Murder... Now and Then (14 page)

‘Marvell was trying to get
her
into bed. Of course he said it was the natural step to take.'

‘Are you saying it isn't?' His voice was amused. ‘The most fundamental and basic of all human activity isn't natural?'

‘Human beings aren't fundamental and basic! They have feelings, and emotions. They make promises. Was he married with two children?'

He let her go. ‘I don't know,' he said.

There was silence then. She hadn't meant to hurt him. She hadn't meant to get herself into this in me first place. Or perhaps she had. She wasn't sure about anything any more.

‘Anything I say will sound corny,' he said. ‘Or callous.' He paused. ‘I sound like a chiropodist,' he said.

Judy laughed. He could always make her laugh.

‘But we have found something,' he went on. ‘And it doesn't concern my wife and children. It concerns you, and me, and no one else.'

She twisted round in his arms and drew him closer to her, not just letting things happen any more; she was making them happen, the consequences of her actions no longer an issue. She didn't know how the situation would resolve itself, and right now she didn't care.

‘Listen,' he whispered, after long, increasingly passionate embraces. ‘I've got the key to one of the lad's rooms.'

The music came back from wherever it had gone, and cold reality washed over Judy as she stood quite still, his hair still twined round her fingers.

‘Nobody will know,' he assured her. ‘We can go up the back stairs. It's quite safe. As long as we go now before they start coming out to their cars.'

‘Bannister,' she said, her voice barely a whisper.

‘Well, yes – he's going home for the weekend.'

She pushed him away from her. ‘You arranged this in advance? With
Bannister
, of all people?'

‘Oh, come on, Judy! It wasn't like that!'

‘Not much, it wasn't!'

‘It wasn't. He was going to be away, and I didn't fancy driving all the way home after I'd had a drink. It's a coincidence, that's all.' He put his arms round her again.

‘No,' she said, twisting out of his embrace.

‘It's the truth!' he protested. ‘ I didn't even know if you'd be here!'

She was walking, then running, to her car, pulling the keys from her bag. She had to get out of here, get out of this. A moment ago she would have gone anywhere with him. Anywhere but Dave bloody Bannister's room in the section house, the key doubtless handed over with a wink and a nudge. How dare he. How
dare
he?

She got into the car and slammed the door as he arrived at the passenger side. He knocked on the window, then they both realized at once that the door wasn't locked. He was quicker than she, but she doubted if she would have locked him out anyway, and her attempt to reach the door first had been half-hearted.

He got in, and sat down with a sigh. ‘ I'm sorry,' he said, pushing his hair back from his forehead, smoothing it down.

But he did that when he was angry, not when he was sorry; she didn't speak.

‘I just wanted us to have somewhere to go if …' He finished the sentence with a shrug.

‘If you got lucky,' she supplied.

‘Yes, all right' he said defiantly. ‘If I got lucky.' He took her hand. ‘And I did,' he said.

She pulled her hand away. ‘How dare you bring Dave Bannister into this?' she demanded.

‘He doesn't know about us!'

‘How the hell do you think I knew who it was?'

He sighed again. ‘All right it was a mistake. I'm sorry. I just thought you'd prefer it to any of the alternatives, that's all.'

‘I'd
prefer
it? I'd prefer that creep to know my private business?'

‘Yes! I didn't know you thought he was a creep. You seemed to be getting on with him very well on the dance floor.'

‘Oh, for God's—'

‘And I thought you'd prefer it to booking into some sleazy hotel or parking in a layby somewhere. They don't seem quite you.'

‘You were very sure I'd come across,' she said.

Lloyd shook his head. ‘I hoped it might happen,' he said. ‘That's all. And the choice
is
limited,' he pointed out, ‘ when you're married, as you never cease to remind me that I am.'

Yes. Yes, he was. He was married, and she would get hurt. She was getting hurt already.

‘And the damage, if it exists, has been done,' he went on. ‘ He's going to think we used the room whether we do or not.'

She sighed. That was true. They probably all thought that that was where they were now. But it wasn't her reputation that was worrying her.

‘So we might as well use it.' He smiled at her. ‘No point in letting it go to waste,' he said.

But the room would be going to waste. Her automatic distaste of the deal with Bannister had saved her from making a dreadful mistake; the whole thing was too difficult and too dangerous, and much too likely to end in tears.

‘Lloyd, I don't want to get involved with you,' she said, wearily.

‘For God's sake, Judy, you
are
involved with me.'

‘All right if you're going to quibble over words. I don't want to have sex with you – is that plain enough?'

He nodded. ‘It's plain enough,' he said. ‘But you're not a very good liar.' He took her hand. ‘Come on, Judy,' he said, putting his arm round her. ‘I was wrong, but it's done now. And we can't go on like this.' He smiled again. ‘It's too frustrating,' he said.

He was kissing her again. And he was right. It couldn't go on. It mustn't go on. She pulled away from him. ‘I'm not going to break up your marriage, Lloyd,' she said quietly.

He looked genuinely startled. ‘Who's talking about breaking up marriages?' he said, giving her a hug. ‘This is quite separate. I told you. It doesn't concern anyone else.'

‘Now who's lying?' she asked miserably.

His eyes held hers for a moment, then he let her go, and opened the car door. ‘ Don't think I've given up,' he said.

She locked the door this time, and waited until the physical and emotional turmoil had calmed down a little before she tried to take stock of her situation. Irrelevances crowded out the important issues. She was lucky the car hadn't been stolen, forgetting to lock it like that. She must remember to post that letter that still sat on the shelf. Come to that, it was time she gave the car a good clean outside and in. She took out cigarettes and lit one, inhaling deeply, trying not to cry.

The survival instinct had triumphed again; she had weathered his most determined assault on her sensibilities yet. But cowardice had always been her trump card, and she had played it. She stubbed out the cigarette, and drove out of the car park, feeling indescribably guilty as she headed the car towards home, and it wasn't because she had so very nearly been unfaithful to Michael.

It was because she hadn't.

Anna had a maid now. An old pro, long past her best; she knew much better than Anna did how to vet the punters, and she didn't let the iffy ones past the door. Anna looked after her; she paid her as well as she could, and she always got her a taxi to take her home. It didn't matter how much experience of the streets you had, London was a place to be wary of, if you lived in the sort of areas they lived in. One policeman driving about in a Panda car was the sum total of the security, if you were lucky. She saw her into her minicab now, and waved as it roared away into the early hours of the sultry October morning, going back into the flat.

She was earning more now that she had a proper room to do the business in; you could charge more. And she had been given lots of sound advice about looking at their clothes and their watches, and estimating how much they could and would pay for extras. She closed the door of the bedroom, all made ready for tomorrow night's trade.

She didn't sleep in there. She slept on the sofa bed in the room that the clients weren't allowed into. During the day, it was her sitting room, and she could pretend that she was somewhere else altogether. But if business kept improving, she ought be able to afford the rent on somewhere to live. Somewhere respectable. Then she would be like the others, and get to go home after work.

She fell asleep quickly, she always did. It was about nine thirty when she heard the knocking at the door, and woke to brilliant sunshine. She didn't lock the street door during the day, or she was woken continually by meter-readers and others who wanted access to the building. But she didn't expect anyone to come knocking at her door, not today. She pulled on her dressing-gown, and stumbled sleepily out into the long, narrow hallway.

She unlocked the door, and opened it to see someone's back view. A cop's back view, sweat staining his shirt. A visit from the police usually meant that they wanted information. One of the girls might have been attacked. That was a constant worry for Anna; she didn't mind talking to cops about that.

He turned, and when she saw who it was, she tried to shut the door again, but he was too quick for her. He pushed his way in. He shut the door.

‘Hello, Annabel,' he said, putting the chain in place. You should use that, you know,' he said. ‘ You never know who's going to come calling.'

She backed away from the handsome, smiling face.

You caused me a lot of grief, Annabel,' he said.

Her heart was pounding as he walked slowly towards her; he must be able to hear it. She backed away. They hadn't even believed her, for Christ's sake. They'd taken his side.

‘You shouldn't be so sensitive, Annabel. Not in your business.' He stopped walking, and looked at her. ‘You know your problem?' he asked. ‘ You've got too much brain for this job, and not enough sense.'

She couldn't speak.

‘Did you think I wouldn't find you?' he asked. ‘It took me a while, but I got here.' He smiled. ‘And I wanted the heat to die down.' He looked round. ‘You live on the premises,' he said. ‘The other tenants go home when they call it a night, don't they? There's no one here but you and me, Annabel.' She looked round desperately, as though an escape route might

materialize.
‘Shout for help, why don't you?'
She was still backing away from him as he advanced on her, but

she knew that there was nowhere to go.

‘Let's go for a picnic,' said Geraldine, as she finished her cereal.

Charles looked up from the letter he was reading. ‘It's October,' he said, as though that was an answer.

‘I know it's October. But we've both got the day off, and that never happens, so let's go for a picnic. It's a lovely day.'

‘It's still October.'

Geraldine laughed. ‘It's hotter than it was in July,' she pointed out. ‘ It's the hottest October day in London for nearly twenty years – they just said so.'

‘We're not in London. And it's Tuesday.' He went back to trying to read his letter.

‘What's that got to do with it?' asked Geraldine.

Charles put the letter aside. ‘People don't go for picnics on a Tuesday,' he said.

Geraldine started clearing away the breakfast things. ‘They do if Tuesday is the one day they both happen to be free,' she said.

‘But you go for picnics on a Sunday,' he argued.

‘It could be pouring on Sunday.' She dropped the shells of Charles's boiled eggs in the pedal bin. ‘It's warm and sunny today.'

‘But we haven't planned anything.' He picked up his letter again.

Geraldine ran water into the basin. ‘What's to plan? I'll make a few sandwiches, and we've got cans of stuff in the fridge – that's the whole point of a picnic, isn't it?' She opened the fridge door as she spoke. ‘There's a bottle of wine in there too,' she said.

‘But we don't know where we're going.'

Geraldine closed the fridge. ‘My God, Charles – every sentence you've uttered has started with a but! It's just a picnic – you don't have to book! There are lovely places round here. All these old villages – I don't think I've even been to Byford for about five years. Is the castle still open in October?'

‘I don't know. So let's do it properly, when we can plan our route.' He held up the letter. ‘Max,' he said. ‘He's going to come and talk to Zelda, and Valerie's all for it. So I expect he will come.'

Geraldine took the letter. It would be nice if Max and Valerie came to live in Stansfield. She and Charles had other friends, of course, but they had all married much earlier than they had, and had young families now; they didn't have much opportunity to go out for meals and things the way they used to.

One day she and Charles might be a family. They were trying; they had been trying all along. Geraldine had come off the pill before they were married. But it wasn't happening; they had gone for tests, and were waiting for the results.

Charles wasn't as bothered about it as she was; he still wanted them to set up a practice together, and thought that a baby might make that difficult. But he'd be just as pleased as she would be if she got pregnant, she knew he would be. And a baby wouldn't interfere with his plans. He was doing well with private patients; they could afford a nanny. He had plans for a clinic, for regular checks on people's blood pressure and other vital functions. Get them when they're well and keep them that way, he said.

She hardly ever bought red meat these days. Chicken and fish. She didn't use as much butter as she had … well, if she were to be honest, she used rather more than Charles knew she did. Sauces weren't sauces without butter. She brightened a little. It was a long time since she'd had a dinner party. She gave Charles back the letter, and hoped that the Scotts would come. It could be fun.

Then she looked out at the Indian summer day, and sighed. Charles jogged every morning these days; he had been out in it, at least. But there was obviously to be no picnic.