she was expecting it. Maybe this defiant I'll-do-it-my-way attitude had colored her approach to Jeannie Plowright.

I'll do it my way! Odd choice of song for an advanced feminist.

Bit like Marie Antoinette comforting herself by whistling the 'Marseillaise!'

That made her smile away the remnants of her resentment and she went in search of a phone, humming Ol' Blue Balls' hymn.

Through to Danby section office, she asked for Wield and when he came on, she reported the interview crisply, using lessons learned from his book.

'So what do I do now, Sarge?' she asked when she'd finished.

He hesitated, then said, 'Well, the super's in with Turnbull at the moment…'

'Anything happening there?' she asked.

'Not a lot,' said Wield. 'When the clock stops ticking, I reckon he'll walk free. Look, I think you should follow this thing up, even if it's just to make sure it's a cold trail. I'll clear it with Sheffield so's you don't get arrested for impersonating a police officer.'

'If you say so, Sarge,' she said despondently.

'Believe me, I wish I were coming with you,' said Wield. 'This isn't going to be a good place to be when Geordie heads for home.'

Was he just being kind? she asked herself as she got into her car. Or did he mean it?

Bit of both, she guessed.

But she couldn't rid herself of the feeling that she was moving away from the real center of things as she headed south.

Peter Pascoe had watched the sun rise from the roof of the hospital.

'Okay,' he said, applauding slowly. 'You're so fucking clever, let's see what you can do for my daughter.'

He heard a noise behind him and turned to see Jill Purlingstone sitting on the parapet, leaning back against the antisuicide mesh, smoking a cigarette. He guessed she'd deliberately shuffled her feet or something to let him know he was overheard. Not that he gave a toss.

He said, 'Looks like being a nice day.'

She said, 'In our house, the wet days are the nice ones.'

She looked totally wrecked.

He said, 'Didn't know you smoked.'

'I gave up when I found I was pregnant.'

Superstitiously, he thought, Then this is a bad time to start again.

She said defensively as if he'd spoken, 'I need something, and getting smashed didn't seem a good idea.'

'It has its attractions, though,' said Pascoe.

He liked Jill. She was so determinedly down to earth in face of all temptations to soar. She and her husband came from the same lower-middle-class background, but their newfound wealth (no myth this; the salaries and share options of all the MY Water directors had been frequently listed in the local press in various articles critical of their performance) had changed her very little. Derek Purlingstone, on the other hand, had recreated himself, either deliberately or instinctively, and was now a perfect son-of-privilege clone.

Pascoe, Ellie, and Jill had spent the night at the hospital. There was a limited supply of 'guest' beds, and the pressure had been for the men to go home, the women to stay. Purlingstone had let himself be persuaded. Pascoe hadn't even listened. 'No,' he'd said, and walked away.

'Sunday was such a nice day,' said Jill. 'You know, one of those perfect days.'

Why the hell was she talking about Sunday? wondered Pascoe. Then he got it and wished he hadn't. She was looking for fragments to shore against her ruin, and Sunday, the last day before the illness struck, was being retouched into a picture of perfection.

'Everything went so right, you know how it sometimes does,' she continued, after she'd lit a cigarette from her old one. 'We got up early, packed the car, I was setting the table for breakfast when Derek said, 'No, don't bother with that, we'll eat on the way,' so we just chucked everything in, milk, cornflakes, orange juice, rolls, the lot, and we stopped after a while and had a picnic breakfast, sitting on the grass, and we saw an eagle through Derek's glasses, well, it wasn't an eagle really, Derek said it was a peregrine but the girls were so excited at seeing an eagle it seemed a shame to disillusion them, and you could see for miles, miles, I'd have been happy just to spend the whole day there, but the others were so keen to get on, and they were right, we hardly saw any traffic along the back roads and we got this lovely spot in the dunes-'

'I think I'd better head back,' said Pascoe. 'Let Ellie take a rest.'

He saw from her face he'd been more abrupt than he intended, but he couldn't stand here letting a watch over the living turn into a wake for the dead.

Or was it just that this day she was reshaping was a day he had no part in? How far back would he need to go in search of such a perfect day, a day he had spent entirely with his family without any interruption of work? Or why blame work? Interruption from himself, his own preoccupations, his own hang-ups? In fact even when he was with Rosie, was most enjoying her company, wasn't there something of selfishness even in that, a use of her energy and joy as therapy for his own beleaguered mind…?

He raced down the stairs as if running from something. The anger inside which had been his companion for so long now had an object, or rather a twin object-the world in which his daughter could fall so desperately ill, and himself for letting it happen. But there was still no way he could let it out. He reached his right hand in the air, as if it had somehow escaped and he was trying to claw it back inside of him.

A figure was standing on the landing below, looking up at him. Embarrassed, he tried to pretend he was doing a one-armed yawn. Then he saw who it was and stopped bothering.

'Wieldy!' he said. 'What brings you here?'

This was probably the stupidest question he'd ever asked, but it didn't matter because now he had reached the landing and he did not resist as his impetus took him into the other's waiting embrace.

They held on to each other for a long moment, then Wield broke away and said, 'I saw Ellie. She said she thought you'd be up on the roof. Pete, I'm sorry I didn't get here last night…'

'Christ, you must have left last night to get here so early this morning.'

'Yeah, well, I'm an early riser. Ellie says there's no change.'

'No, but there was definitely something last night. Ellie was out of the room and I was talking to Rosie and just for a moment I thought she was going to come out of it… I wasn't imagining it, really I wasn't… she definitely reacted…'

'That's great,' said Wield. 'Listen, everyone's… well, you know. Andy's really cut up.'

'Yes. We spoke on the phone. He sounded… angry. Which was how I felt. Still do. I've been feeling angry for a long time now, you know, a sort of generalized anger at… things. What I had at home was my refuge from that. Now I've got something specific to be angry about, but it's taken my refuge too…' He rubbed his hand over his thin, pale face, and had a sudden certainty that that other Peter Pascoe had made the same gesture as he waited for the light to break for the last time on that gray morning in 1917.

'Pete, listen, I almost didn't come, don't ask me why, it was stupid, I felt scared…'

'That's okay. I hate these places too,' Pascoe assured him.

'No. Look, only reason I'm mentioning it is, now I'm glad. Because I think it will be all right. Since I got here, that's how I've felt. I'd not say it else.'

They stood and looked at each other for a moment, then, embarrassed, looked away.

Pascoe said, 'Thanks, Wieldy. How're things going, anyway-with the case, I mean? Andy said something about you bringing in a possible.'

'Aye. Fellow called Geordie Turnbull. Has a contracting business. If you read the Dendale file, you might recall he was a possible back then too. So, big coincidence, but I doubt if it's going to come to anything this time either.'

'No. Pity,' said Pascoe, unable to drum up a great deal of interest. Then, ashamed, he said, 'Do you know if Andy did anything about my appointment with Jeannie Plowright this morning?'

'Aye. He's put Novello on it.'

Вы читаете On Beulah Height
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату