EPISODE THIRTY-THREE
‘Maggie...I...I’m sorry,’ burbled
Mike. ‘I had no idea.
Gary
always had a fixed appointment. I just
don’t know what to say.’
‘My
fault. I should have let you know.
As you can imagine...not an easy time.’
‘How
did it happen?’
‘It
was a car crash. On
Ashdown
Forest.’
‘Was
anyone else involved?’
‘No
other cars, if that’s what you mean. But
the girl he was with was killed as well.’
Although
her face was expressionless, her eyes said it all.
Mike nodded slightly, to show her he
understood.. Then he glanced at his
watch.
‘I
may as well shoot back home. I don’t
have another appointment now for...’
‘Your
welcome to come in for a coffee.’
Mike
hesitated, his mind shifting into another gear as myriad thoughts of comforting
the grieving widow bombarded his brain.
‘Or
perhaps you’d like something stronger?’
‘I
could fancy a beer. If you’ve got some.’
‘I
think I can manage to find you a beer.’
‘Well...if
you’re sure.’
‘Why
not? Let’s give the neighbours something
to talk about. Anyway, there’s something
I’d like to ask you.’
Mike
frowned as he followed her through the house and into the kitchen.
What could she possibly want to ask him?
He
watched as she turned her back on him and got a beer from the fridge.
He found himself admiring her legs, staring
at her shapely figure and wondering what she was wearing beneath the floppy
T-shirt.
‘Kids
at school?’ he asked, his voice softer than normal.
‘Yes,
they’ve gone back today for the first time since Gary
died. But they won’t be back for tea. My
parents have taken them to Hastings
to take their mind off it.’
She handed Mike
a bottle of Becks and a bottle opener. ‘There you go. D’you need a glass?’
He
shook his head. ‘Bottle’s fine.
What did you want to ask me?’
‘That
time you phoned about the poker game.
Was it true?’
Mike
twisted the top off the bottle, giving himself thinking time.
After taking a sip of beer, he said, ‘I’m
sorry. I didn’t want to lie to you.
But Gary
insisted.’
‘He
made you do it, did he?’
‘Well...not
exactly, but...’
‘But
you allowed him to get the better of you.
As we all did.’
>She
poured herself a glass of white wine from a box in the fridge and raised her
glass to Mike. ‘Cheers!’
He
lifted his bottle sheepishly. ‘Yeah,
cheers. I’m sorry if I...’
‘Forget
it. You didn’t upset me.
Gary
did. I knew he was lying.
But then, when you phoned...’
‘If
it’s any consolation, I couldn’t understand why the hell he’d want to go with
anyone else. He was lucky to have such
an attractive wife.’
‘You’re
not trying to chat me up, are you?’
‘No,
I mean it. Whenever I came round to cut
Gary’s
hair, I sometimes didn’t dare look at you, in case it showed.’
‘In
case what showed?’
‘What
do you think?’
She
put down her glass and smiled at him. ‘I
think I’m behaving stupidly, but I don’t really care.’
His
beer bottle clunked loudly as he abandoned it on top of the fridge.
He put his arms around her waist and pulled
her close to him. He swallowed noisily
and his voice sounded hoarse when he spoke.
‘Just
tell me if I’m out of order.’
She
giggled softly. ‘You’re out of
order. But I tell you something, Mike:
now it definitely shows.’
*
‘Mum, I’m bored.’
Mary
sighed deeply. ‘Your tea’s nearly
ready.’
‘I’m
not hungry.’
Mary
could feel herself about to explode. ‘Go
outside and play with Thomas. I’ll call
you when I’ve dished up.’
‘It’s
a dump out there. It’s not a proper
garden. You said we’d have a proper
garden in this house.’
‘Well
it’s not as bad as our flat. We didn’t
have any garden there.’
‘We
did. We had the garden opposite.’
‘That
was the park, Simon.
‘You
were the one who called it our garden.’
‘That
was because...’ She searched desperately for a pair of oven gloves and just
managed to rescue the pan of peas from boiling over.
‘Because
of what?’ demanded Simon, stressing every syllable.
‘Go
outside and tell Thomas I’m dishing up.’
She
folded a grubby tea towel in two and lifted a tray of fish fingers out of the
oven.
‘Can
we go swimming after tea?’
‘No
we can’t.’
‘Why
not?’
‘It’s
too late in the day.’
‘I
don’t mind.’
‘Well
I do.’
Thomas
appeared at the back door. ‘Are we going
swimming?’
‘No,
Mum won’t take us,’ moaned Simon.
His
mother’s voice became shrill as she tried to dish up.
‘I’ve already told you...’
The
telephone rang. Thomas prepared to dash
off.
‘Blast!
I’ll get it.
Simon, put the oven chips on the plate – and mind you don’t burn yourself.’
She
dashed into the hall and answered the phone.
There was a confused type of pause before a man said, ‘You ‘is bit of
stuff, are you?’
‘Who
is this? Who’s speaking?’
‘You’re
Dave Whitby’s tart, are you? I see ‘is
car’s not around. I’ll be round later
tonight. I might give you a good seeing
to, darling. What sort of knickers d’you
wear?’
She
slammed the phone down and returned to the kitchen.
Thomas looked up as she entered.
‘Mum,
what’s wrong?’
Mary
stood in the doorway, trying to catch her breath.
‘That settles it,’ she said, more to herself
than her children. ‘I don’t like it here
either.’
Through
a mouthful of chips, Simon said, Let’s
go somewhere else then.’
‘Okay.
We’ll do that for half term.’
Simon,
who hadn’t expected that response to his flippant suggestion, stared
open-mouthed at his mother, revealing a mouthful of half-chewed chips and
tomato ketchup.
‘Where
are we going?’ asked Thomas. ‘We haven’t
finished unpacking here yet.’
‘We’re
going to a place called Cromer. It’s by
the sea.’
‘Has
it got a sandy beach?’ Simon wanted to know.
‘Yes.
At least, I think so.’
‘How
are we getting there?’
‘The
man whose house this is will come and pick us up.’
Thomas
looked at his mother closely. ‘Have you
asked him yet?’
‘No.
Not yet.’
‘Then
how d’you know he’ll pick us up?’
Mary
smiled knowingly. ‘I just do.’
IN EPISODE THIRTY-FOUR
Andrew makes enquiries about the
deceased writer and Mike makes Maggie a promise.