‘Sometimes I used to stand on the railway line and think, Welshpool is only an hour away. I am no more than an hour from the love of the brother I have wronged. But really I knew the distance between us was unbridgeable, or so I thought until the Lord blessed this day.’
I extricated myself and stood up. ‘Tell us about the alien, we’re all agog. Is it true she wanted to make love to you?’
‘She did, but I’m afraid she was in for a bit of a disappointment.’ He stared up with a sheepish look. ‘You know how it is first time with a girl. We all brag about it down the pub, don’t we? But when it comes down to brass tacks . . . well, it’s not the same. Especially if the girl is experienced. To tell you the truth, Rhys, I can’t do it unless I’m pissed. It’s different then, isn’t it? And then doing it on a table inside the saucer . . . it felt all wrong, sort of clinical. She was ever so nice about it, she said I shouldn’t worry because she’d done this loads of times, but that’s what worries you, isn’t it? I mean, I wasn’t expecting her to tell me I was the first, but we like our little illusions, don’t we? And there was another thing: the table was in the centre of the room and there were two other blokes, aliens like, operating a console set against the wall and looking over their shoulders at us and then flicking buttons and levers on the console, and it was almost like she was responding to their inputs. She said, “Please don’t worry, earth-man, your semen will be safe with me.” And then she looked confused and asked what was wrong, and I asked, like, if she had any music and she said she would sing to me and bugger me if she didn’t! “Myfanwy” she sang. Quite good, too, but it wasn’t what I had in mind. The mood was all wrong, you see. Then the blokes on the console pressed a red button and she told me she loved me and couldn’t bear to be apart from me. It still didn’t do any good and so then she cried and said this had never happened to her before. Then I woke up sitting in the car, and twelve hours had passed.’
‘In the papers it says you couldn’t remember much about it,’ said Calamity.
‘I told the press I couldn’t, but I was lying wasn’t I? I’m hardly going to tell them the truth now, am I? It’s bad enough all me mates laughing down the pub as it is. Imagine it if I told them I couldn’t perform!’
‘We heard they asked about Iestyn Probert,’ I said.
‘They did, and I told them the Proberts are not from round here, they used to live over at Ystumtuen, but they’ve moved. I didn’t say they hanged Iestyn because it didn’t seem nice if they were friends of his.’
‘Maybe they told you lots of interesting things but you can’t remember them,’ said Calamity hopefully.
‘Maybe they did, but if I can’t remember them, they’re not much use to me, are they?’
‘We were wondering, maybe you should be hypnotised to stop you getting nightmares.’
‘I’m not getting nightmares.’
‘But you will,’ lied Calamity. ‘They always do. We could arrange a hypnotism session to straighten you out. You know Mrs Bwlchgwallter from Ginger Nutters? She could do it. I mean, you must be curious to find out what happened.’
‘Not really, to tell you the truth.’
Chapter 8
Refugees from caravan sites shuffled through the town, glistening and torpid in the wet, not so much a drizzle as a tingling miasma of rain. The damp seeped up through my bones and made the climb up the stairs to the office feel more difficult, as if gravity had increased.
The window had been left ajar and rain formed a pool on the windowsill. Calamity had put newspaper down to soak up the puddle. The rooftops of the town looked like they had been varnished. The phone had been replaced and was ringing as I entered. I picked it up.
‘This is Mrs Lewis.’
‘Hello Mrs Lewis.’
‘You remember me? From Laura Place.’
‘The doctor’s housekeeper! How is he today?’
‘Never mind that. I have something that might interest you.’
‘Really?’
‘Information that might be useful to your case.’
‘What case is this?’
‘Don’t get fresh with me, Mr Knight. The whole town knows you are a private detective.’
‘I expect they do; it’s not a secret.’
‘I haven’t got much time; the doctor is taking his afternoon nap but he is easily roused. Listen very carefully. The price will be ?25. Cash would be preferable, but I will accept a personal cheque drawn on an account bearing your name.’
‘What about a postal order?’
She hesitated. ‘That’s a bit troublesome, but I expect . . . oh I see. That was a wisecrack, wasn’t it? I was warned to expect this sort of flippancy.’
‘I’m not sure if it counts as a wisecrack.’
‘Mr Knight, do you want the information or not?’
‘Tell me what it is.’
‘You must think I’m daft. If I tell you what it is you won’t have to pay for it.’
‘But how can I pay for it if I don’t know what it is?’
I could sense a growing exasperation. ‘B . . . but you . . . you always pay for your information, don’t you?’
‘Not always. Sometimes people give it to me for free, although that happens less and less these days. Usually when I pay it’s for something I want and I know the party has but doesn’t want to give me.’
‘But that’s me.’
‘Yes, but I don’t know what you’ve got.’
‘It’s about the matter you were discussing with the doctor.’
‘And what was that?’
‘As if you didn’t know.’
‘Oh, I know all right; I was just wondering how you knew. You weren’t there.’
‘It’s possible I may have overheard some of your conversation with your girl while I was waiting for the kettle to boil.’
‘That can happen.’
‘Sometimes words carry –’
‘I’ve noticed that. Especially through keyholes. It’s something to do with the acoustics in old houses . . . Aberystwyth is famous for it.’
‘Such impertinence!’
‘Just tell me what you’ve got, and I can warn you now it won’t be worth ?25. Maybe a tenner if it’s really good.’
‘Fifteen pounds is my final offer.’
‘OK, twelve if I really like it. That’s
‘It’s about someone called Iestyn Probert.’
‘What about him?’
‘He came to see the doctor the night the boys robbed the Coliseum cinema.’
I tightened my grip on the phone; it was almost as if she had sent an electric jolt along the line. Mrs Lewis cackled like a witch discussing holiday plans with her familiar. ‘Ha ha! You’re not so cocky now, are you, Mr Big Shot Wise-Cracking Snooper.’
I said nothing, waited for the moment of cheap triumphalism to pass. It took a while.
‘Oh yes, not so cocky now, are we?’
‘That’s very interesting.’
‘More than interesting, I’d say, wouldn’t you? I was surprised, you see, they never mentioned it in the papers.’
‘Yes, I can see why that would surprise you.’
‘Fifteen pound.’
‘It’s not that interesting,’ I lied.
