The Glass Lake (91 page)

“Yes, a little boy, so Lilian was telling me.”

“Super,” Kit said.

“So you've had another row with Clio?”

“This is the last one.”

“Glad to hear that.”

“No, I mean the friendship's over.”

“Kit, you're too old to think that. Friendships are never over.”

“If they weren't ever real they could be,” said Kit.

“Let's get on to happier subjects,” Maura said. “Are you seeing Stevie tonight?”

“I don't know,” Kit said truthfully. The arrangement had been that if he was able to he would call to the flat at eight. She didn't know whether she wanted to see him or not.

“Well, if you do, will you give him a message?”

“Hold on.” Kit got out a notebook. “Fire ahead, Maura.”

“He's to ring this guesthouse in London…”

“What?”

“No, it's not about a bill, I asked. But the woman was tight as anything, she wouldn't tell me. She wants him to ring her at this number…”

“I think I have the number,” Kit said.

“Let me give it to you anyway. It's Ivy Brown, and this is the London number.”

Ivy. Kit leaned against the side of the phone box. There must be something wrong with Lena. And it must be very bad if they asked Stevie to ring. Kit felt very weak indeed. What could have happened?

Wouldn't it be great to have enough money to make a call to London from a phone box just like that. Instead of keeping the coins aside for a couple of days to ring Lough Glass. She couldn't wait until eight o'clock, it was only six-fifteen now. She would go and borrow the money from someone.

As she left the phone box she saw Stevie's car pull up. He opened the boot and took out his good jacket. He often drove in his old one, he said, for comfort. Imagine, he still wanted to look good for her.

“Vain peacock,” she said, remembering the stories of Louis Gray's jackets hanging in Lena's cupboard. But she needed him now. She went over to him before he had put his old jacket away.

“You caught me,” he said.

“That's not something you'd mind being caught at, surely?”

“What's wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You sound as if there was a list of other crimes I would mind being caught at,” he said.

“Aren't there?” she asked.

“No there aren't, as it happens. What's wrong? You're white as a sheet.”

She told him about the call. “It must be a message, a code.”

“I'll ring,” he said. “Do you want to come into the box.”

“No.” She drew away from him. She didn't want the intimacy of the phone box, both of them pressed up together.

“All right so.”

She saw him talking on the phone for a while then hanging up and being phoned back. Whatever it was it must be serious. She walked around by the box, but his face didn't look shocked or distressed as it would if it was the news of an illness or an accident. He seemed very angry.

She opened the door of the phone box tentatively. She heard him say “…no, no. I won't tell her until it's sorted out. I quite understand. Yes, you can trust me. I'll ring you tomorrow. Good-bye.”

Then he came out.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Your mother's fine. I was talking to her, she's in perfect health and sounds very calm. She had something she wants me to sort out for her and I'm going to do it. But it's not something she wants you involved in.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Well that's odd. If you told me something like that I'd believe you.”

“I can't trust you an inch,” she shouted at him. “This is some other devious thing. You've used my mother in some awful way to give yourself a cover story.”

“Kit, you're going mad,” he said in a matter-of-fact way. “You gave me the message, I rang the number, this is the way it's turned out. I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yes you do, it's about last Wednesday. You want her to cover for you.”

“Wednesday?” He seemed genuinely bewildered.

“Wednesday. Someone's told you the story was blown so you're hatching some deal with her because you think she likes you.”

“She does like me, I hope. And she certainly trusts me.”

“Stevie, you're a liar.”

“No,” he said quite simply, “I'm not.” They stood for a long time looking at each other. “Now, I'm not going to walk off on you over some misunderstanding. But I think you're too angry to explain it to me…so what will we do, where would you like us to go?”

“I'd like you to go to hell,” Kit said.

“Why, why do you say that?”

“Because I'm my mother's daughter, certainly, but I'm not going to put up with all she put up with in her life. And it's better you understand this now, than years down the line.”

“I have to go and do something now. Do something for your mother. I'd like to come back and talk to you.”

“You'll come back to a locked door,” Kit said.

“She particularly asked me to keep you out of it, but if you want to check up on me and add further grief and problems to her you can always telephone her yourself and check I'm telling you the truth. But then, what's the point?”

“What indeed?” Kit asked.

“I mean, if you don't believe me and have to check up on me you probably won't believe her, so save your money.” He got into his car and drove off very fast indeed.

She was awake for a very long time but he didn't come to the flat. He left no note, no message.

She was red-eyed when the morning came at last.

She met Philip in the college. “Have you a cold, Kit? How are you?”

“A bit of a one, how are you?”

“Fine. Overworked. We have six tours booked in this summer. Kit, you wouldn't come and work in the hotel, would you? Have you a placement yet?”

“I don't know, Philip. This isn't a good day to ask.”

“I'll have to know someday soon,” he said.

“End of the week,” she promised.

“Oh, and Kit, Clio was looking for you.”

“When?”

“Just before I left my flat. She said if I saw you to ask you to ring her. It was very urgent.”

“It always is with her,” Kit said. “She probably wants someone to pass her a handkerchief.”

At noon Kit came out of a lecture room and saw Clio sitting in the hall. “Aren't you afraid you'll get germs, coming so far from your part of fashionable Dublin?” Kit said.

Clio was snow white. “It was all my fault, Kit. I just said that to get even with you.”

“Said what?”

“About Stevie being at the party. He wasn't. I just made it up because you looked so smug.”

“So all right. Thanks for telling me now anyway.”

Kit's eyes were dancing, her heart was high. She should have known all the time that it was Clio's mean spirit. That Stevie wasn't telling her lies. Then she thought of last night's conversation at the phone box and shivered.

Clio was still looking at her.

“You needn't have come the whole way just to tell me,” Kit said.

“But I had to. After what happened.”

“What happened?”

“Stevie. He went up to the hotel and beat the living daylights out of Louis, he's lost three teeth and he has a broken jaw.”

“What?”

“He's in hospital. Mary Paula is nearly out of her mind. The christening is next week and Louis looks like something you'd pick up on the docks after closing time.”

“But why did Stevie do that?”

“I suppose he thought it was Louis that told you he was at the party.”

“I never mentioned the party to Stevie.”

“Well, someone else must have told him that Louis said it. Why else would he have gone to beat him up? Jesus, I'm so sorry, Kit. What awful things are happening these days.”

         

Lena had a lot to sort out. There was a message from Manchester. They hadn't known that there was an escort agency upstairs. People were getting the two agencies confused. It needed someone with huge diplomacy and even the cash to resettle the escort agency somewhere else and take over its premises. She would come up and see to it herself.

In the afternoon Louis rang. “I see you haven't put my name on the blacklist yet. I got straight through.”

“What's happened to your voice, Louis? You sound different.”

“As if you didn't know. You sent a thug to beat me up.”

“No I didn't. I sent a friend to reason with you.”

“He broke my jaw, I have a black eye and three teeth knocked out. I'm going to look a sight at the christening.”

“That's hard luck.”

“No, it's not hard luck, it's bad news for you. I'm going to sue him, and I'm going to explain in an open court why I'm doing it. The fellow has plenty of money, and of course you'll cough up if the award is bigger than we think.”

Lena laughed. “You'd never do that. Throw away all you've got? A cushy job, a young wife and baby…You won't let them know you've been shacked up with someone who ran away from her husband and children. No, I know you well enough to know you're bluffing.”

“I might have been until you sent the prize-fighter in. Now everything's gone already. I've nothing to lose. Any credibility I have is gone. I am going down, but I'm taking you with me. I just wanted you to know that, in case you're having the luxury of sleeping well.”

“I don't believe you, and from now on you
are
on the blacklist. You'll never make a call to me again.”

“No, but you'll sure hear about me and what I've done to you, Helen McMahon.”

         

“Don't go tonight,” Jessie said. “You've had a long day.”

“No, the sooner I'm there the better it'll be.”

“Take the train, then, you can sleep on it.”

“I'll need the car when I'm there.” Lena had bought a Volkswagen Beetle on Stevie's advice. It had never let her down and she found it invaluable. “I quite like being wrapped up in the car on my own, it's a little world that's different. I can think things out.”

“Don't think too hard,” Jessie said, “and do pull in if you're tired. Manchester's a long way.”

         

“Oh, go in the morning,” Ivy said.

“Nonsense. Lovely long nights. It'll be daylight most of the way,” Lena said.

“Take a flask of coffee. I'll make it in two minutes while you're packing your overnight bag.”

“Right. Wait'll I get a little flat of my own there, and I won't have to pack a bag.”

“Talk about the jet set,” said Ivy.

         

She was well out on the A6 when she got that feeling, the one she had that time after New Year's Eve, when nothing felt real, and the floor seemed very far away and sounds were distorted. It went with a tightness in the chest, a fear she was going to faint or fall.

But this was idiotic. Here she was in her car, going at a perfectly normal speed. Should she pull in? She saw a place that was suitable and drew in to the side of the road. She sipped her coffee and then got out to stretch her legs. But that odd sensation returned of the ground being at a peculiar angle. She held the car to steady herself. Louis's face was everywhere around her, and his voice. “I've got nothing to lose. I'll bring you down with me, Helen McMahon.”

She couldn't drive like this. But she couldn't stay here either. She should get back into the car. The seat and steering wheel would support her and it was just her mind playing tricks on her. After a while she moved out into the stream of cars heading north. She forced herself to think about the premises in Manchester. How had they not checked the other offices? Perhaps it was called something so respectable that no one would ever have known until the situation became apparent.

People had their lights on now. The road was shiny, it must have been wet, must have been raining here. Louis's face was coming back again. She couldn't imagine it as it was now, bruised, injured, teeth missing. She had asked Stevie to threaten him. Not to hit him. Perhaps she had not explained properly. But there it was again. His face, handsome, petulant, impatient, the way he was when he didn't get what he wanted.

“Get out of here, Louis,” she said aloud.

“I've nothing to lose now,” Louis said. “I'll bring you down with me, you'll be sorry you didn't listen to me. I've nothing to lose.”

There was a huge truck. The lights of a truck and a terrible shattering of glass and…

Then there was nothing.

         

Peggy Forbes expected a call as soon as Lena checked into the hotel. It would be eleven p.m. at the latest. By midnight she was worried.

The hotel was also annoyed. “We could have given her room away several times,” they said.

“I think the main thing is to find out whether Mrs. Gray has had an accident rather than concentrating on room occupancy,” Peggy Forbes said.

They were very apologetic.