Bill’ Gill replied and smiled at George, holding her gaze for slightly longer than he could quite cope with ‘not that awful slim line tonic either’ she added for Bill’s benefit.

‘I’d better have another too’ chipped in Jim ‘what about you George my old mate?’

The physical labour of the afternoon, the salty chips, the warm evening and the miniscule measures that pubs served these days had all conspired to make George’s glass of red wine disappear, it was an ominous start to the evening. ‘I’d better switch to beer, I think’ he said.

‘Careful Mr Chisholm, that’s a man’s drink’ said Bill, unnecessarily ‘Aylesbury?’

‘No it’s too expensive here, I’ll have the Southdown’ George was aware too that the Aylesbury beer had a higher alcoholic content than the dreadful Southdown beer but the combination of the quantity and the unpleasant taste should enable him to slow down his drinking. For all that he enjoyed Jim’s company and his irrepressible good humour he could not keep time with his friend’s ability to drink enormous quantities of alcohol with no evident ill effects.

‘£21.40p for my retirement fund please Jim.’

‘Blimey Bill you’ll be able to afford a very nice place at that rate’ Jim said as he drew some notes from his wallet ‘no wonder the place is empty.’

Beads of sweat trickled down from the landlord’s brow onto his nose where they hung, tantalisingly, in a single blob, awaiting the moment to drop their salty deposits into the money tray, as he calculated the change.

George was pleased he’d eaten fish and chips earlier and wouldn’t be tempted into a ham roll or anything else that might have absorbed some of Bill’s perspiration.

They sat down around the little corner table, Gill’s knee leaning out at an exaggerated angle perhaps, George thought, in the hope of forming contact with his own linen clad one.

‘No Julian?’ he asked.

‘No I think he was pooped’ Gill replied ‘he said that he was unlikely to come over when I dropped him off earlier.’

The evening continued with light hearted, uncontroversial conversation covering weather, Mencap, the recent Test cricket result and gardening.

George succeeded in limiting his alcoholic intake and personal expenditure; he relaxed more as the evening progressed.

At about half past ten the three said their goodnights and walked out into the starlit night.

Gill got into her little German people’s car and drove off.

Jim and George agreed that only one of them needed to attend in the morning to finish off the work on the hut and, as Jim had realised he had an optician’s appointment, George would complete the felting on the roof and hang the door.

10 Jim left his car in the car park and they walked off in different directions to their respective homes.

As George walked through his driveway gates he was surprised to see Gill’s VW car parked outside his front door.

‘Hello Gill, I thought you’d gone home.’

‘Can you give me a minute George?’

‘You’d better come in ‘George replied, against his better instincts.

Gill followed him into the newly configured kitchen area ‘This is very nice’ she commented ‘Tony Tanner did it didn’t he?’

‘Yes, he made a good job of it’ George said ‘coffee?’

‘That would be good, black please, no sugar’. Gill sat down, George cleared out the old cartridge from the coffee machine and re-loaded it.

‘He’s a better builder than I credited him being’ said George as he wrestled with the complexities of his coffee making machine.

The buttons on Gill’s shirt were undone to a lower level than George recalled they were in the pub earlier. Gill’s cleavage was very noticeable and the top of her bra was in evidence.

She was wearing lightweight cropped trousers, her legs were crossed, he noticed her calves were brown and that one of her sandals hung by a single toe below her slender ankles, she was swinging it from side to side.

‘You know he’s got a reputation for being a Casanova don’t you George?’

‘Has he? He seems a nice bloke, a bit fat but he can be quite charming in a rustic kind of a way. I don’t suppose he’s likely to run off with old Evvie is he?’

‘Isn’t he?’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Where’s Evvie tonight?’

‘She’s at Nora’s, her sister, in Dorchester. Anyway what’s that to do with you’ George suddenly felt irritated at Gill’s inference and interference.

‘Oh nothing, sorry’ said Gill pulling back from saying what she really wanted to tell George.

‘Anyway, what can I do for you that you couldn’t ask me in the pub?’ George said steering Gill away from what he perceived as a very unwelcome direction of conversation.

‘Are you going down to the shed tomorrow?’ she asked, knowing full well that George would be there.

‘Yes, you know I’ve got to finish the roof and hang the door.’

11 ‘I’ll be down. I can get on with the painting and hold it for you’ she said, provocatively ‘the door while you screw the hinges on’ she added, smiling at George’s alarmed and worried look.

‘That’ll be useful’ said George, doubtfully ‘is that what you came in to ask?’

‘Pretty much, yes’ she said unconvincingly, George thought.

Gill finished her coffee and stood up, the light behind her shone through her light cotton shirt and he could see the shape of her breasts quite clearly.

She smiled, looking intently and disturbingly deeply at him, he felt.

‘Good then, see you in the morning’ she gave his cheek a quick peck of a kiss and was gone.

As he cleaned his teeth and prepared for bed George reflected on their conversation.

Why had she called, was there something she had wanted to say and hadn’t?

Why did she mention Tony Tanner and ask about Evvie’s whereabouts?

George had a restless night.

C4

Evvie sat down beneath the veranda whilst Tony went into the pub to order the drinks.

It was a beautiful day; the warm sunshine cast sharp shadows. She pulled her chair back to be nearer to the stone wall and away from the direct rays of the sun.

A series of hanging baskets were suspended along the front of the veranda, the neatly cut grass fell away to a narrow tarmaced lane. Tables, some with sunshades, and chairs were set out on a series of levelled plateaus in the grass, white painted stones demarked the edge of the lawn and tubs of colourful summer flowers were scattered around. Although there were quite a few people there it was very tranquil, it was, Evvie thought, idyllic.

A man of about Evvie’s age, dressed in an immaculate white shirt with a blue cravat tucked into its collar and fawn trousers that sported a sharp crease down the front, came out of the pub and tied the leash of his golden Labrador to the leg of the cast iron table alongside her own and sat down. Why is it that everyone who lives in the countryside seems to own a Labrador, Evvie wondered.

‘Unusual dog’ she said, mischievously as the man set down his drink and unfolded the copy of The Daily Telegraph that he had been carrying underneath his arm.

‘It’s a Labrador’ the man replied, thankfully not appreciating the irony in her comment ‘only a year old’.

That was another thing that always amused Evvie, dog owners were always keen to tell you how old their dogs were.

12 Whilst she pondered that, Tony returned with their drinks and squeezed Evvie’s knee affectionately as he sat down beside her.

Evvie couldn’t quite believe she was doing this, conducting an illicit affair. She had recovered from the guilt she had felt when she’d phoned George last night.

Norah had phoned her mobile in a panic saying that George had phoned the house asking to speak to her and that she had told him that Evvie had taken the dog for a walk. Evvie had to pretend she had just come back from the walk when she returned the call to George.

Why had George called her, was he suspicious? She had kept the conversation brief so as he wouldn’t have the chance to ask any awkward questions and that she didn’t have to invent any more lies than she already had done.

There was a certain air of unreality about her current situation but she surprised herself by not feeling as bad as she might have expected.

Tony had been very kind and attentive last night and they’d had sex, the first she had had for about ten years she calculated. She would have liked to have said they had made love, however it wasn’t love, it was lust, it had been wonderful; she had felt valued and desirable again.

She and George had, on the face of it, a good life, she reflected, but it was so predictable, boring and passionless, yes that was it, it was passionless. They had enough money for their needs, no debts; there was no mortgage to worry about and she and George didn’t particularly argue, perhaps there wasn’t anything in their lives important enough to argue about. What a sad thought.

George was about ten years older than her but, it seemed to her, he had embraced middle age with relish and if he’d ever had any sense of adventure it had long gone. He was clean, respectful and looked after things but he seemed to have a down on anything new, anything he hadn’t done before, he wouldn’t even have a mobile phone.

They hadn’t talked about not having sex any longer, it just sort of fell off the agenda, like so many other things, and she missed it.

They’d been to the same hotel in Lanzarote for the past six years and did the same things everytime they went there for goodness sake. She couldn’t remember the last time they had done anything spontaneously. She realised she was rehearsing excuses for a possible future conversation with George.

When Tony’s men had started the work at their house Tony had called in more or less every day to supervise them and check that they, his clients, were happy with progress, it had been impressively professional.

She had usually offered him a cup of tea or coffee when he called and, because George was often out, at work, playing golf or doing some charitable work or other, she and Tony often had time together and that’s when she had found herself confiding in him.

She had surprised herself; she didn’t usually talk to anyone, except perhaps Nora occasionally, about her feelings or frustrations.

13 Tony had been a good listener and she was aware he had been attracted to her, so when he had suggested that she added a couple of days to her planned visit to Nora’s to spend some time with him at his caravan she found herself saying ‘Why not?’

Sensibly she had primed Nora, who wasn’t as shocked as she had anticipated. But Nora had never been that keen on George, that was the principal reason that Evvie visited her sister alone.

So here she was, sitting outside a beautiful country pub with Tony, her lover. Who would have thought she would have ever had another lover after all these years, certainly she wouldn’t.

There was a quiet babble of other people’s conversation and the only other noise she could hear was the sound from the hooves of a couple of horses as they approached the pub up the tarmaced lane, what a perfect moment she thought.

The landlord’s son, unseen by any of the customers, least of all those below the veranda, home for the summer from University and instructed by his father to earn his keep, was walking along the balcony above watering the hanging baskets using a metal watering can.

He reached the point above where the man with the Labrador was sitting, and, as he had done along the row of containers, pushed the can’s spout through the rails and directed the flexible end into the centre of the planting where a concave shape had been formed to allow sufficient water to be poured to sustain the survival and growth of the colourful mix of plants. The water soaked into the dry planting of the flower laden basket then, as saturation point was reached, it ran through the bottom of the basket and dripped onto the golden Labrador which was still tied to the leg of the table at which sat the immaculately dressed man.

The dog, which was by now comfortable and asleep in the sun, not surprisingly leapt up, barked and made a dash away from the source of the cascading water. Unfortunately, being attached to the table leg by his leash, it took the cast iron table with it causing the best part of a pint of chilled Guinness to spill over the shirt and trousers of its owner.

To compound an already chaotic situation the horses, ridden by a couple of tight shirted teenage girls who, until then, had been casually chatting to each other, took fright at this sudden change in circumstances and reared up depositing both riders in untidy heaps on the tarmac. The nearest horse, a fine and well groomed bay, landed its front legs onto the grass and kicked out with its rear ones striking one of the wooden tubs of dahlias a particularly vicious blow. The tub, probably nearing the end of its useful life and therefore somewhat rotten, instantly shattered, and the force of the kick cast soil and vegetation over the family sitting at one of the tables near the lane.

This horse and its companion, a pretty little dappled grey, both now frightened by the series of events, some of which had been caused by themselves, took off down the lane but not before creating a series of large divots in the surface of the neatly clipped lawn.

The young Labrador confused and equally frightened, followed the horses in what looked like an exciting game of running away, dragging the cast iron table, to which it was still attached, with it, creating a furrow where the edge of the table dug, plough-like into the soft grass. It was joined by two other dogs, previously un-noticed, that had been lying quietly on the grass, all barking and yapping at the great fun they were having.

14 Evvie looked at the scene, a few minutes earlier it had been the epitome of a beautiful bucolic English country pub. Now it resembled a circus ring just after the clowns had left; there were two hysterical girls, hard hats askew, gravelled and grass stained, a family excitedly jabbering away, brushing compost and vegetation from their clothing, their lunch and drinks ruined. A previously immaculately dressed man, soaked from head to foot in Irish brown ale, his newspaper awash with the stuff. A lawn acned by hoof marks that had a brown furrow, straight as an aircraft’s jet stream across it.

She turned to Tony.

Tony was lying, still in his chair, on his back on the stone pavings with the last of the water from the hanging basket dripping onto his green tee shirt.

She realised immediately that he was dead. There are things that happen to the human body that indicate death and it was clear to her, from her experiences as a nurse, that Tony ticked at least two of these boxes.

Evvie recognised a predicament and, either in panic or with an innate sense of self preservation, she wasn’t sure which when she thought about it later, walked briskly away, around the rear of the stone built outhouse that served as the outside toilet block and back up the lane as quickly as she could manage without actually running. Due to her speed of thought her exit was unnoticed by the other customers and staff who were otherwise occupied with the continuing commotion.

She re-traced her path back to Tony’s caravan and the place where she had parked her Vauxhall Corsa.

Although she had tried to walk normally she couldn’t seem to inhale sufficient oxygen and was breathing very heavily by the time she arrived back.

She tried the caravan door which was, inevitably, locked. She went around the back of the unit which was conveniently, for her, positioned on the edge of the site next to a hedgerow. The bathroom window was open.

Evvie was only five foot two inches tall, the top hung window was out of her reach.

As casually as she could manage she went back round to the front of the caravan and fetched the metal steps that facilitated entry to the entrance door and positioned them below the window.

She was now able to reach and prise the window open sufficiently to squeeze her size eight body through.

Recollecting every episode of Morse and Miss Marple she had ever seen, she collected her possessions, washed up her own breakfast plate and cutlery, leaving Tony’s in place and still dirty.

After fluffing up the pillow on her side of the bed that she had, so successfully, shared with Tony, she pushed her bag back out through the bathroom window and followed it with an inelegance not becoming a woman of her age.

15 Carefully replacing the metal steps at the caravan door she walked back down through the site to her parked car and drove it to a small bungalow in a cul de sac in Dorchester where she rang the bell on Nora’s front door.

C5

It was a beautiful early autumn morning when George arrived at the allotments. He had awoken alone in the house and, in his own time, had his breakfast before driving down to the allotments. He embraced a feeling of freedom and contentment.

Some jackdaws were circling overhead, a couple of rabbits scampered down the path ahead of him and George could see where a badger had been foraging around in the grass outside the partly completed shed.

It was quiet, except for the jackdaws squawking.

George had finished the felting of the roof by the time Gill arrived and was sat in the doorway of the shed eating a banana.

‘Move up’ she said and squeezed down beside him.

She looked fresh and he could detect the smell of coconut on her still damp hair. A loose white linen blouse hung out over her jeans and again, as last night, the buttons on the blouse were undone to afford a display of rather more than just a cleavage.

‘Coffee?’ she took a Thermos flask from a small blue backpack bag and poured some of the delicious smelling black liquid into an enamelled beaker and handed it to him. It was very hot so he set it down onto the grass in front of them.

‘Sleep well?’ she asked.

‘Not too bad, a bit restless, you know with Evvie away and all that’ he replied.

‘At her sister’s you said?’

‘Yes. She and Nora are quite close.’

‘Hmmm.’

Neither spoke for a few moments.

George laid his banana skin down alongside his coffee mug.

‘George.’

‘That’s my name.’

16 ‘George, you know Evvie’s away with Tony Tanner don’t you?’

‘What? Don’t be stupid Gill, she’s with Nora. I spoke to her last night.’

‘That’s not what I heard. I heard that she was spending a couple of days with Tony at his caravan and then going on to her sister’s.’

‘Well you’re wrong, Evvie wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that, we’ve been married for nearly thirty years for goodness sake.’

‘Quite……’ Gill hesitated then said ‘I’m sorry George but I just had to tell you what I’d heard. I don’t like to see you being deceived but I won’t say any more about it.’

‘Good’ snapped George ‘now you can make yourself useful and give me a hand with this door.’

As he sorted through his drill box and wrestled with the packaging around the screws that were taped to the tee hinges, George thought about what Gill had said. He had spoken to Evvie but she hadn’t been there when he telephoned Nora and then she had phoned him back. Why had she taken the dog out on her own and he had thought she had been a bit short with him when she had returned his call.

Gill supported the door whilst George marked and fixed the hinges, they talked about her painting the inside of the shed and how peaceful it was down here at the allotments, all as if the previous conversation had never taken place.

After he had hung the door he went into the shed and pulled the door closed to check the fit.

It was dark in the windowless shed. Gill was already in the shed behind him fiddling with a paint pot. She stood up and put her arm around his chest and pulled him gently back into her body.

He could feel her breasts pushing into his back and although he wanted to resist he found himself unable to do so, it was an extremely pleasurable feeling.

The smell of the fresh pine shed combined with the coconut on Gill’s hair, neither of them spoke, it was a strange atmosphere, both exciting and frightening.

Gill dropped her hand across his stomach and followed down the line of his trouser zip cupping the hand around his groin.

George had never experienced anything like this, even in his youth, a woman making a move on him. He didn’t know what to say or do. Unfortunately, his cock was responding quite positively to this unusual attention and Gill gripped the hardening member.

Without taking her hand off his body she slid her hand back up to his waist and then down inside his trousers to where it had previously been but now in closer contact.

He felt her pushing her hips forward into his backside and moving her hand then, completely unasked, he ejaculated, his bottom involuntarily jerked back into Gill’s groin as the spasms started.

17 ‘Bloody hell’ he said, panicking, as his wretched swollen penis discharged an alarming quantity of unwanted semen, painfully, into his underpants.

‘Bloody hell’ he repeated ‘what did you do that for?’

Gill wasn’t quite sure if he was talking to her or his rapidly softening member.

‘Almost a knee trembler George’ she teased, as she withdrew her hand, wiping some stray matter from its surface onto a tissue as she did so.

‘God what a mess’ he said, not quite knowing what to do.

‘Better clean up’ she instructed ‘get your trousers off.’

He obediently dropped his trousers, still with his back to her.

‘Now get your pants off and wipe yourself clean with them, and here’s some tissue.’

He did as she said and then wondered what to do with his unpleasantly sticky undergarment.

‘Give them here; I’ll put them in this bag’. She took out her i-phone, an apple, her Thermos flask, some protective gloves and a floppy hat from a plastic bag she had and put the items on the floor of the shed then she dropped George’s offending underpants into it, holding them delicately between her forefinger and thumb, as if emphasising the unhygienic nature of the process. She rolled up the bag and dropped it onto the floor, it sounded like a piece of wet fish dropping onto a marble slab.

‘There, now get your kegs back on and you’ll be as good as new.’

Gill simply picked up her paint pot; handed it to George and said ‘Get the lid off this please George’ she picked up her paintbrush and flexed its bristles, provocatively, through her fingers.

George regained some of his composure, difficult, given the circumstances, found his screwdriver and prised the lid off the tin of paint. Gill smiled broadly as he handed her the tin and busied himself with tightening the screws on the rim lock.

Gill put an earpiece in, connected it to her i-phone, and started painting the end wall.

George, somewhat bewildered and very embarrassed unfolded a large black refuse bag and started to collect the odd trimmed ends of roofing felt that he had dropped onto the ground earlier. He gathered his step ladder and tools together and took a couple of trips to and from his car, all the while trying to work out quite what had happened and why.

When he had run out of things with which to distract himself and perhaps Gill, from this extremely peculiar situation in which he had found himself landed he said to Gill ‘I’m off now then.’

‘Fine George’ she replied cheerfully ‘I’ll leave the paint here when I’ve finished, in case it needs another coat.’

‘Good idea’ George replied wondering how could she possibly carry on as if nothing had happened?

18 ‘Bye then’ she said, then she added ‘better take this eh?’ pointing to the bag of shame on the shed floor, with the hint of a smirk on her face.

‘Ah, yes, sorry’ George picked up the bag with what dignity he could muster, which wasn’t, in truth, a great deal.

‘Bye’ said George ‘and thanks.’ Damn he thought, he had meant thanks for helping, not thanks for holding my cock and making me come in my trousers. ‘For helping’ he added clumsily, then realised that wasn’t what he meant either, so he added ‘with the shed’.

She smiled at him.

He walked back to his car and drove away without casting a backward look at the scene which had seemed so innocently tranquil only a couple of hours earlier, wondering if he would awake from a very bad dream any moment soon.

C6

‘Are you sure he was dead?’ Nora and Evvie were sitting at the little circular table that had once stood in the hallway of their parent’s home. At that time it had been covered with a white lace cloth and used to display photographs of the two girls, family pets and the like, Nora now used it as her dining table in her neat, predominantly blue, kitchen. There was a cruet set and a small vase of red dahlias on the table that was, otherwise, bare and unclothed. Radio 4 was on in the background but the volume was too low for either of them to hear what was being said, even if they had been interested.

‘Nora, I’ve seen a few dead people in my life, certainly more than you have in your insurance office.’ Evvie assured her sister ‘You didn’t even want to see Dad when he was in the mortuary. Tony, I can assure you, was dead.’

‘But it was only about three hours ago, he won’t even be cold’ the sisters looked at each other with wide eyes and burst into uncontrollable giggles. Giggles that became hysterical, oxygen starved almost silent laughter. Their shoulders lurched and their eyes streamed tears.

A box of tissues was brought to the table, eyes were wiped.

‘I hope he’s not sat up in the ambulance asking where his Evvie is’ said Nora as she regained composure and then burst into another fit of nervous contagious laughter.

More used damp tissues were added to the considerable heap that was developing on the table.

19 ‘Don’t, Nora don’t. I know he was dead’ said Evvie with slightly less confidence than previously. What if the paramedics had arrived soon afterwards with defibrillators and electric shock treatment equipment and revived him? She tried to put the thought out of her head.

‘I suppose that’s the end of it then. What was that Graham Greene novel –The End of the Affair, wasn’t it?’

‘No need to be flippant’ retorted her sister ‘he was very nice.’

‘Quite convenient though, eh, little sister? That boring old husband of your’s need never know.’

‘Not unless you’re going to tell him. You’re the only one who knows’ Evvie reached out across the table and placed her left hand over Nora’s right and Nora covered the two with her left, no further words needed to be exchanged.

‘It’s not as if he was murdered ‘said Nora. They giggled again, less hysterically this time.

‘Why is it’ Nora asked ‘that your affairs all end in such disasters?’

‘Oh come on Nora, this is only the second one and the first one didn’t last as long as this one!’

‘Only two that you’ve bothered to mention to me’ Nora smiled as she said it, Evvie replied by giving her sister a severe look.

The sisters, barely eighteen months between them, had been raised almost like twins; they had an understanding and empathy deeper than many siblings.

Nora had rushed into a marriage, probably always doomed to failure, by virtue of an out of wedlock pregnancy. No one had forced them, but her and, oddly enough, another George did it out of decency, for the child’s sake. An old fashioned wish for the child not to be born out of wedlock, or the wrong side of the sheet, as their father had put it at the time.

The hastily formed unions’ failure was finally sealed when the little creature was stillborn. The child, perfectly formed, with its tiny pinched face and unbelievably detailed miniscule hands and feet, had been delivered, white as the cloth that had covered the hall table, immobile, unbreathing and robbed of the opportunity of a life.

The trauma that everyone involved, including the unsuccessful and failed father, had endured was unlikely to be understood by anyone who had not experienced such an event themselves. Nora was, in consequence, left childless and ultimately, that is if six months of marriage can be considered a union, divorced. She was never the same person again, how could she be?

Subsequently all her efforts and, perhaps, emotions had been channelled into a career, at the expense of personal relationships, as if never again trusting anything over which she didn’t have some choice or control.

Her understanding and sympathy, tempered by her unfailing sense of humour, of her younger sister’s predicament was above and beyond what may have been considered reasonable.

‘You must be starving Evvie. I’ll do you some cheese on toast and then we’ll go for a walk’.

20 A little later the sisters, hand in hand, walked along the river bank with Lottie, Nora’s Yorkshire terrier snuffling along the edge of the dried out grass and nettle that formed a safe barrier to the river for the tiny animal.

‘There’s no need to say anything to George darling’ Nora told Evvie ‘it’s been no different to any other time you’ve stayed here as far as he is concerned. Just carry on as normal, wash his bloody socks, vacuum the house and clean the bathroom. He’ll be happy riding on his lawnmower and going to his Spanish classes. Why is he learning Spanish anyway? Does he hanker after a foreign mistress or something?’

‘But it’s such a bizarre situation Nora’ Evvie explained ‘as if it wasn’t enough that I decided to have a dirty weekend with the builder. The fact that the bloke died whilst I was away with him and then I ran away to protect myself should make me feel guilty, but the whole thing is almost unreal, like a dream or a film. You do understand that, I know you do.’

‘What I do understand is that you were lucky it didn’t happen the previous evening. Imagine how you’d talk yourself out of that one.’

‘Oh don’t’ pleaded Evvie trying not to think of such an appalling scenario.

‘And make sure that you don’t tell anyone else’ continued Nora ‘your builder’s hardly in a position to explain his weekend’s activities is he? So no-one is likely to find out are they?’

‘I suppose not, but it’s going to be difficult to act normally when I’m told about his death isn’t it?’

‘Make sure it looks as if you find out before George does my love. If you can casually mention it to him, it won’t need an act will it?’

‘That’s easier said than done.’

‘Look Evvie, you have to admit to yourself what you have done and if you want to protect yourself and that marriage, although goodness knows why, you have to pretend and just carry on. What George doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt him, or you, is it?’ it’s not likely to happen again, certainly not with Tony, although of course you could always find yourself fancying the undertaker’ Nora added mischievously.

‘Nora!’

‘You know I’ve never really taken to George’ Nora went on ‘but that’s not the point Evvie, you’ve got to look after yourself Sis. I have sympathy with your reasons for doing it – George has an A level in boring. When you look into his eyes you can see the wall behind his head. He has five year plans for God’s sake and he even gave me a layout of your local Tesco’s the last time I came down to save me time searching fruitlessly he said. Come on darling, that’s no way to live your life is it? Tesco’s can be quite dangerous if you can’t find where they keep the cooked beetroot.’

‘I have a pretty comfortable life, I have to admit’ Evvie said in an apologetic tone of voice.

‘Depends what you want from life my darling. If that’s what you want, and I don’t blame you, don’t rock the boat. At least you don’t have to worry about paying the bills’

21 They walked on, their arms now linked. Evvie started crying, Nora pulled her sister’s fragile little body to hers.

‘Perhaps I’m not happy’ Evvie spoke aloud although she was probably speaking to herself ‘George is very nice, he’s clean, respectable and all that, but usually he’s just there, nothing more, just there…’ her voice tailed off.’ Perhaps it was the wrong man for the wrong reasons, I don’t know any longer. There must be more to life….’

With that Lottie dragged a bramble, which had attached itself to her tail, across Evvie’s ankles.

C7

George didn’t need to ask Evvie the details of her trip.

Evvie had returned home late in the afternoon and complained about the traffic on the A46 then generally busied herself unnecessarily, unpacking her bag, re-making the bed and tidying up. Not that much had been disturbed during her absence.

She turned the radio off and switched on the TV in the dining area, something she normally only did when Wimbledon was on, and cooked noisily and busily. It was clear to George that she was doing everything in her power to avoid questions about her trip.

By the time they sat down to eat it was almost half past seven and he noticed she was pretending to be especially absorbed by a programme about railways in the late Victorian era presented by a former politician she had, until this evening, reviled.

‘How’s Nora?’ he ventured

‘Oh…fine, you know Nora’ was the reply. Actually, thought George, I don’t know Nora; she avoids me just like you’re doing now.

‘Good’ he said without conviction.

Evvie stood up and briskly clattered away the crockery and cutlery before declaring herself to be exhausted and disappeared into the bathroom before going for ‘an early night’.

George watched some mindless TV mindlessly before joining her. She was already, apparently, asleep. They slept with their backs to each other taking care to avoid any physical contact.

The following morning Evvie was up early and banging about in the kitchen before she went outside where she found it necessary to rattle some buckets and cans around the terrace.

George went into the little room they used as a study, now restored to its normality, the temporary sink unit removed. The triangular bracing that Tony Tanner had introduced had been screwed on so tightly that George had been forced to cut the thing up to get it out of the room. He switched on their aged computer and waited whilst the wheels he imagined inside the casing ground around

22 noisily and slowly, the screen flickered tantalisingly, several times showing the awaited display before blanking out again.

The early autumn leaves had gathered around the metal bootscraper outside the back door and, as Evvie fetched a brush to sweep the area, she noticed that the black refuse bag that George had, as required by the Local Authority, put out at the end of the drive the previous evening, had been attacked by the local badger population during the night.

Armed with the brush and the added advantage of her Marigolds she went to clear up the mess created by the nocturnal creatures.

There was some chewed up fish and chip paper, probably the attraction, she thought, some bits of roofing felt and a couple of black plastic food trays, then she noticed a Harrods Food Hall bag with the end chewed off, her curiosity was aroused by its presence in their rubbish sack. She had never shopped there and couldn’t think what it was doing slumming it in their rubbish amongst the usual ASDA and Tesco packaging.

She picked up the bag and, to her alarm, out dropped a pair of men’s underpants. She recognised them immediately as George’s as they had the word NEXT embroidered around the elasticated waistband, something that had always amused George, as much as it annoyed her, as if he fantasised over a queue of interested women lining up to enjoy the contents of his pants.

As she picked up the garment, she could not help noticing that they were soiled in a most distinctive manner.

Taken aback she stuffed the debris she had collected back into the refuse sack and, looking furtively around to ensure she had not been observed, tied a knot in the corner of the chewed up Harrods bag and put ‘exhibit one’ back into it.

Not totally sure of her next move, she stood at the gateway and watched as Postman Paul pulled up in his red Post Office van, as she held the offending bag behind her back and took the handful of leaflets that would, as soon as Paul was out of sight, be dropped into the recycling bin, keeping aside a couple of window envelopes that looked like the Credit Card bill and the Road Tax reminder for her car.

‘Beautiful morning Mrs Chisholm‘ was all he said as he jumped back into the van and drove away leaving Evvie, yellow Marigolds holding a knotted Harrods Food Hall bag in one hand and a fistful of post in the other.

It was George’s misfortune that he opened the kitchen door from the inside just as Evvie was about to enter from the outside.

Without uttering a word, she held up the Harrods bag, rather reminiscent of the manner in which Gill had held up his freshly soiled underpants George thought, and raised her eyebrows.

George couldn’t remember the last time he had blushed, probably not since his twenties when he had noisily broken wind in front of a vicar’s wife whilst lifting her shopping out of her car.

‘What the hell is this George?’ Evvie asked accusingly.

23 ‘Oh..ah, bit of an accident’ he spluttered.

‘Accident?’

‘Yes’ he offered nothing further.

‘George, this sort of thing doesn’t happen accidentally, spontaneously, what have you been up to?’

George, during his life, had never been particularly secretive or devious, he’d had no reason to be. He’d had no experience of needing to spin tales or offer plausible excuses, so he said ‘It was at the allotment.’

‘What was at the allotment George?’ Evvie had never used his name in a conversation, if that what this exchange was, so often, she was beginning to enjoy the opportunity of deflecting attention away from her own indiscretions.

‘The accident’ he offered lamely.

‘I think I deserve a better explanation than that, have you got a grubby magazine up there?’ Evvie knew that George was unable to even find a bus timetable on the internet so he would have been unlikely to have found any pornography from that source.

Evvie, seeing George’s desolation, decided to take a more conciliatory attitude and said ‘Perhaps we should talk about this over a cup of tea’ she was in charge of the situation ‘and then you can explain all about it.’

Never, in the whole of George’s life, had a cup of tea taken so long to prepare.

The filling of the kettle, the boiling with its vicious hissing. The collection of the mugs, the tea bags, milk, sugar, the kettle boiled on – he hoped it would never stop.

All the while he avoided eye contact with Evvie.

She pointed to the end chair and he, the naughty little schoolboy, obediently sat down.

‘Well?’ said teacher.

George was unprepared for, and inept in, deceit and therefore told Evvie exactly what had happened.

‘You must have encouraged her in some way’

‘God, no’

‘Did you enjoy it?’

‘No’

‘But you must have been complicit’

‘I wasn’t; I didn’t do anything. I was shocked’

24 ‘So why didn’t you tell her to stop or move away?’

‘I don’t know. It would have seemed impolite’

‘IMPOLITE! George she was holding your cock for God’s sake. IMPOLITE?’

‘Yes, well I just couldn’t, it seemed out of my control.’

‘So you let her molest you?’

‘Well I suppose you could say that’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know’ the words wouldn’t come to him, he wanted to explain but the words weren’t there.

‘So you must have been complicit’

‘NO’

‘Well then it was sexual assault.’

‘No, of course it wasn’t’

‘It must have been. If you didn’t want her to do it, she assaulted you’

‘Not really’ this was getting out of hand; better not say that, he thought.

‘George, if you had done something like that to her, unasked, without her consent, she would have a perfectly legitimate case to claim you assaulted her’

‘I suppose so, but I didn’t’

‘Of course she would’

‘It didn’t seem like that’. He wanted to say that it was as if she liked him and felt sorry for him, but he couldn’t say it.

‘So you were complicit’

‘No’

‘George’ there she was repeating his name again ‘I think you should report this’

‘What? To the Police? I couldn’t do that’

‘Why not?’

‘It wouldn’t seem right to do that’

‘George you say this woman stuck her hand down the front of your trousers without any encouragement from you. If that isn’t sexual assault, I don’t know what is!’

‘But it was friendly’

25 ‘FRIENDLY, I’ll say it was bloody friendly’

‘You must have encouraged her, no woman does that’

‘I didn’t’

‘Then she assaulted you’

‘No’ George wondered if the only way out of this was to say that he did offer encouragement, but he hadn’t, its true he didn’t try to stop her but, to his knowledge, he’d done nothing to encourage the action.

‘George, if you don’t report this I will’

George studied the pattern on his untouched mug of tea. The tea was an unnecessary element in the reasons for Evvie to have sat him down for this interrogation. The flower pattern on the mug was delicate, probably a transfer but it looked hand painted, he’d never looked at it properly before.

‘I think we should just leave it’ he said, trying to regain some initiative in the conversation.

‘What? I go away to visit my sister and some tart, some predatory woman’ The Predator thought George, hearing Jim’s voice, ‘sticks her hand down your trousers and you say I think we should just leave it, do me a favour George’

To his temporary relief the telephone rang, Evvie grabbed the receiver ‘Hello’ she said in a voice that betrayed not a hint of the emotion that swamped the room.

‘Oh hello Peaches. I’m fine, and you? Evvie smiled at the plastic receiver, the facial expression conveyed itself into the tone of her voice ‘Oh good’.

‘Yes he’s here, where else? What? Tony Tanner! When? At his caravan? Where’s that? No we hadn’t heard. Was it fatal? Oh. Thanks for letting us know. Perhaps you could let us know if you hear any more news. Oh, ok, yes I’ll tell him. Yes it is a shock; I wouldn’t think he’s much more than about forty five or fifty at the most. Well I wouldn’t put it quite like that but he is a bit overweight. I wouldn’t know about that but it is a shame whatever. Thanks Peaches, yes, see you soon. Bye’ she replaced the receiver into the slot.

‘Tony Tanner’s had a heart attack or something like that’ she said ‘down at his caravan in Devon or Dorset, Peaches wasn’t quite sure. Did we owe him any money?’

‘No we paid in full’

‘Oh that’s good’

‘He’s not necessarily dead then by the sound of it?’ Evvie did not need George’s speculation on Tony’s survival, it was dreadful but she was wishing a man dead. She was sure he had died.

It was quiet, neither of them spoke.

Evvie’s conscience was jolted, she had been reminded that the high ground she had been occupying was just a pile of loose sand. She also hadn’t had it confirmed that Tony was dead.

26 ‘Just think about what I said’ she said as she left George sitting in the kitchen thinking that what Gill had told him couldn’t possibly have been correct and that he’d been quite wrong ever to have suspected that Evvie’s evasive attitude had been anything other than irritation at having to return to live with him after a few days of liberation and shared confidences with Nora.

C8

Evvie was vacuuming the ground floor of the house, angrily.

It was clear to George that after the traumas of yesterday’s exchanges there was going to be a period of difficult and unpleasant hostility. He decided to take the weekend’s newspaper supplements’ over to their garden room to read quietly and, perhaps, more importantly, be out of Evvie’s way and have time to think through what had happened, what had been said and why these things had happened.

He felt shamed by what had happened to him and that he should have ever doubted Evvie’s fidelity.

The garden room was an open fronted, clear plastic roofed stone building that had at one time been an old agricultural store, an estate agent may have called it a barn but that was too grand a description for the slightly scruffy little building. He and Evvie used it as an outdoor eating or reading area, it was away from the house and had a good outlook over a section of garden that was not visible from the house.

When he arrived there he saw that Evvie had spread their onion crop over the floor to dry, in addition, because it had been a dry summer, the leaves were falling from the trees quite early and a lot of them had blown into the building. George went to the greenhouse and found a couple of bags into which to put the onions, after he’d done that he fetched a brush and swept the concrete floor. He generated quite a pile of sweepings and decided to collect the wheelbarrow from the top of the garden where it lived, alongside the compost heap. Whilst he was there he noticed that some brambles were shooting down from the adjoining yard that bounded their garden at this point and rooting themselves along the edge of the wall.

Returning to the garden room with the wheelbarrow he collected up the pile of debris he had accumulated, this left a pile of dust and small detritus on the floor. He went back to the greenhouse, collected a shovel and a pair of shears.

Around the garden room entrance a honeysuckle had bushed up and was restricting the entrance, he trimmed this back with the shears and added the cut ends as well as the little heap of dust to his wheelbarrow load. Having the brush to hand he swept the paved yard area in front of the garden room and observed that the weeds were pushing through the joints between the stone, as they always did during the summer months.

27 It was a beautiful sunny morning, ideal weather to spray the weeds with the mix kept in the red topped sprayer thought George, it was useless trying to pull the things up, they broke off at ground level and grew again as soon as the next storm came. So he fetched the sprayer and carefully sprayed over the weeds in the cracks.

George realised he was busying himself trying to avoid the reality of the most difficult situation in which he had ever found himself.

He returned the tools he had been using to the greenhouse and shed and took the laden wheelbarrow up to the compost heap. Once he got there he realised he needed the shears again as well as his step ladder and a garden fork. He went back to the shed and collected the various implements; the activity prevented him from concentrating on his dilemma. Back at the top of the garden he cut off the offending brambles, as high as he could safely manage from the step ladder and dug out the ends where they were lightly rooting along the base of the wall.

Inevitably the brambles were thorny and more than he could manage with his bare hands, so he walked back to the greenhouse and collected a pair of heavy duty garden gloves, returning to uproot and cut the brambles into manageable lengths all the while catching them in his shirt pulling some ends of cotton out of the weave.

He cleared up the area and took the wheelbarrow to the place where they lit their bonfire. The lilac that overhung this spot had, during the summer, grown and was hanging, inconveniently, over the rusted bin that they used to contain the bonfire.

George tried cutting the lilac with the shears but the stems were too thick so he returned to the shed and found his pruning saw, all the while his mind kept returning to the incident in the allotment shed and Evvie’s behaviour since her return from her sister’s.

Managing to cut some branches of the lilac away he saw that a section of the beech hedge which adjoined the lilac had been overlooked when it was trimmed during the previous month, it was too high to cut using his small step ladder so he collected his larger, hedge cutting one, from the shed and erected it to give safe access to the errant length of hedging. However, he found that the ends were some way beyond his reach.

Not wishing to leave the job half finished, and still trying to keep his mind away from the dreadful situation in which he had either been landed or into which he had landed himself, he fetched his extended hedge trimmer and the extension lead and returned to the house to plug the lead into the socket of the outside utility room they used for the garden implements. He could hear that Evvie’s angry vacuum cleaning was continuing.

As he reeled out the extension lead he recalled why this section of hedge had been overlooked – his extension lead did not reach that far.

Back in the utility room George unplugged the freezer and inserted a further extension lead into the socket, he returned to the garden where he had just sufficient length of lead to reach the uncut hedge.

28 It didn’t take long to trim the scruffy untended piece of hedgerow; he tidied up the bits, undecided whether to put them with the compost or add them to the bonfire pile.

Methodically he unplugged the hedge trimmer and returned it to the shed, he reeled up the extension leads and replaced the freezer cable into its socket. There was no noise from the house; he assumed Evvie had finished the vacuum cleaning.

George went back into the garden, put the collection of tools into the wheelbarrow and transported them back to their usual locations in the tool shed.

Finally, he closed the door of the tool shed and returned the wheelbarrow to its resting place at the top of the garden. He stood back and admired his handiwork.

George looked at his watch; he had to be out in half an hour. He collected up the newspapers, still, like the previous week’s supplements, unread, and ventured back into the house.

Evvie was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and eating a macaroon, wondering how she could find out about Tony’s condition without drawing particular attention to her enquiries.

‘I suppose you’ve been reading the newspaper’ she grumbled ‘look at your shirt, its ruined’

He went upstairs, changed and simply uttered the word ‘Dentist’ as he left the kitchen.

It wasn’t until the following day that Evvie discovered that George had not switched the freezer back on.

C9

‘I can’t believe it’ Peaches was saying ‘he wasn’t that old either. I should guess he was late forties or fifty. Although he was overweight he was always active and really quite a fit man’

Peaches Paradise and Evvie were sat in the conservatory that Tony Tanner had so recently constructed.

Evvie had taken some partially frozen food around as a contrived reason to visit Peaches in the hope she’d have the full story of Tony’s condition. The scheme had worked and, to her shame, she’d been relieved when Peaches had told her that she had heard Tony was indeed dead.

‘He probably had high chloresterol, clogged up arteries’ Evvie suggested ‘he had a very sweet tooth. He ate our weekly supply of shortbread in one sitting when he visited our house’

29 ‘Well it certainly didn’t affect his libido’ Peaches leant forward and spoke in a low, conspiratorial voice, even though they were the only two people in the house, the colours on her eyelids vivid in the bright light of her glazed sanctuary.

‘How do you mean?’ asked Evvie trying to disguise her jealousy.

‘He asked me to sneak a couple of days away with him down at his caravan. He told me to tell David I was off visiting a friend or something and that he and I could have a good old time down there together’ Peaches explained ‘I have to admit I was a bit tempted, he was very charming and quite good looking in a Latin sort of way.’

‘Goodness’ Evvie found herself feeling rather annoyed, had she been a second choice or did Tony ask every client to go off for a weekend with him? Either way it didn’t make for very comfortable listening, she was beginning to feel less bad about being relieved that Tony had popped his clogs.

What had Tony seen in Peaches? Tony had said, whilst they were having coffee at Evvie’s house one day, during the time their building work was being carried out, that he thought that Peaches spent only one third living because one third of her life was spent in bed and the other third was spent applying make- up. She reminded him of Fenella Fielding, the actress, he had said.

It was true, Evvie thought, that Peaches was rather heavy on the make-up and that she did resemble the actress when she had been in her pomp. She remembered that she had called on Peaches unexpectedly one day and Peaches had answered the door with one eye completely made up and the other untouched, presumably that was the system she employed. It had been a most bizarre experience to see, as it were, the two sides of her friend on one face.

But now she was telling Evvie that Tony, Evvie’s lover, albeit briefly, her late lover, had propositioned Peaches before he had, successfully, seduced her. It was lucky for him he was dead she thought and it certainly removed any semblance of romance from the whole sad episode, even if any had existed in the first place.

‘Why didn’t you go?’ Evvie asked, she thought she should say something in response to this unwelcome information.

‘Oh I’d be terrified David would find out, he’s very astute you know. I think he knew Tony fancied me. He called him Tubby Tanner, I think it made him a bit jealous. Not a bad thing really, got to keep them on their toes otherwise they’d just take you for granted.’

Evvie wondered if George took her for granted and what he would do, or say, if he ever discovered she’d been unfaithful. It was interesting, she thought, that there was no mention of immorality in Peaches’s reasoning for not going away with Tony, only the fear of being found out. Perhaps what she, Evvie, had done wouldn’t be regarded as so terrible by some of her friends as she had feared, if they ever discovered her infidelity. Maybe they’d just say ‘Bad luck old girl, you got found out.’

‘Did he ever make any advances to you?’ Peaches suddenly sprang the question onto Evvie.

‘Oh. No. I wouldn’t have encouraged him’ Evvie spluttered.

30 ‘I didn’t encourage him darling’ Peaches snapped, obviously annoyed that Evvie thought she had generated an approach ‘I think he just found me attractive. I take my appearance very seriously’ she added and, at the same time, inferring that Evvie didn’t take enough care of her’s.

As if I hadn’t noticed, Evvie wanted to say. She wanted to tell Peaches what Tony had said about her only having one third of her time for living and that he had indeed propositioned her and that she’d had more nerve than Peaches because she’d gone away with Tony.

‘There’s a rumour that he had a woman with him when he dropped dead and that she disappeared, didn’t even stay to help him’ Peaches went on ‘I wonder who that could have been, chances are she was from around here.’

‘Where did you hear that?’ Evvie was shocked, how could that information have got as far as here.

‘Oh Gill Rainsbury heard it, you know her son Pete worked for his father.’

‘His father?’ Evvie was confused.

‘Yes. Didn’t you know? Well obviously you didn’t. Pete was the result of a love affair between Gill and Tony ‘til she dumped him’ Peaches seemed surprised that this was news to Evvie.

‘I didn’t even know that Pete was Gill’s son, leave alone that Tony Tanner was his father. You do mean Pete the tallish lad who worked at our place?’ Evvie was furtively trying to put the pieces of the jigsaw into place.

‘Yes. You don’t seem to know much about any of it’ Peaches said, somewhat scornful that Evvie didn’t keep up to date with village inter relationships ‘you ought to get out more. Haven’t you ever noticed the resemblance? Pete looks a lot like Tony, quite handsome really’ Peaches said, dreamily, then added ‘Apparently the police called on Pete asking him if he had any idea who the woman was.’

Evvie felt colour rising in her pale skin. She picked up her cup and saucer and took it to the table hoping that Peaches wouldn’t notice that she was leaning onto it for support.

So the awful, wretched Gill Rainsbury, with whom her husband had had some sort of dalliance in an allotment shed, was a former girlfriend of the man she’d been away with whilst whatever it was that went on in the shed went on. And now the police were looking for a woman who’d been reported as having been with Tony when he died. How much did this dreadful Rainsbury woman and her clumsy son know? Did Tony ever confide in his son, boast of his conquests in the hope that this information would get back to the boy’s mother who had evidently ‘dumped’ him?

Fortunately for Evvie, Peaches was now on a roll and unaware of her faintness ‘Anyhow the police are investigating why the woman disappeared, I think there’s going to be a post mortem to see if there are any suspicious circumstances.’

Evvie was finding it difficult to breathe. Would they discover a belly full of shortbread and trace it back to her?

‘Are you alright darling? Peaches asked suddenly aware that Evvie was clinging onto the table, the colour that had risen in her face now replaced by an ashen hue.

31 ‘Yes. Yes, I think I stood up a bit too quickly’ said Evvie

‘Take more water with it darling. Probably low blood pressure. Apparently on the Continent they take low blood pressure very seriously, not like here, everyone trying to get their blood pressure down, taking statins and all manner of stuff. You’d think that now we’re in the Common Market …’ Peaches continued her bland conversation oblivious that Evvie was not listening and incognisant of the cause of Evvie’s discomfort ‘…..Anyhow I’m going to have to throw you out dear, I’ve got a hair appointment and you can never park anywhere in Kingsham these days.’

Evvie went out of the neat Georgian house and got into her car, not noticing that she had driven over some nasturtiums that had grown out over the side of the driveway and had looked, until that moment, quite attractive, in her haste to be away.

After Evvie had left Peaches put the food that she had brought into her waste bin.

C10

The smell of tetrachloroethylene that hit George’s olfactory senses as he entered the rear door of his shop always reminded George of his youth and it took his mind off his bad stomach that had been caused by him being fed food which Evvie had ‘rescued’ from the deep freezer.

George had inherited Chisholm’s Dry Cleaning business from his father who had died somewhat prematurely quite soon after his wife, George’s mother, had died of breast cancer. His father died not of a broken heart, as one might imagine having met his end so soon after his beloved wife’s, but of a broken neck in circumstances that, had they not been so tragic, were approaching farce. His body had been discovered on a landfill site at the edge of town. At first it was assumed some sort of foul play was involved but the story that eventually unfolded was totally innocent:

George senior had been carrying out a repair to the chimney stack on the Masterton shop. A scaffold had been erected in the rear yard to afford safe access but George senior needed to continue the pointing across the front of the brick stack, beyond the position where the scaffold terminated so, rather than delaying the project and applying for a licence to close the pavement at the front, he had, early one morning ventured around to the front roof slope armed with a trowel and a dollop of mortar on a piece of board where, it was concluded, he had lost his footing. The Coroner had accepted the story the police had managed to put together of his father’s fate from thereon, in that he had skidded or slipped, unseen by anyone, including the unfortunate lorry driver, a wide eyed man of eastern European origin who was, for a short time arrested on suspicion of trying to dispose of a body, and had skidded down the front slope of the roof tumbling off the eaves and continuing his trajectory into a metal skip full of garden waste that was on the back of the vehicle being driven past the shop at that moment on its way to the tip at the edge of the town. Had he simply landed straight into the skip he may well have survived, with the impact of his fall being absorbed by the soft vegetation aboard. But instead, it appeared he had hit his neck on one of the hydraulic arms that lift the skips onto the back of the lorries and then had disappeared, enveloped into the vegetable matter which was, only a little later, deposited onto the gull and rat infested council landfill site.

32 It wasn’t until later in the day, when Sheila Farrell, the shop manager, had become suspicious, that he was missed and, even then, it was assumed he had gone to the builders merchant’s or somewhere like that. Meanwhile a corpse without any means of identification had been discovered at the tip and it was over twelve hours from the time of his fall before he was identified and over a week before the investigations regarding the circumstances of his unusual death was established and the unfortunate lorry driver freed on police bail.

With the business that George had inherited had come several long term employees and Sheila Farrell, was one such.

Sheila had known George since he was a boy and, although she was not that much older than he, had been protective, almost maternal, towards him. She had seen him grow from a shy little lad who occasionally turned up with his father into a callow and awkward youth who assisted in his father’s shops covering for staff illnesses and holidays and through to a wholly unprepared young man who had inherited the business and had to cope with, not only the death of his mother, but the strange and sudden departure from this earth of his father.

George had been ill equipped to run the business when his father had died as his father had never relinquished any responsibilities to his son, treating him only as a relatively poorly rewarded member of staff. In fact upon his father’s demise he discovered he was being paid much less than Sheila and a couple of other of the managers.

As a result of this state of affairs the business had faltered in its previous success and progress in the early days of his governance with only three of the shops, the ones which had the benefit of longer standing managers insitu, continuing in profit.

In consequence, over the subsequent years, George had either closed or sold the other shops but nevertheless enjoyed a comfortable, if not spectacular, and fairly stress-free living.

The remaining three shops were now run on a profit sharing basis with the incumbent managers and, as a result, had continued with modest success.

George was making one of his relatively infrequent visits to the Masterton shop to ensure all was well.

‘Hi Sheila’ he called. It had been several years before he found himself able to call Sheila anything other than Mrs Farrell and he still didn’t feel as if he had full ownership of the premises although the Land Registry entry would state otherwise. It was one of the reasons he didn’t visit more frequently, he felt slightly ill at ease, as if he were intruding on someone else’s territory.

‘Hello George’ Sheila was nearing retirement age but she retained her neat, trim figure along with her youthful personality, she beamed broadly at her diffident employer as she came into the workshop from the small customer area at the front of the shop.

They exchanged pleasantries and George had a conversation with Larry, Sheila’s nephew, who had been recruited with the intention of taking on responsibility from Sheila when she retired. George realised this family arrangement left him vulnerable to exploitation but had, correctly as it happened, assessed that Sheila’s honesty and integrity would never have allowed her to take

33 advantage of the Chisholm’s who had always been good and fair employers, although she’d never really been that keen on Evvie. George was aware that Sheila had thought Evvie had married him for his comparative wealth.

Larry, Sheila had explained to George, might not have the greatest brain, but he was honest, hardworking and played the piano very well, not that George considered that this was a particularly useful skill for running a dry cleaners. George was fairly certain that Larry was gay and that was not a disadvantage in this particular business.

George felt more assured dealing with Larry, as he had employed him and not, as it were, inherited him. The young man was personable, if a little camp, and dealt with customers well. It was a situation that suited all the parties.

‘Did you know that Tony Tanner’s dead?’ Sheila’s question took George by surprise.

‘Well I’d heard he’d had a heart attack or something’ George replied ‘did you know him?’

‘Oh Vera, my cousin, worked for him for years’ Sheila explained ‘did his books and some cleaning before it all got a bit too much for her.’

‘I didn’t realise that’ George wondered how many other people Sheila knew who had entered what he considered to be his private life, away from his business ‘he was at his caravan wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, he often went down there, it seemed to Vera that he spent half his waking hours either down there or fishing.’

‘Do you know any other details?’ George was hoping Sheila could shed a little more light on Tony’s activities but was anxious not to appear too interested.

‘Not really, although Vera did say something about him being with a woman who disappeared as soon as he dropped dead. But I don’t think anyone would be surprised at that, he was a bit of a one’ Sheila laughed ‘Vera said that you couldn’t help but like him. He was always fair to her but she was finding the book keeping too much for her these days, even after she stopped cleaning for him.’

George was keen to pursue more details about Tony rather than Vera ‘What do you mean a bit of a one ?’.

‘Oh, you know, carrying on with women’. George thought he was beginning to know. Sheila looked a little coy ‘He was a bit of a charmer. I met him a couple of times; I could see why women liked him.’

‘He did some work on our kitchen’ George told Sheila, unnecessarily as it happened.

‘I know, Vera told me. He liked your wife’s shortbread.’

‘Ah, he would’ George had to admit that Evvie made a mean shortbread but wondered if that was all she gave him ‘ he put down a concrete base for a shed at the Mencap allotment, wouldn’t take any money for it. It was very generous.’

‘Oh he was like that, do anything for anybody’ she replied.

34 This was not quite what George wanted to hear, so he said ‘Would he?’

On the drive back home George resolved to get to the bottom of his wife’s and Tony’s relationship.

C11

It had been relatively easy for George to find the caravan site.

George didn’t ‘do’ SatNav’s but used his trusty old AA road map book, it was a few years out of date but ne reasoned it was a few years since any new roads had been built either, as far as he was concerned it was adequate for the job.

There was only one caravan site of any consequence in the village, it was well signposted and unimaginatively named ‘Seaview Caravan Park’ this was rather misleading as the site was set below a ridge that actually prevented sight of the sea from the park itself.

He parked his car and went into the reception hut, with some trepidation, after all he had never before played the role of an undercover detective, he approached the reception desk that was, inevitably, behind a small pane of sliding glass set too low in a wall that displayed leaflets extolling the virtues of the local attractions; steam engines, gardens, water slides and the like. A radio was playing Abba’s Dancing Queen somewhere in the background.

An attractive girl who vaguely resembled one of the women who presented the weather forecast on the TV smiled at him and slid the glass panel back.

He explained that he was an executor of the late Tony Tanner’s Will and had she heard of his untimely death and that he understood Mr Tanner had a caravan on this site and could he look at it as it had to be valued.

‘Yes’ the weather girl replied ‘shocking. Died at the Pub, it was a dreadful shock. It was quite a scandal around here; he was with a woman who disappeared the instant he died, no one saw her go’

‘So I understand’ George was not good at lying but thought he’d made a good job of that one ‘do you know if she stayed here with him?’ he was getting into the swing of things.

‘No. No-one’s quite sure. We don’t have a camera on the site, we’ve got one here in the office but the caravan owners don’t often need to come in here.’

George looked up. Sure enough there was the ubiquitous little lens up on the top corner of the partition pointing down directly at him, he quickly looked away. Damn, he thought, now his presence had been recorded.

He thought about Evvie and speculated on the reasons why Evvie would have come here with Tony.

‘What’s your name?’ the weather girl asked shaking him from his trance.

‘Sex’ he said, unthinkingly.

35 ‘I beg your pardon?’ the weather girls face had suddenly transformed into that of the awful woman who presented one of those stupid TV consumer programmes.

‘Sax’ he spluttered ‘as in saxophone’ oh thank you Bill Landsbury he thought, I’ll never complain if you get the wrong instrument again.

There was a trilling sound from within the office.

‘Tom’s phone’ the weather girl said to someone out of George’s sight.

‘No saxophone, not trombone’ he asserted. My God thought George, does she know my real name, how would she know that, he coloured up.

‘No. I was telling Cyn here that Tom’s phone was ringing Mr Sax’ the girl explained. ‘That’s useful, you’re an executor of Tony’s Will are you?’ she went on.

‘Yes’ he felt sure she could tell he was not telling the truth, he was still blushing.

‘He was overdue with his rent and for winter storage. I’ve got the letter here, save me posting it.’ She handed him an A4 sheet with OVERDUE written in red capital letters across the top, he saw the figure of seven hundred and sixty pounds written across the bottom.

‘Ok – yes – right – um, I’ll get that sorted. Thanks’ he mumbled. She smiled sweetly back at him. ‘Trombone’ she repeated, laughing.

‘I’ll get Tom to take you over, I expect you’d like to look around, just wait there a minute.’ She stood up and he heard her go out of a back door.

George stood carefully so as his face wasn’t in view of the camera, this involved him staring at a door marked ‘Ladies’ with a wooden cut-out figure of a little flouncy dress stuck onto the door just below it.

After what seemed an age he heard a flush go and the some water running followed by a blast of a hand dryer.

The door opened and out walked the weather girl shaking dripping water from her hands ‘Never work those things do they?’ she said brightly then went out of the front door and hollered ‘Tom’ in a most un-weather girl type of voice.

He waited looking at the door out of which the girl had disappeared.

‘He’s just coming Mr Sax. Trombone indeed’ her voice coming from behind him made George jump, the weather girl, resuming both her previous position at the desk and her receptionist’s voice called to him from her little hatch. It looked exactly as if she was on TV, he was surprised not to see a map of the United Kingdom behind her. She slammed the glass panel shut smiling at him through the glass.

‘Mr Sax?’ a young man with close cropped hair bounced through the door making George jump again, he was becoming a nervous wreck. ‘Follow me’ he instructed and George obediently followed but not before smiling back at the weather girl’s screen, she wasn’t there.

36 ‘I’m Tom’ the boy explained, George, special investigator, had worked that one out. They walked up through the site, George at a slight trot necessary to keep up with the briskly striding young man.

‘Are you related to Tony?’ the boy asked.

‘Well, in a manner of speaking, you might say’ George stalled for time, he hadn’t thought this one through, ‘Second cousins, or something like that’ he volunteered, thinking that might be too complicated a relationship for Tom to be bothered to unravel.

‘Never quite got that second cousin bit’ he replied to George’s relief.

‘Me neither’ said George hoping that would close the matter.

‘Bit of a one, Tony’ the lad went on.

‘Really? Tony?’

‘Not ‘alf’ Tom continued ‘always down here with different women he was’ the boy sounded envious ‘not surprised he dropped dead, I reckon he couldn’t keep up the pace’ he added oblivious to Tony’s second cousin’s sensitivities.

‘Was he with anyone the weekend he died?’ George enquired, tentatively.

‘Spec so, there was a rumour she did a bunk soon as he dropped dead. Spec she was married.’

Spec she was, thought George.

They reached the caravan. It was a pale blue and cream one with the number sixty nine in chrome plated figures screwed alongside the door.

‘Always made him laugh, that’ the boy pointed to the numbers ‘said ‘that’s my number’’

George paled and felt quite weak.

Tom went up the metal steps to the door, the steps rocked slightly ‘Reckon the police have moved these’ he said as he emphasised the rocking motion.

‘Police?’ said George.

‘Yes. Dint you know? They was crawlin’ all over it’ the lad asserted ‘lookin’ to see if a crime had been committed they said.’

‘I see’ said George, although he didn’t.

They went into the caravan.

George looked around. It looked like every other static caravan he had ever been in. Did caravan designers ever have any original thoughts, he wondered.

It was fairly unremarkable, an unwashed mug and a plate with some cutlery were on the draining board. An old anorak was hung on a coat hook, some fishing magazines were scattered on the seating, it was obviously not a new caravan.

37 He took a deep breath and looked into the bedroom, the bed was unmade but didn’t show any indications of excessive activity. He tried to get the thought of the caravan’s number out of his head and looked into a wardrobe, it had a few items of men’s clothing hung up and a large pair of boots on the floor.

‘What’s it worth?’ asked George, trying to sound like an executor of a Will.

‘Dunno, I think the one opposite sold for about twenty five grand at the start of the season, but that’s a Bailey and it’s much newer than this. They’d’ve made him replace this next year or the one after. This one’d probably fetch about fifteen I’d guess, but best ask Marg.’

‘Marg?’

‘’Yeh, the girl in the office, the one who called me, her sister’s on the telly you know. She does a consumer programme or something’

‘Really?’ said George ‘I wouldn’t have guessed. Thank you, I will, thanks Tom, you’ve been most helpful’

‘Spleasure’ Tom grinned.

George’s next call was the Pub. It was quite early and very quiet, he entered the bar and blinked as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. A tape was playing Van Morrison’s Bright side of the Road.

‘Do you do coffee?’ he enquired of a vaguely human shaped form moving around in the gloom behind the bar.

‘Sure do squire’ not another landlord who calls you squire thought George, what is it with landlords? ‘How do you like it?’ he continued unaware of his client’s slight irritation.

‘Just ordinary white please’ said George thinking that perhaps an undercover agent might have something more exotic, but most things George did, ate or drank were ordinary, maybe, he speculated, that was why Evvie had embarked on this unlikely affair. He could see now that the person behind the bar was an overweight, pale, balding man probably in his fifties, the buttons on his shirt were under some stress, the vertical stripes on the shirt material wavered as they endeavoured to retain rather too much flesh before they disappeared behind a wide leather belt.

‘Are you the landlord?’ undercover agent George asked.

‘Who’s asking?’

‘I’m an executor of the Will of a man who apparently died here recently’ George offered.

‘You mean Tony Tanner. An executor eh? That’s handy then you can pay me for the drinks he had and the food he ordered that he didn’t pay for. Take it out of the estate eh?’

George was beginning to wonder if masquerading as an executor of Tony’s Will had been such a good idea, he had only been here for an hour and already he’d collected two bills.

38 The landlord disappeared, when he re-appeared he had a tray with a cafetiere of good smelling coffee, a cup and saucer, a small stainless steel jug of milk, two phials of sugar and a folded piece of paper beneath a malted caramel complimentary biscuit in a cellophane wrapper.

‘The bill’s there with it, twenty two pounds ’ he said as he presented George with the tray and indicating the folded paper.

‘What for a cup of coffee?’ said George incredulously.

‘No the coffee’s only three pounds fifty, the rest is Tanner’s bill. It’s all there on that’ he pointed to the folded invoice under the biscuit. ‘You’re lucky I’m not charging you for loss of trade and damage caused’ he added. ‘It ruined trade that day. I had to refund customers whose meals had been spoilt, repair the lawn, buy a new flower tub and a cast iron table. I reckon the whole shambles cost me four or five hundred quid.’

‘Why, what happened?’ asked George intrigued as to how a man’s sudden death could involve spoilt meals and the necessity of the purchase of flower tubs and tables.

‘Don’t you know? I thought you said you were executor of his Will’ asked the landlord.

‘’Well…. I am but nobody’s told us how it happened’ explained a slightly flustered George.

‘You ask Watto’ said the landlord ‘he’ll be in soon ‘he’s really ex-Commander Bailey, although he probably wouldn’t know one end of a boat from the other. Admiralty’ he added slightly disdainfully ‘you know, desk job. You can’t miss him, wears a cravat and will have a golden Labrador, always sits under the veranda.’

George went back out into the sunshine. The late summer sunshine had continued and the ground was warm, the lawn was faded except for a long straight stripe and a series of circular spots which were all bright green. He sat down at a table and, after carefully pushing down the plunger of the catetiere, poured his coffee.

He unfolded the bill that the landlord had presented him with.

1 pt Dev £3.50

W/w Spritz £4.00

2 crab s/wich £11.00

Coff £3.50

Total £22.00

White wine spritzer thought George, Evvie’s usual tipple and she loved any form of seafood, so the crab sandwiches would have been right up her street.

Whilst he reflected on the evidence he was collecting an immaculately dressed man in a white shirt, blue cravat and fawn trousers that sported a sharp crease down the front arrived and tied a golden labrador’s leash to a shiny metal ring screwed onto one of the posts that supported the veranda. The

39 man then went into the Pub, as soon as he re-appeared, setting down his drink, a pint of Guinness by the look of it thought George, and before he unfolded the newspaper that he had been carrying underneath his arm, George approached him and asked ‘Excuse me, are you Commander Bailey?’

‘That’s me old boy’ the man replied ‘what can I do for you, What, ho?’

George explained that he was a cousin of Tony Tanner, he was becoming a closer relative by the minute, the person who had died here a couple of weeks ago and that the family were just trying to sort out what had happened as the police had not been particularly forthcoming with the results of their enquiries and that the landlord had suggested that he, Commander Bailey, might be able to help him.

‘What we are most interested in’ George explained ‘is the person my cousin was with when he came here.’

‘Not surprised old boy, what, ho. Disappeared like the proverbial, what? Ho? Left her drink as well as the corpse. Must have dived off around the back of the lavs’ he pointed to the likely escape route.

‘Do you remember what she looked like?’ asked George, pleased with his progress so far.

‘Quite attractive, middle forties probably, but up together, would have probably given it a shot myself a few years ago, what? Ho?’

George was beginning to understand why the former Commander was called Watto.

‘Was she slim?’

‘I’ll say so, petite, I’d say old boy. Neat little figure if you know what I mean, what? Ho. Curly hair, bit frizzy, look good on a pillow what? Ho. Probably a carrot top when she was younger, you know, pale, freckles and all that……..hmmm’ Watto’s eyes glazed over slightly as he looked out into the distance as if expecting a younger version of Evvie to appear over George’s right shoulder.

It seemed to George that as the man had been describing the woman, who almost certainly was Evvie, he had generated some rather pleasant, distant memory.

‘How was she dressed?’

‘’Who? Oh, yes. the floozy you mean? Blouse, buttons, those short tight legging things the women wear these days. You know? What? Ho.’

‘Why did you call her a floozy?’ George asked, unnecessarily.

‘Well, old boy, I reckon she shouldn’t have been there with him. Why else would she have bolted like that, eh? You tell me. Married woman I’d say, what? Ho. Panicked, buggered off when the going got tough, sharpish, pronto, what? Ho.’

George was beginning to get a bit fed up with Watto’s what ho’s but wasn’t sure if he’d asked all the relevant questions.

40 ‘Is there anything else you remember?’ George ventured, hoping Watto would fill in any uncovered ground.

‘Not really old boy. She did mention Gruff here’ he indicated his dog, now lying semi comatose , probably bored as most of his master’s other listeners must become, it occurred to George ‘ said he was unusual, bloody odd, everyone’s got a bloody lab around here, buy one get one free eh? What? Ho.’

Watto took a sip of his Guinness; the froth took the place of a white moustache the man should have sported. If George had been writing a novel he would have described the man as being straight out of central casting. A snake-like tongue flashed out and licked away the false moustache. Watto smoothed down his already flattened, greased hair and reached out towards his unfolded newspaper.

Realising his audience was over George said ‘Oh….. yes.. thank you, you’ve been most helpful’

‘Best of luck old boy, what? Ho.’

George left the fake mariner to his Guinness and Daily Telegraph, he collected up his tray and went back into the bar to pay, not only for his own coffee but, what he was now convinced, for his wife’s and her dead lover’s drinks and uneaten food.

He came back out into the bright day and as he walked back up the lane which, quite recently, would have seen his wife hurrying along in very different circumstances, he noticed a wooden sign which simply read ‘Coast’. He climbed over a stile, to which the sign was attached, and followed a bare earth path which wound around between nettled hedgerows, up out of the valley and down, through some sparse tamarisk trees onto the coast path, behind the former coastguard cottages, now, according to the sign, holiday homes, and onto a winding path which took him to a long pebble beach where he sat down and looked at the relentless lazy waves folding in an almost regular rhythm against the steep pebble bank . He put his head into his hands and wondered what he was going to do with the information which he had gathered this morning, information which he almost wished had not been so conclusive.

‘

41 C12

Evvie busied herself clearing up one of the herbaceous borders. She’d fetched the wheelbarrow from the top of the garden and was cutting down some of the longer, straggly plants that had finished flowering and were making the border appear very untidy. The plants had had their moment and were being prepared for a new beginning, cutting away the old to make way for the new, they were perpetual, so was she.

She realised that by stumbling upon the evidence of George’s misdemeanour she had successfully diverted attention away from her own illicit and immoral activities about which, curiously, she did not feel any particular remorse. She knew she should and she realised she was reconciling any of her own guilt against, what she had convinced herself was George’s own unforgivable action.

During that short period with Tony at his caravan she had experienced a freedom long forgotten, a realisation of her own individuality and that her life didn’t need to be how it was. It was both exciting and frightening.

Her thoughts were all concerned with protecting her own position and did not involve contrition regarding her actions. She could admit to herself that, in the eyes of the casual observer, she had been a bad wife, she had slept, not that there had been much sleeping, with another man, however she couldn’t remember the last time she and George had even had a cuddle, leave alone made love. Wasn’t that reason enough to take a lover?

As long as she could maintain the focus of their conversations upon George’s strange incident with Gill Rainsbury she would be able to keep away from any awkward enquiries regarding her own activities.

George had telephoned Nora’s that first evening and, at the time, she had worried that he might have suspicions of her whereabouts, but why should he? There had been no hint of her going anywhere else but Nora’s and of the only three people who knew of what she was doing, one was dead, another was her sister who would never tell anyone and she, herself, who was quite capable of keeping her own secret.

The crocosmia were being subjected to an especially savage thinning out, they were spreading and she was digging some out before they colonised this area at the expense of some of the less aggressive species in this corner.

A rose thorn had penetrated her reinforced gardening gloves and was stuck, quite painfully, in her thumb and some rather prickly seed heads from the sea holly had dropped down into her left boot and worked their way down to her heel where they were irritating her skin.

She considered how else her own movements that weekend might be discovered. Did she care, she wasn’t sure.

As far as she was aware no-one at the caravan site knew her and she and Tony hadn’t been particularly conspicuous.

42 Was there CCTV on the site, unlikely she considered, it was a quiet place that didn’t attract the sort of clientele that would require monitoring.

The same went for the pub, however Peaches had told her that she’d been told the police were investigating the sudden disappearance of Tony’s female companion.

That bloody Rainsbury woman, the predator, had told Peaches this. Fancy her not knowing that Gill Rainsbury had a son fathered by Tony and that he had been working at their house all the time Tony had been flattering and enticing her, she would have liked to have thought of it as wooing but she was realistic enough to know that Tony was a chancer and wooing was far too romantic a word for the persuasion that Tony had performed.

This was, she concluded, her weak link. Had Tony given any indication to Pete, his son, that he had persuaded Evvie to go away with him and, if he had, had Pete told his mother, or, indeed, the Police?

She wheeled the wheelbarrow up to the composting area and rammed its contents into one of the green plastic containers and noticed that George must have cut down the brambles that had been invading from the yard hedge. Crossing the grass to sit down in the garden room, to remove the seed heads from her boot, she also saw that the onions had been cleared up and bagged.

Sitting back into one of the chairs they kept there she tried to think why she no longer had any real feelings for George, after all he provided them both with a fairly good standard of living, he did jobs around the garden and house, he was clean and generally respectful but she just didn’t have any different feelings for him than she did for anyone else. She didn’t wish him ill but he no longer seemed to have any special place in her thoughts.

Did that make her a bad person, did all wives feel like this she wondered?

A blackbird had flown down onto the lawn; he didn’t notice Evvie sat back in the garden room as he pattered across the grass stopping to cock his head to one side in the characteristic way that blackbirds do, he dug his beak into the ground and pulled something out and ate it, stopped and looked around suddenly being aware that he wasn’t alone and flew off chattering angrily.

Were blackbirds monogamous she wondered, she’d read that swans paired for life and mourned if they lost their partner. She thought blackbirds were probably promiscuous and remembered a Springwatch programme she had watched on TV where a robin or some other small bird had raised two families at the same time. Mr Fyffe, the man who’d imported bananas so successfully in the late Victorian era had done the same, according to an article she had read in a waiting room magazine somewhere, his first family entirely ignorant of the second.

Why did she run off the moment she realised Tony was dead, it wouldn’t make for a good press. Was it to protect her marriage, was it simply to prevent anyone from learning that she had scuttled off for what can only be described as a dirty weekend, she wasn’t sure.

Whilst she had been quite taken aback by George’s confession that he and Gill had indulged in some sort of peculiar sexual activity, she knew that it would not have been George that instigated it, did she really care or was it her pride that was injured? Did she care that someone else obviously had

43 found something attractive in him? It was more likely that Gill Rainsbury had done it just because she could, just for her own amusement and gratification.

There was something about that Rainsbury woman Evvie couldn’t like, she had an irrational desire to whack her in her stupid pointy nosed face every time she saw her and now she had even more reason to despise the woman but, perhaps, the assault on her husband could be used to Evvie’s advantage.

She hadn’t updated Nora on the events of the past few days, she would phone her sister she resolved.

C13

‘George, this might be the best thing that ever happened to you in a long while. Look at me. When Barbara took off with Terence I was as devastated as you are now.

My pride was hurt. I thought, what would other people think? Cuckold is the word, we don’t use it now, but you think everyone is looking at you and saying look at him, couldn’t keep hold of his wife, she ran off with a man who repairs washing machines

Well maybe some of them do, but that’s more their problem than mine.

You’d be surprised how many couples are like you and Evvie George, they don’t communicate. Since I’ve been on my own several people, both sexes too, have said to me how much they envy my situation and they’ve told me how hollow their own relationships are, they use me as a confessor.

And, I have to say, I’ve never been happier which is more than I can say for poor old Barbara on her damp little boat chugging up and down the river with Captain Pugwash.’

They were sitting in Jim’s conservatory, they were on their second bottle of a nice little Rioja that Jim had picked up at half price in one of the supermarkets, and Jim was expounding the advantages of living alone.

George had telephoned Jim the day after his return from visiting the scene of Evvie’s infidelity and arranged to call around. He was as sure as he could be that Evvie had gone to Tony’s caravan and that she was the woman who had run off when Tony had died in the pub garden, and was asking his long standing best friend for some advice.

Jim’s attitude was that George should confront Evvie with the evidence he had gathered and, frankly, if Evvie didn’t show remorse and plead clemency for this unforgivable transgression, then George should leave her, or better still, throw her out. It wasn’t what George wanted to hear, he was a reconciler by nature and was beginning to regret confiding in Jim who had a far simpler approach to life than he.

What Jim failed to understand was that he, George, needed family, he had lost his own when he was quite young and the security of a stable family life was an essential in his well-being. Bethy was now

44 living all over the world and, although they were in contact regularly by phone, it was not the same as seeing her so he needed Evvie and her care.

‘You’re luckier than me Jim, you’re capable of enjoying things at a lighter level, I don’t mean superficial, but less involved. You seem to be able to float on the surface and get fulfilment, I need to be involved’ George poured some more of the Spanish sunshine into their two glasses as Jim indicated that he was closest to the bottle.

‘You think too deeply George’ Jim took another mouthful of wine ‘just enjoy life. You don’t need to understand everything, just appreciate the fact that you’re there.’

‘That’s almost profound ‘George replied, the Rioja was working its ridiculous magic.

‘There’s a good side to everything’ Jim went on ‘be an optimist, it works’

‘Works for you. I’d agree with that’ replied his friend ‘but I need to share things, otherwise I don’t enjoy them.’

‘Well I suggest you don’t share your wife George. That might sound a bit cruel, but take it from me that won’t work. I know Tony Tanner’s dead but if you accept it once you’re on a very slippery slope my old mate. For your own good, don’t. Does the coven know do you think?’ Jim’s prejudice towards the group of women with whom Evvie associated was clear ‘They’ll have a collective opinion, they always do, saves them the trouble of individual thought and reasoning’ he continued with his generalisation ‘keeps them in the club. There’ll be a loud one who issues edicts and all the others will nod their heads up and down.’

George had no wish to pursue that line of discussion so he said ‘Did you love Barbara?’ it occurred to George that perhaps it was easier for Jim because he’d not had any strong feelings for his ex-wife.

Jim had put on an old Fleetwood Mac album when George had come in and the words of Peter Green singing ‘Need your love so bad’ came drifting through the pause in their conversation as Jim reflected on George’s question.

‘That’s a difficult question, ask me an easier one’ Jim quipped but then continued; ‘We certainly liked each other and I found her attractive, fanciable, still do to some extent. But probably not loved her in the way most people mean, not to the extent I got irrational.’

Jim paused for a moment longer and George was expecting him to philosophise a little more about his own marriage but instead he said ‘What about you, are you going to tell me that it was anything more than you two just got together because you met at about the right age and that it seemed quite a convenient arrangement at the time, that it was what other people expected of you?’

‘What you’ve got is what you’ve got’ Jim added ‘make the most of it.’

The two sat quietly, each processing their own jumble of thoughts and emotions and how much of those each would, or indeed could, articulate to the other, or even to themselves. Jim with his denial of the hurt Barbara had inflicted upon him and George with his acceptance of the hurt that Evvie had caused him.

45 The album had moved on and the unmistakable sounds of the instrumental ‘Albatross’ was now filling the silence. The two knew and liked each other and were able to be silent, there was no need to fill the space with unnecessary conversation.

George reflected on his courtship with Evvie.

They had both been part of a large, loose social group and, as the others had either left or paired up, so they paired off too. It seemed somewhat predestined, especially as George had no family, his parents, both prematurely dead, had but one child, they too had been only children, he had been alone in the world.

It had been good fun to start with, the group all doing the same things together then, gradually, without them really noticing other couples got married, or had children, or both and dropped out of things, so ultimately they were rather left and did what to them seemed sensible at the time, they married, then Elizabeth, Bethy, had come along and they too dropped out of things.

When Bethy had started school Evvie had met up with a few of the old crowd who were doing the school run too but most of the crowd had moved on and left the area, careers and family commitments took them to wherever and they realised that it was the less ambitious, the quieter ones who had remained, themselves included.

There hadn’t been a problem with that, their priorities had changed and George’s business was centred locally, they’d been born here so there wasn’t a need, or desire, to go to London, Paris, Hong Kong or wherever.

However, gradually, insidiously they had stagnated, they probably both realised that, channelled into a groove, rut if you like.

Then there was the talking, or rather really talking, considering the merit or disadvantages, discussing things and making decisions but, because they didn’t really do a lot there wasn’t that much to discuss.

They’d talk about the colour they were going to paint the bedroom but didn’t discuss important things even such as their family and certainly not their own relationships with each other.

Then George’s amorous, probably slightly inebriated advances in the matrimonial bed were rejected a few times, then regularly and, not wishing to be rejected, he stopped making them, so sex dropped off the menu, again unspoken and so it all deteriorated, he could quite clearly see that now.

Obviously Evvie still harboured sexual desires that he had been unable to fulfil and this is where it had landed them.

But George considered that Evvie was just as culpable as he. She hadn’t pursued her nursing career after Bethy was born; she could have made advances on him, why should it have to be his responsibility to understand when and why she had any sexual urges, and no wonder she got bored not having an occupation to worry about once Bethy had got into her teens and had less need for maternal, or paternal, intervention in her life?

46 How was he to convey all these thoughts to Evvie and what would be her reaction when he told her he had been checking on her?

‘I’d better go Jim.’ He stood up and tottered a little.

‘You’re welcome to stay’ Jim had probably nodded off it seemed to George as the strains of ‘Cryin’ won’t bring you back’ broke the quiet of the evening ‘Now or later on, if you need to’ he added.

‘Thanks Jim. I hope it won’t come to that.’ He had no need to remind his friend that their conversation had been confidential.

He walked back up through the village and quietly let himself in.

C14

George was outside the house annoying Evvie, who was fiddling about in the kitchen, by re- arranging some potted plants that were set around some staging below the window.

It wasn’t his intention to annoy her, he was simply keeping out of the way and thus avoiding a frosty silence, inconsequential small talk or another inquisition into his activities in the allotment shed with Gill Rainsbury, he wasn’t sure which agenda Evvie had set for the day.

In truth Evvie would have been annoyed whatever activity George had chosen and she wasn’t sure how to take matters forward.

As she watched, whilst he swept away some of the fallen leaves that were beginning to accumulate around the base of the flower containers, a small black car drew up and a tall, balding young man got out and started talking to George. She saw George shaking his head then gesticulating in the direction of the house and the two of them walked across and came into the kitchen.

‘This is Detective Constable Bell’ George announced as they entered ‘Evelyn my wife’ George introduced her, Evvie turned the radio down, it was playing a song by Billy Gentry called ‘Ode to Billie Joe.’

‘I’m sorry to arrive unannounced Mrs Chisholm‘ D.C. Bell apologised to her ‘but we’re just following up some enquiries regarding the death of Anthony Tanner and your husband tells me that you had more to do with Mr Tanner than he. We’re talking to anyone with whom he may have had recent contact.’

Evvie felt herself trembling again, as she had in Peaches conservatory the previous day, she sat down in as relaxed looking a manner as she was able. The chair made a graunching noise on the tiles as she moved it back, George still hadn’t stuck those pads to the undersides of the chair legs as she’d asked him.

‘I understand Mr Tanner carried out some work here recently’ D.C.Bell continued.

‘Yes he did’ replied Evvie in a voice that did not seem to resemble her own.

47 ‘We’re trying to piece together the circumstances of his death. It’s been reported to the Coroner and he’s ordered a Post Mortem due to it being a sudden and unexplained death. We are given to understand that he was with a woman who ran off at the same time that he died. We’re getting information together now in case the Post Mortem shows any evidence of…….’ my shortbread? thought Evvie ‘…… matters that might involve further enquiries.’

Evvie said nothing, she thought they would both hear the sound of her heart hammering against the inside of her rib cage. Instead they all heard the sound of D.C.Bell’s stomach rumbling.

‘Did he mention to you anything about any relationship he may have been having?’

‘No, of course not’ replied Evvie regaining a little of her self control ‘he was our builder, he altered this kitchen’ she waved her hand as if to display the kitchen that Detective Constable Bell might not have noticed.

Bell pushed on regardless ‘His employees said he often came in and had a chat with you whilst the contract was being undertaken. I wondered if he said anything that might give us a clue as to the identity of the woman and why she might have left the scene so quickly after his death?’

‘No we just talked about our job.’

‘He didn’t talk about any of the other jobs his firm was carrying out?’ it appeared to Evvie that the Detective Constable was not going to give up until he’d asked the same question in several different ways.

She decided to give him some information in an effort to terminate this line of enquiry ‘Not really’ she said, unhelpfully ‘I know he did some work for Mr and Mrs Paradise, Mrs Paradise, Peaches, recommended him to us, but I don’t really know much about anything else he was doing, sorry Mr Bell.’

Bell twitched, his stomach made a strange whining noise.

‘Mr Tanner had a caravan.’

‘So I understand, that’s where he died wasn’t it?’ Evvie was on firmer ground but she knew she needed to tread carefully.

‘Well not exactly, he died in a local pub, in the garden.

Evvie told herself that this was news to her, she couldn’t recall anyone actually telling her this so she said ‘Oh, how unfortunate.’

‘It was.’ Bell seemed to be getting disinterested she thought ‘Do you know that area Mrs Chisholm?’

‘What area is that Mr Bell?’ Evvie was pleased she’d avoided Bell’s trick question. She was aware that George was looking at her.

‘Oh, sorry, didn’t I say?’

‘No’

48 ‘On the Devon Dorset border’ Bell explained, giving no exact location ‘there was a problem getting the ambulance there. He might have survived if he’d had urgent attention but there was no-one on site with medical experience and there was a delay because of a mix up about the county border and where the ambulance should have been sent from.’

Evvie again said nothing, she was aware that she had not answered the Detective’s question but thought, because he’d gone on to explain about the ambulances, he may have forgotten his earlier one. She wondered too if there had been any chance of saving Tony’s life, had she, in her panic to save herself, been contributory to his death? After all she had been a nurse, albeit a long time ago, and she did know something about artificial respiration.

‘Do you Mrs Chisholm?’ Bell persisted.

‘Do I what?’ Evvie pretended to have forgotten his original enquiry.

‘Know that area?’ he repeated.

‘No, it’s many years since we went there isn’t it George?’ she thought it was about time George gave her some help.

‘Yes it is’ he responded helpfully, then added, unhelpfully ‘but your sister lives in Dorchester and you do visit her.’

Bell was on to it directly ‘When was the last time you visited your sister Mrs Chisholm?’

Evvie had no choice in this one, thank you very much George ‘The week before last. I was there apparently when Mr Tanner died at his caravan’ she thought it might be a good idea if she’d forgotten that she had been told that Tony had died at the pub.

‘Yes’ George intervened ‘I didn’t go with Evvie, her sister and me don’t really hit it off’ Evvie looked at George and wondered if he was going to drop her further into the mud through which she currently found herself wading but he continued ‘so it’s best I keep out of the way but we speak on the phone every day whilst we’re apart. Don’t we my love?’ George smiled at Evvie.

Evvie found a smile from somewhere deep within and returned it saying ‘Of course.’ She avoided any terms of endearment, she wouldn’t have been able to say them with any genuity.

Detective Constable Bell was convinced that Evvie had been with Anthony Tanner, at his caravan and, more importantly, at the pub when he had died but the husband had done his best to corroborate her story and it was all a bit circumstantial.

They’d had no luck with any CCTV or even with the DVLA and their ubiquitous car registration number plate checking machines.

He now had a sister who might give him a clue but decided not to ask his suspect of her sister’s address - that would be easy enough to find out, he didn’t want the sister to be pre-warned of a visit from her local constabulary. He needn’t have bothered to have been so smart, Evvie telephoned her sister fairly soon after he had left the Chisholm’s to whatever domestic situation in which they had landed themselves.

49 ‘Well thank you both for your help’ the standard expression of false gratitude tumbled from John Bell’s mouth ‘if there is anything else you remember I’d be grateful if you’d give me a call’ he handed George a card and went back to the station pool car not looking back.

Had he looked over his shoulder he would have seen George and Evelyn Chisholm looking very intently at each other.

It was evident to Evvie that George fully realised that it was her who had been with Tony Tanner that day and the night before.

For several moments neither said anything then George said ‘I’d better get on and finish tidying up those pots’ and went back outside

Evvie went to the bathroom and washed her face.

She noticed there was an unusual sulphurous smell in the kitchen when she returned downstairs.

C15

It was October before Anthony Lloyd Tanner’s body was released and he could be laid to rest or, more accurately, incinerated.

The Post Mortem report had read like the script of how not to live your life, it didn’t specifically mention shortbread, but it did list the side effects of sugar, unsaturated fat as well as alcohol and associated diabetes although the actual cause was entered as myocardial infarction, otherwise known as a heart attack. Upon its receipt the Coroner expressed that he had no further interest in the matter and Detective Constable Bell’s enquiries ceased.

Had the Pathologist been sanctioned to commit to the records a less dry and succinct conclusion it might have read : Mr Tanner’s internal organs had battled valiantly, but ultimately in vain, to combat the assault to which they were regularly subjected and had finally succumbed to the extra effort required to endure and process a night of physical exertions followed by an unhealthy breakfast and a burst of sudden and unexpected excitement.

As it was the two local newspapers whose readership may have had any interest in Tony Tanner’s death had headlines of ‘Sudden death of holidaymaker at local Inn’ and continued ‘Amongst a scene of chaos involving horses and dogs running amok…’ whereas the home village one read ‘Popular local builder dies at holiday retreat’ and did not provide any detail of the circumstances other than to say he was declared dead at the scene. Both had mentioned that the Coroner had been informed, neither followed up the story explaining that the death was from natural causes.

There was to be a public service in the Church followed by a cremation for Family Only, the announcement in the paper made clear, with a gathering thereafter at The Kings Arms to celebrate the life of the deceased. There were also to be ‘No flowers - donations in lieu to the British Heart Foundation’

50 It was George who suggested that, for decency’s sake, they should attend the funeral. Evvie was pleased he had made the recommendation as it gave her the opportunity to say her goodbye’s to her erstwhile lover and to see who else might be in attendance as well as exactly who comprised Family Only.

In the days leading up to the funeral it had been wet and windy, the sort of weather that required the use of lights in the house during the so-called daylight hours, however the day of the funeral dawned clear with a touch of groundfrost. The sort of day Evvie imagined for her own funeral, although she decided she’d prefer hers in the Spring when the birds were singing as a background to the inconsolable weeping friends and relatives.

Evvie chose a sleeveless, black, raw silk dress with a cream blouse, over which she wore a three quarter length grey and black striped coat which, she considered, emphasised her slimness and gave her height, this too could be enhanced by the new patent leather black high heeled shoes that she assured George she’d ‘had for a long time’. Had she been able to recall which underclothes she had worn on her fateful visit to Tony’s caravan retreat she would have worn those, however instead her choice was, she thought, something that would have reflected Tony’s own taste, she was careful to ensure George did not see her in this as it was, perhaps, not the sort of thing a woman of her age, attending a builder’s funeral, would have normally been expected to be seen in. Oddly she was quite excited, almost like seeing Tony again she thought, she had no feelings of sadness or loss.

The Church was already filling up when they arrived, they took their place, as they considered befitted their rank as clients, towards the back of the Church but with a view of proceedings, the organist was playing an appropriate gloomy series of notes that didn’t resemble any tune that Evvie had ever heard before or any tune at all really. It was evident to Evvie that many of the assembled group were, like themselves, clients, or rather ex-clients, or maybe they were still clients and he was the ex-builder she speculated. It was also obvious that the majority of the women in attendance had taken particular care with their appearance.

Evvie saw, and discreetly acknowledged, Peaches, she also saw Joan Turnbull, Sarah McFayden without her husband Alex, thank goodness, Jess Norman and several of the tenants of Tony’s flats as well as many others, some of whom she recognised and some she didn’t, Sheila Farrell was there with another woman who turned out to be her cousin Vera, Tony’s book keeper, a long list of mourners it seemed.

When the coffin was brought in it was followed by Pete Rainsbury, Evvie noted that he had taken, or been given, his mother’s name, not his father’s, with his mother Gill and half a dozen other people not known to her. Evvie realised the gloomy music had stopped.

George was quite taken aback to see quite how handsome a widow Gill made, that wasn’t really her correct status he realised but couldn’t think of another word to describe her position. Jim would say later that ‘she scrubbed up well’. Her fine chiselled facial features and beautifully cut and tailored black suit coupled with an upright stance gave her almost a film star-like quality. Pete, her son, by contrast was rather more shambling in his presentation.

The service went as well as could be expected, in the circumstances, with a couple of rousing hymns and an eulogy, read by the Vicar, that was little more than a schedule of Tony’s life almost like a CV.

51 There were no stories from his boyhood or family upbringing although Jim Moon’s particular affection for the young Tanner was mentioned, as was the Moon and Sixpence reference, there was also a random quote attributed to his former headmaster that informed the congregation that ‘Tony Tanner had wasted his opportunity’. The content was probably drawn up by the Vicar interviewing anyone who had known Tony and a visit to the pub after bell ringing one Wednesday, all a bit sad George had commented later.

As the coffin was carried, shakily, out of the Church by Pete, Corky and a couple of other of Tony’s employees, what happens to them now George wondered, Evvie noticed the use of a number of lace or tissue handkerchiefs being employed removing traces of stray eye shadow from reddened cheeks.

The Kings Arms lounge bar filled up quite quickly but it was some time before the Family Only returned from the internment to join the group who were, by then, going quite well on the free bar that had been offered and readily accepted.

Evvie had suggested to George that they leave before the Family Only returned but he was chatting with Jim and Julian Chivers and seemed to be enjoying himself with several glasses of Bill’s ‘rosewater for the saxophonist’ sploshing around in an empty stomach.

When Gill Rainsbury came in looking, Evvie considered, overdressed, she made straight for George’s little group and stood between George and Julian with her arms around their shoulders. ‘Like a rugby scrum front row’ Peaches commented. ‘Very appropriate’ Evvie retorted ‘The hooker’s in the middle’ and was very pleased with herself, until she had to restrain Peaches, who seemed to find this especially funny, from going over to them and repeating her witticism.

Afterwards Gill did circulate and when she came over to Evvie and Peaches who, by then had been joined by Sarah, Jess and a couple of the girls from the flats at a table in the corner said ‘Thank you all for coming. Tony would have been delighted to see you all here. I know he was always pleased that he never fell out with anyone, no matter what had happened between them’ and left them to consider the implication of her words.

‘I wish I’d let you tell her what I said about her earlier’ Evvie said to Peaches ‘I might do that yet’ replied Peaches ‘what the hell did she mean by that?’

As they left George noticed a song called ‘ Zoom’ was playing in the background.

C16

She didn’t know what triggered it but the enormity of what she had done, her own pre-meditated actions and subsequent reactions suddenly overwhelmed her whilst Evvie was driving back from her regular swim at the Sports Centre.

Life in the Chisholm household had returned to its normal humdrum routines.

52 She had said no more about George’s ‘accident’ and he, although she was fairly certain he knew, had not questioned her or referred in any way, directly or indirectly, about her affair, however brief, with Tony, she speculated whether he would have acted differently if Tony was still alive.

Perhaps therein lay the problem with their relationship, how she hated that overworked word, within the marriage she thought, again they hadn’t, couldn’t, discuss their problems, their difficulties and their consequences.

What she would have liked to have done, to do, was to sit down with George, somewhere quiet, and say ‘George, this life we live together, is it what we want?’ or, perhaps that sounded too much like saying she wanted out, it might be better if she said ‘could it be made better?’ but it was almost as if they weren’t close enough to be able to do this. It was also true that the words she used would need to be exact and not open to ambiguity or misinterpretation but you couldn’t read this off a script, it had to be from the heart and that’s when things could go wrong. Why, within an established marriage, with someone with whom you had spent so much time and shared so many things, should this be a problem?

Any such discussions would certainly upset the equilibrium of their current life, but that might not be a bad thing. Alternatively, she reflected did she know what she wanted, did she want excitement, she knew she couldn’t cope with a stormy relationship, why couldn’t she think of a better word for their life together than relationship, but neither did she want such a dull life as they now endured. Did she want to end the marriage, could she be happier alone, all these thoughts, questions, worries circled in her head like so many clouds.

George would do all he could to avoid talking about it or confronting their situation, this, she was sure, was why he had not spoken of her affair with Tony, he’d rather just let it all die down and then continue his quiet life. But it was their life, it was hers too, not just George’s, this would irritate her and she would lose her temper and probably say things that either she didn’t mean or would afterwards regret.

It wasn’t her intention to hurt George, perhaps that’s why she hadn’t told him about her weekend, or more factually, night, with Tony although here she realised she was ennobling her bad behaviour and it was more likely self- interest that prevented such a confession.

Evvie decided that her best option was to talk to Nora. Nora was practical and capable of setting emotions aside.

Later, that evening, following a long telephone conversation with her sister and under the guise of doing a crossword in case George returned early from his Spanish lesson, Senor Williams, the tutor, sometimes forgot to turn up, Evvie made two lists, on one piece of A4 paper, on the left hand side were the positive aspects of her marriage to George, on the right were the negatives:

Positives. Negatives.

Comfortable life Dull

G is clean, respectful Bored

No arguments Repetition/routine

53 Does the heavy work (garden etc) Could I cope alone

Sex (none) Sex (probably none)

Evvie looked at the list and was a bit shocked, not only at how short it was but also to see that she had put Comfortable life as the first positive; this would suggest that it was the material, financial aspect of their life together that was her foremost reason for staying together. However, she thought, brightening up, that the material side of things wouldn’t change that much even if they were apart, in these enlightened days women got half of everything and between them they had more than enough for them both to live independent lives quite comfortably.

What was more troubling was that when she considered how things listed in the right hand column would change if she lived on her own she had to admit to herself that she couldn’t envisage a situation where they would change for the better, she was as much in charge of her own destiny now as she would be then, mostly these factors were a question of ambition and motivation. Except, of course, for the extra marital sex and that hadn’t worked out too well when she’d given that a go.

She heard a car sweep into the driveway, its lights reflected in the mirror and danced across the picture of an African elephant, ears spread wide, trunk erect that hung on the firebreast wall and she quickly folded the sheet and secured it into the crossword book before opening another page with a half completed puzzle.

C17

One Thursday morning some months later, Christmas had not long gone, Evvie answered the home telephone which had been left in the dining area. Evvie spent much of her day in this room which had become the hub of the house since it had been combined into one by Tony Tanner.

She could see from the small display screen on the instrument who the caller was and answered saying ‘Good morning Mrs Paradise, what can I do for you today?’ It wasn’t unusual for the two to telephone each other and it amused them both to vary the greetings they gave.

‘Hello Evvie, how are you?’ came the reply.

‘I’m fine really, I’ve had this runny nose and sore throat for a few days but it seems to be getting a bit better, although the weather doesn’t help, what about you?’

‘Oh I’m fine’ Peaches replied then said ‘Have you heard about Julian?’

‘What Julian Chivers? No, what’s that?’ Evvie replied expecting Peaches to tell her that Julian had been taken to hospital, or something like that. When the reply came it was, Evvie thought, much worse than that.

‘He’s been arrested on a charge of attempted rape’ Peaches emphasised the last word. She needn’t have.

‘Rape, Julian?’ Evvie spoke as if the two words were an oxymoron ‘who is he supposed to have tried to rape?’

54 ‘We’re not sure but we think its Gillian Rainsbury’

‘I don’t believe it. Poor Julian, poor Pam’ Evvie imagined Julian’s wife and how she felt ‘Julian would never force himself on anyone, least of all that cow. He’s just not that sort of person’

‘Well, I agree with you, he’s too timid. But that’s the reason for his arrest, although I don’t think he’s been charged yet’

‘Do you know any more about it?’ Evvie was anxious to understand any details of the alleged incident.

‘No that’s all I know at the moment. Jess phoned me, Pam had phoned her, they go to Sewing Circle together, and I don’t think Pam knew what to do or who else to turn to. So she knows Jess works for a solicitor and wanted his name.’

They continued their conversation for few more minutes covering less sensational matters before Peaches rang off.

After she had replaced the receiver in its proper place, in the study, Evvie sat back down at the dining table but was unable to concentrate on reconciling the payments their Scotland based energy supplier was extracting, by means of a Direct Debit, with the amount of power they had, or were likely to, consume. So, rather than telephone the power company she phoned Pam Chivers instead.

She knew Pam as an acquaintance rather than as a friend but Julian was a very quiet pillar of the local community, always willing to lend a hand rather than lead, and Pam was his shadow, bustling and busying herself behind him.

Pam answered the phone in a nervous, quiet voice and Evvie spoke immediately saying ‘Pam, this is Evvie Chisholm’

‘Oh, hello Evvie’ Pam’s voice trailed off.

‘Pam, I’ve heard the awful news about Julian. Can I come round and see you as soon as possible please?’

‘Well…yes..of course Evvie. I’m not expecting to go out at the moment. I need to be here’ Pam sounded, after her initial hesitancy, pleased that someone might still want to speak to her.

‘I’ll be around within the hour – see you then’ Evvie returned the receiver to the study again and went upstairs to change her clothing for something warmer.

Pam answered her door red eyed. Evvie crossed the threshold and hugged her ‘Don’t worry Pam’ she said reassuringly, although her reassurance was baseless as far as Pam was concerned, they went into the living room.

‘Pam, I know it looks like I’m interfering, I probably am, but I can’t believe Julian would ever make an advance on a woman, he’s such a lovely gentle man. Do you know what’s supposed to have happened?’ Evvie was desperate not to seem as if she was just enquiring so as she could

55 authenticate any local gossip. Pam seemed as if she understood this sat down and indicated to Evvie to do the same.

‘Julian occasionally plays skittles, if the team is short’ Pam commenced her story ‘he isn’t much good but he doesn’t like to see them short so he makes himself available’

Evvie decided it was best if she said nothing and just listened to what Pam had to say.

‘Well on Monday night the team had a shield game and being a Monday a few of the usuals couldn’t, or wouldn’t, make it so Joe Bowen called and asked Julian to play.’ Pam was sitting awkwardly on the edge of her chair, it, like everything else in the room was a shade of brown. Evvie hadn’t been in the house before but it was exactly as she had expected, safe from expression of colour or personality, everything, like the Chivers’s themselves, was quiet and neutral.

Pam continued ‘When Julian came back in I could see he was flustered. I asked him what the problem was but he said nothing was wrong. Anyhow, I’m not stupid and I know Julian, we’ve been married for twenty five years, so anyhow I eventually got him to tell me.

It seems at the end of the night he offered Gill Rainsbury a lift back and, as they were driving along…..I’m sorry I don’t think I can tell you this, it’s so difficult….’ Pam looked pale and took a handkerchief out of her pocket wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

‘Go on Pam, I think I know what you’re going to tell me, but go on’ Pam looked at Evvie and could see that she had a very steely look about her, it gave Pam the courage to carry on.

‘Well, as I said, Julian was driving and she put her hand down his trousers. Down his trousers!’ Pam repeated it as if she couldn’t believe it herself.

‘Poor Julian he isn’t used to that sort of thing, who is? But he didn’t say anything. He said he didn’t know what to do. I said to him Julian why didn’t you tell her to stop, but he said he couldn’t. Anyhow she kept it there and fiddled about and he…..’ Pam burst into tears. ‘You know what happens to men, you know what happens…’ Pam lost the ability to speak for a few minutes.

Evvie stood up and crossed the room to put her hand on Pam’s shoulder ‘It’s not the first time she’s done this Pam’ she said.

‘It’s not?’ Pam looked alarmed ‘What to Julian?’

‘No not to Julian. It happened to someone else I know’

‘Who?’ asked an incredulous Pam

‘I can’t tell you that Pam I need to get their permission before I can tell you’ Evvie realised she had acted on impulse; she hadn’t talked to George about this before she’d rushed around to Pam’s guessing that there was more to the event than a straightforward attempt at a rape, but she couldn’t just drop George’s name into the ring. There were going to be some very difficult repercussions from all this but she’d started so she had to carry this through.

‘What I don’t understand is how Julian has got arrested for rape?’ Evvie said.

56 ‘No. I haven’t told you what happened after that’ Pam replied

‘No. sorry I interrupted you’ Evvie hadn’t meant to interject but Pam had been in such a state she found she couldn’t help herself ‘Carry on.’ She said in an apologetic tone.

‘Well Julian was so upset I told him he would have to report it. I mean you can’t just carry on as if nothing happened, can you?’

Evvie thought well George can and I suppose so did I.

‘No, of course not’ she replied instead.

‘So Julian phoned the police and arranged to see them on Tuesday morning. I went down with him and waited in the car then we came back a bit later in time for lunch. He said he thought the Detective who interviewed him seemed surprised he’d reported it but they did say they’d follow it up. ‘

Pam took a big breath and looked at Evvie with a look of desperation in her eyes ‘The police came here last night and arrested HIM for attempted rape’

‘But why?’ asked Evvie.

‘Because that woman said that it was Julian who had forced himself on her when he dropped her off and that she had evidence to prove it’ the distraught Pam pleaded.

‘What evidence is that?’ asked Evvie.

‘It’s her underwear apparently’ said Pam.

C18

‘I don’t think I can do that Evvie’

George and Evvie, dressed in their walking clothing, were sitting at a little circular cast aluminium table next to their fishpond, the paintwork was peeling off the edges of the table and the aluminium was oxidising white, some of this had come off onto the cuff of George’s blue anorak. There was a gentle background noise of water cascading from the small upper pond into the larger one below, the weak winter sun reflected off the moving water sending patterns across their faces, they were drinking tea from their best cups. The end of George’s nose was cold and moist, he had on a hat with ear covers that hung down each side of his head making him look, Evvie thought, like Huckleberry Hound.

Evvie had launched a charm offensive and persuaded George to sit down for a quiet cup of tea and ‘a chat’.

57 George knew he was to be confronted with a serious discussion and it didn’t take a genius to deduce that the conversation was to focus around his incident with Gill Rainsbury in the allotment shed last August, too little had been said about this for him to feel comfortable.

However, when Evvie outlined the details of Gill’s further activities with Julian he was rather taken aback and found himself both relieved and, surprisingly, jealous.

It occurred to George that if Julian had been compromised in a similar manner to him, this made his own involvement appear less his fault and detracted from any accusation of his own complicity in the event but it also indicated that he wasn’t anything special in Gill’s affections.

The principal problem was that he was now being asked to relate his own experiences in an effort to prove Julian’s innocence in the alleged sexual assault.

‘I can’t just go into a police Station and say I’d also been assaulted by the same woman’ George continued ‘it would seem so stupid, almost immature and probably implausible’

‘It really wouldn’t George’ Evvie assured him ‘ you owe it to Julian to help him’

‘I’m not sure I owe Julian anything’

‘Imagine if it was the other way around, you’d hope Julian would help you’

There was no answer to this George admitted to himself. Julian, like many of the people with whom they both associated might be boring and colourless, but he was honest and a moral man and obviously the subject of a grave injustice.

Evvie had her own difficulties with the plan she was proposing. She was fairly sure that the awful Gill Rainsbury had an idea that she had been the one who had gone away with Tony and that this would come out during any further investigations, the Ms Rainsbury would make sure of that she thought. However Evvie’s dislike of the woman over-rode any concerns she had in this respect, she hated the thought of this dreadful predatory woman being able to turn her own immoral actions into someone else’s problem.

Another problem Evvie faced if her affair, however brief, became public knowledge, was that she and George could not continue with the charade of each knowing that the other knew but neither of them willing or able to talk about it, it would involve a discussion that she had been hoping to avoid.

This system worked well enough within their present method of co-existence but discussions of the sort which must, inevitably, follow would require expressions of feelings and emotions and worse, decisions, something in which neither of them were practiced.

George, it seemed to Evvie, was quite prepared to leave the cupboard door unopened, treat it as a minor misdemeanour and as long as the situation didn’t continue, it couldn’t, or embarrass him in any way he was prepared to ignore it or pretend it never happened.

58 She, on the other hand, was probably unwilling to confront the reasons she had engaged in such a reckless enterprise. Their current arrangement worked for them but it was unlikely the balance could be maintained if they were obliged to talk about it.

Her mind was processing this whilst, at the same time, she was encouraging George to take actions that would blow so many boats out of the water.

‘If I do this, and they take me seriously, then it’s very likely that Gill Rainsbury will be charged with making a false accusation’ George was careful to use Gill’s surname so as to appear neutral in his concerns.

‘But that’s what she had done. She’s made a terrible false accusation against a lovely quiet man, our friend.’ Evvie reminded him.

‘Well I’ve never really put him into the friend category’ sniffed George.

‘George Chisholm’ Evvie said employing her most severe manner ‘this woman has done something absolutely dreadful and she deserves all she gets. I cannot believe you are more concerned for her welfare than you are for that of a perfectly innocent man ‘as for it being implausible, if it happened to Julian it could happen to anyone’

George wasn’t quite sure whether this last remark was a slight on his own attraction or Julian’s and he realised he was seemingly defending the woman who had put him into the very awkward situation in which he now found himself. All this at the cost of a perfectly decent man who had always been willing to assist George, or anyone else come to that, when they needed a hand with some good cause or task that benefitted the community.

‘You are right Evvie’ he conceded ‘but it isn’t as easy for me as you make it sound and it will have repercussions that I’m sure we haven’t thought of. I know you wanted me to report her when it happened to me but if I’d done that I could be the one who was in Julian’s position now’

‘Exactly George and in that situation you would hope that Julian, Jim, Bill anyone else she’d done the same to would come forward and help you.’ Evvie was becoming less conciliatory he realised.

‘You think she’s done it to others?’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised, she’s probably had her hands down the trousers of half the men in the village, she doesn’t seem to have any other hobbies.’ Evvie was warming to the task of maligning Gill. ‘Nothing like this is ever easy George’ Evvie realised she had been in danger of exaggerating Gill’s extracurricular activities and thus diluting her argument ‘but sometimes you just have to do the right thing.’

‘But say she then accuses me of attacking her?’

‘That’s pretty unlikely don’t you think? Firstly she needs evidence and secondly once you’ve reported that you had a similar experience she’ll be up against numbers, who knows who else might come out of the long grass? There might be quite a queue.’ Evvie added mischievously.

‘It’s against my nature.’

59 ‘What, telling the truth?’ Evvie thought she should start pressurising George again. ‘You mean you didn’t tell me the truth?’

George was aware that Evvie was very good at twisting an argument.

‘It’s just that I don’t feel comfortable telling tales’

‘Is it a tale George?’

Here she goes again he thought, turning my words around, before George could think of how to progress his case Evvie, realising George needed a push said ‘ Shall I phone Detective Constable Bell and make an appointment for you to see him?’

‘Can’t we wait and see if Julian actually gets charged before I do anything rash?’

‘That would be even worse. If it gets that far I’m sure it’s not possible to un-charge someone, I expect there’s a long process to undo that.’

‘We could find out’ George was desperately looking for a way out ‘we could look it up on-line.’

‘You mean I could, it’s not actually your forte is it?’

George looked at Evvie with his that’s unnecessary face but Evvie needed to keep him on the back foot.

‘It doesn’t need to get to that George. We can just stop it going any further now.’

‘You mean it might stop Julian getting charged but the chances are then that Gill Rainsbury will be charged and either way I’m going to be a witness whereas if I don’t do anything I’m not involved and no-one knows any better.’

‘Well I do and so does Pam.’

‘Pam! You’ve told Pam?’

‘Well not exactly told her, I sort of hinted’ it was Evvies turn to be defensive.

‘You told Pam that Gill Rainsbury had, had…’ at this point George needed to search for some suitable words ‘that Gill Rainsbury touched me?’ was best he could come up with.

‘It was a bit more than touching’ Evvie saw her opportunity to gain an advantage.

‘Well whatever it was I thought we could keep it to ourselves’ George was appalled, he hadn’t even told Jim, his confidant ‘what did you tell her exactly?’

‘I just said I knew someone else who had been assaulted in the same way. I didn’t tell her it was you. I said that I couldn’t tell her who it was until I had their permission.’

‘Well she doesn’t need to be a bloody scientist to work that one out. What possessed you to do that for God’s sake?’

60 ‘They’re such a lovely inoffensive couple George, that’s why and they’re being stitched up by that bloody predator. I’ve always thought there was something strange about that woman.’

George was still looking to avoid going to the Police ‘Look’ he said ‘if Julian is as lovely as you say surely the Police will see that, they aren’t stupid, they aren’t going to charge him with something as unlikely as attempted rape, it’s her word against his, where’s the evidence?’

‘She claims to have it on her underwear.’

‘’What on her underwear?’

‘The evidence George, I don’t have to spell it out to you do I?’

‘How?’ George was incredulous.

‘I don’t know but I can guess.’

‘What, put in on afterwards you mean?’

‘I reckon, yes.’ George’s speculation paralleled Evvie’s own.

‘Wow, that’s not on.’ George wondered if Gill had another pair of soiled knickers in a bag somewhere with traces of his own semen smeared over. He tried to remember exactly what had happened in the allotment shed but the whole unlikely episode was simply a whirl in his mind.

Evvie sensed what what George was thinking, they were quiet for a couple of minutes, some buzzing insects, awakened from their slumbers by the unseasonably warm weather flitted around the lavender bush that hung over the pond, the falling water tinkled gently breaking the silence.

It was Evvie who broke their silence.

‘I know she might have done the same thing with…. well with yours, but if both you and Julian have a similar story it’s fairly unlikely the police are going to believe her is it? And, besides, they’re going to think it’s a bit odd that someone keeps evidence like that in a drawer for months before doing something with it.’

George was unconvinced but he felt cornered into making one of the most important and difficult decisions of his married life.

C19

John Bell’s interview room was stark, as befitting the financial constraints imposed by the Government with its latest round of Public Service savings.

61 The walls were painted cream, as advised by the psychologist the new Chief Constable had engaged, on the floor, showing evidence of spilt liquids, were some grey carpet tiles salvaged from the edges of a corridor. The brown varnished door had a wired glass vision panel, anyone looking through it would have seen two metal framed chairs, upholstered in a grey material similar to the floor tiles, divided by a small metal framed table.

A central light had an exposed low energy bulb, its glass folded like neat, rolled pastry with a classic upside down saucer shaped shade reflecting the weak yellow light down onto a wood effect laminate table top.

‘Sit down please Mr Chisholm’ John Bell indicated to George the chair which faced out towards the door ‘I didn’t expect to see you again. Mr Tanner’s death was due to natural causes so any further enquiries regarding the circumstances of his departure from this earth were unnecessary as it happens, but we like to be ahead of things in our game.’

Game? thought George, dealing in matters of death is a game? And departing this earth, was there another earth that the police knew about but hadn’t mentioned to the rest of us? George would have rather been at the dentists having all his teeth extracted than here and now he was obliged to listen to Bell waffling on in a clumsy attempt to make him feel at ease.

‘Yes, well, it’s not exactly related to that Detective Constable.’

‘Oh call me John’ Bell interrupted unexpectedly.

‘I’d find that difficult Detective Constable but I could manage Mr Bell.’

Bell, who had an uncomfortable pain in his stomach, wasn’t too happy at the apparent demotion but said ‘As you wish’ in a further attempt to put his potential witness at ease.

Little particles of dust that had been disturbed by their movements could be seen gently floating to new resting places through the weak light beam.

The sound of other activities within the building could be heard through the partition walls but George couldn’t hear the details of other conversations and was relieved to think that what he had to say wouldn’t echo down the corridors of the Police Station. Bell’s stomach was making sounds reminiscent of howling wolves, they both did their best to ignore it.

Here goes thought George and blurted out ‘I understand you are investigating a charge of rape against Julian Chivers.’

Bell’s face was impassive ‘A forty eight year old man has been questioned regarding an alleged incident.’

‘Well – yes – ah – I see – but –well, I understand you can’t name names Mr Bell, Detective Constable but – this is difficult you understand.’ George was searching for a way to describe what had happened to him.

‘There’s no rush Mr Chisholm’ Bell lied, he was anxious to get back to his paperwork, he had some reports to compile including the one regarding the fight last week at The Loose Cannon.

62 George started again ‘Well, I do a bit of charity work’ Bell wondered if he should say Well done or Good for you, but decided to stay silent ‘and we put up a shed on the Mencap allotment at the bottom of Stamp Hill back in August of last year.’

‘I know where that is, my brother shoots down there’ Bell said. George was inclined to say So that’s whose been killing all the wildlife, but decided against it; there was a strange sulphurous smell in the room.

‘Well, as I was saying’ George inferred that the interruption had been unwelcome but the point missed Bell whose stomach was really beginning to distract him ‘we put up this shed, and Miss Rainsbury, who I believe has made the accusation against Mr Chivers.’ George thought it best to use formal rather than familiar names and didn’t fancy using Police language like alleged victim and assailant as this would sound as if he had a bias. Bell’s face returned to impassive. ‘Well’ why do I keep saying Well George thought ‘Miss Rainsbury helped us.’

‘We? Us?’ Bell needed to know who was involved in this unfortunate affair and so far George had only mentioned two names.

George hadn’t thought it would be necessary to list all the names of the volunteers.

‘Well’ he said it again, damn ‘Tony Tanner put the base down. He did that as a favour, didn’t make any charge for it at all’ probably not all he did thought Bell ‘and then me and Jim.’

‘Jim?’

‘Jim Carter, a good friend of mine.’ George regretted involving Jim who would, undoubtedly, now be interviewed. George must warn him and this would necessitate telling Jim what had happened between him and Gill and why he was intervening in Julian’s problems ‘Julian Chivers, Gill Rainsbury and me. But mainly it was Jim and me.’ He added as an afterthought.

‘’What happened?’ Bell was anxious to get the story out of George and move on.

‘Well’ it was really beginning to annoy George that he couldn’t seem to start a sentence without saying Well, he must think of another word ‘me and Jim erected’ blast, he thought, he hadn’t intended to use that word either ‘put up the shed and the other two lent a hand with the finishings.’

Bell, George observed, wasn’t taking any notes, perhaps he was being recorded, he couldn’t see any obvious signs of a microphone or anything like that.

‘So’ at last he’d found another word to start a sentence with ‘I went down on my own on the last morning. Jim had a dental appointment. I felted the roof and Gill’ should he have reverted to Miss, too late now ‘Rainsbury came down a bit later and gave me a hand hanging the door. It’s a bit awkward on your own with those sort of things, you need three hands sometimes.’ Bell nodded knowingly, he’d never hung a door himself but imagined it might be a bit tricky. ‘Then she was going to paint the inside.’

At this point George hesitated, he was coming to the difficult bit, Bell retained his impassive look, despite his stomach pain, and then raised one eyebrow in what he hoped was a questioning manner,

63 it worked, George continued but not before he had inhaled deeply ‘She put her hand on my wotsit’ the words tumbled out.

‘Wotsit?’ Bell was fairly certain he knew what a Wotsit was but was beginning to enjoy himself watching the man’s discomfort.

‘My penis’ George decided against any further colloquialisms, he’d stick to medical or physiological terminology for this bit.

‘Why should she do that?’

Bell was curious, Gill Rainsbury was a good looking woman, not pretty in the conventional way but handsome, striking, he found her very attractive himself and he was quite sure she could do better than fondling the willies of greying, boring middle aged men.

‘I’ve no idea, you’d have to ask her. I certainly didn’t ask her to do it or encourage it in any way.’

‘So what happened, she’s grabbed. Sorry, put her hand there’ Bell momentarily found himself unable to say the word penis ‘what happened?’

George then related in detail exactly how the incident occurred right up to the ejaculation. Bell successfully suppressed his amusement and asked ‘What did you do?’

Much to his chagrin George said ‘Well’ again and then explained about the pants, the bag and all the other things he found so shameful.

‘That’s very interesting Mr Chisholm, are you making a formal complaint, are you accusing Miss Rainsbury of sexual assault?’

‘Oh God no’ exclaimed George.

‘It seems to me you’ve got a good case for that here.’

‘No that’s the last thing I want. What I’m trying to do is to explain that she did the same thing to me as she apparently did to poor Julian. Mr Chivers.’

‘How do you know what she did to anyone else?’

‘My wife told me.’

‘Your wife told you?’ Bell did his raising one eyebrow quizzical look, it worked before.

George realised he was being asked how his wife had come by this information, this interview wasn’t going the way he had expected.

‘Just give me a moment please’ Bell got up and left the room, leaving George wondering why. Was he now being monitored for body language or was Bell fetching an assistant, a witness to any further information that he might impart.

George wondered how he might give only the minimum of further detail to any further questioning. He had only come to make a straightforward statement to help Julian and now he was being

64 questioned as if he had committed some sort of offence. He looked around for evidence of secret cameras and microphones but they were obviously well concealed.

Bell went into the Gents toilets and, the moment he closed the door to the corridor, released a large quantity of trapped intestinal gas, the noise bounced off the hard surfaces. He had been struggling for the past ten minutes, it was probably due to last night’s kebab, and had been unable to risk anything in such a small, restricted and quiet space as the interview room, whilst he was there, in the toilets, he took the opportunity to relieve his bladder.

When he returned to the interview room George was looking anxious and looked over Bell’s shoulder to see if anyone was following him, this caused Bell to look back to see what George was looking at, George assumed Bell was expecting to have someone follow him but no one came.

‘You were saying that your wife told you that someone else you know, your friend, had been interfered with by this same woman?’ Bell resumed their conversation, his stomach much more comfortable now, making it clear he expected some further explanation.

George wondered if he could just get up and leave, he’d come here of his own free will, he hadn’t been summoned or cautioned. Evvie had volunteered to come with him but he had said that he considered that would appear as if he had come under duress, as a result of her encouragement, now he was rather wishing she had come so as she could explain her part in the piece.

‘Yes, she spoke to Pam, Mrs Chivers, Julian’s wife, and she told Evvie, my wife, you’ve met her, what Julian had been accused of and we felt, I felt, it was my duty to come and tell you what had happened to me.’

George felt better, he was being totally honest and couldn’t see that this should present any problems.

‘So the wives got together and decided the best way to take the pressure off the accused was for you to come in and give a similar story?’

‘Goodness no’ George was more angry than frightened ‘do you think I’m the sort of man who’d make up a pack of lies just to help someone, who isn’t actually what you’d call a close friend, to get away with something so heinous as rape!’

‘Probably not’ conceded Bell with a hint of a narrow smile ’but you do realise Mr Chisholm, what you’ve just told me is very serious and constitutes a violation.’

‘I do’ admitted George ‘it wasn’t easy for me to do this. I don’t wish anyone any harm but I don’t like to see injustice either.’

‘Yes I can see it wasn’t easy for you Mr Chisholm, thank you. But tell me why didn’t you report this when it occurred?’

‘I thought it was easier not to get involved Detective Constable. As long as it didn’t happen again it was easier to let it go.’

65 ‘’I see.’ Bell paused ‘Before you go can I ask you if you would be prepared to make a statement to confirm what you have just told me?’

‘What now?’

‘No Mr Chisholm, only if necessary.’

‘If necessary, only if absolutely necessary Mr Bell. What I’d much prefer is that everyone just dropped their complaints and that we all get on with our lives.’

‘If only it was that easy Mr Chisholm.’ Bell sighed indicating that, perhaps, that’s what he’d prefer too. ‘Thank you for coming in, it’s been most helpful. I’ll call you if we need to speak again, have a good day.’ Bell stood up and held out his hand, George shook it.

C20

George thrashed at the scrub with his club, this was the fifth ball he had lost this morning and they were only on the twelfth hole where the tee was set below a steeply rising bank and where the ball should soar away out of sight, instead his ball had failed to make the crest and had drilled into the rough ground that covered the upper section of the rise.

He had thought it would be a good idea to meet Jim and, over a game of golf, explain the awkward situation in which he now found himself and to apologise to Jim that he might be drawn into the whole unfortunate affair by being questioned by the police. However, his lack of recent practice, he hadn’t ventured onto a golf course for over two months, added to the stress of having to re-live all the details of his experience with Gill in the allotment shed, Evvie’s discovery of his underpants and Julian’s subsequent arrest, all compounded to have an exceedingly adverse effect on his game. He hadn’t won a single hole therefore, as a contest, it was over, they were only now playing for the so- called pleasure and George wasn’t getting much of that.

‘I’d put it a bit stronger than an awkward situation’ Jim had said after George had outlined the predicament ‘it’s a bloody disaster. What the hell did Julian want to go to the police for? He ought to think himself lucky she was interested enough in him to bother. I wish she’d had a go at me, might even go round there to volunteer.’ George knew his friend would take a different view of the events but sometimes he wished he wouldn’t be so flippant.

‘To be honest Jim, I wish it was you she’d picked on, not me, but perhaps she only gets her pleasure from putting men like me and Julian into awkward situations.’

‘You’re right George, she probably doesn’t want relationships to develop and knows that neither you nor Julian would be interested in an affair or even a quick how’s your father’

It was an odd expression but George knew what Jim meant. For all his faults Jim didn’t use coarse language even in male only company.

66 ‘Thanks for telling me though’ Jim continued ‘it doesn’t worry me answering the Old Bill’s questions. I won’t be able to tell them much but it won’t stop them asking I’m sure. Who else knows George?’

‘Knows what?’ asked George, not sure which of the information that he had given Jim that his friend was asking about.

‘That The Predator had her hands down your trousers? I suppose all the coven knows about Julian by now.’ Jim had a poor regard for the group of women that Evvie called friends,

‘I hope none actually’ George replied ‘I don’t think Evvie would actually tell any of them but the problem is that now that Evvie’s told Pam that she knows of someone else that it’s happened to, they’ll all speculate on who that is and, as I said to Evvie, you don’t have to be an Einstein to work out who it was.’

‘I can see the problem there George is that you’ll be up against the usual collective opinion of the coven’ Jim said ‘Let’s put you out of your misery and go off at the end of the thirteenth and you can buy me lunch, that’ll be less painful for you than continuing this game, anyhow you’ll probably run out of balls at this rate.’

In the clubhouse they didn’t talk any further about George’s problems, they might have been overheard, not that there was much that could be added. Jim made some telephone calls, George could hear his conversation above the sound of a Duffy album that was playing on the sound system, Jim was trying to find a keyboard player who could stand in for his group on Saturday night, he wasn’t having much luck by the sound of it.

Over their lunch, the Duffy album that George had been enjoying had been replaced by some non- descript modern music that George didn’t recognise, Jim told George that Barbara had phoned him during the weekend and told him that she thought Terence was having an affair. Jim seemed to delight in his ex-wife’s difficulties, it was strange, George thought, that she continued to turn to Jim to unburden her concerns, perhaps she hoped that he would eventually want her back. George was fairly sure this was unlikely, he knew that Jim, for all his cheerful front, would never risk being hurt so badly again, it was probable that Barbara would have to continue, as Jim put it, to lie in the bed she had made, or at least until such time as Terence threw her out of it.

After they finished their lunch George left for his shop in Masterton, where Sheila had reported a fault with one of the machines, leaving Jim trying his luck with Brenda, the barmaid who had recently left her husband. As he left he heard Jim saying ‘Hey Brenda, what are you doing Saturday night? I don’t suppose you’d like to play piano in my group would you?’ What Jim didn’t realise was that he was wasting his time with Brenda, she was already conducting an affair with a man who had come to repair her washing machine.

When George arrived at the shop Larry told him that he had fixed the problem and that if George had a mobile phone he could have been contacted to save him the futile journey. ‘How do you manage without a mobile phone? Obviously not very well’ Larry answered his own question, cheekily grinning at George. Larry was unable to comprehend how anyone could possibly run their life without access to some means of instantaneous communication with friends and family.

67 George suggested that they ‘Caused a great deal of wasted time’ hoping that Larry would take from this the message that George did not expect his employees to spend time, for which he was paying, texting friends or posting stupid photographs on Facebook, whatever that was, however he did concede that it might be a good idea if he got one for business purposes. ‘I’ll help you set it up’ promised Larry.

Whilst they were talking George suddenly recalled that Sheila had told him that Larry was a very good piano player.

‘I don’t suppose you are free on Saturday night Larry?’

Larry looked at George quite startled at first then his face broke into a coy grin. George realised that Larry thought he was being propositioned by the boss so he added hastily ‘Only my friend Jim is looking for a keyboard player for a gig they’re doing and his usual player is in hospital.’ Larry looked only slightly deflated.

‘No I’m not doing anything special.’ James, his current boyfriend, had been a bitch all week so Larry thought it would be good if he could tell James that he couldn’t see him as he was busy playing in a band ‘What sort of music do they play?’

‘It’s mostly 1950’s and 60’s ballads and that sort of thing.’

‘Oh that’s not Frankly Fawn is it?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact it is. Do you know them?’

‘No, not exactly know them but I’ve seen them, they’re very good and fun too. They’ve got Ronnie Jay singing for them, that’s his real name, he sings Stalking in the Rain, it’s hilarious.’

And so it was that Larry Jones joined Frankly Fawn, the band that celebrates the Age of Beige.

C21

Julian felt as if he hadn’t slept at all. It was 3.12am, according to the electronic clock display at the side of the bed, Pam was breathing deeply and quietly.

He had been lying there since half past eleven when they had both come to bed having spent the evening going around and around in the circles of confusion and speculation talking about their dilemma.

In that semi-comatose state, halfway between dream and thought, Julian had Gill as the black Queen on a chessboard with all the moves available to her, he was a white bishop with limited manoeuvres at his disposal, poor Pam was just a pawn who was not going to be able to have much influence on the play.

68 He was aware of George Chisholm’s intervention, Pam had been told by Evvie, maybe George was a white knight, supportive with some flexibility in his operations and perhaps lurking unnoticed.

‘Stupid’ he muttered out aloud and quickly turned his head to see if he had disturbed his sleeping wife. He hadn’t, she continued her slow, steady breathing.

When Julian had asked Detective Constable Bell if he could drop his accusation against Gill, in the hope she would, similarly, drop her counter accusation, Bell had told him that he would have been considered as wasting Police time and face prosecution on that basis and that the same rules applied to his accuser, she couldn’t drop her claims without being liable to further action against her. Julian couldn’t see his way out of the dilemma, the process of law and the subsequent investigations had been commenced and protocol demanded that the process should be followed through to a conclusion.

The Solicitor hadn’t been much help either, saying that until the police investigations had been completed and any charges made there wasn’t much anyone could do and that Julian should have contacted him the moment he was arrested. Julian had explained that as he considered he had nothing to answer he had been confident in clearing up the matter himself.

His car had been returned, still bearing the indications of the forensic investigations – more wasted police time for which he would be held responsible, he thought.

He slipped out of bed, Pam, curled, foetus-like in the far corner of the large matrimonial bed, the shared space of a quiet and, until now, dignified marriage, snuffled like a little mouse as he made his way across the room to where he had left his clothes, piled in an untidy heap outside of the wardrobe. He collected up his clothes and silently went downstairs to dress.

Misty, their waif thin little dog looked up at him when he went into the kitchen, the dog’s eyes blinked in the sudden harsh light, he gathered up the little creature tucking it beneath his left arm. The car keys were hung on the back of the white cupboard door which was screwed to the wall at the side of the back door, he unhooked them and went out onto the tarmac driveway, his path aided by light activated by the movement sensor, putting the dog onto its blanket on the rear seat he got into the car and drove to Brean Sands, on the edge of the Bristol Channel, some twenty miles away.

It was a wet, drab night with some patches of weak fog. He followed the familiar road, the same road along which his parents had taken him for their regular summer holiday venue where they rented a caravan at the foot of Brean Down.

He reached the coast road which ran parallel to the beach behind the sand dunes and drove through the gap onto the sands, the tide was out.

Memories of his happy childhood were at the forefront of his mind, running, laughing with his sisters, flying his kite with his father, Bertie their golden retriever, wet and bedraggled, ruining their sand castles, his tired looking mother making meat paste sandwiches. A different person, a different time.

He drove the car across the hard flat sands towards the distant sea edge and, after about two hundred yards, he drew it to a halt and switched off the car lights. It was totally dark.

69 ‘Come on Misty old thing’ he said as he opened the back door of the car and the little dog jumped out onto the sands eager in anticipation and with unconsidered trust and loyalty. Julian hesitated, his eyes were adjusting to the blackness, he thought about putting the dog back into the car then changed his mind. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you should I? I don’t need an excuse to be here.’

He walked away from the car, across the crusted sands towards the noise of the sea and into the thick grey mud that separated the golden sand from the brown sea. The glutinous mud squelched around his ankles, the dog was running backwards and forwards along the edge of the mud yapping, it occasionally tried putting one of its paws onto the mud before withdrawing it and setting off running again.

‘Go and find Mummy’ Julian shouted pointing back towards where he had left the car, his thoughts turned to Pam, his failure, Bank overdrafts, unconceived children. The dog stood and watched from the edge of the mud, its little mind confused as it watched its master heaving his legs, one at a time, through the mud towards the incoming tide.

Julian could hear the waves rush, he was no longer able to move his legs, they were trapped by the suction of the sticky grey mass. A wind had got up and a faint moon appeared through the racing black clouds, he screamed, an anguished loud, desperate and pointless scream. The cold, unrelenting brown waters came rapidly and engulfed him, unseen.

The moon reflected on the swirling monochrome waters.

A little later the telephone number on the collar tag of a bedraggled, thin, wet and frightened little dog was rung by a woman out taking her own dog for an early morning run along the thin strip of sandy beach that remained at high tide.

Pam confirmed that the registration number of the car was indeed hers, as was the dog Misty and didn’t need anyone to tell her what had happened.

Julian’s body, floating face down, unnoticed and unconsidered, clad in brown anorak, brown trousers, brown shoes was shredded through the propeller of a vast rectangular and unyielding steel vessel carrying cars manufactured in Japan, up the channel on the high tide, to the docks at Portbury and Pam commenced two years, four months and three days of battling with the authorities to have Julian declared as missing, presumed dead.

Not before he had taken a note of Gillian Rainsbury’s mobile telephone number, Detective Constable John Bell put the report he had completed regarding the two allegations and resultant assumed death of one of those under investigation onto the desk of Superintendent Joy Adebayo who, rather reluctantly, passed them for filing into the records system. She was disappointed as she sensed a lost opportunity to display to her resentful male colleagues, who considered that her appointment had been based on her colour and gender, her even handed approach to sexual assault. From the evidence D.C.Bell had collected and from the notes he had presented to her it was clear to Joy that the woman involved in this unfortunate affair was predatory and had thought she could bully two rather weak men and fool the police into thinking that she was the victim. Joy would have backed Bell’s conclusions and, maybe, could have started a long process of winning the trust and respect of him and several of his colleagues. She would now need to wait for further opportunities.

70

C22

Larry Jones sang the final words of ‘Finger of Suspicion’ pointing at a dark haired, young man of Latin appearance dressed in mauve jacket and handed him a packet of Fudge Fingers to the sound of laughter from an appreciative audience.

Larry had not only proved himself to be a more than competent keyboard player but he had quite a good voice too. This, combined with his outrageously camp performances, had attracted a new audience to Jim’s band and Frankly Fawn were becoming so popular that, instead of looking for bookings, Jim was now having to turn some down and, best of all, had been able to increase their fees so that, for the first time, the band members were actually earning some money from their performances rather than having to subsidise a hobby.

Ronnie Jay and Larry, or ‘The Boys’ as they had become known, had re-written the words to a number of songs in their repertoire:

As well as ‘Just Stalking in the Rain’ Ronnie now sang ‘Yes tonight I’m a queen Josephine’ Larry did ‘A lonely little petunia in an onion patch’ with actions and together the two performed a very well received duet of ‘Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered’. Their main number, however, had become an old Frankie Vaughan number for which the two donned straw boaters and kicked their legs singing ‘Green Door, what’s that secret you’re keeping? There’s an old banana and they serve it hot behind the Green Door’

The lyrics and introductions were gradually becoming more outrageous but Jim couldn’t argue that Frankly Fawn was becoming hot property.

‘Where have you been keeping this young man?’ Jim had asked George one morning after a particularly successful night at the local Ploughing Society Ball where they had succeeded in encouraging the local Member of Parliament, anxious to curry favour with the farming population, to engage in a risqué performance of ‘The Hand Jive’ to the delight of the tweeded and moth ball odoured audience.

It was also having a positive effect on George’s Masterton shop where women of a certain age were attracted to come in and engage in very improbable conversations with Larry who was now taking more control of the business there. An odd phenomenon it seemed to George.

The success didn’t come without its problems, not only had Ronnie and Larry fallen in love with each other but James, Larry’s erstwhile lover, had turned up at an Inner Wheel ‘do’ where they had been playing and made a scene. Now it seemed as if Larry was making overtures to Pete Rainsbury who, dressed in a mauve jacket, had become something of a groupie, turning up at very unlikely gigs where the band were appearing, this one being for the Masterton Pigeon Flyers Club and Ronnie was looking petulantly at Larry, he appeared to be very cross.

Jim recognised the problem and immediately directed the band onto the next song: ‘Magic Moments’ which Ronnie and Larry sang together often alternating with daft ideas that came into

71 their heads, the words The moment that you came into the room when I took my pants down being substituted for, or sometimes supplementing the words The time that the floor fell out of my car when I put the clutch down, this had his desired effect of ensuring the two men looked at each other and thought carefully about their singing, the rest of the evening went well but Jim realised he might have to do something about Pete.

A couple of days later Jim called on Pete, who had benefitted materially from his father’s death and now lived in a grand Victorian villa on the outskirts of Masterton that his father had been renovating at the time of his sudden and premature death.

Jim lifted a heavy brass knocker positioned squarely at the centre of an imposing, green painted, panelled door. It was answered shortly afterwards by Pete Rainsbury.

‘Hello Pete’

‘Hi Jim, what can I do for you?’

‘Can you spare a few minutes?’

‘Of course, come in.’

Jim stepped inside into the hallway. The floor was a beautiful tiled one, probably original, the whole area was finished to a high standard. He thought he could detect the smell of tetrachloroethylene.

At that moment Larry stepped out of one of the doors into the hallway.

‘Oh it’s Jim’ cried a delighted Larry ‘hello, what brings you to these dangerous shores?’

Jim was in a bit of a quandary now, he had intended to gently ask Pete if he could leave his courting of his band’s piano player and vocalist to times outside of their performances at local events but was now presented with the man who was the apparent object of his desire. Instead of his intended opening remark he said ‘I didn’t expect to see you here Larry, does Ronnie know you’re here?’

‘Of course I do’ said Ronnie as he followed Larry from the same room ‘we’ve just popped in to see our biggest fan Jimmy.’

‘Yes, he does seem to follow us around doesn’t he? Do you repair roofs Pete?’ was all that Jim could think of saying and then needed to fabricate a story about one of the slopes on his outhouse leaking.

‘Of course I do Jim, I’ll give you a call and come round to have a look.’

Jim left the house, its verdant green painted front door, withholding its secrets, closing quietly and firmly behind him.

72 C23

As she swam up and down the pool, the echoes of the various sounds reverberating around the pale, cold surfaces, Evvie was thinking about her life, it was not doing anything to lighten her mood.

She had, recently, realised she had never really achieved anything of any merit in her life or done the things she should have wanted to have done, her period as a Nurse was probably the only time in her life when she had been what might be considered a useful member of society and even then as an SRN she hadn’t really done much beyond dressing wounds and inoculating babies, she’d never saved anyone’s life or worked in an operating theatre, she hadn’t done anything to warrant praise for what could be considered above and beyond duty and hadn’t really considered it, as some did, a vocation.

Once Elizabeth, Bethy, had been born she had never missed the nursing profession and never been tempted to return to the difficult work with its unsocial and irregular hours.

For a period she had been pleased to be nothing more than a mother, not much of a wife, she admitted to herself, but a mother attending to Bethy’s needs, guiding her through schooling, puberty and towards adulthood. But then she’d messed that up too and Bethy had left home only ever now returning on rare occasions.

Perhaps Bethy’s friendship with Alan McFayden, Sarah and Alex’s son, would not have lasted but she knew they had slept together on at least one occasion and it was looking as if it might become a regular occurrence, so she couldn’t take a chance, she’d had no choice she convinced herself, but to tell Bethy the truth and prevent a potential disaster by causing a different one, one that affected fewer people.

As a consequence of this truth, almost immediately, Bethy had secured a placement with the Red Cross and was moving around in some of the most difficult parts of the world as an Aid Worker, being of much more use to society than either she or George, or most of the people they knew, were or were ever likely to be.

George was proud of Bethy’s achievements but was confused by his daughter’s sudden departure and continued absence from their lives. The irony was that George and Bethy had been very close and devoted to each other, they still were, but Bethy had been given a secret that she could not share with George and considered that the only way to deal with the problem was to see as little of her parents as possible.

Not too long after she had married George, Evvie had experienced the doubts that confront many young people when the realisation of the impact of marriage on their life and, more importantly, their freedom and future, is suddenly and belatedly realised.

Alex McFayden had started flirting with Evvie soon after her marriage to George, like most things in George and Evvie’s lives their wedding had been an unostentatious event at the Registry Office. In those days the two of them talked about things much more than either of them could now manage and because both of them were antipathetic towards religion and a belief, as perceived by any of the religions, it was agreed that a Civil Wedding would be the most appropriate.

73 Alex and Sarah McFayden had been at the Wedding Reception, they were a couple from the old crowd with whom Evvie and George had socialised and Alex had made one or two suggestive remarks to Evvie during the afternoon when the two had been out of earshot of other guests, she had ignored this, putting it down to him having a couple of glasses of wine on an empty stomach as they waited for the meal to be served. However, over the next few months he had persisted and Evvie had foolishly accepted his invitation to a clandestine lunch at a pub not far from an interchange on the M4. They had a lunch and had spoken of their doubts regarding the wisdom of their individual marriages.

It had all ended in rather romantic sounding lovemaking in a nearby wheatfield, the wheat was almost ripe, it was a beautiful hot summer’s day in July, the earth was warm from a long dry spell of weather and skylarks could be heard above the drone of the traffic on the adjacent motorway. Alex had rather conveniently found a tartan picnic blanket in the boot of his car the pattern of which Evvie still carried in her head to this day. It had all been very exciting and felt deliciously wicked at the time but upon reflection Evvie had realised it had been a fairly squalid seduction which had been planned with precision by Alex.

As a consequence of this illicit excursion Evvie had become pregnant with Bethy, she knew the baby wasn’t George’s, the dates didn’t fit but George, in his naivety, was unaware of the discrepancy and was delighted to have such a sweet little good natured daughter as his beloved Bethy.

Alex’s and Evvie’s liaison began and ended on that day, she and Alex never referred to it again although they met socially from time to time. It was doubtful that Alex was aware of his part in Bethy’s creation, certainly Evvie had never told him and until she had confided in Bethy the only other person to be aware of the anomaly was Nora and she was unlikely to tell anyone, besides which she didn’t know the man in question.

Therefore, when Bethy had started dating Alan seriously Evvie had taken it upon herself to explain to Bethy the dilemma. In doing so she had placed her daughter into the impossible position of keeping such a fundamentally important secret from her father and ruined the girl’s love affair with Alan, of whom she had become very fond, and to whom she was unable to offer a rational explanation for the sudden breaking off of their relationship for fear it would prejudice his own family’s relationships and that the information get back to George whom she continued to regard as her loving father.

Bethy had been, and remained, so angry with her mother yet she couldn’t share the distress she felt with the people she loved most and who would have been able to help her most.

She had only visited her home twice since that time and then staying only for very short periods and although she telephoned her father regularly she avoided having anything but the briefest of conversations with her mother.

Evvie had never quite known if George was aware of the division between the two women or whether this was yet another of those unspoken matters that he considered best not confronted and of which there was a growing list.

Nora had known from an early stage in her sister’s pregnancy the circumstances of the conception and had advised her to say nothing to anyone, least of all George, because ‘Darling what can go wrong if you don’t tell anyone? As long as it’s not a little boy who’s a dead ringer for his natural

74 father’ she had added in her naturally mischievous way. This had further reinforced Nora’s opinion of George, as a weak and naïve individual, which had changed little over the ensuing years. Bethy was also aware of her Aunt’s opinion of her own father and because of this, coupled with the geography and her feeling that Nora was slightly jealous of her mother for having a child, she did not have a particularly close relationship with her Aunt although birthday cards, which included words such as love and special, were exchanged.

It was a factor in Evvie’s consideration of leaving George that if she did so then Bethy might be tempted to divulge the secret to her loving father, but by then did it matter she wondered and would her life be any worse than it was currently?

The hour bell rang and Evvie, together with six or seven other swimmers, made their way to the poolside and into the chilly changing rooms to wash away the odour of municipal chlorine if not their individual problems.

A bit later Evvie swung her car into the driveway and almost collided with a dishevelled looking woman, dressed in a dark blue fleece and jeans and carrying a large backpack, who was just about to walk out through the gateway.

‘Barbara’ exclaimed Evvie ‘what are you doing here?’

She hadn’t seen Jim’s ex-wife for several years and although she had received a Christmas card from her ever since Barbara had left Jim she could never reciprocate as Barbara didn’t have an address because the boat had no regular mooring.

It was clear that Barbara was in a distressed state, her eyes were puffy, her hair, now greying, was a mess.

‘Come in, have a cup of tea.’

It was several days before Barbara left.

When Barbara had lived with Jim the two women had become quite friendly, but since Barbara had run off with Terence, to live a nomadic life on the canal, they’d not communicated although Jim or George did occasionally mention her, so Evvie did have some understanding of Barbara’s more recent life and was surprised to see her former friend.

‘I haven’t got anywhere to go, Terence has thrown me out. He’s got himself another woman; she’s a barmaid at the Golf Club and Jim won’t let me into the house.’ Barbara wept into her tea.

‘Well, in fairness Barb it is Jim’s house now, he did buy you out when you divorced didn’t he?’

‘I know, but I’ve always kept in touch with him and he knows that I still have feelings for him.’

‘But Barbara, you left him. You ran away with another man. Jim was devastated, I know, he came around here a lot, he still does, he and George are great friends. You can’t expect to just walk back in as if nothing happened. Why did you go back there?’

That evening Barbara had her first bath since she had left Jim and slept in a clean, dry bed, another long forgotten experience.

75 The following day George called at Jim’s house, not to remonstrate with his friend, but to see Pete Rainsbury, who was working there re-roofing an outbuilding and to ask him if he had any flats available at the old barn where Moon and Sixpence used to have their base.

‘You’re in luck’ said Pete cheerfully ‘one of the grooms who works at Morgan’s told me yesterday that she’s moving in with her boyfriend. I told her she’s mad, he’s a total plonker, but you can’t tell her.’

‘When’s she going?’ asked George, anxious that their uninvited house guest should move on as quickly as possible.

‘I think she’s already left. She wants out ASAP, but I’ve told her she has to give me a months’ notice. D’you know she only has to give me a month, I have to give her two months’ notice. Bloody unfair, tenants have all the rights, can’t even get ‘em out when they owe you money….’

‘Can we look at it?’ George interjected before Pete could launch into the same diatribe that George had heard in the pub from Pete and his father before him.

‘Yes, if you like it we can get – who is it? – in pretty much straight away.’

George thought it best not to explain to Pete the exact relationship of his prospective new tenant with the owner of the house that Pete was working on. Jim was not at home but he had phoned his friend to explain the situation, however as far as Pete was concerned Barbara was ‘ just a friend of Evvie’s.’

Evvie took Barbara to the flat later that afternoon. It suited Barbara’s immediate needs perfectly; the groom had already moved out to live with the plonker, so, within a couple of days, Barbara was cosily ensconced in a little one bedroom flat that had its own tiny, south facing, courtyard. Her recent life with Terence had been fairly torrid, she’d realised he’d found someone else long before he’d had the grace to tell her, and this flat was roomier and drier than Terence’s horrible little boat. She wondered how long Brenda would last with the bedraggled Terence.

It had not occurred to Evvie before but Barbara’s actions in leaving Jim for Terence, not exactly impulsively, but being offered an opportunity to change her life by leaving what had become a fairly tired marriage must have, to Barbara then, seemed exciting and different and could have mirrored her own brief and, ultimately, ill-fated affair with Tony.

She was sure, had Tony offered her a more permanent arrangement, she would have taken it and run off with him even in the knowledge that it was unlikely to succeed as a happy and fulfilling relationship for any length of time.

Barbara had seen a way out of her previous life with Jim to go to someone whom she found attractive, who wanted her and who appeared to live a romantic and exciting life, but now she had been reduced to going back to her former husband who had, quite understandably, in Evvie’s opinion, rejected her. Why would she choose, or expect, to go back?

It was inevitable that Terence would, ultimately, get bored with Barbara, even Barbara knew that. Terence, or Tony for that matter, were not built for the long haul, such men weren’t. It was odd, Evvie thought, that she and Barbara had both been attracted to men who didn’t want their dinner

76 on the table when they came home, as it seemed their respective husband’s did, but, in Barbara’s case, she had discovered that she was the sort of woman who, ultimately, wanted it that way, she longed for the stability of a routine. Evvie wasn’t sure what she wanted.

‘I’m pleased we’ve found this Barb’ Evvie had said when Barbara had seen the flat and confirmed with Pete that she could move in ‘it will be ideal for you whilst you get your life back together.’

‘Yes, dumb wasn’t I? Expecting to find a good life with a bloke who couldn’t even organise himself well enough to arrange a permanent bloody mooring for a boat. Anyhow all I can say is that I’m better off out of it, I ought to buy that Brenda a drink when I see her, although I don’t think she’ll stick it for long. It’s lovely in the summer, if the sun’s out, but the winters are awful, truly awful Evvie and Terence is a right old messer too. But I’m not as daft as I seem Evvie’ she added.

‘I’ve never said you were daft Barb.’

‘No, in fairness you haven’t actually said it, but you must have thought it, running away from a steady secure life with Jim for that pillock.’

‘No I can sympathise with you Barb, I feel like that myself sometimes’ Evvie thought she’d better not go further than that so then said ‘and, as I’ve said before the thing I can’t understand Barb is why you tried to go back to Jim.’

‘Yes that must seem odd, I suppose it is. The thing is Evvie and I don’t expect you can understand this either, but I always kept in touch with Jim, I poured out all my problems onto him and I’ve always thought he’d be there for me, especially as he’s never found anyone else. I think I’d always thought we’d resume our old life once I’d got Terence and my personal rebellion out of the way. Stupid isn’t it?’

‘You hurt him too much Barb, he wouldn’t trust anyone again and that’s why he doesn’t want you back now.’

‘I suppose I can understand that’ Barbara admitted.

The two women, George as well, had been through all this with Barbara over the past couple of days but that didn’t stop the two women needing to cover the same ground again, this time without the aid of a bottle of wine, to ensure they knew where they stood.

Evvie speculated what would happen if she left George.

In her case it would mean leaving him for no other reason than she no longer wanted to be with him, would that be easier for him to understand than her running off with someone, as Barb had done, or would it be worse for him to think he was impossibly awful to live with?

Perhaps, like Jim, whose choice it had not been to have been left alone, George would flourish, enjoy a freedom. Evvie wasn’t quite sure she would like that, it also surprised her that she cared.

‘Onwards and upwards for you now girl’ Evvie touched Barbara’s arm.

77 ‘I’m going to be ok, I know that. This place will suit me fine, it’s nearer my work than the river and at least it’s always in the same bloody place when I come home! Which reminds me Evvie, I might need your help again.’

‘I’ll do my best Barb, what is it?’ Evvie asked.

‘I might need you to exaggerate the truth?’

‘You mean tell a lie?’ Evvie knew what her friend was suggesting.

‘Sort of.’

‘What do you want me to do Barb?’ there was an indication in Evvie’s voice that she wouldn’t want to get involved in any sort of subterfuge.

‘Just say we were together talking next Thursday evening, till late, that’s all. You can come round if you like so as you wouldn’t be telling a lie. You might just forget what time you left, that’s all.’

‘That’s all?’

‘Yep, that’s all.’

‘Come on then, tell me why.’ Evvie was both curious and cautious.

‘Well, it’s just that a certain narrow boat might find that it’s mooring ropes slip their hold that night.’ Barbara smiled mischievously at Evvie and winked ‘It won’t come to any harm, it’ll just drift slowly and probably hit a river bank. Might wake the occupants up a bit suddenly though.’

‘Oh, if that’s all, fine.’

The two women laughed loudly and hugged each other.

C24

It was September and Jim was sitting in his conservatory with a glass of an Argentinean Malbec that ASDA had on offer, Bob Dylan’s ‘Thunder on the Mountain’ was clattering off the unyielding glass surfaces when he saw Pete Rainsbury waving at him through the window.

Jim turned down the volume and let Pete in.

78 ‘Sorry Jim but I rang the bell and you didn’t hear me, I knew you were in, I could hear the music from around the front. What are you doing listening to modern music like that, I thought you were a fifties music devotee?’

‘Jeez no. That stuff is good for the band and brings in a certain audience but I don’t listen to it much at home unless I need to find a new song.’

‘I hope you don’t mind me just dropping in like this Jim?’

‘No problem, can I get you a drink?’

‘Thanks, I’ll have a lager if you’ve got one.’

Jim went into the kitchen, he had an old bottle of Grolsch lying at the back of the fridge which he opened and poured into a glass before dropping the bottle into his waste bin to ensure Pete didn’t read the ‘Best by’ date.

He went back into the conservatory and indicated to Pete to sit down on one of the cane chairs so beloved of all conservatory owners, it creaked characteristically as his weight was absorbed by the woven material.

‘Bit difficult this one’ Pete spluttered.

‘This one?’

‘The reason I wanted to chat with you.’

‘Best fire away then.’

‘Ronnie, Larry and me have been discussing this and I’ve volunteered to be the one to talk to you about it.’

Jim had a dreadful foreboding.

‘We realise that Frankly Fawn is your idea and that it’s a great concept and that you’ve built it up over the years and that the boys really enjoy doing it. They enjoy it so much that they’d like to start doing it more or less professionally.’

‘We’re not professional enough now?’

‘No that’s not what I mean. I mean we all quite fancy trying to make a living from it, take it forwards a bit, we know there’s a market out there that would be attracted to what we’re…. you and the boys, are doing.’

‘It’s a bit of fun Pete, I’m not sure it’s quite strong enough to stand alone like that. That would involve travelling, staying away and all the costs and stuff that goes with that. Anyway I’m not sure that that’s what I want to do at my time of life.’

‘Yeh that’s the point Jim. We’re all quite a bit younger than you and we just fancy having a go at doing something different, taking a chance. We realise that’s not what you’d want to do, probably not what most of the other guys in the band would either but we reckon you’ve developed

79 something that could really work on a more national basis. But we all know it’s your band, your idea and your baby and we don’t want to do the dirty on you and just leave and dump you so we’d like to buy the band, the title, the idea from you. Make you an offer’

‘An offer?’

Pete wriggled uncomfortably in the wicker chair, it creaked as if in harmony with his unease.

‘Buy Frankly Fawn? Are you mad? What would I be selling?’

‘Just the name and the concept really I suppose. I think we would all agree the reason the band has now become so popular is because of Larry and Ronnie and we think… the boys and me, think we could really make it big.’

Jim poured himself some more wine.

‘Make it big eh? So it’s a sort of polite blackmail that you’re suggesting. If I don’t accept it Larry and Ronnie leave and you think the band will sink without trace?’

‘No that’s not what we’re doing at all.’

‘So if I say no, what will happen? We all carry on as if nothing has happened? I don’t think so do you?’

‘Jim please understand that we’re just three young blokes who’ve seen a chance to make something of our lives. And please take it as a compliment that you’ve created something that other people want.’

‘So what is your part in all this Pete, as far as I know you can’t even play the triangle? Have you put the other two up to this?’

‘Well I would be the manager, the roadie, the one who sorts out the business side. But the difference is that I really like the music and I want to do something other than just carry on where my Dad left off, there’s no satisfaction in that, that’s being lazy. I’d like to make my own mark on the world.’

‘What’s the offer Pete, can I retire onto a Caribbean island?’

‘It depends whether you’d rather have a lump sum or a percentage Jim.’

‘You’ve certainly thought this one through Pete haven’t you?’

The Dylan album had moved on to ‘Things have changed’ before Jim was aware of the music again.

‘Look Pete, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Let me think about it for a couple of days. You understand this isn’t something that I’ve given any consideration to and I want to give some thought to my options. You’ve been thinking and conspiring about this for weeks, probably months but it’s come out of the blue to me. I need some time.’

‘Sure Jim, sure, I understand but I hope you don’t think we’ve been conspiring.’

80 Jim looked at Pete and raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh and by the way Pete.’

‘Yes?’

‘That roof is still leaking.’

C25

Evvie unpacked her third suitcase, the one with the shoes she thought she would need for the oncoming colder weather, it also contained several of the mementoes she wanted around the flat, photographs of dogs now dead and Nora and her with their parents at Weston super Mare, a jug that belonged to her grandmother.

The flat at the old Moon and Sixpence barn was the one directly above Barbara’s. Barbara had mentioned to Evvie that the occupant, a quiet young man who, apparently, played professional rugby, had been offered a contract to play for a club up country somewhere and was leaving. Evvie had approached Pete Rainsbury and he’d agreed to let it to her being, at the same time, sworn to secrecy regarding the arrangement.

‘No one knows yet.’ She’d explained to Pete.

‘Not even George?’ Pete had asked.

‘Especially not even George!’

Pete was not surprised, very little surprised Pete these days. He knew Evvie had been away with his father the weekend the old chap had dropped dead.

He knew also she had scarpered as soon as she had seen what had happened to his father but he didn’t hold that against her, his father had never had any regard for his own health and was a heart attack waiting to happen, it just happened to be Evvie’s bad luck that she was the one with him when the inevitable occurred. It could have been any one of a number of women his father had taken to the caravan, he saw a few of them around the area quite often, he’d worked at most of their houses.

Thinking about the caravan reminded Pete that he had never cleared up the mystery of the so-called cousin of his father’s, Mr Sax, who had called at the site claiming to be an executor of his father’s Will and taken away an invoice for the overdue site fees. That had cost Pete a penalty charge of

81 another hundred pounds because of the length of time it took to settle, due to him not receiving the notice. Anyhow the same person had apparently settled the bill at the pub, so served him right.

She replaced her shoes in the rack at the bottom of the same wardrobe from which she had removed them earlier in the day.

Evvie had packed her cases as soon as George had left the house the previous evening for his annual visit to Bournemouth for the Dry Cleaners and Key Cutters Conference. He would be staying for the two nights, returning the following afternoon full, no doubt, of renewed enthusiasm for a new logo or group colour, were three shops a group?

It had seemed a good idea to Evvie to leave whilst he was away, no need for lengthy and difficult conversations, just tell him she wanted to change her life, leave a note in the first place then meet him later to explain and apologise for not mentioning it.

She had even got the cases in the car and the note ready:

Dear George

I’m sorry if this has come as a shock but I have decided to leave you.

I want to change my life, there isn’t anyone else. It’s just that I need some space.

Love Evvie x

PS. There’s a frozen dinner in the top drawer of the freezer.

But, as she had closed the front door and sat in her car she realised that she couldn’t do it. She admitted to herself that she was scared of the thought of the life she would now be obliged to live but she had convinced herself that this wasn’t the reason she backed out of the move, after all her life with George was fairly solitary, they didn’t really share much at all. No, it was just wrong to do it this way she needed to sit down and tell him the reasons she was leaving, she needn’t mention Alex McFayden, Bethy, Tony Tanner, none of that, just tell him she wasn’t feeling fulfilled, simple?

Evvie had given Pete the deposit and two month’s rent in advance, she couldn’t really ask for that back now, she was going to look foolish enough as it was, explaining to Pete that she had changed her mind.

She could keep the flat, only Pete Rainsbury knew, she hadn’t even told Barbara, and as long as Pete was being paid it shouldn’t make any difference to him. Besides which she had bought a nice new bed and some kitchen equipment, what would she do with that? She decided she would keep the flat.

Pete Rainsbury, he was a strange one she thought, living in that house with those two lads who sang in Jim’s band, no-one knew what the domestic arrangements were behind that green door, except that it appeared that Larry and Ronnie were an item, but where did Pete fit into all that, they seemed to be rather more than just tenants, the way they all got around together. However, probably because he was so discreet about his own life, Evvie felt comfortable that Pete would be discreet about her’s, it was a shame he had such an awful mother.

82 C26

Most of the delegates were staying at the Grand Atlantic where the conference was being held but George preferred to stay at the Excelsior, where the conference had traditionally been located.

These days most of the attendees were Asian; Indian or Pakistani, the key cutters were European but many of these were ex-convicts, George wasn’t sure he had much in common with any of them.

He had attended the morning event which was entitled ‘Maximising your Income’ which seemed largely to be about fringe illegal tax evasion and he had come out onto The Promenade to escape the buffet, which would involve balancing cherry tomatoes and onion bhajis on paper plates whilst talking of whether you allowed customers to take away the wire hangers, or whether it was better to reduce costs by re-using them.

He needed some fresh air.

He sat down in one of the glass shelters that are supposed to provide screening from the off shore winds if you want to look at the sea, but today, as was normally the case, the wind was coming off the sea so he ate his pre-packed sandwich watching Bournemouth’s traffic pass before moving around to the other side of the shelter.

As he was folding up the cardboard box that had snugly ensconced his BLT sandwich (brown bread), facing the chill wind blowing off a choppy grey sea, eyes streaming, he heard a woman’s voice say ‘Hello Chisholm.’

There, wrapped in a red anorak, hood up, tight denim jeans and fleece lined ankle length boots stood Gill Rainsbury.

‘Gill – what the hell are you doing here?’ he said in a voice that a father might use when chastising a particularly naughty child.

‘I’ve come to see you George.’ She replied, slightly taken aback by George’s uncharacteristic aggressive tone.

‘Me? Why? And how did you know I was here?’

‘So many questions George.’ Gill regained her normal composure ‘Well, to answer them in the order in which they were asked; Yes, you. Why? Because I want to talk to you and everyone knows you come to this conference, all I had to do was to find out where it’s held.’

‘Why do you want to talk to me? I can’t think we’ve got anything to discuss.’

83 ‘Come on, let’s go for a coffee, you look as if you need warming up a bit and I’ll explain.’ Gill put out her hand offering to help him up off his bench and George found himself accepting it allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

George chose a seat at a table in a dark corner at the back of the coffee house and Gill brought the two drinks to the table on a tray. They were served in those thick white mugs so beloved of the American styled coffee houses of which there are so many these days. Didn’t they realise, George thought, that coffee, however fresh and well made, tastes better from thin porcelain or at least china? Perhaps, he guessed, such crockery damages too easily or perhaps the mugs were designed to be awful to deter customers from stealing them?

A song was playing in the back-ground, it was U2 ‘I still haven’t found what I’m looking for’.

Gill sat down on the padded bench beside him, he realised immediately that he had made a mistake, he should have sat on an individual chair.

‘George’ Gill spoke immediately she had removed her anorak and settled herself ‘I want to apologise.’

George didn’t speak.

‘I shouldn’t have teased you like that, in the shed.’

‘Teased? Is that what you call it?’

‘Well, you know what I mean. I shouldn’t have done it.’

‘It was bad enough you did it to me Gill but you did something pretty much similar to poor old Julian and look what happened there.’

‘Yes that’s what I feel really bad about. I should never have done that, Julian was the wrong sort.’

‘Wrong sort? Wrong sort Gill, what the hell is that supposed to mean? Am I the right sort? The sort that likes stray women coming up behind them and sexually assaulting them?’

The sound track was now playing ‘Angels of Harlem’.

‘Come on George, sexual assault? That’s a bit strong isn’t it?’

‘Well that’s what it is Gill. If I’d done that to you unasked, you’d have a pretty good case to call that sexual assault wouldn’t you?’

‘I didn’t expect him to go to the Police George, I really didn’t. I know I shouldn’t have done it but I’d had a few drinks on an empty stomach and it seemed quite funny to me at the time. You know, Julian being so timid, so straight laced you know?’

‘No Gill I can’t say I share your sense of humour, drunk or not.’

‘Come on George, you can’t say you didn’t enjoy it when I did it to you? You didn’t push me away or ask me to stop or anything.’

84 ‘I was too shocked and I think the same probably happened to Julian, he was profoundly shocked, he was a church going man and Pam was bound to notice he’d been affected by it.’

‘Yes, I hadn’t factored Pam in. I expect it was her that sent him to the Police, I don’t think Julian would have done that otherwise.’

‘Well, Evvie wanted me to go to the Police when she found out that you’d done it to me.’

‘You told Evvie?’

‘No, not exactly, she found out.’

‘How?’

‘She found my pants that you’d dropped into that Harrods bag – we don’t shop at Harrods.’

‘Why didn’t you put them in the bin?’

‘I did.’

‘Does she always rummage through the bin to see what you’re throwing away?’ Gill sounded amused.

‘No. it’s the badgers. They ripped the bag open and she noticed the Harrods bag when she was clearing up the mess they’d made.’

‘Ooh. That’s bad luck but it doesn’t explain how she knew it happened.’

‘I told her when she asked about it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m not like you. I can’t tell lies, I never have, I can’t do it – invent stories, evade truths, it’s not in my nature.’

The conversation died away as they both stirred their coffees.

George broke the silence; ‘Why did you tell the Police that Julian attempted to rape you?’

Gill hesitated and looked truly remorseful ‘I panicked. I told you I didn’t expect Julian to go to the Police, so when that Detective Bell came to speak to me I panicked and told him it was the other way around. I wish I hadn’t but I did and once I’d said it I couldn’t unsay it – it all got too stupid, it was all unnecessary and just got out of control.’

‘You told him you had evidence.’

‘How did you know that?’

‘Because Pam told Evvie.’

‘Oh, I see. Yes, and lied about that too. I was going to give them a pair of my knickers and say they should have traces of semen on them. I knew they wouldn’t find anything so I thought everything

85 would then be dropped because it would just be my word against his and nothing further would happen.’

‘You know I went to the Police and told them you’d done the same thing to me?’

‘Yes I know it had to be you, you’re the only other one. That awful D. C. Bell came and told me there’d been another complaint.’

‘I told him I didn’t want to make a complaint I only wanted to try to save Julian from being falsely accused.’

‘I guessed that, otherwise there would have been more of a follow-up. But he was really creepy, that Detective, always seemed to have a digestion problem too, farted a lot, they smelt terribly. I think he hoped I’d have a go at him. Yuk!’ She pulled a face.

‘What I can’t understand Gill is why you’ve come all this way on the off chance you’d see me to tell me all this.’

‘Well George I wasn’t really likely to be able to see you without some local or other seeing us together and I really wanted you to know how sorry I was, so I knew where you were and thought that this was my best chance of seeing you and apologising.’

‘I see.’ George was quiet for a few moments then said ‘Well you’ve made me miss ‘Dry Cleaning – the alternatives.’

‘I reckon I’ve done you a favour then.’ She smiled at him.

George had to admit to himself that Gill was a handsome woman, not pretty in the conventional sense but very attractive and he could understand why some people suspected she had tendencies towards lesbianism, there was a hint of masculinity in her manner. The fullness of her breasts was clear through the tight sweater she was wearing, her eyes glinted wickedly and the laughter lines around them added warmth to her appearance.

Quite how it happened George wasn’t quite sure, although he did remember the phrase ‘What’s good for the goose is good for the gander’ being used at one stage, however that night Gill Rainsbury and he shared the same bed and he was reminded of how wonderful the act of sexual congress could be.

His problem was that he was due to drive home later that day and would need to avoid eye contact with Evvie when she asked how he’d got on at the conference.

86 C27

George had not had time to put his overnight bag down, the leather one with buckles, a Christmas gift from Bethy a few years back, when Evvie burst out of the kitchen with the words she had been rehearsing for the best part of twenty-four hours.

Of course she hadn’t intended to do it quite like this. She had envisaged sitting him down, giving him a cup of tea and a biscuit, a rich tea, his favourite, and presenting him with a gentle, well-reasoned, sympathetic argument.

However, the guilt laden George was later than she had expected and had not, as was his normal routine, come into the house through the restyled kitchen but, instead, had entered through the little used front door, in the hope he could avoid Evvie and any explanation of his trip to Bournemouth.

Immediately she entered the hallway Evvie told George that she was leaving him and going to live on her own for a while whilst ‘she found herself’.

Obviously, it seemed to George, Evvie had somehow got word of his philandering with Gill Rainsbury and, understandably, had found the whole situation unacceptable and decided that to leave the matrimonial home was her only recourse.

‘I’m sorry’ was all that he could think of saying.

Evvie, unaware of George’s night of unaccustomed sex, assumed that was another way of saying ‘Did I hear what you have just said correctly, that you’re leaving me?’ carried on ‘I’m not happy George, I haven’t been happy for years, probably not ever since we were married.’ It was all coming out in the wrong order she thought.

George realised his behaviour had been reprehensible but was not expecting a history lesson to substantiate what appeared to him, an impulsive reaction to his unfaithfulness.

‘It wasn’t something I planned.’ He started in defence of the indefensible, but Evvie had started her speech and was not going to tolerate interjections from George and continued ‘It’s not something I exactly planned either George’ she realised this wasn’t quite true but, undeterred, ploughed onwards ‘but I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, a couple of years, or maybe longer. We’ve nothing in common George, whatever we had once, if anything, is long gone.’

It was at this point that George realised Evvie wasn’t talking about his night of passion with Gill but something rather more fundamental and substantial than his quick fling with the woman Evvie hated more than anyone else she could think of, except perhaps Nicola Sturgeon.

He was still standing in the hallway, bag in one hand, keys in the other ‘When did you decide this?’ he asked in a voice that he hoped indicated hurt.

‘It’s been coming on for a long time George, he noted the frequent use of his name, that always happened when he was being lectured. ‘I was actually going to leave whilst you were away but I felt I ought to stay and tell you face to face.’ Generous of you thought George, how considerate ‘You can’t really be surprised and you can’t be happy either. I’m not exactly the model wife now am I?’

87 George realised he needed to be careful here; if he agreed she wasn’t a model wife he knew Evvie could twist the argument around so as it would appear she was leaving because he had complained of her shortcomings and inadequacies, so instead he said ‘I don’t suppose I’m exactly your ideal husband but I thought we got on okay.’

His scheme appeared to work.

‘You’re a lovely kind man George’ he was taken by surprise, he couldn’t remember Evvie ever paying him a compliment and it didn’t stop there, she went on; ‘and you’re successful, your staff like and respect you, you’re a wonderful father.’ George was beginning to wonder why anyone would want to leave such a paragon, he sounded like every woman’s dream and then she said ‘But I don’t love you George. I wish I could but I can’t.’

‘There isn’t much I can do about that then is there?’ George conceded.

‘No, I’m afraid there isn’t.’ These were the words that Evvie had wanted to say, she knew there was no answer to this, neither was there any way back.

‘Is there anyone else?’ he was aware Evvie’s erstwhile lover had died, not exactly in her arms, but on her watch.

‘No George there isn’t anyone else.’ She refrained from adding ‘Any longer.’

‘That doesn’t make it any better really, to be left because your wife thinks you’re too awful to be with. It might have been better if you were running off with the local…’ he hesitated, he wanted to say builder but instead said ‘Vet’ which was the next profession that came into his mind.

Unbeknown to George he had hit upon a very sensitive spot here, Alex MacFayden, the natural father of his beloved daughter Bethy, was indeed that, the local Vet.

It was Evvie’s turn to be taken aback ‘Alex?’ she said, colouring up.

‘No I was only using that as a figure of speech, I forgot Alex was a Vet. No he’s a right prat I wouldn’t expect you to leave with an idiot like that. No I meant at least it would be a reason for leaving, not just because you were fed up with me.’

‘I’m not really fed up with you George, it’s just that I want something else. To be honest I don’t know what I want but it’s not this, not what we have.’

‘What are you going to do?’ he ventured.

‘I’ve reserved a place down at the Moon and Sixpence barn.’

‘So Pete Rainsbury knew you intended to leave me before I did?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. I’m sorry.’

‘Does anyone else know? I suppose all your female friends know about it.’ George refrained from calling them ‘the coven’, a phrase Jim was partial to using when describing the group, he was beginning to sympathise with Jim’s opinion.

88 ‘No they do not George, only Pete and it was difficult not to tell him, in the circumstances. He doesn’t know any details, just that I was looking for a place.’

‘When are you going?’

‘Probably tomorrow, I need to pack first.’ She didn’t tell him that she had already done the dress rehearsal for that.

‘And are we divorcing?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know, what do you think?’

‘I’m hardly the one to ask. I’ve only known you were leaving for about ten bloody minutes. You’re the one who seems to have it organised, I’m surprised the papers aren’t already in the post!’ With that George swung his bag forward, narrowly missing Evvie’s right knee, and went upstairs. He didn’t go into their shared bedroom but into the spare one that they used if one of them was unwell or needed to be up early. George put his bag onto one of the beds and sat down beside it.

He had a mixture of thoughts and emotions swilling around in his head. He was shocked at the news but he wasn’t sure he was unhappy, after all he had just experienced probably the most wonderful night, well at least physically, of his life. Perhaps, if Evvie left him there might be a bit more of that. He remembered Jim had suggested, after he had told his friend of his suspicions of Evvie’s weekend with Tony Tanner, that him and Evvie parting might be the best thing that had ever happened to him, Jim certainly seemed to enjoy his life without the aid of a wife.

The unfolding events certainly got around any difficult questions regarding what happened at the Dry Cleaners and Key Cutters conference, he wouldn’t need to invent details of the talks on ‘New techniques in the Dry Cleaning Industry’ or ‘Combining other Services into your Business’.

George looked at his watch, he’d eaten a cooked breakfast quite late at The Excelsior but he had not eaten since then, it was Friday night and Evvie hadn’t mentioned food at all in their conversation so he went back downstairs, out of the front door and drove to Jim’s house.

Jim was stowing his drum kit into the back of his old Volvo estate, which he explained to George, and anyone else who would care to listen, was the only sensible car for a drummer to own.

‘Hello my old mate, what brings you to my place at this time of the day? You look a bit fraught, you ok?’

‘You look as if you’ve got a gig on tonight Jim, can I come with you?’

‘Sure, it’s over in Bath, come along, it’ll be good to have some company, you obviously need to tell someone about something.’

‘I’ll need to stop off and get a sandwich or something.’

‘No problem.’

89 It was well past midnight when George returned to his house, he crept in, not wishing to see Evvie, and slept naked, for the second time in two nights, not something he had ever done before in his life, but this time alone, in a single bed.

C28

It had been over five years, George calculated, since he had picked up his guitar.

He had gone into the spare room for the first time since Evvie had left, some three weeks ago, and found the instrument at the back of the top shelf of the oak veneered wardrobe where he had stowed it after the Christmas when Bethy had just left school and started at University. The time when she brought back a couple of friends whose parents didn’t seem to want them at home, typical of Bethy, George had said at the time, always thinking of others.

There was a lot of Evvie’s stuff, not only in this room, but all over the house, he didn’t regard it as his responsibility to be custodian of her possessions any longer, after all it had been her choice to leave. He thought he might tell her that he intended to get a skip in and, unless there was anything she wanted, he would clear it. He had already taken down the paintings she had done at the Art Class she had attended a few years back.

The strange thing was that he didn’t particularly miss Evvie. Obviously he noticed she wasn’t there and had to do more domestic chores himself, but he didn’t miss her presence, her company, conversations or anything like that. Perhaps she was correct, they didn’t have anything in common any longer and they hadn’t really had proper conversations for years. They had been living separate lives.

Having been required, as a young man, to fend for himself, he was quite a competent cook and knew how to run a household and, being an only child, George was quite content with his own company, perhaps he didn’t need family after all.

The ever faithful Sheila had sorted another of her relatives, of whom she seemed to have an endless supply, to do his cleaning, a pleasant young girl with the most beautiful eyes.

It wasn’t that George couldn’t do the cleaning, it was just that he didn’t want to do the cleaning and was in the fortunate position of being able to afford to pay someone else to do it for him, besides the girl had a young baby and it was helpful to her to earn a little. She brought the baby to work and moved it around the house with her if it was awake or, if it was sleeping, left it in the sitting room. George assumed it was a boy because it was generally dressed in blue, but as he went out as soon as the girl appeared, he hadn’t found out.

George took the guitar out of its zipped, black case and strummed it a couple of times, it was hopelessly out of tune, not that he expected anything else, but it felt good to hold it and press his fingers against the frets, trying the positions of a few simple chords.

Jim had suggested this, he was setting up a new band, a different style of music to that which Frankly Fawn had played, he was now going for the more broadly based pop music of the 1960’s, 70’s and 80’s and would need a rhythm guitarist.

90 The remainder of Frankly Fawn were staying with Jim, they were men with jobs and families, leaving ‘the boys’ to go off with Pete Rainsbury and try their luck with a group of new musicians whom they intended to pay on a ‘performance’ basis.

George found his amplifier, some speakers and a duster before setting it all up in the sitting room, something that would never have been permitted under the Evvie regime. George was luxuriating in the freedom of choice.

He was also now in possession of a mobile phone and had been amazed when Larry had shown him how to download music onto the instrument, not only that but with some mysterious system called Bluetooth he was able to play this music through a separate speaker and was thus able to strum quite happily to the songs of the period in which Jim was intending his new band would specialise.

Over the next couple of months George relived some of his youth rehearsing and, with it, gained competence and confidence, enabling him to become a fully-fledged, permanent member of ‘Jim’s Jumpers’ – the Old School Band.

‘It’s not concerts we’re playing George’ Jim had cheerfully told him ‘it’s dances and Village Hall stuff. You’ll enjoy it, it gets you out and about.’

Jim had bought a new Citroen People (and drum kit) Carrier, to replace the old Volvo, out of the undisclosed sum that Pete Rainsbury had paid him for the name Frankly Fawn – the band that celebrates the Age of Beige. Pete had taken Larry and Ronnie with him to entertain the dark and mysterious world of Gay Clubs and Pubs. The deal had, apparently, suited all parties as Jim had started to become uncomfortable with some of the content of ‘the boys’ lyrics and inter-song banter. He had been thinking about broadening the range of their music for some time and to be able to sell his old idea and start a new one had fitted nicely with his plans. He wanted no more than the enjoyment of a couple of nights’ rehearsal and two or three engagements per month for what he described as beer money, although most of it went on wine.

George was beginning to understand what a pleasant life his friend had been leading these past few years.

C29

‘I hope people don’t think I’ve put you up to this’ said Barbara when Evvie had called down to introduce herself as the new upstairs neighbour ‘in fact if you had asked my opinion I would have advised strongly against it Evvie.’

They were sitting at Barbara’s tiny kitchen table drinking indifferent coffee.

Barbara continued her chastisement ‘You must be daft. George is a kind, considerate man, he’s generous to you. I just do not understand why you’ve done this Evvie. I know it’s none of my business but I can’t help saying this. No-one has the perfect marriage but you’ve had better than most and now you’ve just thrown it away because you say you don’t love him!’

91 Barbara hadn’t finished ‘I thought you would have learnt from my actions. I’m sorry Evvie but I think you’ve made a big, big mistake.’

Evvie was surprised, shocked almost, she had thought Barbara would say ‘Well done you, following your instincts, making the most of your life’ but, to the contrary, she was berating her for being so stupid.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking of doing this? We could have talked about it, I could have warned you of the pitfalls’ Barbara was not giving up ‘there are far more negatives than positives I can assure you. You’re bonkers. ‘

Barbara tried another tack; ‘Do you think it’s possible for you to go back, say you’re sorry, you made a silly mistake?’

‘I couldn’t do that Barb. Besides it being a matter of my pride I think what I said to George would have closed the door on any reconsideration. I have injured his pride and, quite frankly I don’t think he’d take kindly to me saying I’d changed my mind so profoundly in such a short time. It would be obvious I was just going back to resume a comfortable life, not for any reason of love or passion. But despite what you say I don’t want to go back, there’s something better to be had than what I had with George. I know we were comfortably off and that we didn’t argue, perhaps that’s one of the problems, but it was all too mundane, too humdrum, I don’t know, sterile? It’s difficult to put words to it Barb but I wasn’t happy. I haven’t been happy for years.’

‘I don’t think you realise how good you had it Evvie. You had security, a nice house, good business, decent husband, believe me it doesn’t get better than that, I know, I’ve done it remember?’

Evvie had gone down for some support and encouragement from Barb but returned to her own flat a little later somewhat dejected and deflated.

It had been similar on Facebook when she had ‘announced’ her new situation, the few responders had been muted in their reception of the news with comments like ‘Why?’ ‘Rather you than me’ and ‘Well best of luck, I couldn’t do it’ and the ‘Likes’ column was left untroubled.

Evvie was aware that she didn’t have a grand plan, she hadn’t been able to form a plan during the whole time she had been thinking of leaving George. But when she had seen Barbara sticking her chin out, brushing herself off, dusting herself down and starting all over again after Terence had thrown her out, it had inspired Evvie to leave and just see what happened, something would, something always did, didn’t it?

However, nothing was happening. Her friends weren’t calling around to look at her flat and express their admiration for her singular courage and her telephone conversations with them were now a little forced, she wasn’t exactly a pariah but her relationships with them had become strained.

Evvie decided she would call, unannounced, as she did on occasions, on Peaches. She called around on Thursday morning, she was aware that Peaches was generally home then because that was when she normally had her groceries delivered. Peaches would have nothing to do with any supermarket other than Waitrose, ’Tesco’s Finest?’ she would sneer ‘Oxymoron, wouldn’t you say?’

92 Peaches gave Evvie a warm welcome and they sat, as was the custom, in the conservatory that Tony had constructed, at the rear of the Paradise’s pretty Georgian house.

It was during the ensuing conversation that Evvie discovered the reason for the reluctance of some of her friends to wholly embrace Evvie as the friend she had been previously.

‘It’s because, Sweetheart, you are now a threat.’ Peaches explained ‘You’re effectively a single woman without a lover or a boyfriend, you have become a threat to their marriage. You are now seen as exactly what you have described your good friend Gill Rainsbury ’ Peaches had a good sense of irony and her conversations were usually peppered with humour. ‘You are, in their eyes, a predator. A woman looking for a man. They don’t want you anywhere near their husbands my love, can’t you see that?’

‘But’ protested Evvie ‘I don’t want their husbands, that’s the reason I left George, I left for something better.’

‘Exactly.’ Peaches smiled knowingly.

That evening Evvie telephoned her sister Nora and arranged to visit her the following weekend, she would have liked to have gone sooner but her sister was busy with her work and had a promotion on at a Trade Fare on the weekend.

C30

The Hotel Costa de Adeje in Tenerife is at the quiet end of the popular resort of Playa de las Americas, the girl in the travel agents had assured George.

At this moment it didn’t look like the quiet end of town, they were in the taxi, driving from the airport through a huge conurbation of white painted concrete buildings, most of which sported garish neon signage, much of which flashed.

What had also been promised was warm evenings and this certainly seemed to have been fulfilled, a pleasant heat had hit them as they emerged from the aeroplane, it came from the ground like a giant night-store radiator, it was a sensation George had experienced from his previous visits to the neighbouring island of Lanzarote.

The flight and the transfer had gone well enough but he was apprehensive about the choice of venue, it looked too commercialised for his taste, however as they entered the cathedral-like, marble clad reception area a sense of relief came over George, there was an atmosphere of calm and order.

George was excited and a little intimidated, he had only seen Gill a couple of times since that extraordinary night in Bournemouth and hadn’t repeated an overnight stay with her but when he had suggested she might like to come away with him for a week of winter sunshine she had accepted without hesitation.

93 He didn’t want to take her to Evvie’s favourite hotel in Lanzorote, and repeat with Gill all the things Evvie had enjoyed doing, so he had taken the advice of the girl in the Travel Agents just up the road from his own shop in Satbury and come to Tenerife, he hadn’t used the usual Travel Agent in Masterton because he didn’t want anyone to know that he was going away with a woman who wasn’t his wife and he certainly wasn’t keen for Evvie to find out with whom who he was going.

He had told Jim he was going away but as they didn’t have any band bookings it didn’t occur to Jim that his friend was going other than to have a week alone just to think about things and the staff in his shops were simply told he was away for a week, he had given no other details, the staff were aware of his marital difficulties so no questions were asked.

The porter took their cases up in the lift and let them into a very large bedroom which housed an enormous double bed and a three-piece suite, there was a sliding glass door giving access to a south facing balcony, overlooking the hotel grounds and the Atlantic Ocean, which was furnished with two comfortable looking cane chairs divided by a low table upon which was an ashtray.

George picked up the ashtray and gave it to the porter together with a five Euro note saying ‘Gracias’ in his best night-school accent, to which the man mumbled a response and left them to it.

After they had unpacked, the two lovers had a quick drink in the communal bar and agreed they were both ‘a bit frazzled’ from the day’s travel. George had elected to fly from Gatwick rather than the local airport ‘for reasons of discretion’, it had, therefore, been a long day so the couple retired relatively early to a bed which was of such magnitude it was, George discovered, quite possible for him to remain far enough away from Gill for her not to be aware of an exceedingly stiff penis.

George woke before Gill the following morning and looked across at her in wonder. Her hair was a bit tousled but that, he considered, added to her attractiveness, she was quite beautiful he thought.

As he lay there watching her Gill opened her eyes saw George looking at her and gave him a very broad and warm smile. She reached out and touched his body very gently.

They missed breakfast that first morning.

When they did get up Gill said ‘Right Chisholm, you’re coming shopping with me. I’m not going around with someone dressed like you, a girl has standards to maintain don’t you know?’

‘What’s wrong with the way I dress?’ queried a troubled George.

‘It looks as if you’ve raided your Dad’s wardrobe, that’s what’s wrong with the way you dress George, we need to get you up to speed with today’s world. Look at those new trainers for goodness sake George, they’re hilarious. Why do British men always buy new white trainers to go on holiday with, did you see them all in the airport? They’re going in the bin. Come on get showered while I sort out the best of this lot and we’ll throw the rest away.’ She was already putting his clothes, so carefully stowed last night, out onto the unmade bed in separate piles.

Later that day, after a late lunch, Gill and George went out for a walk and ceremonially deposited a black refuse sack, containing more than half of the clothing he had brought with him, into a large green communal refuse skip.

94 If George had thought that was the end of Gill’s re-styling of him he was to be disappointed because she then led him to a nearby shopping arcade area where he was ‘advised’ on the purchases he should make before she sat him down in a chair in Antonio’s Mens Hairstylists and ordered Antonio to ‘Give him a number four’ and within less than four minutes most of his hair was on the floor of Antonio’s shop.

By four o’clock that afternoon not many people who knew George, even those who knew him well, would have recognised him walking down the street in a pale blue polo shirt, cotton, tailored shorts, sandals, Gill had thrown all his socks away, and with a new short haircut.

‘Now we can get on with our holiday Chisholm.’ Gill had laughed.

They walked back into the hotel reception with their arms linked and George looked at the board giving notice of the evening’s entertainment, it read;

Tonight we are pleased to welcome a fabulous new act directly from London

FRANKLY FAWN featuring Ronnie Jay and Larry Jones – the band that celebrates the Age of Beige.

Music, fun, laughter

Show commences at 8PM in the SUNSET LOUNGE.

‘Bloody hell, did you know about this Gill?’

‘Well, sort of George. Pete told me they had some bookings in the Canary Islands, but when I spoke to him he didn’t have the schedule but he did know they had several of them in Playa de las Americas. It’s just coincidence that it happens to be in our hotel. Should be fun, shouldn’t it?’

‘So much for our holiday together being our little secret then’ said George, gloomily.

‘It never was likely to be George, these sort of things always get out. Anyhow why should you worry are you ashamed of me?’

‘No, it’s nothing like that, I just don’t want Evvie or any of her’ he avoided the word coven ‘cronies to know. It’ll only mean trouble, you’re not exactly number one on their Christmas card lists Gill.’

‘Well she’s the one that left you remember, she should have thought of all that before she walked out. Silly bitch’ she added.

Whilst George was not too keen on Gill’s choice of noun he could empathise with the sentiments of her comment, it was Evvie had who chosen to leave.

As they were walking away from the notice board a voice behind them said ‘Hello Mum.’

George wasn’t the only one who had changed his appearance, Pete Rainsbury had two or three days stubble over his chin, a very intricate tattoo on his upper arm and a fashionable haircut that, in George’s opinion, did very little for him.

‘Oh Peter, my darling, this is great, how are you? How’s it all going?’

95 ‘It’s started quite well.’ Pete explained and went on to tell them about the bookings he had made for the band, they had, actually, just come from London where they’d done some club dates.

The band, he told them, only comprised Ronnie and Larry, the musicians were hired locally; ‘Just give ‘em the sheet music and they get it together quite quickly, it’s not complicated.’ George thought of his own clumsy strumming and envied the ability of proper musicians who were able to read and transcribe music so well.

‘You coming tonight?’ Pete asked.

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world my darling.’ His mother replied. George clearly had little choice in this evening’s entertainment.

As it turned out Frankly Fawn, ‘the boys’ did a fantastic job. They opened with a duet of ‘Give me the moonlight’ complete with straw boaters and high kicking legs, substituting the word boy for girl. The audience either didn’t understand or care, they went through a repertoire that would have been familiar to those who watched the group when Jim had charge of affairs. The finale was Ronnie Jay singing Johnnie Ray’s signature hit song where he fell to his knees as he sang the word Cry, which he delivered as ‘Kuh-rye’.

The band left the little corner stage to genuinely enthusiastic applause.

A little later the three young men came out and joined Gill and George for a drink and some of the audience came up to them asking for autographs. Pete had this well organised with photographs of the boys giving details of the band printed on the back.

‘Bit different to working in a dry cleaner’s shop in Masterton eh?’ George said to Larry as another old woman tottered off with her signed photograph.

‘George.’ Larry said with genuine passion. ‘I really appreciated what you did for me. I was drifting and Aunt Sheila had to push me to come and join her, but you gave me the job and I enjoyed working there, I really did. I got my life back together and the real bonus was that you introduced me to Jim’s band, our band. I owe you a lot. You’ll get star billing in my autobiography when I’m famous.’ They all raised their glasses to Larry’s future fame.

At Gill’s insistence they watched the boys again, at another hotel where they were performing, later in the week. This time they sat in a dark corner and didn’t make themselves known. The audience reaction was much the same as in their own hotel and George wondered if Larry’s autobiography might come sooner than he had at first thought.

The remainder of the holiday went well, they hired a car for a couple of days and drove up to Masca where they had a walk and a lunch in the beautiful little valley. George asked Gill what she was doing to earn a living these days and she told him about the house sitting and dog walking that she was currently doing saying that she was looking for something more permanent.

Gill’s sense of fun was always to the fore; she told George to toot the horn as they had approached an older couple walking along the pavement towards them, as soon as he blew the horn Gill waved frantically at the couple.

96 ‘Who was that?’ George asked.

‘’I’ve no idea’ laughed Gill ‘but look at them now.’

George looked into his rear view mirror and could see the couple watching their car as it moved away from them and talking to each other.

‘They’ll be saying I wonder who that was it’ll keep them going all day, probably put a week on their lives.’ Gill had said.

On another occasion they were walking along the paved pathway towards the main section of the town when Gill said to a man, who had just had a huge plate of chips delivered to his table, ‘What’s that?’ and pointed back towards the restaurant which was behind him, as the man, a heavily tattooed gorilla of a creature, turned and looked, Gill stole one of his chips and ran off laughing and waving the chip in the air.

The gorilla laughed too and shouted to George ‘You ought to keep your daughter under control’ at the same time as waving his fist in the air in mock anger.

It was all harmless fun, George had never had such a good time and the week seemed to last about three days.

It was nearly a month before he saw Gill again after they returned by which time he had bought some new socks.

C31

‘You’ve gone about this all backwards Evvie.’ Nora was admonishing her sister who was sitting, looking smaller than the last time Nora had seen her, lost in the corner of a large cream sofa Nora had recently acquired.

‘You should have got yourself sorted first and then left. As it is you’ve just drifted off like a boat without an anchor. You need to get a job, join a few more groups, clubs whatever and another boyfriend, preferably one that doesn’t drop dead on the first date.’

‘I’m not qualified at anything’ Evvie pleaded in a tone of voice that annoyed Nora.

‘For goodness sake Evvie, you’re a capable woman, you’ve been a nurse, a mother and a wife.’

‘I’ve not really succeeded with any of those.’

Nora ignored the negative response and carried on ‘You can drive, you’ve done some of the accounts for George’s business, you’d be a godsend to some business somewhere, get out and look!’

Evvie had come to visit her sister for the weekend, she hadn’t been there for some time although they kept in touch by telephone.

97 Nora had been quite shocked by what she regarded as Evvie’s impulsive actions in leaving George and somewhat put out that her sister had not chosen to discuss or tell her that she had been contemplating doing this.

‘Well, this flat came up and I rented it. I thought I’d leave while he was away but I found I couldn’t do that but then I found I couldn’t discuss it with him either, so I just told him I was leaving and left. It’s as simple as that.’

‘It’s you that’s simple’ Nora snorted.

It was Evvie’s turn to ignore the retort, she continued ‘I know what you are saying is right Nora but I couldn’t seem to make any decisions while I was living there, so I thought if I left I’d be forced into making them and that things might happen that would sort of guide me into action.’

‘Hmm’ was all that Nora could think of saying, the two fell silent, each lost in a pool of thoughts.

Nora broke the silence ‘Have you employed a solicitor?’

‘What for?’ Evvie asked, genuinely curious.

‘What for? What for? For looking after your interests of course that’s what for!’ Nora was becoming cross again. ‘How are you living?’

‘What do you mean, how am I living?’

‘I mean where’s the money coming from?’

‘Oh. I just use the Joint Account.’

‘Haven’t you got a running away account?’

‘That’s what Peaches said when I told her. No I haven’t, I’d never thought of it.’

‘All married women should have one. You should have, I hope you can see why now.’

‘It had never occurred to me, George never argues about money. In fact George never argues, I think that’s been part of the problem.’

‘Well I bet he’ll argue about money now, you wait and see. Honestly Evvie, sometimes I despair. Have you seen him since you left? I mean seen him to talk about finances, divorce, all that sort of thing?’

‘No, he did phone up to ask what was I going to do with all the stuff I’d left. He was quite nice about it, not aggressive or anything, well he never is, you know George.’

‘I think we might see a different George now Evvie, once he realises you’ll be entitled to half of everything you’ve got between you. It’s a shame it’s Friday night, I’d get you to phone a solicitor in the morning if it was a weekday but you’ve got to do that on Monday, you can’t just let the situation drift.’

‘It’s not really drifting, it’s only just started, nobody knows what will happen.’

98 ‘For goodness sake Evvie, Nora was exasperated at her sister’s ineffectual attitude. ‘Look Evvie, she snapped ‘you’ve got to tell George that you’re filing for divorce and that you’re employing a solicitor to act for you.’

‘But you’ve got to have a reason to get divorced and I don’t want to use my own adultery as grounds, although I think George knows about that even though he’s never said anything.’

‘That’s probably your guilty conscience that makes you think that, why should he know?’

‘Oh I just think he does.’

‘What’s he said about you leaving him, anything?’ it hadn’t occurred to Nora to consider George’s attitude to his wife’s walking out on him until now.

‘He hasn’t really said a lot, as I said, I’ve hardly seen him but he seems to have accepted the situation.’

‘Typical! He’s such a wimp.’ Nora snorted again.

‘Evvie considered she should defend George, after all she had been married to him for twenty something years ‘He won’t want any trouble, he’s too nice, that’s one of the problems he just accepts everything, he doesn’t get angry or vindictive. It might have been better if I could tell him how I feel and we could have a bloody good argument, but that’s not his way, he’s not emotional.’ Evvie said gloomily.

‘Come on, get yourself tidied up, we’ll eat out tonight, let’s celebrate your new life’ Nora decided.

Nora jumped up, stretched her arm out towards her sister, Evvie accepted the outstretched hand and was lifted out of the sofa by Nora’s surprising strength.

Over the course of the weekend Nora outlined a strategy that she insisted her sister should employ to resolve the loose separation between Evvie and her husband and to get some structure into her life ‘to ensure you’re not opening a bottle of wine at ten o’clock in the morning.’

On Sunday afternoon the two of them took Nora’s little dog Lottie for a walk along the river, by that time they were more relaxed. Evvie was looking forward to implementing Nora’s plan and Nora was happier now that her sister understood that she must have a plan to move forward.

What neither of them realised was that Evvie’s routine visit to the Breast Clinic on Wednesday of that week would alter all the plans that had been laid out for Evvie and her new life.

The initial x-ray had shown ‘some irregularities that required further investigation’ Dr Bridges had told her when she had responded to the call from the Surgery ‘probably nothing to be worried about’ he had said reassuringly’ just need to check these things out, to be sure.’

At a subsequent hospital appointment Mr William Boyd Hunter FRCS, the Consultant, had explained to a lonely and frightened Mrs Evelyn Chisholm that medullary cancer was quite rare but that the success rate of treatment was high and that they had caught the disease in its early stages of development and with that news Evvie commenced several months of worry, sleepless nights, crying, hair loss, painful treatment and surgery. It was as a result of the surgery that it was

99 discovered that the cancer had spread further than had shown up during the tests, it was in the lymph nodes.

C32

Sarah McFayden had been collecting her favourite pastel blue wool and linen mix coat, in readiness for its next outing; a niece’s wedding, from George’s dry cleaning shop in Masterton when she had bumped into its owner, whose wife had telephoned him that morning to inform him that she was employing the services of a Solicitor to handle the divorce that she was sure they both wanted. Sarah and George had had a conversation on the pavement outside.

‘I’m so sorry to hear about you and Evvie’ Sarah had said ‘how are you coping on your own?’

‘Absolutely fine’ George had replied truthfully ‘I’ve lived on my own before so I’m pretty capable you know. I just look useless’ he had added in his self-deprecating way.

‘You certainly don’t look useless George. In fact you look really good, you’ve changed your hair haven’t you? Sarah was confirming what a number of people had felt moved to tell George upon his return from his holiday, that he looked younger with his re-styled persona.

Before she had left a buoyant feeling George, Sarah had ventured the question ‘Have you heard from Bethy recently?’ this probably on her heartbroken son’s behalf George had originally thought.

He had explained to Sarah that indeed he had and that Bethy was working in Jordan, where the Syrian refugees were swarming over the northern border to escape the terrible conflicts that were currently taking place in that cradle of civilisation and that Bethy was assisting with the organisation of food and shelter supplies, logistics they call it these days he explained, to the camps that were set up there and that she seemed to be enjoying her work.

Out of politeness George had reciprocated by enquiring about Alan’s well-being and had thus played into Sarah’s perfectly set trap.

‘Oh he’s job hunting again’ had come the reply, Sarah then quickly continued before George could enquire why. ‘He can’t find anything permanent, it’s all short term contracts these days. He’s got a degree in Fine Art for goodness sake but that seems to be a handicap. ‘

Sarah then, rather too casually, George had thought, added ‘You haven’t got any vacancies have you?’ almost certainly in full knowledge of Larry’s recent departure into the world of show business.

100 George hadn’t wished to let Sarah know he realised he was being set up so he had explained that indeed he was looking for someone to replace Larry, he didn’t mention he had recently met his former employee in Tenerife, but did tell Sarah that he understood that things were going quite well for the would- be star.

‘Get him to give me a call, if he’s interested’ had been George’s parting words to Sarah before he went into the offices of Danley Lyon and Burdock, Solicitors, to make an appointment with Jason Burdock - Family Law, it said on his card.

Later that same evening George had answered his house telephone. ‘Hello Sarah’ he had greeted the caller, responding to the information that had been programmed to show on the little screen on the instrument. ‘It’s Alan, Alan McFayden, Mr Chisholm’ came the reply ‘Mum mentioned you might have a job going in your Masterton shop.’

The shy smile Alan had given George, when he had been offered the job at the interview several days later, was very reminiscent of Bethy’s, George had reflected.

George had always liked Alan McFayden and had been quite upset for the boy when Bethy had suddenly dumped him and taken off on an international career, the two bore some very similar characteristics and would have made a successful couple he had thought. It was probably something to do with the time the two had spent together during their childhood and their brief romantic relationship that accounted for the likenesses he considered. It made George feel good that he could, in some way, help make amends for the rather brutal and uncharacteristic manner in which his daughter had treated Alan.

Sheila had hoped she could place yet another of her seemingly inexhaustible supply of relatives in the shop as her assistant but had deferred to George’s new found assertiveness with good grace when her employer had introduced her to Alan at the interview.

Alan’s job title was Deputy Manager which rather overstated the responsibilities of the shop’s only other employee, however despite him having no opportunities to display the benefits of his education in the Fine Arts, the young man had shown a genuine enthusiasm for the work and was, they agreed, very personable, conscientious and made an excellent replacement for the rather irrepressible Larry. George was pleased too that Alan didn’t seem to have any musical abilities and was a keen sportsman, not an attribute that would attract Jim to tempt George’s most recent employee into a life of late night entertainment.

When Bethy had telephoned home a few days after Evvie had left and George had explained to his daughter that her mother had suddenly taken off to live in a flat on her own, it had surprised George that she had taken the news so calmly and seemed quite unfazed by her mother’s actions, she had been very supportive of her father and had told him to go out and enjoy himself and had been delighted with the news that he had joined Jim’s latest band. However, when, in a subsequent conversation, he told her that he was employing Alan McFayden, she had been rather terse and sounded annoyed that her father had employed her former boyfriend. He had considered both occasions as examples of his lack of understanding of the female mind and continued to breeze along in ignorance of the dreadful weight of guilt his daughter bore with the knowledge and understanding of the truth. A truth she could not share with her beloved father.

101 C33

‘There’s no need for you to feel any obligation to help or even get involved at all. I made my decision and I’ll stand by it George’ Evvie said.

Peaches Paradise had called, in person, to see George and to tell him of Evvie’s diagnosis. He had immediately driven around to Evvie’s flat to see her. He hadn’t been there before but the bell system was clearly marked and Flat 5 had a less faded slip of paper tucked into the little slot where the name of the current tenant was displayed. Evvie Chisholm it read. It didn’t say that Evvie had hesitated before typing her married name onto the sheet but had decided, for the time being anyway, to use the name by which most people knew her.

‘Why didn’t you telephone me, or call around to tell me yourself Evvie? Am I that unimportant to you?’ he had asked in a voice that could not disguise his confusion and hurt. ‘We’ve lived together for over twenty odd years and now you don’t even consider me as a friend it seems.’

‘If I had called you and told you this ‘ Evvie tried to explain ‘it would have looked as if I was asking to come back and be cared for, nursed through if you like. But I want you to understand that you don’t owe me that George, I left you and that’s that. It’s not that you’re unimportant, it’s that I want to deal with this problem in my own way and that needn’t involve you, it can’t involve you. That would be wrong for me and unfair to you.’

‘I find that as confusing as you leaving me in the first place, we might not have been the most loving couple, I’ll admit that, but we rubbed along and I still care for your welfare Evvie, why shouldn’t I?’

‘Yes we rubbed along George but that’s not living is it? There’s more to life than just rubbing along and I expect you know that as well as me, I heard you’ve joined Jim’s new band, you wouldn’t have done that if I’d still been there would you? And I heard you’ve been off on holiday on your own too, was it Lanzorote again?’ George didn’t say yes but he didn’t say no either, he decided to half nod but he did add ‘No I don’t like Lanzorote that much, so I decided to go to Tenerife instead.’

‘You don’t like Lanzorote?’ Evvie was amazed. ‘Then why did we always go there?’

‘Well because you liked it of course’ George sounded offended.

‘I hated it and the bloody Hotel Europa, I thought it was you that liked it!’

They looked at each other startled and then they laughed.

102 ‘You see George, we couldn’t even discuss that.’ Evvie said with sadness in her voice ‘There must be more to life than what we were doing George, there must be more to life than that.’

George had to concede that and was unable to confess to Evvie that he’d done a few other things that he wouldn’t have done if Evvie had still been living with him, he was pleased she seemed not to know anything about his holiday with Gill Rainsbury. He was enjoying his new bachelorhood but the news of Evvie’s illness had brought his concerns for her welfare sharply into the forefront of his thoughts.

‘Look George I really appreciate you calling and showing your concern but my friends are rallying around and I’m being looked after. Peaches has organised a rota of people to run me to and from the hospital and to take me along to all the usual things I’ve always been involved with. I’m not expecting it to be easy but the specialist is giving me a good chance of a full recovery, he says the success rate for the cancer I’ve got is high and they’ve caught it early too. It might be the making of me.’

She paused and then continued ‘You’ve been a good husband to me George but I’ve been a crap wife’ she held up her hand to stop George from interjecting ‘there’s no point in either of us pretending otherwise. It hurts me to say it but I don’t think I ever loved you properly, not as a wife should love a husband George and you didn’t, don’t deserve that. I don’t want to sound as if I did it for your sake, I left you for selfish reasons, for my own sake, but I reasoned it would be good for you too and I can see already that it has.’

Evvie hadn’t finished, she was talking to George as she had wished she could have before, so she was determined to get it all out now. ‘I like you George, you’re a kind man, a very nice man, but I don’t love you George and I’m certainly not going to impose myself onto your good nature to see me through this. It’s typical of you that, for all the trouble and apparent disregard I’ve heaped upon you, that you still care enough to offer to help but you mustn’t feel you should be obliged to look after me.’

George was quiet, he would have liked to have said but I love you Evvie I want you to come back home so as I can help you through this awful time but that wouldn’t have been true, so instead he said ‘You know I’ll be only too pleased to help in any way I can. I do care for you and I will be wishing you all the best of luck with the treatment.’

‘Thank you George, I know you will.’

George looked around the room, he hadn’t really noticed anything about it before. It was already a bit cluttered with Evvie’s photographs and the paintings he’d asked her to collect, it had a surprisingly homely feel about it and with the sun shining through the window it looked quite a cheerful room.

‘You ok here?’ he ventured.

‘Yes, it was a bit strange at first but I’ve got to like it now. When all this stuff is over I’ll probably move on to somewhere a bit bigger and I do miss a garden but I’ve been doing Barb’s bit of garden for her, she’s not much of a gardener so it suits us both.’

103 The direction the conversation had taken suited George ‘I think I’ll sell my place, I mean, our place, Longmeadow. It’s too big for one and the garden takes up too much of my time. That ok with you?’

‘Of course.’

George could see a letter on the window cill with the heading of Danley Lyon and Burdock in big blue type.

‘Do you want to hold up the divorce ‘til all this is over? I don’t want it to be any pressure on you.’

‘That’s thoughtful George. Let’s just let the solicitors carry on and if it gets difficult I’ll call you and we’ll stop it for a while.’

‘Will you call me anyhow, just to let me know how you’re doing please?’

‘Sure.’

It seemed a good time for George to take his leave.

‘I’m sorry about all this Evvie’ he said.

‘It’s not your fault George, none of this.’

‘Call me if you think there’s anything you think I could help with, won’t you?’

‘I will’ she smiled a wry smile at him.

As George drove out of the driveway to the old barn a black cat dashed out of the shrubbery and under his car, he heard a sickening thump, a soft yet solid sound. He stopped his car and got out expecting to find a gruesome mess on the driveway gravel but there was no sign of the cat or any damage to his car. He looked around the bushes but could see no trace of the animal so he got back into his car and drove back to Longmeadow to call Tony Davis the Estate Agent. The radio was playing the Rolling Stones ‘It’s All Over Now’ George thought this was rather appropriate.

Evvie was probably correct in her assertions that there must be more to life than what they had been doing and this part of their lives together was certainly over, however, cancer or no cancer, Evvie certainly did not appear to know what the secret ingredient was that was missing from her life. Perhaps, he thought, it would have been better if the track they had been playing was ‘Hey You Get Off of my Cloud.’

After George left Evvie went outside to do a bit of tidying up in Barbara’s garden and found her friend’s cat dead, still warm but dead, beneath a laurel bush, she sat down on one of the seats set around a circular metal table on Barbara’s patio and cried.

104

C34

‘Those colours really suit you’ Peaches was commenting on Evvie’s headscarf.

Evvie had had her head shaved as her hair; that lovely head of fine, greying, once luxurious and auburn, hair had begun to thin and become patchy. She now wore headscarves of strong mixed colours, today’s was a mixture of muted greens, mauves and browns, it went well with the sage green jumper and blue jeans she was wearing.

‘I must say’ Peaches went on ‘I do like the clothes you’re wearing these days.’

Peaches, Evvie thought, was a lovely person and had proved to be a great friend in Evvie’s hour of need, but she wasn’t always, or ever, the most diplomatic person. It was the ‘these days’ that Evvie had noted.

‘I’ve decided to become bolder with colours’ said Evvie ‘having pale skin like mine, I can become a bit anonymous and colourless if I wear pastels. So since I left George and this wretched cancer came along I took the decision to wear more colour, it makes me feel better, I feel as if I’m confronting things. I’m starting from the outside and working inwards.’

Peaches ruminated on this comment for a few moments and thought perhaps it would be better if Evvie started the other way around, she wanted to say ‘start with the colour inside darling and let it work its way out’, instead she decided to say ‘It works darling, it really does. You’d better be careful, all those women will be guarding their men again if you go on looking a million dollars like this.’ Both knew these were words of bravado and support but nevertheless strength was gained by their use. Evvie was reminded of an ancient Stanley Holloway song on a record her father had inherited from his own father, she was fairly certain it was called ‘My word you do look well’ and it told the story of a man who had been ill, walking along the road and meeting friends and acquaintances who were shocked by his appearance and who told him how unwell he looked and how he gradually began to feel worse and worse until he bumped into a positive and cheerful friend who took the opposite attitude and told him how well he looked , dragged him to the pub and they all had a fine old time with the man walking away feeling much better.

Since contracting her illness and shaving her head the women had rallied to Evvie’s cause and she was no longer regarded as the pariah who was likely to steal their husbands. The advent of the dreadful illness brought the re-establishment of her old friendships, besides Peaches, Sarah, Joan, Pam Chivers, who was emerging from grieving a stronger woman, and several others had joined the rota to drive Evvie to the hospital for her treatment, stay with her and, if she felt up to it, go for a coffee or a sit in the park to feed the ducks and gossip afterwards.

At first this had been really enjoyable but, as the treatment took its effect, so Evvie’s strength gradually dissipated and she became weaker and unable to enjoy these little excursions as much as she had originally. Today they were, at Evvie’s request, intending to go back to her flat to have a

105 quiet cup of tea. Peaches, of course, was having none of it and had telephoned a couple of the others to meet at her own house for a coffee and a chat, a la Stanley Holloway.

Evvie tried to protest but Peaches was adamant ‘It’ll buck you up a bit darling’ was the only response she could elicit from her friend.

As it was it did buck her up a bit and, although she felt exhausted, she enjoyed some good laughs over the drinks served, as always, in Peaches’s conservatory.

The new vicar had been the butt of their entertainment today, it was the first time the Parish had had a female vicar. The new incumbent was trying desperately to be accepted and had taken on more than a hint of Dawn French’s portrayal of the Vicar of Dibley, in consequence she had become something of a figure of fun within the village, the assembled ladies had been rather cruel about fairly much every aspect of the poor woman’s appearance, dress sense and personality.

Several days later the new vicar, Jane Dalby, had called on Evvie, having heard about her illness from Peaches, and was extremely helpful, kind and understanding having experienced and survived a similar problem herself several years back.

It transpired that Jane Dalby had not been a particularly religious person before contracting breast cancer herself but had been supported by her own local vicar during her illness and, having successfully overcome the disease albeit enduring a double mastectomy, had then discovered that a strong belief had taken hold where none had previously existed.

Evvie had explained to Jane that she was unlikely to get a convert in her case, in fact at the moment it was likely to be quite the converse, this God who had inflicted this awful and wicked curse of a disease upon her was unlikely to recruit another disciple using such a cruel strategy, but found Jane understanding and sympathetic without being too ‘godly’ and began to look forward to her visits. Jane joined the delivery and collection rota and thus began to establish a rapport with the group of women.

C35

It had been some time since George and Jim had seen each other to have much of a conversation, although they were in each other’s company at least once a week, since George had taken up his position as Jim’s Jumpers -The Old School Band’s rhythm guitarist, they hadn’t had any opportunity to discuss anything much beyond chords, entrances and the next number.

It had been Jim’s idea, he needed to drive to Sheffield to collect a Ludwig drum kit he had bought on e-bay and suggested to George that he might care to join him for the trip, they could stop overnight and make a bit of an occasion of what would otherwise be something of an ordeal for him.

106 They had driven up to Ashbourne, south of the Peak District, and checked into a hotel on the edge of town that Jim had researched and which had received some good reviews for its food.

‘Do you know how Barb’s getting on in her new flat?’ Jim had asked ‘It’s odd because when she was living on that boat she used to phone me up quite a bit, but since that bloke, Captain Pugwash’ Jim pretended he couldn’t remember Terence’s real name ‘turfed her out I’ve hardly heard from her. Although she did leave a message on my phone the other day to say her cat was dead.’

George was aware that Terence wasn’t Jim’s favourite person, not only had he stolen his wife but was now co-habiting with the barmaid at the Golf Club that Jim had rather fancied. The two were sitting down in the neat but gloomy dining room of the hotel sharing a bottle of overpriced Gavi, Jim considered all wine overpriced but it didn’t stop him from consuming unhealthy quantities of the stuff George thought, waiting for their first course of ballentine of rabbit to be served.

‘I don’t really know’ George replied ‘I think she and Evvie see quite a bit of each other. I know Evvie looks after the garden space at the back of Barb’s flat.’

‘Yes I do know that, the message said that it was Evvie who had found the cat. Looked as if it had been hit by a car or something apparently. I didn’t phone her back, there wasn’t much I could say if I did. I suppose I could have said sorry about your cat, there are some rotten drivers out there, but what would be the point, it was probably the stupid cat’s own fault anyhow, never liked the things much, all take and no give. Bit like women really’ he added bitterly ‘what’s the latest on Evvie?’ he continued obviously linking Evvie’s unreasonable behaviour to that of cats in general.

‘She’s got breast cancer.’

‘Bloody hell. Sorry I didn’t know that, why haven’t you said?’

‘I only found out myself a couple of days ago. She didn’t tell me, she let Peaches do that for her.’

‘That’s a bit off isn’t it, going through the coven like that?’

‘Well that’s what I thought at first but I went around to see her and she told me that if she had phoned me and told me I would have thought she was asking to come back and be looked after.’

‘That’s fair enough then. I suppose she’ll be having chemo and all that?’

‘Yes, she told me Peaches was organising people, friends, to run her to and from hospital and everything.’

‘I hope the coven know you offered to help otherwise that’ll go down as evidence against you’ Jim said.

George ignored Jim’s prejudice and gave him as much information as he had himself, to which his friend replied ‘Bit of a bugger isn’t it?’

‘Funnily enough she talked more to me, when I called around to see her, than she had done for a long time, we even had a laugh. She told me that I was a nice bloke and all that but that she’d never loved me.’

107 ‘I think there are a lot of people out there like that George, we’re better off out of it’ he hesitated then said ‘do you still think she had an affair with Tony Tanner?’

‘I’m fairly sure she did. I’m pretty sure she was with him when he had his heart attack but she ran off so as she wouldn’t be found out.’

‘Bit much that isn’t it? After all didn’t she train as a nurse? She might have been able to save him.’

‘I don’t blame her for that, I think she panicked. I doubt if she could have saved him, a little woman like her could hardly have performed artificial respiration on a bloke that size.’

‘I think you’re too forgiving. I expect you’ll say it was your fault she ran off and had an affair as well, that’s what the coven would say if they found out.’

‘Well to some extent it was, I just took her for granted.’

‘See what I mean. Guilty as charged. Anyhow you seem to have settled back into bachelorhood well enough.’

‘I’m getting used to it. I have to say that I don’t miss Evvie as much as I expected. I mean it’s funny getting home and there’s no-one there but I leave the radio on so it’s not entirely silent and, being an only child who was orphaned fairly early on in life, I can manage quite well on my own.’

‘How did your holiday go?’ Jim rather sprang the question onto George who had been wrestling with the question of whether to tell Jim of his encounter with Gill Rainsbury in Bournemouth and his subsequent holiday with her in Tenerife, he had decided not to mention this as the fewer the number of people who knew the less likely it was that the word would get around.

‘Good, I met Larry and Ronnie there, they were playing at our hotel.’ George realised he’d used the word ‘our’ and hoped that Jim hadn’t noticed.

‘Yes, I’ve seen Pete, he called around to pay me some money he owed me. Said he’d seen his mother and you there, you old fox.’ Jim grinned knowingly at his friend ‘It’s ok old friend, I won’t spill the beans, besides you could probably hang me too. Nice work if you can get it.’

‘We had a good time.’ George smiled shyly at Jim.

‘I bet’ was all Jim said.

George decided to steer the conversation away from his adulterous activities and said ‘The boys seem to be getting on quite well, I think you were right to let them go, they’ve become a bit more racy than when they were with you.’

‘Well to be honest George I didn’t really have much choice, they’d become the band. But I was lucky and made a couple of bob out of it, they did me a favour in all honesty. I was wanting to change the format a bit, I’d got a bit fed up with churning out that fifties stuff all the time, it was a bit limiting and predictable and those two were getting a bit too naughty with their lyrics and chat. It wasn’t right for our audience. But I reckon we’ve got a good thing going now don’t you?’

108 George agreed, the new band still managed to have more enquiries for engagements than it could fulfil and he was enjoying playing the guitar again ‘I’m pleased you asked me to join, I have to say I’m really having a good time myself.’

A waft of air came across their table bringing with it the unmistakeable odour of fish, their main course of sea bass fillets on a celeriac mash arrived, served by a smiling waitress whose size fourteen bottom was squeezed into a pair of size twelve trousers. Jim’s eyes followed the bottom as it rotated away and finally out of sight back into the kitchen. ‘I wish she lived around our neck of the woods’ he said as he returned his attention to his fish.

Over the course of the meal George told Jim that he was intending to move house, he had thought about moving into a flat over one of the shops but considered he’d miss a garden and some space around him also that if he wanted to sell the shops he would be obliged to find another home and didn’t fancy the idea of becoming a peripatetic.

‘Thinking of selling up then?’ Jim followed the course of George’s musings.

‘Just a thought at this stage.’

‘Well take my advice George, old man, don’t do it before you’ve settled the divorce. Get the business valued low, it’ll cost you enough as it is, same with the house too. I wouldn’t sell until you’ve got all the financial stuff sorted first, believe me I know.’

‘You know that’s not my way Jim.’

‘Then you’re daft. All that work you’ve put in whilst Evvie was poncing about in the garden, swimming or bedding her lovers’ a smiling Jim added provocatively ‘she’ll get the benefit of all that, unless you act now and protect yourself.’

‘Lovers? I think there’s only been one unless you know differently. ‘George looked alarmed. ‘I think there’ll be enough money to go around, neither of us are big spenders.’

‘You’re mad’ his friend replied.

Bob Dylan was singing ‘Don’t think twice’ in the background.

C36

The weather on the day of Evvie’s funeral was not at all as she had envisaged when she and George had attended Tony Tanner’s funeral.

The rain was swept sideways by a strong west wind, the churchyard looked bleak as the mourners ran from their cars to the shelter of the little church of St Cuthbert’s, a squat, stone built place of

109 worship dating from the early eighteenth century, functional rather than decorous, the village never having had a wealthy benefactor to embellish or extend the church beyond what was required and this, of course, now benefitting the congregation whose responsibilities for its upkeep and maintenance was correspondingly less than the elaborate affairs to be found in some of the neighbouring villages.

George, who had remained Evvie’s husband, estranged but legally and, surprisingly, emotionally bound, Bethy and Nora followed the simple ash coffin, borne easily by four dour men in dark overcoats, drafted in from retirement or redundancy by the undertaker, and took their places in the front pews. How much grief, joy and duty these seats must have witnessed George thought as his mind wandered back through his marriage to Evvie.

The church was about half full, better than George had feared, he was supported by Jim, some of the others from the band and most of his shop staff, who had been given the afternoon off to attend. Evvie’s taxi girls which included Barbara, Jim’s coven, were there too, some with husbands, as well as a few of the villagers who specialised in such events. Jim and Barbara were not sitting together.

The Reverend Jane Dalby had written, with the assistance of George’s, Bethy’s and Nora’s independent contributions, an eulogy which she was left to deliver to the little collection of attendees.

It had surprised the three of them that Evvie had requested a Church service but she had explained how much she had appreciated Jane’s help and understanding through her suffering and that she felt she owed it to her to be ‘a customer’.

Nora had played her usual Ice Maiden act when they had met both before and after Evvie’s death so George hadn’t offered her the courtesy of an overnight stay, leaving her to make her own arrangements, besides, she had obviously been party to Evvie’s adulterous experience with Tony Tanner providing an alibi for her sister’s unfortunate adventure. He had a suspicion that Nora had also encouraged Evvie to change her Will before her death but Evvie had resisted this explaining to her sister that she knew George would look after Bethy’s interests, probably in preference to his own, he wasn’t sure if Nora had wished to become a beneficiary too. He had gleaned this information from Bethy, who had been with her mother, at Nora’s home, when Nora had also been present. He rather hoped that Nora would now disappear from their lives and neither would any more be bothered by the need for polite but frosty etiquettes. He thought of his last trip to her neat little bungalow in its’ leafy, suburban cul de sac and her total ignorance of it, he couldn’t imagine she would ever find out now.

The eulogy was delivered with sincerity by Jane, who added a few tributes of her own, it was basically a history of Evvie’s unfulfilled life and included references to her beloved family and friends, faithful to the last. George had winced at this, recalling his infidelity with Gill.

Gill had telephoned George to ask if he considered she should attend the funeral but he had advised against it and, fortunately, Gill had agreed.

After the service everyone retreated to the relative comfort of The Village Hall where Peaches, her hair and make-up untroubled by the foul weather, had organised some sandwiches and tea. The

110 atmosphere was not at all sombre but bustling and quite noisy, as the sounds hit the hard, stark surfaces.

George was standing talking to Sarah McFayden when he looked across at his daughter. Bethy was standing next to Alex McFayden and his son Alan, their hair was still wet from the heavy rain and lay flattened onto their heads. The rain had stopped and some late sun was low in the sky, shining through the window behind them; George stared, he was struck by the profiles of the three, they all looked exactly the same, identical in appearance and manner, in every detail, he looked at Sarah and could see she had seen it too, she looked shocked, they caught each other’s horrified glance, both turning quickly back to ensure they had not been mistaken.

Bethy turned and looked at her father and saw the expression on his face, she moved away quickly making her excuses to the group and walked across to speak to a little gaggle of women that included Peaches Paradise and her husband David.

George didn’t know what to do, his heart was racing and he felt slightly faint, he circulated and joined Jim who was with a group that had congregated around the tea hatch making small talk, he couldn’t really describe them as mourners as they appeared in good spirits and were talking about their forthcoming holidays. He couldn’t believe what he had just seen, he knew Sarah had seen it too, she was still standing where George had abandoned her, alone and despondent, the light through the window behind her showing a droop in her normally upright and proud stance.

The event continued for what, to George, seemed an age until Peaches started collecting the tea cups and Jane went around putting the spent paper plates and napkins into a black plastic bag. Some people remained to assist in the clear up whilst the others quietly drifted away not sure whether to shake George’s hand and express their regrets or not, his estrangement from his late wife being an inhibiting and complicating factor in the normal protocols.

Jim put his arm around George’s shoulders and gave him a comforting hug and a wink, indicating his unspoken friendship and understanding, before leaving the hall, to spend the remainder of the day, it transpired, talking to his ex-wife who was able to tell him that Pugwash’s, Barbara now called Terence by that name, boat had, mysteriously, lost its mooring rope one evening after she had left, and become grounded in a reed bed attracting a fine as well as the cost of recovering the launch.

George and Bethy left the Hall together, they got into George’s car, which Jim had driven down to the car park for him earlier that day, George had just started the engine when Bethy put her hand across and laid it upon his which was about to put the vehicle into gear, their hands, one on top the other vibrated with the movement of the mechanisms below as if trembling. ‘Don’t drive off just yet Dad’ she said.

George looked at his daughter. Her hair had dried a little and was not as flat on her head as it had been when he had looked at her earlier in the Hall but he could still see that distinctive profile, why had he not noticed that before?

Bethy squeezed her hand around her father’s, the two hands wobbled back and forth with the engine’s movement as it throbbed away. The insides of the windows were steamed up and rivulets of water streamed down both inside and outside surfaces of the glass. She thought her father looked tired and troubled.

111 ‘You know don’t you?’ she said, quietly.

‘Know what?’ he replied giving the throttle an involuntary little blip.

‘I saw the look on your face in the Hall when I was talking to the McFaydens.’

‘Was it that obvious?’

‘Yes Dad it was. I’m so, so sorry Dad, I wish it wasn’t what it is, I’d do anything to make it not true.’

‘How did you know?’ George was genuinely intrigued.

‘Mother told me when it looked as if Alan and I were getting serious. That’s why I broke it off with Alan and got myself a job that took me away.’ George had noticed that Bethy had recently taken to referring to Evvie as Mother rather than Mum.

‘Well it certainly did that, took you away I mean. Who else knows?’ he added almost casually.

‘Only me as far as I’m aware. She said she had never told Alex and if he didn’t know then Alan or Sarah wouldn’t, I didn’t ask her I was too angry, I’ve been angry ever since. You just don’t know how sorry I am Dad.’

‘It’s not your fault my darling, it’s not you who should be sorry.’

‘I know, but now you’re going to be upset. I wasn’t ever going to tell you, I love you too much. You’ve always been my Dad and nothing, absolutely nothing will ever change that Dad. Please tell me you understand that.’

‘So that’s why you went away?’

‘Yes Dad, that’s why I went away, I couldn’t live with a lie, a secret that I shouldn’t have known, never wanted to know, one that I couldn’t share with you. It was probably as bad for me as it will be for you now.’

‘I don’t really know how I feel to be honest.’

The car engine was sounding smoother now, her hand, still locked around her father’s was not jerking about so much now and the automatic air conditioning had engaged and was clearing some of the moisture from the insides of the windows, it was getting warmer in the car. She reached out with her right hand and pulled her father’s head into her chest, he didn’t resist. ‘I love you Dad. I always have and I always will, I’m just so sorry about all this.’

‘I’m sorry about it all too Beth’ a tear from George’s eyes stained Bethy’s grey blouse ‘Sarah saw it too’ George said ‘I know she did.’

Bethy stretched out her long, trouser clad, legs. ‘That’s another problem then. If she confronts Alex I can see they’ll try to drag me in. I don’t want any relationship with him, he’s not my father, you are.’

‘I can’t see Sarah wanting that darling. I must admit I don’t know how he’ll be affected, whether he’ll want to regard you as his long lost, but I can’t imagine Sarah is going to encourage any relationship

112 of any sort.’ George had sat back up in the driver’s seat but their hands remained interlocked around the chrome gearstick knob.

‘I’ll not have him poking into my life Dad, I just won’t.’ She hesitated ‘What are you going to do about Alan?’

‘What do you mean, what am I going to do about Alan?’

‘Well you can’t have him working for you knowing that your daughter is his half-sister can you?’

‘To be honest I don’t see why not, but we can’t assume he’s going to know can we? The most likely outcome is that Sarah will have it out with Alex and Alan will never know, it won’t do any of them any good for him to know will it? I’m understanding now why I like the lad so much, you and he have some very similar characteristics and mannerisms.’

‘Oh Dad, don’t! It’s bad enough for me knowing that I’ve been to bed with my own brother without you saying how much alike we are. It’s all such a horrible mess. I hate mother, I ‘m glad she’s dead!’

George was stunned, he had never heard his daughter, and she was still his daughter as far as he was concerned, express anything approaching hate in her life and now she was saying that she was pleased that her mother was dead.

‘Don’t say that please Bethy, try to see her good side.’

‘It’s going to take me a long time Dad and I’m not so sure about Aunty Nora’s part in all this either. I bet Mother told her, I’ll bet she knows.’

‘Nora and I were never the best of friends.’ There was sadness in George’s voice, sadness and regret. He blew his nose and remembered the last time he had visited Nora’s house.

C37

The Marriott Hotel on the edge of the Dead Sea in Jordan smelt of cats.

To get away from the acidic odour George had walked around the driveway at the front of the hotel and looked at the oranges that had fallen off the trees, left lying on the ground, he had picked one up, peeled it and put a slice into his mouth, it was bitter.

The sky was overcast and a wind was blowing through, the sea was too rough for bathing, he was waiting for Bethy to arrive.

Back in his room George’s phone rang, he picked it up and said ‘Hello’.

‘Hi Dad it’s me.’ Bethy’s voice sounded like a dawn chorus ‘I’m in the lounge area just inside reception, come on down.’

113 Bethy had organised a few days leave and had arranged for him to fly to Amman and meet on the Dead Sea coast where a number of the aid workers were taking a break from their work in the refugee camps in the north of the country.

It seemed bizarre to George that these young people were meeting friends and family in an hotel that seemed a world away from the conflict and misery of a country at war with itself and with its insurgents, yet was only a few hours’ drive south of the so called ‘theatre’. A sense of calm and normality existed here, where food and service was available and untroubled, but families were being ripped apart and killed just a few hundred miles away. He marvelled at the resilience of his daughter and her friends who were working to try to alleviate some of the misery of the wretched people who had flooded over the border to escape the carnage.

‘You have to keep yourself apart Dad’ Bethy had said ‘you won’t help anyone if you get emotionally involved. You just do your best to organise things that help them.’

The last time George had been abroad it had been to the comfort of the hotel in Tenerife with Gill, where they had met with Larry, Ronnie and Pete where everything had been normal, but here there was a sense of a strange calm that didn’t relate to what was actually happening.

Bethy had arranged that they eat with some of her fellow Red Cross workers that evening and the following day they were to visit the World Heritage site of Petra.

The group that met and ate together could have been any group of young people on a couple of days off from their office jobs, no-one talked about what they were doing but only asked about life at home and of dear old Aunty Muriel or the dog or that they were pleased that Wigan had beaten Chelsea on Saturday, it seemed important to them to keep the two parts of their lives separate.

George was pleased to see that Bethy was at ease in the company of the group and she appeared hugely grateful that her father had made the effort to visit her on, as it were, her home ground. He went to bed that night with a sense of ease.

They were up early the following morning to catch a minibus that was taking them to Petra. They drove up over a high plain where evidence of a snowfall that had taken place a couple of days earlier remained in the form intermittent scuds of windswept drifts on the scrubland before dropping down to cross a valley where strange rock formations provided a landscape different and unfamiliar to anything George had ever witnessed before. He felt detached and lifted above his normal life’s pattern, he looked at his daughter sitting next to him on the little bus and wondered at her ability to act as if this was nothing extraordinary. To George, who had left school to work for his father, inherited a small and quiet business and spent his holidays on the South Coast of England, only upgrading to the Canary Islands later in his life, this was another world and his beautiful, capable daughter dealt with it seemingly without effort.

The ancient city of Petra, where they approached initially on horseback and then by walking through a long and narrow ravine between sandstone cliffs to be suddenly and splendidly confronted by the building known as The Treasury was nothing short of stunning, it left George speechless and overawed; the whole site was much larger than he had imagined, he had envisaged a small enclave around a rocky outcrop on a desert not a vast sprawling site with sandstone carved houses and

114 tombs at every turn, Roman remains, donkeys carrying you over rocky pathways to unimaginable temples and vistas over the promised land of adjoining Israel.

He took photographs of Bethy in front of virtually everything that didn’t move as well as her riding a donkey, then next to a camel and with Bedouin tribesmen flashing improbably white teeth, he thought it was probably the most exciting day of his sheltered life.

All too soon they were bundled back into the minibus and to their hotel where, the following day, after a quick breakfast Bethy was collected to be driven back to the Refugee Camp where she was to resume assisting in endeavours to feed and clothe the poor Syrian refugees who were amassed there in such numbers.

George and Bethy hugged and shed tears before she left, giving each other reassurances of their eternal bond. He watched in sadness and pride as the big four wheel drive vehicle powered away. His own break was not over and, later that day, he too was collected but for him it was to visit Crusader Castles, Mount Nebo, St Georges Church in Mabuta with its ancient mosaic floor, Wadi Rum and a night in a Bedouin tent beneath the clear desert sky before spending a couple of days on the Red Sea resort of Aquaba.

Much had happened to George in the past year. His wife had left him, then contracted cancer and died, he had learnt an unwelcome truth about his wife’s infidelity and his daughter’s heritage, he had started playing in a band, his perspectives, priorities and values had been changed.

C38

‘I’m sorry to call on you unannounced George’ Sarah didn’t look sorry.

‘No problem Sarah, it’s very nice to see you, quite a surprise. How are you?’

‘I’m fine’ Sarah replied without conviction ‘how did you enjoy your holiday?’

‘I have never had a holiday like it before.’ George enthused ‘I have to say it was quite amazing and different to anything I’ve done before. It was so good to see Bethy and I think she was pleased that I made the effort to visit her out there but also Jordan was wonderful. I went to Petra and would never have believed something could be so extraordinary as that, houses carved into the rocks and all entirely hidden from general view until you are right upon them. I have had my eyes opened, I don’t think the South Coast of England or even the Canary Islands are ever going to seem the same again.’ George continued with his tribute to the Hashemite Kingdom and then realised that Sarah’s expression of interest in his holiday had been only an introduction to a more serious conversation in which she wished to engage so he stopped and said ‘Anyhow I’m sure that’s not why you called, to hear me rambling on about my holiday.’

115 George would have liked to have rambled on and on about his holiday, filibustering Sarah until she had to return home due to the sun coming up at dawn, he had a dreadful foreboding that he knew why Sarah had called and he was not to be disappointed.

‘I think you can guess why I’ve called George’ she said.

‘Can I?’ George played for time, he knew he wouldn’t want to have the conversation that was about to ensue.

‘I saw your face, we both saw the same thing George. At the funeral.’

George decided to say nothing, he didn’t have any words for this.

‘I’ve had it out with Alex, it’s not the only time he’s ever been unfaithful you know.’ George didn’t know and didn’t want to know. ‘But I didn’t think he’d ever fathered anyone outside of our family. He claims he didn’t know but I don’t trust him to tell the truth any longer, I don’t think I ever should have. I’m leaving him, I’ve told him it’s over between us and want him out of the house before the end of the month.’ This was all unwanted news to George, he couldn’t care less what happened to either of them, although he did try to think of the date and how close to the end of the month they were.

He said ‘I’m sorry to hear that Sarah’ he hoped he sounded convincing.

‘You shouldn’t be, it’s the best thing I can do George. I’d probably kill him otherwise.’

George was unable to envisage Sarah as the murdering type. She was petite, a bit taller than Evvie had been, slim too, but her face was too kind, her eyes too soft to murder a husband, even an adulterous and lying one.

‘Where are you going?’ George was beginning to think he was psychic, he knew exactly what she was going to say and sure enough she said it; ‘Evvie’s old flat at the Moon and Sixpence Barn, Pete said I could have it until I’d sorted myself.’ Pete the saviour of lost souls.

‘Oh.’ George feigned surprise.

‘You don’t mind do you?’ Sarah suddenly was struck that the place might hold some memories for George.

‘No. why should I?’

‘Only it’s just…. I’m pleased you’re not upset or cross or anything. I wouldn’t want to inflict that on you, not on top of everything else George. How long have you known, was it the same as me, at the funeral?’

The question was quite brutal, George had been trying to put all this recently acquired, unwanted knowledge out of, or at least apart from his thoughts and now here was the wife of his own late wife’s lover questioning him about an unstated problem as if it were his fault. His fault that her nasty little husband had seduced his wife only a few months into their marriage and fathered a child that, until recently, he had thought was entirely his own, not the product of a septic, uninvolved adulterer who had entered his life uninvited.

116 ‘The news was as shattering to me Sarah as it was to you. I had no idea, absolutely no bloody idea that that creep of a husband of yours had interfered with my life in such a profound way that I wouldn’t know where to begin to express my loathing for him.’ It was Sarah’s turn to feel guilt.

‘I don’t regard him as a husband any more.’

‘Good, although I’m not sure that helps me.’

‘George?’ there was a pleading in her voice ‘You won’t let this affect Alan will you? None of this is his fault.’

‘Is that the reason you are here Sarah?’

‘It’s certainly one of the reasons I’m here but probably not the only one George. I’m so confused.’

‘Me and you both’ George wasn’t quite sure he knew what he was saying but had heard Jim using that expression when someone had questioned something and it seemed to embrace everything he was trying to convey. ’I know this isn’t anyone’s fault except Evvie’s and your husband’s’ although Sarah had disclaimed she had any further part in the relationship he found he couldn’t use Alex’s name, ‘I haven’t let it affect his job if that’s what you mean.’

‘I suppose I do.’

‘My guess is that Alan doesn’t know any of this?’ George assumed that Sarah and Alex’s conversation, if conversation about such a situation was sufficient to describe the discourse, had been discreet and private between the two combatants.

‘Yes, he knows we’re splitting up but thinks it’s because we’ve just tired of each other, he’s right there too, I’m so tired as to be disinterested.’

‘At least you can argue with him, you have someone with whom you can vent your anger, your disappointment’ George surprised himself, he hadn’t realised this was one, maybe the principal, of his difficulties. Until that moment he had felt he was beginning to feel in control of his thoughts, the first time since he had realised the truth of his daughter’s parentage.

‘I’m sorry George, I’m being selfish, I hadn’t thought of it from your point of view, you must be devastated.’

‘That’s one way to put it Sarah.’ George hadn’t intended to cry, he was a private man, it wasn’t his nature to let others see his emotions but his eyes involuntarily filled and tears trickled down his face.

In a similar involuntary but instinctive manner Sarah hugged George, she pulled her body into his, he felt the firmness of her small breasts crushed into his body, she felt his warmth, his hurt.

Much the same as it was when he had found himself in bed with Gill Rainsbury at the Bournemouth Conference, George was now in bed and making ferocious love with Sarah McFayden and crying, laughing, thrusting, with a jumble of emotions that covered lust, frustration, revenge, desire and probably other unidentified ones.

117 They fell apart, hot, sweating and breathless they lay in the bed, silent, side by side, the hotel quality Egyptian cotton bedclothing strewn, screwed up and creased.

The ceiling plaster showed evidence of shrinkage and the paint was peeling slightly around the light fitting, George hoped it wouldn’t prejudice the sale of his house if noticed by the surveyor, it was Sarah’s turn to cry, quietly, fitfully.

He turned and looked at her, she smiled and then suddenly started laughing. The laughter was contagious, he smiled and started laughing too.

‘Bizarre’

‘Bizarre’ he agreed and looked at the heap of hastily removed clothing on the floor, his underpants were prominent at the top, he read the word NEXT on the waistband. The emotions that had brought him here now forgotten.

‘Why did that happen?’

‘I haven’t a clue. I certainly didn’t plan it when you walked into my kitchen.

‘Me neither. What shall we do?’

‘What do you mean, what shall we do? We carry on with life.’

‘What as if nothing happened?’

‘Yes as if nothing happened. In some ways nothing has.’

‘I’ve never done this with anyone else, you make it sound as if it’s something you do all the time George!’

‘As we both know Sarah, people are doing this sort of thing all the time. In our case I don’t think we’ve let anyone down or made a difference to the world. I hope you don’t think that I’m going to ask you to move in or something?’

‘No. I don’t think I would if you asked…. That’s not to say… that’s not meant to be disrespectful. Well I think you know what I mean.’

‘I get the picture. I hope’ he added and was thoughtful for a few moments. Sarah showed no sign of getting off the bed or rushing off to confession. ‘Why did you come here today Sarah? ‘

‘I’m not sure myself to be honest George. I think I just wanted to talk about it with someone and it’s not the sort of thing you can share with too many people is it?’

‘I hope not. It’s not so much for me as for Bethy, it was a shock for her when Evvie told her.’

‘Evvie told Bethy?’ Sarah sounded horrified.

‘Yes when she thought Bethy and your Alan were getting serious. We both knew they’d slept together on at least one occasion. I was concerned for an entirely different reason to Evvie. I was simply a protective father shocked that his little girl was sleeping with someone, even someone as

118 nice as Alan but Evvie knew that the situation was going to be impossible, so sort of cut her losses as it were. I didn’t know until the funeral, like you, when we saw them all in a row and they all looked exactly the bloody same.’

‘That’s why Bethy suddenly dropped Alan and took off then’ the realisation of Bethy’s mysterious actions were suddenly evident to Sarah who, until now, had thought that her son had done something to upset his former girlfriend.

‘I don’t want Alan to know.’ George was uncharacteristically firm in his statement. ‘He’s done nothing wrong and I’m not attributing any blame to him, his and my relationship stays unaltered and although Bethy isn’t too keen on it, I’ve told her the same.’

‘Thank you George. It’s our secret and it’s safe with me. I must say it feels very odd to me discussing all this stark naked in bed with you’

‘Yes it’s not the way most people would have done it. It wasn’t on my agenda either.’

‘I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed it though.’

George thought his way through the double negative and hoped he was getting a few marks out of ten.

Sarah continued ‘I’ll just go to the bathroom and then I’ll get you a cup of tea. Where is it?’

‘What the tea?’

‘No, the bathroom!’ she avoided adding daft.

When Sarah had gone George went back up to the bedroom and tidied the bedclothes. He looked at the scene of his erstwhile sexual activity and was slightly in wonder of his own improbable actions. Susie, Sheila’s niece, who did his cleaning was due in the morning, he didn’t want any clues as to the apparent promiscuity of his life style getting back to Sheila.

He went back down to the living room, picked up his guitar and strummed through ‘Bright Side of the Street.’

C39

‘I thought it wouldn’t be too long before we had an offer on the place.’ Tony Davis, the effervescent and oleaginous Estate Agent had telephoned George several times during the day to negotiate a price at which George would be prepared to sell Longmeadow.

A couple with two children had looked at the house and considered it would suit their needs quite well, a figure less than the asking price had been offered but as George was in no hurry to sell he had held out for a better offer and was, as a result, several thousand pounds better off than he would have been if he had taken Davis’s initial advice to accept their first offer.

119 What this did bring into focus was George’s need to now more seriously address the problem of where to relocate. He had, when he had originally given Davis instructions to advertise Longmeadow, looked around at a few places but had lost enthusiasm when, firstly, he hadn’t seen anywhere that appealed to him and, secondly, his own house had not exactly revived the rather quiet house sales market.

His good friend Jim had offered him temporary shelter and there was always the ubiquitous Moon and Sixpence flats where everyone seemed to hole up whilst they ‘sorted or found themselves.’

He understood from Tony Davis that his purchasers, ‘the Stevensons’ had already sold their own property and were, in Estate Agency terminology ‘proceedable’, which he understood meant that they would be arriving on his, or rather their own, doorstep in the relatively foreseeable future.

He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted, his plans for his future life were gradually changing. When Longmeadow had first gone onto the market his plan was to simply buy a smaller house with less garden but now his thinking had changed and he was more inclined to look for somewhere simple that he could lock up, go away and it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t return for months and that rather ruled out any sort of garden, unless, of course Sheila had a relative who could look after it for him.

Another thought that was rapidly gaining credence in his plans was to sell his shops. He had some choices here inasmuch as he owned the freeholds of the three premises, so he could possibly sell the business and let the properties to the purchasers for a rent. He decided to visit Sheila at the Masterton shop to broach the subject.

The familiar, and comforting smell of tetrachlooethylene hit his nostrils even before he opened the door to the backroom, Alan was busy about, loading the machine, conscientiously checking that everything was correctly labelled as he placed the soiled garments into the chamber.

‘Hi George.’ George had long ago told Alan to refrain from calling him Mr Chisholm.

‘Hello Alan, everything ok?’

‘No problems at all, we’ve been busy you’ll be pleased to know.’

‘Excellent news, is Sheila in the shop?’

‘Sure is.’

George walked through and saw the familiar figure of Sheila hanging some of the recently cleaned items on the rail. There were some summer clothes but also a few overcoats and heavier items that had been drawn from their wardrobes by their owners who had been tempted by the end of summer offers his shops were operating. The business needed little input from him these days as tried and tested formulas were implemented to a calendar rota. As long as the service and quality was maintained the places ran themselves but this didn’t prevent him regarding them a responsibility, something he wasn’t sure he any longer wanted in his life.

George received a beaming smile and matronly hug from his friend and employee, Sheila was beginning to look older these days and had gained a little weight around her middle but her eyes retained the same soulful intensity that he remembered as a lad.

120 ‘I want a chat, can you break off for half an hour?’

They left the shop in the capable hands of Alan McFayden and walked down the street to one of the new coffee houses that were opening up in the town.

‘There’ll soon be more coffee houses than Charity Shops’ George commented.

‘Good job too’ was Sheila’s quite impassioned response.

There was a table at the back of the room that Sheila claimed whilst George undertook what he considered to be the Third World style ritual of ordering coffee and waiting for the assistant, or what the Company shirt laughingly labelled a Barista, fulfilled his order. He returned with the heavy earthenware mugs steaming away with the delicious smelling drink.

‘Always a let-down, the taste of coffee’ he said as he passed Sheila her Latte ‘smells better than it tastes, not like bread.’ Sheila smiled and said nothing, in the background an Amy Winehouse track was playing, it was one of George’s favourites ‘Back to black’ he decided not to share his musical tastes with Sheila whose own choice might have a County and Western flavour to it he thought.

The two exchanged pleasantries and he asked Sheila about her wide and various family, all was apparently well with no crises or insurmountable problems it seemed. She also told him that Larry and Ronnie were in Germany where they were finding their particular style was proving quite a hit in some of the clubs there, George understood the type of clubs to which she was referring and made a mental note to call Gill Rainsbury, it would be a good excuse to speak to her saying he was interested in getting some further news on his ex-employee. He then went on to explain to Sheila that his life had changed since his split up with Evvie and her subsequent death, he didn’t go further to share with her the difficulties he had inherited from his late wife and explain that her assistant shop manager was in fact his own daughter’s half-brother, he wanted as few people as possible to have that knowledge.

He explained that now that Bethy had left and become wedded to her work, his own perspective had changed and that he was looking to change the priorities in his life but did not want to let any of his loyal staff down and that the reason for telling her this was that he would like her thoughts and advice.

‘I’ve learnt over the years George never to give advice but I do understand what you’re saying and why. I’m also flattered and grateful that you’ve decided to tell me before you do anything. What I would say is that Alan is quite capable of running my shop and much the same goes for Jenny and Brian at the other two shops. John Lewis operates pretty well as a Partnership so why can’t Chisholm’s? After all we’re half way there with the profit sharing for us managers.’

‘What about you?’ he asked.

‘I could look after your interests whilst you go and do whatever it is you think you’d like to do. I think you’d regret selling it all off and not having anything to involve yourself in, even if it was at arms length.’ She looked at George with his shorter hair and more stylish clothing, she thought he was looking better than he had been for a long time, but he somehow looked lost, like the boy she

121 remembered who had lost both his parents in quick succession and she wished, perhaps, that she was about ten years younger and wasn’t married to Ian.

C40

Alex McFayden rode his black BMW motorbike into the small parking area, dismounted and pulled the heavy machine onto its stand alongside Gill’s Volkswagen Polo, he looked at her battered little car and wondered how anyone could be happy driving around in such a tired, uninspiring mode of transport.

He removed his black crash helmet, he had left the distinctive yellow one in the office, he felt less conspicuous in the black one and ran his fingers through wiry, once reddish brown now mostly grey, hair. He pulled back his shoulders, still feeling hunched from the motorbike ride, back to his six foot something and stepped forward looking furtively left and right around the wooden fencing before proceeding across the lane just as a voice said ‘You look shifty Alex.’

Gill was standing, unnoticed by him, until that moment, in her kitchen doorway.

‘Do I? I didn’t want to be seen’ he replied.

‘Afraid that you’d sully my reputation or that someone might see you and tell Sarah?’ Gill enquired sarcastically.

‘Well, you know’ he muttered.

‘No I don’t, not really’ she countered. ‘Better come in before the whole village see’s you there.’

‘Tea, coffee?’ Gill offered.

‘A strong black coffee would be welcome.’

‘Hangover?’

122 ‘I wish it was as simple as that.’

‘That sounds ominous.’

‘Sarah’s throwing me out.’

‘Throwing or thrown?’

‘It amounts to the same thing really.’

‘Does it? That suggests she’s found out about something, is it us?’ Gilled poured the hot water into the cafetiere as Alex shuffled around the kitchen table and squeezed himself into the pine carver chair with the cushion that he considered more comfortable than the other armless and cushionless ones that Gill had around the cluttered table.

‘Sit yourself down’ Gill said ironically ‘make yourself comfortable.’ Alex ignored her comment.

‘No, I think we’re safe’ he said with an air of smugness that immediately irritated Gill.

‘We’re safe? Well that’s okay then? Nothing to worry about, so you can carry on sneaking around here at all hours whenever you fancy a quick shag with someone who isn’t looking for long term commitment?’

Even Alex, self-obsessed as he was, could not avoid noticing the bitterness in Gill’s voice. ‘You said you didn’t want long term commitment’ he said trying to sound offended.

‘Did I? Or did you tell me that I didn’t?’

‘Well er….uh…’ this had taken him by surprise, for a moment he lost his normal self-assurance ‘you wouldn’t want your independent life spoilt would you?’ he sensed an opportunity here.

‘What by having an arrogant Scottish twit move in with me because his wife had thrown him out you mean? No thanks.’ Alex saw his moment of opportunity disappear.

There was so much in that statement that Alex didn’t know where to start to defend himself so he took a different route; ‘I wasn’t suggesting that Gill.’

‘Weren’t you now?’

‘No, I thought you quite liked the excitement of it being illicit. I wasn’t suggesting I move in.’ He looked around and wondered how long he could cope with the slightly dog-eared surrroundings and cluttered nature of Gill’s house before arranging to either have it re-modelled or finding himself alternative accommodation.

‘That’s good because you can forget that Alex, even on a temporary basis. Anyhow why have you come, not just to tell me that your wife’s throwing you out surely?’

‘Well, yes I was’ he was surprised and sounded it.

123 ‘Bad luck then. It was only a matter of time, she’s probably fed up with all your lies, stupid of her to tolerate you for so long. I hope you don’t expect me to feel sorry for you?’ Gill was realising that she didn’t actually like Alex and wondered at herself for allowing him into her life at all.

‘That’s a different note to the one you were sounding the other night. You said I was wasted on her then.’

‘That was then and this is now’ Gill said it with a conviction he could see he wasn’t going to be able to counter. Not at the moment.

‘Is there a specific reason she’s chosen this moment to get rid of you?’ it hadn’t occurred to Gill to ask this until now, so inevitable was it that Sarah would, eventually, realise what a useless piece of humanity her husband was.

‘She’s discovered I’ve fathered another child.’

‘What Jess or is there another baby on the way?’

‘God no, she doesn’t know about Jess and no, this one was a long time ago. I didn’t know about this one myself until she told me.’

‘What Sarah told you do you mean?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did she find out? And if you didn’t know until then how can you be sure it’s yours, have they done a DNA test?’

‘I don’t think a DNA test is possible. I don’t think the other side would co-operate, even if I wanted it. It’s not a question of financial support or anything like that.’

‘Blimey, the other side. I can see it’s gone well then’ Gill was enjoying his discomfort, Alex was used to being in charge, to issuing instructions, expecting people to jump to his bidding. Perhaps that had been the challenge to her, to take him off his peg and now someone else had done it before her. No worries, job done, next please.

‘Anyone I would know?’ Gill was now desperately curious and somewhat annoyed at herself for going on the attack before she had extracted the full information from him. Had she massaged his ego a little or even offered to take him upstairs she could have got the whole story sordid story, she was sure it would be sordid.

‘No’ he said, unconvincingly ‘no-one from around here.’

‘Went off on yer bike before then did you?’ Gill mocked.

‘Something like that’ he said forlornly.

‘You go off and get yourself a flat from Pete, there’s usually one going, but don’t expect to park your bike here again Alex’ she was pleased with herself, she had been bored with Alex sneaking around

124 every time he had a sexual urge, he had offered her nothing in return except to fulfil the need she seemed constantly to have to re-assure herself of her own attractiveness and desirability.

After she had dismissed Alex and heard his motorbike roar off to goodness knows where, she sat down and wondered what she could do to fill the void that had now appeared in her life. She telephoned George Chisholm.

C41

Evvie had walked out of Mr Hunter’s room alone and frightened, luckily for her it had been Pam Chivers who had been doing ‘the run’ that day, Pam was a quiet person and although she had become a stronger and more determined one since Julian’s unfortunate death, she remained reserved and hadn’t pushed Evvie into conversation or require the blow by blow detail of the meeting that Peaches would certainly have demanded. Evvie asked Pam to drop her back to her flat and Pam complied without comment, their conversation limited to weather, traffic and the cost of good bread, if you could find it, these days.

As she was agnostic, bordering on atheist Evvie couldn’t believe in Divine retribution, but at times like this she had wondered.

Perhaps had she been a more honest person or lead an exemplary life there might have been a different diagnosis, or maybe it was a question of being happier in life that made you healthier, she was aware of her reputation as a wasp chewer, an expression she had heard George’s good friend Jim use on more than one occasion.

Her infidelities had not been many in number, only two and each of those, for different reasons, on only one occasion, but nevertheless they were infidelities and both had resulted in the most unfortunate outcomes; a birth and a death. She smiled to herself as she thought that Nora would tell her that they balanced so there would be nothing to worry about.

It worried her that she hadn’t really felt any guilt, there had been a short time when she had felt remorseful but that had gone away, perhaps she had convinced herself that there had been good reasons for her behaviour. She hadn’t been honest with George, not only about her adulteries but also her reasons for marrying him, which only now, from the distance created by her moving out and the medical prognosis, did she understand were selfish and not for any love of George whose life she had absorbed to sustain her own wellbeing. Her life had been a catalogue of deceit and missed opportunities and had culminated in Bethy losing all the trust in her that had been nurtured over her daughter’s lifetime.

Had George been more ambitious perhaps it would have been different, he had been, to some extent, culpable too and perhaps she shouldn’t have told Bethy about the circumstances of her birth so soon. So many perhaps and if onlys…..

125 If The Reverend Jane Dalby had been a Catholic Priest could she have confessed all of this, not that the Catholic Church was ever likely to have a female priest and how any woman could ever talk over such matters with a celibate man she would never understand, she had wondered if Nuns took confessions, not that it mattered any longer, nothing had mattered any longer then.

She wondered if it would be a cathartic experience to share these concerns with someone else or would it simply confirm to others that she was shallow and deceitful. Perhaps the Catholics had it right, you could get absolution, a couple of Hail Mary’s and a Mass or three and the slate was wiped clean, start again, no points on the licence.

It would be impossible for her to talk about these matters to a complete stranger, a professional counsellor, all glasses and earnestness nodding her head and going ‘Mm. Mm’ whilst all the time thinking of what she needed to buy in Waitrose for dinner tonight. Neither could she talk about this with her friends, Barb, perhaps Pam but no she had enough problems of her own without being burdened by someone else’s difficulties, or Peaches, no definitely not Peaches, it would destroy her credibility and, besides, it would be unfair to ask someone to withhold such secrets from her family and friends.

The only other person in the world who knew all of this had been Nora.

C42

Nora had taken a week’s leave and booked a cottage in Newton Ferrers.

To gain the advantage of the maximum amount of time together they had arranged for a private hire car ‘Hang the expense Evvie!’ Nora had told her ‘If you won’t pay for it I will’ to transport Evvie to Nora’s bungalow on the Friday evening and they had driven down to the cottage on the Saturday morning, stopping en-route for lunch, although Evvie had only managed to pick at a limp salad comprised largely of Iceberg lettuce.

The cottage had been very pretty, very tiny, very expensive but had a downstairs bedroom with an en-suite bathroom, behind the kitchen, for Evvie with a similar arrangement upstairs for Nora.

Nora had unpacked Evvie’s bag then attended to her own possessions before popping out to buy a couple of items that she had expected to have been provided and hadn’t catered for in the previous day’s shopping trip which she had also brought along ‘Why doesn’t anyone ever check if there’s pepper and salt?’ she had muttered.

‘I’m sorry Nora’ Evvie had said ‘I know you would have preferred a hotel but I’m really not up to it.’ Nora had simply gently squeezed her sister’s hand which had looked then, like the rest of Evvie, so tiny.

Later, after they’d eaten an M&S pasta that Nora had brought along they walked, at Evvie’s pace, to the Anchor Inn, where they had sat in the window seat, Evvie with her carbonated water and Nora

126 with her gin and tonic, or two, watching the boats bobbing up and down on the incoming tide, it had been peaceful.

During the ensuing days the two had talked, rather than concentrating on her own condition Evvie had encouraged, manipulated, Nora to talk about her life at the Insurance office which, although Nora held a senior position there, did not sound anything like as glamorous as Evvie had imagined. There was, apparently, all the usual in fighting that seemed to go on in larger organisations as well as what Nora perceived as sexual discrimination. It had been clear to Evvie that Nora wasn’t on everyone’s Christmas card list.

‘But it does give me a good sense of independence and worth’ Nora had stated, trying, unsuccessfully, not to indicate that she thought her sister would have been better off if she had made a career for herself, as well as justifying her own decisions and position.

‘I think you have made the right decision for yourself’ Evvie had told Nora with genuine sincerity.

Eventually and inevitably they had talked about Evvie’s situation. They had driven up to a headland and had sat on a bench, dedicated to Alan and Jean Watson who had, the brass plaque told them, spent many happy hours around this headland. The bench faced out to a grey, cold looking sea, a wind had been blowing and it had been chilly, they had both wrapped themselves up in unseasonal warm winter clothing, Evvie had worn her walking clothes which she often wore those days, when outdoors. The dry, scrubby grass came out of the ground already at forty-five degrees to the horizontal, as if accepting it would be pointless to do otherwise in such an exposed situation, the stems rigid in defiance of the wind, only the seed deprived dry heads moving jerkily, a plastic bag had rolled past them until it caught and flapped around a dead looking bush like a dying bird.

Evvie had asked Nora if she thought she had been a bad person and expressed the concerns that had been swirling around in her head, like the flapping plastic bag that had become tangled onto a branch, at the mercy of external forces, unable to move on without assistance.

She had talked about the infidelities, the use of George as a provider, her actions running off when Tony had died but most, and worst, of all; the fatherhood of her daughter, their daughter, Bethy.

‘Well I certainly think you should have held off telling her, you never know it would probably have all fallen apart before matters got too far. Young girls are unlikely to get pregnant nowadays, they’re all on the pill at about ten years old’ Nora had said and since wished she had been more sympathetic and responsive to the insecurities her sister had expressed.

‘Perhaps you are right Nora, that’s easy to say with the benefit of hindsight but it’s done and there’s no point in dealing with the ‘what if’s’ .’ Evvie had said, feeling that sometimes, well most times, Nora was just a bit too clever and didn’t understand the pressures of parenthood, then Evvie had felt guilty because Nora had been denied those things.

‘Mr Hunter says it’s gone too far.’

‘Mr Hunter?’

‘My Doctor, the specialist.’

127 ‘Too far?’ Nora had queried.

‘Yes’ Evvie had explained ‘it’s spread into the lymph nodes.’

‘I thought he’d said they’d caught it in the early stages?’

‘He did. But they were so busy looking at my left tit that they missed it in the right one.’

‘Not that special then is he, missing the growth in your right breast?’

‘That doesn’t help Nora’ Evvie had admonished her sister who had, unusually, meekly apologised and then Evvie had told her ‘They’ve given me three months.’

‘Three months? What three months to live?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh Evvie’ at this Nora had, uncharacteristically, started weeping.

‘That’s not going to help me Nora.’

‘No, I’m sorry, I realise that but it’s such a shock. I thought you were getting weaker because of the treatment, not because the bloody disease had taken hold.’

‘It took me by surprise too, I was expecting to get better and now I know I won’t.’

‘Don’t say that Sis. You can fight it, I’ll help you. Someone ought to be held responsible for it surely?’

‘It doesn’t matter any more, any of that stuff. There’s no point to that sort of thing.’

‘But they could have saved you, they must.’

‘I doubt it. I know I’ve lost the battle, I can feel it and I want you to help me.’

‘You know I’ll do anything I can.’

‘I want you to help me to die before it all gets too difficult.’

‘Help you to die? I wouldn’t do that even if I knew how. Kill the person I love most in the world?’

‘You wouldn’t be killing me you’d be helping me to die.’

‘I can’t see much difference and neither would the jury.’

‘I do realise it’s a big risk but I’ve got a plan….’

‘Oh dear - a plan. What I push you off this cliff and say you fell?’

‘No it’s a bit more technical than that.’

‘Technical? I don’t do technical. I can change a light bulb or a plug, at a push, but I don’t do technical.’

128 The wind had been getting up, the sea had looked darker and the plastic bag had been flapping more vigorously, Nora remembered how she had felt as if the cold wind had been blowing right through her body. ‘Let’s get back into the car’ she had said.

Nora recalled that they had driven back to the cottage without talking again, each in deep thought and anguish, she had turned on the radio to fill the silence and it had been playing that Mike and the Mechanics song ‘In the Living Years’ where the singer relates about not saying the things he had wanted to say to his father before his death. She had looked in horror at Evvie when they had both realised what the song was and had had a fit of giggles, so much so she had to stop the car to recover her composure.

It had been easier to talk again after that.

‘There must be a better way’ Nora had said.

‘What to die?’ Evvie had said, bluntly.

‘No, to pass away peacefully’ Nora had tried to correct her sister.

‘You sound like someone who isn’t facing up to reality ‘to pass away peacefully’ that’s what Undertakers say. It’s death and you die, it happens to us all, that’s the good thing about it, we’re all equal in the end. You can wrap it up in any euphemism you care to invent but that’s what it is, I’ve accepted that. I don’t want it but it’s inevitable. I know I’ve lost the battle.’ Nora had been taken aback, she had never seen her sister so angry or heard her be so articulate in the whole of her life, not even the time when Nora had thrown Evvie’s favourite doll off Fairway Bridge when they were about eight or when she’d pushed a paint brush full of red paint into her face after an argument about Jeffery Gardner who they had both fancied in their mid- teens, her sister had had a great deal of deep bitterness held within but had, obviously, accepted her situation and had been angry that her sister apparently hadn’t. Evvie had wanted Nora to come along on the journey and help her ‘get to the station’ she had said.

Upon her return to Nora’s home Evvie had telephoned George and this was the reason George had driven to Nora’s bungalow at the end of a leafy cul de sac in Dorchester on an unlikely mission.

Nora had insisted that Evvie stayed on at her house, she needed to return to work but would arrange to have some more time off and would help nurse her sister for as long as she was able, she had said she would also investigate the possibility of acquiring drugs to assist Evvie’s passage from ‘the station’ to the hereafter. Both of them knew she wasn’t going to do this, hence Evvie’s call to her estranged husband and his furtive and clandestine mission of mercy to Nora’s home.

Evvie had assured him that Nora would be at work and that a key would be left under a pot to afford him access to the bungalow.

He had been surprised at the detail in Evvie’s strange request and that she had remembered the cylinder lurking at the back of the garden room acquired for the balloon race in support of the Homeless Persons Charity that had been rained off. She had reminded him they had all had a good laugh when they’d inhaled the gas and then tried reading poetry in their resultant high pitched voices, all in happier times she had said. George had been further surprised that he had actually

129 agreed to assist Evvie in this unusual and illegal request ‘Just one last thing for me George please’ she had asked ‘You said you would help me if I needed it.’

When he had arrived at the bungalow he had turned his car around, already for a speedy exit, the leaves had still been on the trees and bushes and his car had been concealed by Nora’s high beech hedges. Before he had unloaded his deadly cargo he had decided to go into the bungalow and ensure all was well and that Nora hadn’t decided to take the day off or that the nurse wasn’t due to administer whatever nurses administered.

The pot concealing the key had been clearly visible, it had a white enamel finish and had been turned upside down. Not too obvious then, he had thought with a sense of humour he would have not expected when he intended to assist with such a serious matter as euthanasia. The key was, as he had been assured, underneath the pot, lying on the ground, bright, shiny, like a new sovereign with a Timpson’s label attached. The furtive nature of his mission had reminded him of his undercover detective role when he had travelled to the caravan site in Dorset, or was it Devon, to investigate Evvie’s adulterous weekend with Tony Tanner, how long ago all that had seemed then.

He had entered the house quietly, silently he had thought until Nora’s stupid little dog Lottie had started barking and scratching at the other side of the kitchen door, there had been a radio playing in one of the bedrooms, he had recognised the song being played, it was ‘Somewhere over the Rainbow’, not the overtly theatrical version by Judy Garland but a more subtle and poignant one by Eva Cassidy. He had followed the sound and pushed the door open gently saying ‘Evvie?’ softly.

Evvie, he remembered had been propped up in the bed, pillows supporting her frail little body on both sides, he imagined Nora had done this before she had left for work, Evvie had been looking, not at him, but straight ahead at the window outside of which he had parked his car, she seemed to have a wry smile on her face. She was dead.

C43

As George loaded the contents of the Garden Room into the wheelbarrow to transport them into the skip which he had had positioned at the back of the drive he came across the cylinder of helium gas that he had transported to Dorchester, along with the other items Evvie had listed, the rubber bands, the tubing, the large plastic bag. He had no idea that helium could be put to such sinister use until Evvie had told him. ‘If you take it all away when it’s all done’ All done! ‘no-one will have a clue’ she had assured him.

He had often wondered since that time if he would have been able to go through with it; ‘Just set it up for me, then take it away when I’ve finished’ those were the instructions ‘You won’t have to kill me, I’ll do that myself.’

He had driven back from Dorchester feeling like the criminal he had almost become, he had thrown the bag, the tubing and all that paraphernalia into a skip he’d found on a Trading Estate, the key was at the bottom of a drain in Somerset, but he thought he’d better return the gas cylinder to where it

130 had always been since that rainswept July afternoon all those years ago when the balloon race was washed out.

‘Forgotten it was here Detective Constable Bell’ he had rehearsed in anticipation of a grilling by the acid reflux affected Police Officer. Now here it was, a reminder of his past foolishness, something else he was unable to discuss or share with anyone else. He looked at it, black, innocuous, full of laughing gas, he threw the cylinder into the wheelbarrow, it could go to the tip with all the other stuff he couldn’t be bothered to sort and, hopefully, out of his consciousness.

He recalled the last time he had seen Evvie at Nora’s house, her frail little body, held erect by featherlight pillows, not heavy enough to trouble gravity, her once beautiful features drawn and colourless. Long gone that magnificent auburn hair which had been replaced by a colourful headscarf, but most of all that eerie, wry grin. What had been her final thoughts, her lovers or the knowledge that she could always rely on him whatever she’d done? Had she seen him arrive and turn the car, he hadn’t touched her on that cold grey day. Had she still been warm, had she waited for him before she died? Despite her disloyalty he continued to hold her with affection, she had been there when he most needed someone, after his parents had died, he had been lost and she had given him her time and care. To have been angry with her now would have seemed to him as if he had written off that part of his life, they had had some good times and she had given him Bethy.

How stupid he had been to succumb to Evvie’s pleading ‘Your last words were if ever you need my help’ were those his last words before he had left Evvie’s flat and ran over Barb’s cat?

A blackbird ran across the grass, cocking its head to one side in the characteristic manner of the species, were they listening or looking, both probably. He wondered if blackbirds were monogamous, he remembered watching a television programme that had shown that some birds had more than one partner in a season, different nests, did it hurt anyone, did it matter if their affections were shared?

He was aware that Nora had tried to demand a post mortem, she had been suspicious of Evvie’s sudden death, but the Doctor had been insistent that it was not unusual for terminally ill people to die of heart attacks generated by the stress of their illness and had refused to refer the death to the Coroner.

What George didn’t know was that Evvie had asked Nora for help to die before she had contacted him and that the ever vigilant sister had smelt tetrachloroethylene, an odour she always associated with her brother-in-law, when she had returned home from work later that fateful day. Neither had she ever found the house key she had given Evvie, that was odd and Lottie, her darling little Yorkie had obviously been agitated because he’d scratched the kitchen door, something she’d not done since she had been a puppy. Most of all had been the look on her dead sisters face, people didn’t die smiling did they? She had to admit George had sounded very surprised and upset when she had telephoned him with news of her sister’s death but the suspicion of George’s involvement would continue to linger until her own death.

George recalled the telephone conversation he had had with Nora shortly after her discovery of Evvie’s sudden death:

131 He had known it was Nora calling, not only because he was expecting a call from her but because the little screen on the house phone had displayed her name, he had taken a deep breath and closed his eyes, picked up the receiver and said ‘Hello Nora.’

‘George’ Nora’s voice had sounded severe ‘Evvie’s dead’ her voice had trailed away as the emotion of the statement overcame her.

George had not replied, he stood, holding the telephone against his right ear, his eyes closed.

‘George, are you there?’ Nora had said.

‘Yes’ George had hesitated before continuing ‘that was sudden, wasn’t it?’

George remembered that Nora had replied ‘Very sudden and very surprising.’

He had asked what had happened even though he was fully cognisant of his estranged wife’s passing.

‘What do you mean?’ his sister in law had snapped ‘She’s been ill, she’s died.’ George recalled he had thought at the time that it was as well that Nora had not taken up counselling as a career.

‘I mean’ George had replied ‘when did she die, was it in her sleep?’

‘Not really George. I left her in bed to go to work this morning and when she didn’t answer the phone at lunch time, when I called her, I came home and found her dead. In bed’ she had added for clarification and to avoid George having to ask another stupid question. ‘I find it all very odd’ Nora had continued pointedly ‘she’s died very suddenly. The Doctor has said it’s not unusual but I find it strange. Don’t you?’ she had asked.

George had said ‘Perhaps it’s for the best Nora.’ To which Nora had retorted immediately, so as George had regretted saying it, ‘What do you mean by that?’

George had retracted a little and replied ‘Poor Evvie, she hardly had any quality of life left, or to look forward to, so at least she’s been spared any more suffering.’ He had realised it was clichéd but had said it with genuity especially in the knowledge that Evvie had wanted him to help her end her life.

‘There’s something odd about it George. Do you know she was sat up in bed with a smile on her face!’ Nora had said this as if her sister had no right to be happy when she had breathed her last, it had made George who, by this time, had been able to open his eyes, smile, he had tried not to let this show in his voice when he had replied ‘Perhaps she was pleased she didn’t have to endure suffering any longer? I hope so.’ He had ignored the ‘Do you know’ comment.

Nora had not responded to this and George was left to imagine his sister in law’s pinched up little face with her lips pursed up like a baboon’s anus.

‘You’ve obviously had the Doctor around Nora’ George had continued ‘Has he issued a Death Certificate, is that what they do?’

‘Yes’ Nora had snapped in reply ‘he’s done that. I didn’t agree with it but he insisted.’

132 George hadn’t been able to resist saying, although he guessed he’d regret it ‘What you didn’t agree she was dead?’

‘No I didn’t agree she could have died so suddenly, I think he should have recommended a Post Mortem.’ He could imagine Nora closing her eyes and shaking her head as she said these words.

‘She was very ill Nora’ he had said ‘she had a terminal disease.’

‘Hmmm’ had been the only response to this that he remembered.

George had been quiet for a moment then had said ‘Would you like me to make the arrangements Nora? They haven’t taken her away have they?’ He recalled he hadn’t been able to say ‘taken her body away’.

‘No’ Nora had started her sentence, George had expected her to go on to say that she wanted to arrange the removal of the body and make the funeral arrangements herself but the ‘No’ had been in response to his question about the whereabouts of Evvie’s corpse which had remained at Nora’s house, still in its deathbed. Nora had continued ‘She’s still here. The Doctor offered to arrange to have her taken to the morgue but I couldn’t let her go like that – stupid isn’t it?’ Nora had sounded human again George had thought and he had felt sorry for her as he heard her quietly sniffing. They had both spoken as if Evvie was still alive.

‘I’m pleased you didn’t Nora’ he had said to the uncharacteristically choked woman. He had been genuinely pleased that Nora, who normally liked things to be tidy and organised, had not regarded her sister as clutter and had her carted off to the public mortuary at the first opportunity. George had said that he was sure that Bill Bradbury, their local Funeral Director, would have some sort of reciprocal arrangement with one in Dorchester and would ask him ‘to sort things out’.

George remembered Nora’s last words, they had been ‘I’ve never seen anyone dead before.’

‘I’m sorry Nora’ was all George had been able to say in reply ‘I’ll phone Bill now.’

George realised he had been stood there immobile for some time holding the black cylinder and recalling all of this and suddenly remembered that the removal men were due the following day, he didn’t have the time to reminisce, he wheeled the barrow around to the skip and threw its contents on top of the half full container. Later he would continue to clear the house of many of the items which continued to bring back memories of different times including the mugs with the flower transfer pattern that he’d never noticed until Evvie had sat him down to castigate him about his strange encounter with Gill Rainsbury in the allotment shed, that pattern had haunted him ever since.

He walked back into the house, his father had commissioned ‘Longmeadow’ to be built by Jim Moon’s father and George had always lived there, he’d never lived anywhere else but, strangely, he had never felt any particular affinity or emotion for the place, it was good to be moving out, perhaps the Stevenson’s could make the house more of their own than he ever had.

The rooms should have echoed to his mother’s nervous little laugh, to his father’s sonorous presence or Evvie’s butterfly mind, but it didn’t. He could see Bethy, in her new school uniform, skipping down the driveway and remember his recent encounter with Sarah in the bedroom but

133 there was little else, perhaps he had never actually considered the house his own? He had inherited it as a young man and had never really taken ownership, Probate was an odd way to acquire a home, it wasn’t like saving up and buying it with a mortgage and all that goes with it, but despite him and Evvie carrying out alterations and transforming the garden, it was an alien territory and would probably always be his father’s house, he felt a sense of relief to be leaving.

Susie, the girl who did his cleaning was coming in the morning to give the place a final clean through before moving on to the place he had bought to help him move in.

His telephone rang, it was Gill Rainsbury ‘Hello Chisholm’ she said ‘isn’t it about time you took me on holiday again?’

C44

The Old Shop was exactly that. It was central in the village, near the pub and had a frontage directly onto the street. There were three bedrooms, one more than he really needed but one of them was in the converted attic and he decided he could use it as his quiet room to practice his guitar, read or play his music collection which was now stored onto a new computer and could be played ‘magically’ by button pressing.

Susie was busy vacuuming the floor of the attic when George came up the stairs, she had her back to him and was leaning over the machine, she was wearing a pair of leggings very similar to those that Evvie used wear, had they been Evvie’s? The florets of the pattern were stretched around her bottom and looked larger but reduced to normal size by the time they reached her slender ankles, the line of her pants were clearly visible through the elasticated material, she turned as he entered the room, her figure outlined against the sunlight stabbing through the rooflight, he’d never noticed how attractive she was until now, in fact he’d hardly ever noticed the girl, he always left the old house when she turned up, mostly because she had been bringing her baby with her and George didn’t know how to react to babies.

‘All OK?’ was all he could think of saying. Everything was obviously OK, the vacuum was working, Susie looked in good health and the move had gone well with the furniture he had retained from Longmeadow positioned in the rooms as he’d instructed the removal men. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ he offered.

‘Love one Mr Chisholm.’ Susie was one of the few people who still called him Mr Chisholm, he hadn’t realised, fairly well everyone else called him George. ‘Call me George please’ he said, colouring slightly.

‘I’ll try’ she said and smiled a broad and beautiful smile that sent George’s pulse racing.

He brought the two mugs of tea up the stairs by which time Susie had progressed down to the room described as the ‘Master Bedroom’ in the Estate Agent’s brochure. Michael Allen, the selling agent,

134 had looked exactly the same as Tony Davis, his own selling agent, it was peculiar that they all looked and acted as if they were from a production line, were they born like this and thus became Estate Agents, or did becoming an Estate Agent turn them into these clones? They appeared interchangeable.

Whilst he pondered this Susie plonked herself down on the end of his yet unmade bed and put hand down the front of her tee shirt and adjusted her bra around what was an apparently substantial and firm breast. George gulped for air and put the two teas down onto a bedside cabinet.

‘Where’s your baby?’ he asked trying not to stare at the outline of her soft bra.

‘He ain’t really a baby no more’ said Susie ‘he’s running around and talkin’ now.’

‘Is he?’ George was amazed, he hadn’t been paying attention to the little chap’s progression.

‘Yes, me Mum looks after him while I works’ explained Susie.

George was relieved that Susie spoke like this, it had an almost immediate effect of making her seem less attractive to him, besides, he realised that the girl was probably younger than Bethy, nevertheless she was strikingly attractive.

George’s line of questioning about babies had drawn to a halt, he knew the sex, age and whereabouts of the child, what more was there to know? The father, he had no idea of Susie’s domestic arrangements, he couldn’t ask her who the father was and even if she told him it was unlikely he’d know the lad so he said ‘Do you live near your Mum?’

‘I live with me Mum ‘n Dad, always ‘ave. Jess’s father was married see’ George hadn’t seen but could now and realised that he had missed another important question; the child’s name, however that information had now been delivered ‘ ‘e’s a Vet.’

George was startled ‘Not Alex McFayden?’

‘Yeh, ooh’ she said realising that she might have given away more than she wished ‘d’you know ‘im?’

‘Sort of, we, I, just meet him and his wife now and again’ George thought of the unlikely circumstances of his last meeting with Sarah McFayden and how inappropriate it would be to mention that now. However, before he considered the wisdom of his next words he said ‘You might be in luck, I heard his wife has just left him.’

‘Not surprised, I’m sure I’m not the only one ‘e’s ‘ad.’

The thought of Susie being ‘ad filled George with gloom, how could an old man like Alex McFayden seduce a beautiful young creature like Susie?

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Well ‘e was so smooth you know’ George had an idea he knew but said nothing ‘ ‘e was in the Art Class that I posed for’ Susie went on.

‘At Kingston?’

135 ‘Yeh.’

‘Evvie went there.’

‘Yeh. I saw ‘er but she was in Beginners, Mr Mc Fayden was in Advanced.’ George was amazed that Susie referred to someone who ‘ad ‘er as Mr. How could she have had such an intimate relationship with someone and still refer to and, seemingly, respect him as Mr?

‘Sounds very Advanced’ George tried a joke. It had an effect, Susie smiled that wonderful, warm, inviting even, smile at him.

‘ ‘e chatted me up after the class and gave me a lift on ‘is bike. I was only young an’ ‘e flattered me, bought me things an’ that. Then ‘e took me to ‘is offices, after dark, an’ that’s ‘ow I got Jess.’

‘Didn’t he take any precautions?’ George was appalled on several levels; not only did Bethy have yet another half- brother but he couldn’t understand how any young girl could have been so naïve as to fall for McFayden, for whom his loathing was increasing every time his name was mentioned, and added to all that, the man apparently sprayed his semen, unprotected, all over the place.

‘ ‘e said ‘e assumed I was on the Pill, but I ‘ad no reason to be on the Pill.’ It got worse for George, he understood from this Susie had been a virgin.

‘Does he support Jess?’ he asked ‘Not that it’s any of my business’ he added with more than a hint of embarrassment.

‘Yeh, in cash, regular like. ‘E don’t want no-one to know.’

‘I bet he doesn’t’ blurted George ‘what about your parents?’

‘They’m alright wiv it, as long as ‘e keeps payin’ ‘

No wonder the poor girl gets into trouble thought George, with parents like that, then reflected upon his own inadequacies as a parent. He wasn’t even a real father, in the biological sense, although the number of people who were cognisant of that was small they were growing in number.

‘Do you see him when he gives you the money?’ George was curious to learn if the adulterous McFayden still had any contact with the beautiful young Susie.

‘No, it comes in through someone else.’

As the identity of the third party was not forthcoming George realised he couldn’t ask but he was fascinated to know who it was and if he knew them, whomever it was must be aware of McFayden’s gross and indecent behaviour and had not divulged the information to Sarah, or indeed anyone else, as far as he knew.

Susie had been surprisingly open about Jess’s parentage with him which was strange because, as far as he was aware, it was not common knowledge. If it had been then Sarah would have known and he was convinced she would have told him when she had visited him to express her feelings upon her discovery of her husband’s part in Bethy’s creation.

136 ‘Who else knows?’ George was prompted to ask.

‘Nobody else’ Susie seemed to panic ‘Please don’t tell anyone. I can tell you because you seem so kind, but don’t tell anyone else or ‘e’ll stop the payments.’

‘He can’t stop paying you Susie, it’s his child, his responsibility. You can make him pay.’

‘But ‘e says ‘e won’t an’ ‘e’ll make it difficult an’ ‘e’ll get custody of Jess ‘cause we can’t afford to keep ‘im’ the fear was evident in her voice.

‘I won’t tell anyone’ he assured her and offered her a tissue to mop the tears that had started running from those beautiful eyes.

He looked at Susie, unpretentious, unaware of her youthful beauty, wasted, yet seemingly happy and unperturbed by the fact that her child’s father took no responsibility for its upbringing other than sending money by some sort of courier. Perhaps she was lucky, she was not apparently, ambitious, obviously loved by her close family, Sheila’s family, and not given, it seemed, to deep philosophical thought.

‘You should be a model’ he blurted out and then wished he hadn’t.

‘What take me clothes off like?’

‘No. NO. Not that sort of model, a clothes model.’

‘No, me tits are too big’ she thrust out her chest showing the line of her bra through the tee shirt, the profile of her nipples now in clear relief, George was grateful he didn’t have a heart condition although with much more of this he felt he would be likely to develop one soon ‘but I did do some moddlin’ for the Art College, there was some lovely sketches.’

I bet there were, thought George ‘Really?’ was his reply. He now realised the part Susie had played in McFayden’s Advanced Art Class she had not, as he had first assumed, been a student but the model, it made it more understandable how McFayden had managed to compromise the kid.

‘Any’ow better get on wiv it, otherwise I’ll be ‘ere all night, eh?’ she smiled again at George and he almost wished she would.

He collected up the cups and went back downstairs to sort out his kitchen as Susie started up the vacuum cleaner again.

George’s acoustic guitar was in its case in the hallway, Susie had finished the vacuuming upstairs and it was peaceful in the house. He took the instrument out of its case and strummed a chord, with that a beautiful voice from behind him sang the words ‘You put a spell on me’, he looked around with astonishment at Susie and strummed another chord, she continued ‘because you’re mine’ then she laughed and said ‘I can’t remember the other words.’

‘You didn’t tell me you could sing.’

‘You didn’t ask.’

137 ‘That’s true but you’ve got a terrific voice, do you sing with a band or anyone?’

‘No. I don’t really sing, I mean at school they got me in a few of their things like, but I ‘aven’t really done nothin’ since.’

He gave Susie an extra twenty pound note when she left later ‘For being so helpful’ and went to find the box in which he had stored Evvie’s old, unframed sketches and paintings, the ones he had made her take from Longmeadow when she left him and that he had subsequently rescued from the skip when he had the flat at Moon and Sixpence cleared out. He had intended to ask Bethy if she wanted any of them, as a reminder of her mother, although he considered that unlikely, the rest he would give to Nora, along with some of Evvie’s other possessions such as costume jewellery, family photographs and the like. He rummaged through the works, mostly crude or child-like sketches and watercolours of landscapes and bowls of fruit until he found the one he was looking for, it stood out from the others and was just as he had remembered it, studied, shaded and a very bold portrayal of the subject. He set it aside and returned the box to the cupboard.

A little later he phoned Gill to give her the details of their flights and noticed that the light was flashing on the telephone control box indicating that someone had left a message. He pushed the button down and heard a familiar voice say: ‘Hello George, this is Nora, I hope you’ve still got the same number. If you get this message I’d be grateful if you could give me a call. Thank you, bye.’

C45

‘Do you know Susie who does my cleaning?’ George was in the seat behind Jim, there were only the two of them in the car but Jim transported so much equipment to gigs these days that it was the only space left inside the vehicle.

‘No, should I?’

‘No, not really I suppose, I thought you might have noticed her, she’s very pretty. She’s Sheila’s niece or something, I’m never quite sure with that family.’

‘What Sheila Farrell your shop manager?’

‘My Group CEO’ George corrected Jim with more than a hint of self-deprecating humour.

‘Oh yes, I forgot, you’re acting Chairman or Consultant to the Chisholm Business Empire or something like that these days aren’t you?’ Jim replied with a smile. It had been a good evening, they’d played to a hugely appreciative audience at The Fellowship Hall in Trowburton and they were driving back along the A914.

‘Is there anyone in that family of Sheila’s you haven’t employed at some stage in your life George?’

138 ‘It’s a big family, I’ve still got a few to go yet. Anyhow this girl’s got a really good voice, you ought to listen to her.’

‘She must be a cousin of Larry then, it must run in the family. I wonder if there is an ancient relative who’s passed all these musical genes down the line? Can you get her along to a rehearsal to see if she’s any good, we could do with a bit more variety and glamour in the act.’

‘I’ll see what I can do, she lives with her parents so babysitting shouldn’t be a problem. She’d certainly add some glamour, she’s beautiful.’

Jim raised an eyebrow, unseen by George ‘Have you heard from Larry or anyone recently, do you know how Frankly Fawn are getting along?’ he said.

‘No, but I’ll be seeing Gill later in the week, I’ll ask her.’

‘You be careful there George my old mate, she’s dangerous is that woman. You’re not taking her on holiday again are you?’

‘I might be.’

‘You daft idiot, she’ll just use you, watch it George. I know I shouldn’t interfere with your life but I don’t want to see you hurt.’

‘I appreciate that Jim, I know.’ George didn’t add that he was already beginning to regret agreeing to go away with Gill again. He hardly saw her during what he might describe as his normal life, she had come around to Longmeadow a couple of times and they had met for a lunch but he’d never been invited to her house and they hadn’t had any sex together since they last holidayed in Tenerife. It was an unusual arrangement.

It was too late to phone Susie when he arrived back home, instead he went up to his quiet room and put the sketch he had found in Evvie’s box into the mounting and frame he had bought earlier in the day. He was extremely pleased with the result and hung the picture on a hook that was already in position on the wall behind his bed, he could discern the shape of the picture that the previous owner had hung from the hook by the discolouration around his new frame, another job to arrange, a complete redecoration throughout the place. He took the picture down and set it aside for rehanging once the redecoration had been completed.

In the morning he phoned Susie who had been so effusive in her gratitude for George’s efforts in securing her ‘a audition’ that he had felt embarrassed, after that he phoned Bethy who said she was fine and was looking forward to her leave and coming back to stay in the bedroom he had set aside for her in his new house. Finally, he made the call he had been avoiding:

‘Hello Nora’ he said when the telephone was answered ‘it’s George returning your call.’

‘Thank you George, how are you?’

‘Pretty well thanks and you?’ they both realised they were fencing.

‘Yes. I’m OK thanks’ Nora hesitated for a moment and then said ‘George, could we meet? There’s a few things I want to discuss.’

139 George had no appetite for discussing anything with his sister in law, he wondered if she retained that status seeing as the bonding factor between the two families no longer existed. ‘That sounds serious, is it anything that we can talk about on the phone?’

‘I’d rather see you in person to talk George, if you don’t mind?’ Nora sounded a little sweeter, George recognised the false charm the woman employed when she was attempting to get her own way.

‘Not at all.’ George lied.

They made arrangements for the meeting and he then went downstairs to change and prepare dinner for Gill and her son Pete whom he had invited to see his new house and to ask Pete to arrange for a decorator to come in whilst he was away on holiday with Gill.

He and Gill were going to Tenerife again but this time to a place a bit further down the coast and away from the glitz of the main holiday town. Pete had recommended the venue, he’d been there with Frankly Fawn and had told his mother that he thought it would suit them better. Quite why Gill had suggested she wanted to go away with him George wasn’t sure. He considered himself a fairly ordinary individual, he was older than Gill and he was fairly certain she must know some more exciting men with more sexual prowess and energy than him. It wasn’t even that she was taking advantage of his relative wealth either, he had funded the previous trip but she had insisted on paying her own way this time.

George was in his kitchen with a Dire Straits album playing as he par boiled some potatoes, when he heard a loud engine noise outside and went to investigate the source of the unwelcome intrusion, he was alarmed to see that a red Harley Davidson motorbike pulled up outside, the throb of the unnecessarily large engine was rattling the picture frames he had placed along the front window cill. He was further alarmed when the pillion passenger alighted and removed their crash helmet; it was Gill dressed in black racing leathers, the tightness of the suit showing her curvaceous figure to very good effect. The driver lifted the bike back onto its stand and removed his helmet to reveal himself as Pete, attired in red and white leathers which had several commercial decals adorning his chest and arms. It was not quite what George had been expecting.

When the two came in, laughing, Gill peeled off the leather to the sound of Mark Knopfler singing ‘Telegraph Road’ revealing a white cotton blouse and tight, what else George thought, black leggings. Pete removed his in a less provocative manner and was wearing a check shirt and jeans. ‘What do you think of my new baby George, isn’t she a beauty?’ Pete asked. George was obliged to agree that the machine was an impressive sight and asked Pete how long he had owned the beast.

It turned out that Pete had only just acquired the bike and, other than riding to Bath and back ‘Just for the fun of it’, this was his first trip.

Gill, it evolved, was not a stranger to pillion passengering as Tony, Pete’s father and Evvie’s lover, although this was not mentioned, had owned a ‘big Norton’ in the early days of his and Gill’s relationship and the two had enjoyed several biking holidays before they split. Further Gill was, apparently, looking forward to the opportunity of riding pillion with Pete when he visited Germany to see ‘the boys’ of Frankly Fawn in a couple of month’s’ time. George did not envy her. Pete went on to explain that he had put some footage of Frankly Fawn onto YouTube and one of the numbers,

140 the Magic Moments one, had ‘gone viral’ so much so that Pete had received some enquiries from America and was in the process of putting together a short American Tour for ‘the boys’, this was to include New York, San Francisco and Miami.

The evening turned out to be a fairly civilised affair, Gill seemed a bit quiet, slightly muted but when they left they both said how much they’d enjoyed their evening. George had given them grilled trout, he had shown them around his new home and Pete had taken some details to enable him to give George a quotation for redecorating the place and upgrading his bathroom whilst he was away.

‘Shame we couldn’t have done it before you moved in’ Pete said but George had explained that the Stevenson’s timings were such that he had been governed by their requirements rather than him being able to impose his own timetable. They agreed Pete would organise to shift the furniture around and protect the floors but George would arrange for Susie to come in and give the place a clean- up and generally put it back together after Pete’s men had completed their work.

Gill had made some suggestions regarding colours and offered to help him select new curtains but George was reluctant to accept her tastes being reflected in his house and thought he’d do that himself without the benefit of her advice, although he didn’t tell her that as he watched her wriggle back into the tight black leather suit. She gave him a warm, slightly wet lingering, kiss on the lips as they said their goodbyes and roared off into the night.

He watched as they disappeared along the street and listened as the powerful engine pulled away at the junction with the main road, all the while wondering at the wisdom of going away with Gill for a week of Canary Island sunshine in a couple of weeks from now.

He went back into the hallway, from upstairs he could hear the words of ‘These Foolish things’ playing on his music system.

The house smelt of fish.

C46

Nora had arranged to meet George in Salisbury, in a quaint tea room in the Market Place that she had used before, they served a delicious green tea there that she especially enjoyed.

She arrived before he got there, this, she considered, put her at an advantage.

It was not a meeting she was particularly looking forward to, she had always found George to be so wet and tended to get frustrated by his indecision and blandness. It was odd but she had to think hard to remember what he actually looked like but he had treated Evvie well and she was grateful that he had taken responsibility for the funeral arrangements even after her sister had left him.

She had chosen a corner table where she thought they might have a little privacy for their conversation and was sat facing out towards the door, to enable her to see the people entering the

141 shop. The interior was quite bright although it was furnished a little too fussily for her taste, however it was quite busy so they must be doing something right she conceded.

A well-groomed man with a short haircut, a tan, immaculate white open necked shirt and fashionable linen jacket came in and smiled at her, she had no option but to smile back, after all she was looking at everyone who entered the premises and had formed eye contact with the gentleman concerned. The man continued to smile and walked across towards her, my goodness thought Nora, he’s coming to speak to me, I hope he doesn’t think I was making eyes at him.

‘Hello Nora, you look startled.’

‘George! I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you. I mean I recognise you now, it was just from a distance…… my glasses….the light behind you.’ Nora realised she was digging a hole and decided to stop and say ‘How nice to see you, you’re looking well.’

George would have liked to have been able to say something similar to Nora but she looked drawn and tired, her roots needed touching up, she was dressed expensively by the looks of it, but her jacket and skirt looked as if they should have been in the ‘to do’ pile in one of his dry cleaning shops. ‘It’s good to see you too, how are you keeping?’ He leant over and gave her something approaching a kiss on her right cheek, he was obviously intending to do something similar to her left one but they got into a tangle of speech, noses and hands so the manoeuvre was aborted before it became too farcical.

‘I’ve already got myself sorted with a drink, what would you like? They have all sorts of blends here.’ Nora tried to retrieve the initiative.

The waitress had seen George enter the shop and had come over unnoticed by Nora, the girl smiled sweetly at George and said ‘What can I get for you Sir?’ ignoring Nora’s efforts to take command.

‘Oh, how kind, I’ll have an Earl Grey please, black, with lemon, no milk thank you.’

‘Of course.’ The girl fluttered her eyelids and smiled at George again before sweeping away to attend to the precise instructions she had been given.

How kind! Thought Nora How kind, she’s the servant, and she was being a bit too familiar with her customer for Nora’s liking. ‘Earl Grey George? I didn’t know you liked that and black too?’

‘Yes I discovered that in Jordan funnily enough, when I visited Bethy out there.’

‘Ah Bethy, yes’ the mention of her niece’s name was very useful to Nora, it saved her the niceties of small talk before she got down to the point of her asking to see George so she continued ‘funnily enough it was Bethy I wanted to speak to you about George, that’s why I invited you here.’

George hadn’t realised that he’d been ‘invited’ to the Olde Tearooms Shoppe for an audience with Nora, he thought they were meeting to discuss ‘some matters that couldn’t be dealt with on the telephone’. However, before he could comment the waitress returned with his tea, smiled charmingly at George again, offered him sugar, which he declined, before she dipped into a sort of curtsey before leaving them alone again.

142 George looked at the cup, it was a fine bone china one, it was patterned in a style very reminiscent of the one on the mugs he had recently thrown into the skip at Longmeadow.

‘I think she’s a bit too subservient, and she’s over-familiar’ grumbled Nora frowning and pursing her lips, the baboon’s bottom again thought George, he was surprised too that Nora thought anyone could be too subservient, she seemed to think the world should be at her command. ‘Anyhow’ she continued, not to be diverted from the subject ‘I came up on the Lottery recently’ George was quite surprised at this statement and its suddenness, not because Nora had won but that she actually bought Lottery tickets, he didn’t have Nora down as the gambling type, ‘not a massive win but well into six figures’.

‘Congratulations’ George felt he should say something in response to this good news.

‘Well thank you but it was nothing but luck, nothing I did, except buy the ticket and I only did that spontaneously because the man in front of me in the queue did it and I thought I’ll do that too. I nearly didn’t have it, I didn’t know they cost two pounds now but the man on the till wouldn’t take it back because he’d already printed it.’ George imagined the scene with Nora complaining about the cost of a Lottery ticket. Nora continued ‘And I’ve been made redundant but because I’m near retirement they gave me a lump sum and I’ll qualify for my Company pension soon so I really don’t need that much money.’

George didn’t know that Nora had lost her job, he’d always been given to understand that the firm would fold without Nora’s input, he speculated on the reasons for her dismissal ‘I’m sorry to hear you’ve lost your job’ he interjected.

‘Oh don’t be, it’s their loss, they didn’t realise the half of what I did. We were taken over and I think the new people think they can just carry on but they don’t understand how our branch worked. I didn’t like the new regime, I tried to tell them where they were going wrong’ George was beginning to understand the reasons for Nora’s departure now ‘but they’ll find out. I wouldn’t go back if they came pleading’ George didn’t like to say that he thought that would be unlikely ‘anyhow, that’s an aside, it’s not the reason I brought you here.’ George noticed that far from having been ‘invited’ he had now been ‘brought’, summoned even?

‘What is the reason then Nora?’ Nora looked at George, was it George, did he have a previously undisclosed identical twin, this man looked smarter and better looking than the man her sister had married, he wasn’t the timid little man she recalled at all.

Nora closed her eyes, sighed inwardly, and carried on. ‘I’ve been in touch with Bethy’ she said,’ I telephoned her. As I said I don’t really need as much money as I’ve been landed with and, as you well know, Evvie was my only family, so I thought I’d like my sister’s daughter to benefit a bit from my good fortune. So I phoned Bethy and offered her some. I thought it would be a good idea if she bought a property in the UK and maybe she still had some debts from University or something. But she’s refused my offer George, she said she didn’t want any money from me. She said you and Evvie had funded her through University and that she didn’t want the responsibility of a house here, or even a flat and that if I gave her anything she’d donate it to the Red Cross!’

‘Yes she’s not materialistic at all’ said George ‘is Bethy.’

143 ‘But she must be made to understand that she has to plan her future. She can’t spend her life up to her ankles in mud helping foreigners who can’t organise themselves George. I want you to tell her to be sensible, to think about when she wants to come home and settle down, have a family.’ Nora’s mouth was in danger of becoming pursed, George looked down at the table until he thought that moment had passed.

‘I don’t think I can persuade Bethy to do anything she doesn’t feel comfortable with’ he said resisting an urge to tell Nora that perhaps Bethy didn’t want to accept money from her Aunt who had been as duplicitous as her own Mother. An aunt who had been complicit in deceiving both Bethy herself and her Father.

‘Feel comfortable! It’s not a question of feeling comfortable, it’s getting yourself organised for your future. She needs to start now, you need to tell her, you’re her Father, I know her Mother would have done it!’

Her Father, the words resounded in his mind. George eyed the woman sat opposite him at the lace cloth covered table, her cup of green tea half consumed. There were some facial similarities to that of Evvie’s but his late wife’s features had been softer, her hair less severe, her eyes warmer, Evvie had at least posessed a vulnerability that seemed to be lacking in her sister. Nora was the woman who must have shared all Evvie’s dreadful secrets, perhaps even encouraged some of her bad behaviour and certainly assisted in the secrets being withheld from him.

‘Bethy is a mature young woman Nora, with her own mind. I’ll support her if ever she needs support and I’ll back her judgement’ he said as much as he could without being rude to Nora and he said it with a conviction and finality that rather took the wind from the sails of the good ship Nora. More of a barge than a yacht these days he thought.

‘It really shouldn’t be so difficult to give away money, I shouldn’t have to persuade people to accept it.’ Nora was clearly rattled, not only by her niece’s refusal of her generous offer but now her Father’s reluctance to persuade her otherwise.

‘I guess it’s just that Bethy doesn’t see the need for more money than the people she’s caring for are likely to see in a lifetime’ George volunteered ‘perhaps if you really want her to have some of it you just set it aside separately for now and she may change her mind later on Nora. It’s obviously very generous of you and kind to think of her welfare but it’s not something that’s especially important to her at the moment. She’s a free spirit, not like me’ he resisted adding and you ‘I wasted my life by trying to plan it, she understands the moment. That’s something that has only come to me of late.’

‘Exactly my point. Not planning for the future.’ Nora performed her speciality snort and pursed her lips, George looked away. Nora obviously was still trying to plan her life and Bethy’s too.

George ordered some buttered teacakes and more tea. He hadn’t been aware of any music before but he could hear one of those background tapes that are usually on a loop, it was someone playing piano in an unnecessarily flowery style, he recognised the tune as These Foolish Things.

The two talked a little more, very stiffly, with George wondering quite how much of Evvie’s extra marital activity she was aware of and had been party to and Nora if he had played any part in the premature death of her sister, neither saying what they were actually thinking, perhaps both

144 concerned that such knowledge would serve no useful purpose any longer. Evvie’s name was an elephant in this particular tea room.

It seemed to George that the audience with Nora had come to a natural conclusion. ‘Where are you parked Nora? I’ve got some things of Evvie’s you might like to have.’

At last Evvie’s name had been mentioned, Nora seized her opportunity; ‘I do miss her’ she said, the remorse in her voice palpable. ’I’ve got no-one to telephone, to tell me secrets or to hear mine.’

This was George’s opportunity; ‘I think Evvie had a lot of secrets Nora. I know some of them, more than I’d care to and I expect you know more than me.’

Nora realised that she had made a mistake and, also, that George had indicated that he knew the most important of Evvie’s secrets, one she had thought had been taken to the grave, his daughter’s true paternity. She reverted to what she considered safe ground ‘Sisters are closer than friends, I miss the intimacy so much and she was the only one who understood my sense of humour. I still cannot believe she’s dead, sometimes I go to the phone and then remember she’s not here any longer. She died without us saying goodbye properly – she was smiling when she died.’

George could see where Nora was trying to take the conversation ‘I hope you can take comfort from that’ George said, undecided whether to pursue the question of Evvie’s secrets and surprised that Nora thought she possessed a sense of humour.

‘I still find it very strange’ Nora replied, uncertain if she should pursue her enquiries as to George’s possible involvement in what she regarded as her sister’s premature death. George didn’t seem like someone who could do that but, on the other hand, George was a different man these days and there had been the smell of the dry cleaning fluid, her dog, the key and Evvie’s strange smile.

‘I’ve got some jewellery, most of it is costume jewellery but there are few pieces that I bought for anniversaries, birthdays and things like that which might have some value.’ George was anxious to move the conversation away from Nora’s speculations.

‘Doesn’t Bethy want any of those, something to remember her Mother by, or don’t you want them?’ asked Nora.

George found it difficult to say that Bethy was so angry with her late Mother that she didn’t want anything that reminded her of Evvie but, instead, said ‘No, it’s not the sort of thing young people wear nowadays I’m afraid and don’t forget that Evvie left me so they don’t really have any sentimental value.’

‘But if it’s worth something….’

‘As I’ve told you, and as you’ve found out, Bethy isn’t interested in money’ George didn’t give Nora a chance to counter this by continuing ‘I’ve also brought the sketches and paintings she did at Art Class and some photos of you two and the family – shall we go?’ and with that summoned the waitress and paid the bill whilst Nora slipped off to the Ladies.

145 On her drive home Nora reflected and felt depressed, she had never built up a bank of friends and acquaintances, joined clubs or done anything much except dedicate herself to her career and now she’d been deprived of that.

Any amount of financial compensation couldn’t fill the void that she now had in her life. Bethy was the only relative she had left and she had rejected Nora’s offer of help and she clearly wasn’t going to get any assistance from George in that respect. She had lost a baby and its father, her only sister had died and she didn’t have a good relationship with her ex-husband, in fact she didn’t even know where he now lived, she was out of a job, she felt bereft and had only a sad little dog to greet her when she got home.

For the first time in her life she felt envious of what her sister had had, even of George who, she realised, had taken charge of the situation that she had engineered, who appeared to be a different man to the one her sister had married and who no longer smelt of tetrachloroethylene.

Later that day, when he arrived back home, George phoned Bethy.

‘I met your Aunt Nora in Salisbury today’

‘Oh yes, how is she?’

‘She’s fine. She wanted me to talk you into accepting the money she apparently offered you, she said she wanted you to use it to secure yourself a house or flat for the future.’

‘Are you going to try?’

‘No, of course not. You’re quite capable of making your own decisions in life by now.’

‘Good. She’s just trying to buy me Dad. She knows that I know about Mother and what she did and Aunt Nora knows that I blame her for sharing the deceit for all these years and she’s embarrassed for Mother’s actions, she’s trying to make up for it. But I’m not going to be bought off like that. I’ll never forgive Mother and it’s hard not to put some of that onto Nora, they were in that together and probably a lot of other things that I don’t know about and don’t want to know about. She always says your father as if the word father is in inverted commas, she may as well hold her fingers in the air and make those silly inverted comma signs, it’s so obvious.’

There was a pause in the conversation, it was difficult for either of them to follow those emotive words. This was news to George but he recalled the way Nora had said ‘You’re her Father’ in the tea room and remembered that it had been said in a similar manner.

‘I love you Dad.’

‘I love you too my darling. When are you coming to see my new house?’

‘I’ve got some leave coming up soon. I’ve got a boyfriend now Dad, he’s Swedish. We’re going to Sweden to meet his parents and then we were intending to come and see you if that’s okay?’

‘Okay! Of course it’s okay. What’s his name, it’s not Sven is it?’

Bethy laughed ‘Yes Dad, it’s Sven.’

146

C47

It felt to George almost like going on a date. He pulled his car up outside Susie’s house and before he could get out, or even toot the horn, the front door of the house opened and a stunning looking girl emerged smiling engagingly.

Susie was wearing a tight green jumper and even tighter, if that was possible, jeans, her dark hair was tied back showing her rounded face and those beautiful eyes, she bounced up the path and to the door of George’s car. George was transfixed, Susie pulled on the door handle, it had no effect, George, temporarily transported to another place, suddenly joined the real world again and pressed the button to release the automatic lock, Susie tried again, this time being successful in opening the door and climbed in with a ‘Hiya.’ The impact of the scent of cheap perfume that accompanied Susie’s arrival made George sneeze.

‘Hi Susie’ George’s voice had gone up an octave, he cleared his throat and said, in what he perceived as a more masculine tone ‘You look very nice.’

‘Thanks George, you’re sweet, thanks.’

George had regained his composure and they drove to the rehearsal room with small talk covering, mostly, Jess’s health and progress. As they neared their destination Susie said ‘What d’you think I should sing George?’

‘Well I don’t know but you’ve certainly got the sort of voice that can do blues or gospel. We’ll see what sort of stuff Jim would like to add into our sets. What do you enjoy singing the most?’

She screwed up her nose and said ‘I’ve never really sung you see but I listen to a lot of me Mum’s Motown music.’

‘Jim’s got quite a bit of sheet music.’

A look of panic came across the girl’s face ‘I can’t read music’ she said.

147 ‘Neither can I don’t worry. We all know the tunes, we just join in, there’s no need to read the music and the words are all there too.’ They had arrived at the pub where the band used the old skittle alley as a rehearsal room, it was a shambolic building but served their purposes well enough.

The two entered the room and it all went quiet, Susie immediately coloured up ‘This is Susie’ announced George pretending nothing had happened and introduced Jim who immediately took control and asked Susie a few questions about her singing. He looked hard at George when Susie explained in her careless, rustic accent, that she hadn’t ever sung, other than in a few school productions, however he rummaged around and gave her few song sheets to read through.

Jim’s cynicism was soon put aside when Susie joined in the first number where her easy powerful voice and natural timing was evident in her rendition of a Bob Dylan song made famous by Adele and she was immediately invited to become a member of Jim’s Jumpers - the Old School Band. No mention of availability or payment was mentioned by either party, except she was told that they were at the Fellowship Hall again on Saturday and that she was welcome to come along and join the fun.

On the way home George offered to collect Susie and take her along on Saturday, his offer was accepted with another warm smile and sidelong look from those beautiful eyes. He was rewarded, as he dropped her off at her home, with a warm kiss on the cheek and a ‘Thanks George’ before she opened the car door and ran down the path presumably to tell everyone of her good news. He let the moisture left on his cheek by her kiss dry naturally and was a little disappointed when he could no longer feel it on his skin.

At this rate he’d be seeing more of Susie than he would be of any other female in his life, he felt quite excited at the prospect.

The car radio was playing ‘Do you know the way to San Jose?’

C48

Gill had been looking forward to her week in Tenerife with George, she had persuaded him to fly from the local airport this time and convinced him there was no need for any secrecy, he was a free man, a widower who had been estranged from his late wife, there wasn’t even the requirement for a decent period of public mourning. In the event it made no difference, they didn’t see anyone who knew them either on the flight or in the airport before.

The hotel was a modern one, it was set within a large purpose-built complex of villas, suites, apartments and rooms. They had chosen to take a small suite but declined the opportunity of Butler Service, regarding the likely inevitable invasion into their privacy unwelcome.

It amused Gill that, try as he may, George was unable to use the halting Spanish he had been learning at his Night School classes as most of the staff were of Eastern European origin and did not speak very good Spanish, the few natives that were employed on the site were keen to exploit their ability to speak English, even if he addressed them in their own language they would reply in English.

148 It was also apparent to her that George had become more assertive and took control of situations much more than he had on their previous holiday when he had deferred to her opinions and requirements. Neither had she felt the need to sort out his wardrobe which now reflected the current period rather than the 1970’s. Gill wasn’t sure if she was going to enjoy this trip as much as the previous one.

Gill reflected upon their situation and it occurred to her that the excitement of their liaison was diminished by the very fact that it was no longer illicit. Perhaps Alex had been correct when he told her that she had only enjoyed their affair because it was exactly that, an affair, an adulterous coupling. He had said that the moment his wife had sent him packing she didn’t want to know. But that had been the situation when she had first come here with George, however he had, then, been a slightly timid man who had not fully accepted his own position and had wished to keep their holiday a secret from his then wife, it was different this time. It was in danger of becoming like a marriage.

On the first night of their holiday they could have been brother and sister, they had undressed in front of each other but they had slept untouching and respectful of each other’s space in the huge bed. George detected the scent of coconut on Gills hair and it reminded him of the occasion in the allotment shed when Gill had ravished him, or assaulted him, as Evvie would have it.

The following morning Gill had invaded the cubical whilst George was showering, this had provided her with the required positive response and they copulated for the first time since they had last been on this volcanic Atlantic island. Afterwards as they lay on the bed, exhausted by their exertions, George said ‘Why did you suggest we came away together again?’

Gill had not been expecting this, George had not, previously, appeared interested in motives, or at least if he had been he’d not mentioned it to her. ‘I missed you George’ she tried.

George was unconvinced, he continued ‘You’ve obviously got, or had, someone else in your life. I never see you when we’re at home, you’ve no need for anything I can offer you. Does it amuse you that you can use me as some sort of diversion?’

She hadn’t appreciated that George was so perceptive and hovered between truth and deception with her response, she decided to play for time; ‘What makes you say that?’

‘I’m not stupid’ was all he said. The ball had been played into Gill’s court.

‘I really like you George. I enjoy being with you’ she tried again.

‘Bollocks.’ This wasn’t George’s normal language and he rather surprised himself using it but he wasn’t going to be misled by such superficial massaging of his ego.

‘I need to feel wanted’ it was Gill’s turn to surprise herself with her honesty.

‘Why don’t you want me when we get home?’ George had hold of a bone and he wasn’t going to let go.

‘It’s different at home. We do different things.’

149 ‘With different people?’

‘Perhaps. But I don’t want a regular arrangement George, that’s not me. It’s a bit like strawberries – you should only eat them in season.’

George was confused by the analogy ‘I don’t quite follow that one’ he said.

‘What I’m trying to say is that if we met regularly at home we’d just become another couple. I like to keep things special.’

George was aware that Gill was trying to circumvent his direct questioning ‘So what do you do when you’re at home? You know what I do.’

Gill seized the opportunity to concentrate upon George’s life ‘Well I know what your working life is and I know you play in Jim’s band but I don’t know much else and I prefer not to know.’

Clever, thought George, it was making him appear almost possessive. Gill was presenting a case for them having a relaxed open friendship that didn’t infringe upon their day to day lives. Something was itching in his head, it wouldn’t stop. ‘You used to work for Alex McFayden, in his surgery, or whatever Vets call their shops. Why did you leave?’

Gill wanted to divert this one ‘I got fed up and wanted to do something different.’ Gill realised she sounded defensive, so she continued more brightly ‘I’m finishing the house sitting and dog walking. I’m starting a new job when we get back.’

George was pleased for Gill and interested to know what sort of job she had secured but continued his interrogation ‘You weren’t another of his mistresses were you?’

‘What do you mean, another mistress, who else?’

Gill immediately realised she’d admitted her involvement with Alex but hoped George hadn’t picked up on her mistake. She was to be disappointed.

‘I thought as much, the man is a serial seducer, rapist almost.’

‘That’s a bit strong, that’s slander isn’t it?’

‘Only if he knows I said it, are you going to tell him?’

‘I’m not likely to see him to tell him.’

It occurred to George that the last time he discussed Alex’s extra marital activities he’d also been in bed, naked, with a woman whom he had shared with the man, in the previous instance it was the wretched man’s wife. That, including Evvie, brought the total to three, he wondered if he had, in the circumstances, the right to question Alex’s morality.

Undeterred George played his hunch ‘Dumped you has he?’

Gill decided to come clean ‘No, actually I dumped him. It was getting too regular, you know, like I said, a marriage.’

150 ‘I heard his wife, Sarah, was throwing him out, did he want to come and live with you?’

Gill had not been aware that George knew that Sarah was in the process of ejecting Alex from the family home ‘It wouldn’t have worked’ was all she said.

‘How long had it been going on. You and Alex I mean?’

‘On and off over a few years, not long after I started working there. It was his fault I groped you and Julian, he encouraged me to do that to him when we were working.’

‘Bit strong blaming him for your actions isn’t it?’

‘Well, I mean it wouldn’t have been something I’d done if I hadn’t been doing it with him.’

George had all the information he thought he could get for the moment, he rolled over and got off the bed saying ‘I suppose I’d better shower again then’ and disappeared into the bathroom.

The remainder of the holiday was influenced by George’s new found knowledge of Alex’s activities with Gill. She tried several times to excuse herself and indicate to George that Alex hadn’t meant anything to her and that it had been him that had driven their affair. She also tried convincing George that she had totally finished with Alex and hoped he would be pleased that he now had, as it were, her total attention, but despite George’s loathing of Alex and his, apparent, ‘victory’ over him he remained indifferent to Gill’s charm offensive.

Gill no longer seemed so attractive.

C49

When Sheila asked George if he knew of anyone who might be suitable to stand in to assist in the Masterton shop whilst she and her husband Ian took a break in Cornwall to see Vera’s sister, who had a ‘nice little place near St Austell’ his first reaction was to express his surprise that she didn’t have someone within her extensive family to do the job, she said that actually she did and that she thought Susie would be ideal.

George’s protective instinct to Susie was to resist the idea. He was sure Sheila had no idea of the damage that Alan’s father had wrought on his own and her families. Although Sheila’s family were a close unit they appeared to be prepared to let each other have the dignity of some secrecy and it was evident that the parentage of Susie’s boy Jess had not been shared information. He was also happy that no-one knew of Alex McFayden’s unwelcome involvement in his own family’s life.

He had suggested that Susie didn’t have any experience but Sheila promoted her candidate’s credentials strongly so, without being in a position to divulge any of these secrets, George reluctantly agreed to ‘let her have a go.’

What neither Sheila nor George had expected, or considered, was the instant attraction of Alan and Susie towards each other.

151 George had collected Susie and brought her down to the shop to allow Sheila to ‘show Susie the ropes’. The moment they had walked into the rear room, where Alan spent much of his time filling and emptying the dry cleaning machine, Alan’s eyes had almost popped out of his head and he floundered to articulate any word of greeting. Susie had met his evident awe with the shy and beautiful smile that George had come to appreciate was reserved for people she liked, he had never before met anyone who had a range of smiles for every situation. It was the shyness in this one that indicated to him the reciprocal nature of Susie’s response to Alan’s awkward greeting.

It wasn’t too long before the two were ‘seeing each other’ and it was Alan who was collecting Susie and bringing her along to the band nights and George had retired to being the protective father figure with which he was more comfortable.

He did not consider it unusual therefore when Alan phoned him one evening and asked if he could come over ‘for a word.’

George had been expecting a request from Alan for an increase in his salary, the lad probably had ideas for him and Susie to be setting up home together and couldn’t afford to do it on the wages he was currently receiving.

He was not expecting the mild mannered Alan to come storming into his house saying ‘That shit of a father of mine. He’s a shit, a fucking shit. He was married for fuck’s sake, married to Mum.’

It was difficult for George to challenge any of the statements but he did say ‘Whatever the problems Alan, please temper the language.’

Alan continued ‘He’s fucked up my life, he’s fucked it up again. I’m sorry George but he’s done it to you, to Mum to me, he’s a bastard. I can’t use any other language. I’m sorry to come to you but I don’t know where else to go. I’ve got to talk to someone and I can’t talk to anyone else without all the bloody secrets coming out of the bag. It’s not fair on me, on Mum or the rest of you.’

‘Sit down. We’ll have a cup of coffee and you tell me everything you know.’ George didn’t need Alan to tell him what the young man had discovered.

Over the coffee George found out that Alan had overheard his parents rowing over their split and had learnt the reason for Bethy’s sudden and unexpected breaking off of their friendship and when he confronted his father, who had apparently been the worse for drink, the man had boasted that, if Alan and Susie married, Alan would be bringing up his own father’s son and his own half-brother.

‘God knows how many other of his little bastards are out there’ Alan had blurted and then immediately been contrite and distraught that he had insulted Bethy and George. ‘It’s impossible’ the lad had said before breaking down and crying.

‘I’m so sorry George. You’ve been so kind to me, knowing about Bethy all along and still employing me and being so nice. I’m so sorry that’s why I can’t talk to anyone but you and Mum. I don’t know what to do. I can’t tell anyone without giving away all your secrets as well as my own, you don’t deserve it.’

‘I appreciate that Alan, thank you. I’m reconciled to the fact that he’s my daughter’s biological father. However, the important thing for me is that she calls me Dad, I’m the one she turns to for

152 help and you were just an innocent in all this, I have no reason to blame you for anything.’ George was relieved that Alan was entirely unaware of his brief entanglement with the lad’s mother, it had not been his proudest moment, he hoped Sarah felt the same and realised it would be in no-one’s interest for that information to be shared.

George put his hand on Alan’s, it was resting on the kitchen table top ‘Have you spoken to Susie about this?’

‘No she doesn’t know that he’s told me, I’ve only just found out.’

‘Haven’t you ever asked her who Jess’s father was?’

‘Yes but she obviously didn’t want to tell me so I didn’t push it. I can see now why she didn’t want me to know.’

‘Does it change the way you think of her? She’s still the same person and she was very young and naïve when your father took advantage of her. If you really care for her you’ll find a way to deal with it.’

‘I understand what you’re saying George but he’s still there, hovering like some evil presence.’ Alan looked over his shoulder as if expecting his father to be there, watching him.

‘Where’s your father now?’ George enquired.

‘As far as I know he’ll be at home sleeping it off. He’ll probably have no recollection of what he’s said tomorrow, he’s drinking quite a lot lately.’

‘Do you want to sleep here tonight, there’s a spare bedroom if you want’ George offered.

‘Thanks George that’s kind of you but I’m not going to be driven away just because of him.’

‘What about your Mother?’ George was suddenly concerned for Sarah’s welfare.

‘No she’ll be okay, she’s gone back to her flat, she doesn’t know any of all this.’

George thought about Evvie’s old flat and it’s bright walls, he remembered running over Barb’s cat as he had left that day, all that time ago. It seemed as if he was remembering an old film he’d seen not an event in which he had been a principal character.

‘Can I just suggest you think long and hard about this before you do anything rash Alan. Especially when it comes to talking about this with Susie, as I said, if you try there will be a way and remember from what you’ve said it’s quite probable that your mother doesn’t know about Jess either.’

‘That hadn’t occurred to me George, you’re right, she probably doesn’t otherwise it would have come out when they were arguing about Bethy and me. God what a mess.’

After Alan had left the house George went up to his quiet room and did something he’d been meaning to do for some time. He took the sketch of the nude figure that had rescued from Evvie’s box of paintings and sketches out of its frame and took it downstairs where he set fire to it in the woodburner that he’d had installed in his sitting room. He watched as the flame licked through the

153 paper and scorched across the girl’s perfect body eventually taking out the initials that he hadn’t, at first, noticed. The A went first, then the T and, finally the McF. The burnt paper lay across the cast iron ridges of the burner almost perfect, delicate, showing the pencil strokes white against the grey paper.

George blew at the image.

All that was left was some white dust in the bottom of the grate.

Paul Simon was singing ‘Slip Sliding Away’ on a speaker at the top of the stairs.

C50

D.C John Bell had heard about Ketamine, he’d been on a further development course where it had been explained that it was a drug that had been developed as a tranquiliser for horses and other big animals but somehow it had been discovered that it had hallucinatory effects if it was taken by humans and, therefore, had become a popular recreational drug, but this was the first time he’d actually been confronted by its apparent use.

The young man, Alan McFayden had telephoned the emergency services and told them that his father, who was the local Vet, had not woken up and that he thought his father, who had also been drinking heavily, had taken some of the drug on top of the alcohol and that the man appeared dead.

The son had not discovered his father’s body until he had returned home at the end of the day. Bell was not best pleased, his stomach was playing him up again, he had run out of his anti-flatulence tablets and he had been clearing up ready to go home when the Station received the call, it was his responsibility to attend the scene to take what details he could.

Bell looked at the body. The bed, like its occupant, was unkempt, the sheets were overdue for a change, the place was obviously lacking a woman’s touch.

The dead man, whom he estimated to be in his fifties, was lying on his back, dressed only in his underclothes, the mess and smell indicated that he had probably choked on his own vomit.

There was no evidence of alcohol in the bedroom but an empty glass tumbler was lying on the bed beside the body, there was some sediment that had formed in a white stripe along its side where the liquid had dried.

He looked around the room, as far as he could see there was nothing else unusual or different to any other middle aged man’s who was going through a bad time.

Bell searched around for a drugs cupboard, he asked the son who suggested that his father may have kept them in the pannier of his motorbike. They went into the attached garage and tried the catch on the pannier, it was locked. The keys to the bike were found in the well organised key

154 cupboard and Bell opened the pannier to reveal a variety of equipment together with some packets of drugs, liniments and pastes as well as a pack of syringes which had been opened. The son explained to him that his father often used his motorbike, in preference to the car, for urgent calls.

What Bell was unable to find was any packaging or other evidence of what drug had been used, if indeed it were a drug the deceased had ingested. The son was unable to help other than showing the Detective the various waste bins around the house.

After D.C. Bell had made arrangements for the removal of the body and collected the tumbler into a plastic bag he had decided to ask the young man for his version of events.

The Detective was looking through the notes he had made, both at the scene and, subsequently, at the interviews with the interested or involved parties. He had a feeling about this one, there was something that didn’t quite fit.

He had asked the son if his father was a regular heavy drinker and had been told that his alcohol consumption had increased considerably recently since his mother had left the father who had, as a result, become distressed. When he enquired why the young man had thought his father had also taken Ketamine he had said that he had seen him using it before. The drugs register at the man’s place of work did not indicate any excessive ordering, or use, of Ketamine and there remained the problem of the lack of any evidence of packaging.

When questioned more vigorously and asked why he had reported that he thought his father had taken the drug the son had simply repeated that he had been aware of his father having used it on a couple of previous occasions and that he thought, having seen the tumbler on the bed, that he had done the same thing again but this time with fatal results. He had been asked why he thought his father had not injected the drug rather than taken it in liquid form, he said that he had absolutely no idea.

The boy confirmed that his mother had visited the house earlier the previous evening and had argued with her husband but he didn’t know exactly what they had argued about, he had assumed it was about their separation and likely divorce, he said he had left the house not long after his mother and gone to visit his employer to ask for a rise because he wanted to get married to his girlfriend. Upon his return to the house the young man had said he had not seen his father and had presumed he’d gone to bed. He had turned off the lights and locked up, in the morning he’d gone to work, again, without any contact with his father.

The mother didn’t have anything to add and confirmed she had visited the house the previous evening and that she argued with her husband because he hadn’t made any arrangements to leave the house. She said her husband had been drinking and that she’d left after about an hour of unpleasantness.

Neither the son nor the wife appeared unduly upset at the death of the man.

Bell had interviewed the employer, George Chisholm, whom Bell had had occasion to meet on two previous cases in neither of which had Chisholm been suspected of any wrong doing and in which both no charges had been brought. He had noted that, on this occasion, Chisholm had been much more assertive and confirmed the approximate timings and nature of his employee’s discussions.

155 What George didn’t tell Detective Constable Bell was that he had been concerned for Alan after his visit the previous evening and had called to see him at his Masterton shop the following day where, during his conversation with him, Alan had said to George ‘I’ve thought about what you said last night and I’ve found a way of dealing with it.’ They had also agreed that if anyone asked what they had spoken about it was that Alan had asked for an increase in his salary because he wanted to marry Susie to which George had offered his best wishes and had, indeed, agreed that Alan was due an increase in his pay and that he would arrange to give the boy some more shares in the business. All this, of course, had been before George had known of Alex McFayden’s death.

It was something George would privately speculate upon until his own death.

As for D.C. Bell, he filed a report with his Acting Superintendent, Joy Adebeyo was on Maternity Leave thank goodness, stating that the post mortem results confirmed that the deceased had ingested Ketamine as well as an excessive amount of alcohol and that death had been caused by choking on the resultant vomiting. The laboratory tests on the tumbler found at the scene had shown that the white powder deposits were Ketamine, the finger print tests were unsatisfactory as the tumbler had been subjected to a lot of movement on the bed clothes most probably due to the deceased’s agitated state.

Despite Bell’s uneasy feeling he had no hard evidence to indicate that there were any suspicious circumstances regarding the demise of Alex McFayden.

The wife, Sarah McFayden, arguably had something to gain by her husband’s death but she could not be connected to it as her alibi’s were strong and the son, as far as could be proved, had no motive. There were no other suspects.

The Coroner recorded a verdict of Accidental Death whilst under the influence of alcohol and drugs.

Alex Thomas McFayden’s funeral was a strange affair; George did not attend but Alan, Susie and Sarah did. Alex’s brother came down from Edinburgh and only a handful of local people attended, McFayden had not been a popular man, he had charged people large amounts of money attempting to save the live’s of their pets before advising them to ‘put them down’ for which he made a further charge.

None of this surprised George, after all the man’s wife and son would be expected to attend, whatever the circumstances, the brother and Susie were, similarly unsurprising, Susie’s connection with the dead man was, to everyone there, except Alan, unknown and seen to be in support of her fiancé.

The bizarre aspect as far as George was concerned, was that the new job Gill Rainsbury had secured was with the Undertakers who handled the funeral, her duties involved dressing in a bowler hat and wearing something approaching the appearance of a man’s Morning Suit and walking for the first fifty yards or so in front of the cortege before hopping into the hearse for a ride to the Crematorium where she oversaw the transit of the coffin, containing her ex-lover, to the plinth where it was left for the Reverend Jane Dalton to conjure up some sort of eulogy before pressing a button which condemned the body to the fires of Hell.

156 The imagined picture of Gill, dressed like Charlie Chaplin, walking in front of the hearse bearing Alex McFayden’s remains made George laugh out aloud whenever he thought of it.

C51

In addition to being employed to entertain the attendees at the evening celebrations both George and Jim, as well as the other band members, were invited as guests to Susie’s marriage to Alan McFayden. They had waived the fee as the Band’s Wedding Gift.

The Wedding ceremony was performed at the same Church that had witnessed the recent funerals of Tony Tanner, Evvie and Alex McFayden. It was the Reverend Jane Dalby’s first one and she was delighted to have something more joyous to celebrate in the gloomy little place.

Quite independently of each other, first Susie had approached George and told him that she would have liked him to give her away ‘because you’ve changed my life’ rather than her step-father. Until then George had not been aware that the small weasely man whom he had previously only seen through the window of Susie’s house was not her father who had, evidently, ‘disappeared years ago.’ Then Alan had said he thought George had been more of a father to him than the one who had recently met his untimely end and that he had seriously considered asking him to be his Best Man.

To George’s relief those prizes had been awarded, quite properly in his opinion, to others.

In his Groom’s speech Alan paid tribute to George, not only for bringing the two together, but ‘for all his help and advice to both himself and the new Mrs McFayden’. George had found himself contemplating if that advice had been misunderstood so as to involve the inappropriate administering of horse tranquiliser to a third person but also admitting to himself that this day could hardly have taken place if Alex McFayden had been alive. Alan certainly didn’t look like a murderer but then, thought George, who does?

The Village Hall had been transformed for the occasion and its interior was decked out to resemble the inside of a marquee. It was a wonderfully happy affair and, in a break when the Disco took over from Jim’s Jumpers duties, Sarah McFayden insisted that George dance with her and, whilst doing so, George noticed that his shop manager, Sheila Farrell, had looked on quite reproachfully.

157 The highlight of the evening was Susie singing the Adele song ‘Make you feel my love’ to Alan, George had never seen so many grown men weeping and had to include himself in that number.

At the end of the night George walked home and was surprised to see a slightly dishevelled Sarah McFayden sitting on the cill of his former shop window, her slight figure barely discernible in the shadow of an overhanging holly tree.

‘Hello George, can I come in?’

George knew he should have said ‘No I’m sorry Sarah but I’m tired, can you call around in the morning and we’ll have a chat’ but instead said ‘Yes, of course.’

They entered the hallway and George put his guitar against the umbrella stand ‘Would you like a coffee?’ he asked.

‘I’d rather you take me to bed’ came Sarah’s swift and straightforward reply.

‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ George could think of several reasons why it was not.

‘At the moment I don’t care if it isn’t’ she replied pulling back the neck of her dress to expose her slightly bony shoulder.

‘It’s all too complicated Sarah, I’m sorry I really am. You’re an attractive woman, I like you, but I don’t want to get involved.’

‘It’s only one night George, what’s left of it. I’m not intending to ask to move in.’

‘No, but it would be the second time and besides although we got away with it last time, people including your son and his new wife, will inevitably find out.’

‘Does it matter? We’re both free.’

‘Yes’ admitted George with resignation ‘we’re both free.’

After he drove Sarah home in the morning George phoned Bethy who was due back home in a couple of days.

C52

Wearing an old bus conductor’s hat that he had found in a dressing up box belonging to the Children’s Playgroup in the skittle alley where Jim’s Jumpers rehearsed and holding up a white card with BETHY CHISHOLM written on it in black marker ink, George stood in the airport Arrivals Hall and watched as Bethy came through the automatic doors.

Bethy looked up, threw off a backpack that looked almost as big as her own small body, and ran laughing, crying into the arms of her waiting father.

158 They stood embraced, smiling broadly but, at the same time, with tears running down their cheeks, oblivious to those around them until they became aware of a tall, blond man with a short stubbly beard standing next to them, not only bearing his own blue backpack but also carrying Bethy’s green one.

‘Dad, this is Sven’ Bethy said as she stood back from George wiping her face and looking affectionately at the smiling and amused young man.

‘Very pleased to meet you Sven’ said George holding out his right hand, his hat askew in the manner of an old Norman Wisdom film.

‘And you too Mr Chisholm’ the boy replied taking George’s hand and continuing to smile as George re-adjusted his hat.

‘George. I think would be best’ said George.

‘Fine. George then’ came the reply.

On the way home Bethy sat in the front passenger seat alongside her father, who had discarded the chauffeur’s hat, and told him what they had been doing and how she had met Sven, who was working for another NGO, in the Refugee Camps.

They had just flown from Stockholm, where they had stayed for a few days with Sven’s mother who, evidently, was a Doctor and now they were looking forward to spending a few days with George before Bethy took Sven off to see something of Britain outside of London, which was the only part of the country he had previously experienced.

Bethy had not seen George’s new home and was quite taken with its charm.

‘I remember it was a funny little store run by Mrs Webster when I was a little girl. It seems strange to be able to go beyond the front room’ she said ‘I didn’t realise it was this large.’

After they ate their evening meal George had the strange experience of seeing his daughter going off to share a bed with her boyfriend. This elicited a mixture of emotions; he was delighted Bethy seemed so happy and relaxed with her young man but he was also slightly saddened that his little girl had grown up. He was aware that Bethy wasn’t exactly a novice at sleeping with a man but, to his knowledge, it had never happened under his roof, on his watch. The world had changed so much since he was that age.

The following day the two lovers borrowed his car and Bethy drove around the area showing Sven the scenes of her childhood.

In the evening the three of them met Jim Carter in The Kings Arms for a drink before they took off for a celebratory meal at The Wagon.

Over the course of the next couple of days George got to know Sven who was, in his judgement, a particularly pleasant person, serious in intent with a wonderful command of the English language ‘It’s essential in our job’ and, most importantly, an impish sense of humour.

In George’s opinion the two appeared compatible at every level.

159 When they were alone George asked Bethy if she had told Sven anything of the unusual circumstances of her parentage and she had said ‘It’s not relevant Dad, it doesn’t affect anything, only you, me, Aunt Nora and Mrs McFayden know and it’s not in any of their interests to say anything. I’ve told you before you’re my father.’

George wondered if he was right to refrain from telling her that Alan McFayden had also found out. However, George too considered it irrelevant now and even if Alan had told Susie they would have bigger issues to consider than worrying about Bethy and George’s relationship.

Bethy and Sven returned to stay with George for another couple of nights, after Bethy had shown Sven the delights of the West Country and introduced him to a few of her old University friends, before it was time for George to take them back to the airport for their flight back to Amman and for them to resume the work they both so clearly enjoyed. He drove back alone from the airport content in the knowledge that Bethy was happy and enjoying a fulfilling life.

He put on the most feel-good music he could find; an old Frankly Fawn cd that Jim had given him and that had been lying, untouched, in the glove compartment for over a year and drove back singing along to all those nineteen fifties songs that they all enjoyed so much.

When he returned home, George called Jim and told him that he had better be looking out for another rhythm guitarist because his current one was ‘Going away for a bit.’

‘Not with the Predator I hope’ had been his friends only comment.

C53

George drove the vehicle into the car park at Seaview Caravan Park on the Devon/Dorset border.

He had recently acquired a five years old, low mileage, Class A, motorhome and was undertaking a ‘shake down’ trip at the Park prior to taking it on a nine-month tour around Europe.

He stepped out of the van, he was already picking up the terminology, pulled back his shoulders and, opening his nostrils wide, inhaled a large intake of seaside oxygen before entering the Reception Building.

Little, perhaps nothing, had changed since his previous visit as an undercover detective. The glass sliding hatch door was closed, leaflets were pinned around it, the all seeing eye of the CCTV was above him. He bent forwards and sideways so as he could peer through the glass, the weather girl was still in position, she pulled the door along its plastic sliders and looked at George quizzically.

‘Oh its Mr Sax!’

George’s worst fears had been realised, he had been recognised, this time however he was prepared and had rehearsed this likelihood and said ‘Yes, however did you remember my name?’

160 ‘I’ll always remember you, you said you played the trombone, it’s a story I’ve told at WI meetings lots of times. Mr Sax who plays the trombone.’ George thought it best to leave the confused facts of the story unchallenged.

‘I’ve booked in the name of George Chisholm. It’s difficult to use my real name, it gets misunderstood’ he smiled his best smile.

‘That’s even funnier, I remember George Chisholm used to play the trombone on black and white TV Mr Sax.’

‘Yes I know. The name seems appropriate.’

‘So nice to see you, although you didn’t pass on that bill I gave you did you? There was a lot of fuss with Mr Tanner’s son, he got very funny. How are you, are you paying by card?’

George hadn’t seen this one coming ‘No’ he faltered ‘I forgot to bring it I’ll have to get some cash for you.’

‘Won’t you need a card to do that?’

‘’Ah. Yes. I suppose I will.’

‘Well we’ve got your deposit, as long as you pay us tomorrow we’ll let it go this time. It’s against our rules though, don’t expect that everytime you come here’ she smiled again ‘Pitch sixty nine’ she said and closed the hatch.

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