The Count of Eleven (25 page)

“Sure enough to arrest him.”

The policeman was gazing at her, and for a moment she thought he was going to arrest her too. “I’ve told you everything I know,” she said.

“You may have to tell it in court, Mrs. Orchard.”

The heat of the car and the smell of petrol, which wasn’t as faint as it had initially seemed, were conspiring to make her feel sick. “If you’ve finished with me,” she said, “I could do with some fresh air.”

His hand moved, but not to the lock. He reached inside his jacket for a pen and notebook. “Let me have an address and phone number.”

He might almost have been inviting her to provide false information. Of course she told him the truth, but he didn’t release the lock until he had finished writing. As she stepped onto the pavement she found that her legs were unsteady, and there was more of a smell of petrol outside than inside the car. “I may as well hang about for a while,” she said.

“I wouldn’t advise that, Mrs. Orchard. There won’t be anything for you to do. We’ll let you know if we need you. Thank you for your help.”

Being thanked made her feel as though she had betrayed Luke, though if what she had been told was true, hadn’t Luke betrayed her and the rest of his staff, not to mention his clients? She turned her back on the office and walked to the station as steadily as she could.

A descending lift, the train, New Brighton station. Those consumed forty minutes of her life during which she felt walled in by her thoughts. She pushed past the ticket barrier and ran downhill, crossing the road to avoid Cath Venable;

she wanted to talk only to Jack. His van was still outside the house. She dug her key into the lock of the front door and slammed the door behind her. “Jack, are you here? Jack?”

He appeared from the kitchen, lowering a milk bottle and wiping his lips. “Here I am, love. What’s up?” he said, and amplified that as he saw her. “What’s upset you?”

“The police.”

His frown was so swift she hardly saw it. “Not about Laura again?”

“Not Laura this time.”

He turned away in order to replace the bottle in the refrigerator. “Who, then?” he said, his voice hollowed by the box.

“Luke. He’s been arrested by the Fraud Squad. They’re closing down the business.”

Jack came to her at once, shoving aside the kitchen door so that he walked out of a sudden blaze of sunlight. She knew that he was on his way to comfort her, yet she found his immediate reaction disconcerting. “Not again,” he said aloud to himself with a sigh like an escape of gas.

It might take nothing more than a meeting face to face, Jack told himself. That morning he held his own gaze as he shaved and saw no sign of weakness. “That’s all it takes to get what you want,” he heard Andy Nation saying, ‘looking fierce and sounding as if you mean to get it.” He donned his best suit, then he took it off again; it wouldn’t do to seem too prosperous. He put on one not quite so good and waited for Julia to emerge from the bathroom. “What do you think?” he said. “Am I irresistible?”

“You’ll do.”

“If we’re lucky, you mean?”

“Can’t hurt, can it?”

“Never has.”

“Only, Jack, whatever happens, let’s not care. We’re lucky so long as we have Laura and each other.”

In a way she was right, but it was no longer enough; it hadn’t been since the fire at the shop. “You’re sure you want to come,” he said.

“Any reason why I shouldn’t?”

“Every reason why you should.” He must be careful not to let himself assume he had to act alone when there was no need. He might have to do things which he couldn’t mention to the family because they couldn’t be expected to understand, but he mustn’t let that attitude spill into their everyday life. “Maybe going to see him last time without you was my mistake,” he said as they made for the bank.

As he rang the bell beside the enquiry window he found himself willing someone unfamiliar to answer his summons, but it brought him the same young woman. “We can’t go on meeting like this,” he said, and when she blinked her bluish eyelids at him, “Jack and Julia Orchard for eleven o’clock.”

“You want Mr. Hardy.”

He ought to take care not to sound like his old self. Rather than “You’re darn tootin he said “That’s the man.”

She seemed to be examining his words for hidden meanings as she turned away to fetch the manager. Third time lucky, he told himself, especially since Julia was with him. He squeezed her hand while he watched the minute hand of the clock creep towards the vertical. Just as it pointed at the zenith Mr. Hardy came to the door beside the enquiry window. “Exactly right,” Jack said.

Mr. Hardy gave Julia a polite smile and pursed his lips. “I didn’t catch that, Mr. Orchard.”

“You know my wife.”

“Of course,” the manager said as though Jack had meant it as a sly rebuke, and opened the door of the interview room. “Won’t you step through?”

When Jack and Julia both hesitated he edged towards the doorway. “Please,” Jack said with a magnanimous gesture which might have been indicating Mr. Hardy’s paunch. “I’ll be the back legs,” he said. “I’ll bring up the rear.”

Lord only knew what Jack Awkward might have felt compelled to add, but his new self knew when he’d said enough. He wafted Julia and Mr. Hardy into the interview room and closed the three of them in while the manager, having waited for Julia to seat herself, sat as far forwards as the desk and his paunch would allow. “I hear you’re to be congratulated,” Mr. Hardy said to her.

“About the competition? Thanks.”

‘1 trust your daughter is improving.”

“On the mend,” Julia admitted. “You’re looking well.”

“Fed,” Jack Awkward would probably have added, hoping it would be inaudible, but Jack only took his place on the remaining chair. Anyway, Mr. Hardy, you wanted to see us,” Julia said.

“That is the case.” Mr. Hardy raised a fist in order further to conceal a discreet cough. “Have there been any developments with regard to the employment situation?”

“I’m still out of a job.”

“How permanent is that likely to be?”

“As far as that job goes, very, I’m afraid, which is why I’m looking for another.”

“With any success?”

“So far people don’t seem keen on hiring someone who may have to take time off work to be in court, and I’m restricted by the distance I can travel to work.”

“If the work won’t come to us, Mrs. Orchard, we must go to the work.”

“I appreciate that.”

She sounded anything but appreciative. “Are you suggesting we should move further than we meant to?” Jack said.

“That might seem a solution,” Mr. Hardy said, and collected another cough in his fist. “Unfortunately, it may present a problem.”

“More like several.”

“In the immediate context, your mortgage in particular.”

“What about our mortgage?” Julia said.

“In view of the fact that there is no longer duality of income, I fear we may have to adjust our offer accordingly.”

“What are you saying?” Jack demanded, telling himself there was no need to be rude: knowing what he was capable of should give him the strength to be direct and clear. “You must realise we can’t buy anywhere worthwhile for less than you’re offering.”

“Were offering, Mr. Orchard. I’m afraid we must think in the past tense.”

“A good trick if you can do it, but no use to us.”

Mr. Hardy concentrated on Julia. “I’d hoped to have better news for you, but given what you’ve just told me I fear I have no choice.”

“Everyone has a choice,” Jack said.

“And the bank’s has been made, Mr. Orchard.”

“Banks don’t make choices, people do,” Julia protested. The house is too small for the three of us now. What are we supposed to do?”

“I trust you will be able to make the best of it until your situation improves.”

“That isn’t good enough,” Jack said, holding his voice steady despite the blaze of images which filled his head, Mr. Hardy dancing wildly as the firemen fell over their hoses. “Maybe we should think of moving banks before we move house.”

‘1 doubt that any other bank would welcome your account in its current state.”

“So you think you can do what you like with us.”

“I don’t think there’s any need to go that far,” Mr. Hardy said, bumping the desk with his paunch.

“I’ll go as far as I have to,” Jack said, feeling as though at any moment he might begin to hear music to accompany the ritual fire dance in his skull. “Suppose I take up your attitude with your head office?”

That’s your privilege, Mr. Orchard, but I’m afraid ‘

“Privilege my sphincter. The bank’s been happy enough to have our custom over the years. Your predecessor certainly was.”

“My happiness isn’t at issue, Mr. Orchard.”

Jack heard him say ‘atishoo’, but it wasn’t worth a joke. “That’s right. Ours and our daughter’s is. And keeping your customers happy is part of your job.”

“Not at the bank’s expense.”

“The bank can stand the strain better than we can.”

Julia reached for Jack as if she wasn’t seeing too well and gripped his hand. “We’d better go.”

“Let’s be clear first,” Jack said, and slipping his hand out of hers, stood up and leaned on Mr. Hardy’s desk. “We’ve done everything we can and despite that you’re refusing to help us.”

“Please take your hands off my desk, Mr. Orchard.”

“Where do you think I should put them?” Jack was looking at Mr. Hardy’s fat throat, which seemed to squirm like a grub. ‘1 don’t like to see my family kicked while they’re down.”

“If you think such language will achieve something, Mr. Orchard ‘

“I was hoping language would.” Jack lifted his hands from the desk. Mr. Hardy rocked backwards so as to get up, and Jack saw the manager shrinking from him, saw how a push would send the man sprawling. It would only upset Julia. “I expect to hear from you soon,” he said.

Mr. Hardy pressed his lips together so hard they turned white, and held the door open. “I’m sorry not to have been able to offer more in the way of encouragement,” he said as Julia came abreast of him.

She said nothing until she was out on the street, blinking rapidly as if she had sand in her eyes. “We did our best.”

She was asking for at least that reassurance, but Jack knew he hadn’t even begun. How much more did he intend to let her and Laura suffer before he did what was necessary? Did he always need a dose of bad luck to spur him into action? Prevention was better than cure, and the family had been through enough. “Don’t tell Laura anything until we’ve been to the top,” he said.

He could see that Julia wanted to believe that would work. Of course it wouldn’t by itself, but he could hardly say so to her. He left early for work and drove towards Seacombe, along the street full of charity shops and second-hand stores, and bought an old pram which he hid in the back of the van.

On Monday Jack phoned home after work. “Who is it?” Laura said.

“Don’t speak so loud, I’m in the library.”

“Have you got to be quiet?”

“As an egg.”

“What are you doing?”

“Watching people turn tomes into notes.” When she didn’t respond he said “See if you can do that in eleven moves.”

“Oh, Dad, not another puzzle.”

“We’re living one, aren’t we? By the way, if you ever need me to look up anything for your homework while I’m here, just ring. I’ll take notes and tote the tome notes home.”

His amusement, which felt like utter freedom and which had been gathering for hours, was threatening to overwhelm him. A man whose broad red face was half-concealed by a moustache and sideboards glanced at him over a rampart of law books that occupied most of one side of a table. “How’s your day been?” Jack said. “How was cycling to school?”

“Lovely. My new bike is. I take off the back wheel and chain it on the front so nobody can steal it when I leave it.”

She was learning about the world. That made him feel nostalgic for her innocence, but also safer. “Mummy wants to talk to you,” she said.

“She has my ear.” When Laura giggled he said “Tell her to return it when she’s finished with it.”

After a brief muffled dialogue, Julia took her place. “Had a decent day?” he said.

“Sorting out what’s been lurking around the house. I’ve thrown some old clothes of yours on the bed for you to say goodbye to before they go to anyone who’ll have them.”

“I’ll take them in the van. There’s nothing urgent waiting, is there?”

“Only …” She let out a breath as though she hadn’t the energy to turn it into words. “Not waiting, no.”

“What were you going to say?”

“Just that the old couple whose house we looked at by the river wanted to know if we’d sold ours.”

“The Woolidges? Did you tell them we were still trying?”

“It wouldn’t have been fair, Jack. Someone else has made them a definite offer.”

Jack grinned so furiously that the hirsute student looked down at his notes. “Does Laura know?”

“I thought I’d better tell her.”

“How’s she taking it?”

“She understands.”

Jack clenched his teeth. He ought to go home to the family, but mustn’t he already have allowed their luck to worsen by delaying what he had to do? “Why were you ringing?” Julia said.

He couldn’t think of any explanation other than the one he had already concocted. “I was going to say I’ll be home late, but now …”

“We don’t mind waiting if there’s a good reason.”

“Only that I’ve met someone I used to work with and we were planning to go out for a couple of pints.”

“What, now?”

“That was the idea.”

“How long will you be?”

“Say a couple of hours. Less if you prefer.”

“It isn’t up to me, Jack.”

“We’ll say two hours, then.”

“If you’re not back we’ll start dinner without you,” Julia said in a tone which suggested she didn’t care either way. He would have to bear her low opinion of him, and surely she would forget the incident once their luck improved. “You and me and Laura will go out one evening as soon as we’ve something to celebrate,” he said, hoping she would catch his optimism. “I won’t be any longer than I have to be,” he told the empty receiver, and saying goodbye to his colleagues, made for the van.