“Nothing for me this time,” Jenny said. “I’ll have to be off soon.” She still had over half her drink left.
Feeling a little light-headed, Banks went to the bar.
” ‘Ave you told him?” Cyril asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. I just hope he knows what’s best for him. Look at the bugger, he can’t keep his hands off them.”
Banks looked around. Dirty Dick seemed to have edged closer to Jenny, and his elbow rested on the back of her chair. She was behaving very calmly, Banks thought. It wasn’t like her to take such sexist patronizing so well. Maybe she fancies him, he thought suddenly. If Glenys does, then maybe Jenny does, too.
Perhaps he really does have the magic touch with women. At least he’s available.
And he’s handsome enough, too. That casual look-the worn leather jacket, open-neck shirt-it suits him, as do the touches of grey hair at his temples.
Banks brushed the idea aside. It was ridiculous. Jenny was an intelligent, tasteful woman. A woman like her could never fall for Dirty Dick’s brazen charm.
But women were a mysterious lot, Banks thought glumly, carrying the drinks back.
They were always falling for worthless men. He clearly recalled the beautiful Anita Howarth, object of his adolescent lust back in the third form. She had been quite oblivious to Banks’s lean good looks and taken up with that spotty, good-for-nothing Steve Naylor. And Naylor hadn’t seemed to give a damn about her. He gave the impression he would rather be playing cricket or rugby than go anywhere with Anita. But that just made her more crazy about him. And Banks had had to spend all his time fending off unwelcome advances from Cheryl Wagstaff, the one with the yellow buck teeth.
“I was just offering to show this lovely young lady the sights of London,”
Burgess said.
154
“I’m sure she’s seen them before,” Banks replied stiffly.
“Not the way I’d show her.” Burgess moved his arm so that his hand rested on Jenny’s shoulder.
Banks was wondering if he should act gallantly this time and defend Jenny’s honour. After all, they were sort of off duty. But he remembered she was quite good at taking care of herself. Her face took on an ominously sweet expression.
“Please take your hand off my shoulder, Superintendent,” she said.
“Oh, come on, love,” Burgess said. “Don’t be so shy. And call me Dick.”
“Please?”
“Give me a chance. We’ve hardly even got-“
Burgess stopped abruptly when Jenny calmly and slowly picked up her glass and poured the rest of her chilled lager on his lap.
“I told you I only wanted a half,” she said, then picked up her coat and left.
Burgess rushed for the gents. Luckily, Jenny had acted so naturally, and everyone around them had been so engrossed in conversation, that the event had gone largely unnoticed. Cyril had seen it, though, and his face was red with laughter.
Banks caught up with Jenny outside. She was leaning against the ancient, pitted market cross in the centre of the square with her hand over her mouth. “My God,”
she said, letting the laughter out and patting her chest, “I haven’t had as much fun in years. That man’s a positive throwback. I’m surprised you seem to be enjoying his company so much.”
“He’s not so bad,” Banks said. “Especially after a few jars.”
“Yes, you’d need to be at least half-pissed. And you’d need to be a man, too.
You’re all locker-room adolescents when it comes down to it.”
“He’s got quite a reputation as a womanizer.”
“They must be desperate down south, then.”
Banks’s faith in women was partially restored.
It was cold outside in the deserted square. The cobbles, still wet with rain, glistened in the dim gaslight. The church bells rang half-past nine. Banks turned up his jacket collar
155
and held the lapels close together. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”
“It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter now.”
“Come on, Jenny, you’re hiding something. You’re not good at it. Is it to do with Paul Boyd?”
“Indirectly. But I told you, it doesn’t matter.”
“Do you know why he ran away?”
“Of course not.”
“Look, I know you’re a friend of Mara’s. Is this to do with her? It could be important.”
