The Terrible Privacy Of Maxwell Sim

‘Practised what?’ I asked. It was so long ago now, I couldn’t even remember what Alison had been studying.

‘Psychology,’ said Mr Byrne. ‘She always wanted to be a therapist.’

This rang a distant bell. But it only served to remind me that, when all was said and done, I barely knew Alison, and had precious little shared history with her. Did I really want to spend the whole of Wednesday evening having dinner with a virtual stranger? Well, it was too late to backtrack now. Mr and Mrs Byrne were both completely sold on the idea – one of them, apparently, for weird sentimental reasons, and the other because he was itching to get shot of this cardboard box.

‘There you are – takes up no space at all,’ I said a few minutes later, lifting it carefully into the boot of the Prius. My suitcase and laptop were back at the hotel, so the only other items in the boot were two small boxes of toothbrush samples. Mrs Byrne had come out to see me off. The night was chilly and our breath steamed in the air as we stood on the front drive. I said goodbye hastily – almost rudely, perhaps – partly because I didn’t want her to catch cold, but mainly because I can’t be doing with protracted farewells. Just as I had climbed into the car and was about to start it, though, Mr Byrne came running out of the house.

‘Don’t forget these!’ he said, holding up the set of keys to my father’s flat.

Somehow I had managed to leave them inside. I wound down the window and took them from him.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘That was a close one.’

‘Are you sure those are the right keys?’ Mrs Byrne asked.

‘Of course they are,’ said Mr Byrne.

‘They don’t look like the keys to Harold’s flat to me.’

Her husband ignored her. ‘Look after them,’ he told me. ‘It’s the only set.’

‘No it isn’t,’ said his wife.

He turned back to her and sighed. ‘Pardon?’

‘I said it’s not the only set. Miss Erith has one.’

‘Miss Erith? What are you talking about? Who’s Miss Erith?’

‘The old lady who lives in the flat opposite. She has a set of keys. She still collects the post, doesn’t she? You know – all those postcards.’

‘Postcards? You’re talking nonsense.’

‘I am not talking nonsense. He still gets dozens of postcards every year, all from the same man.’ She leaned down through the window and said to me, ‘I know what I’m talking about, even if he doesn’t. Ignore him. Have a lovely evening with your daughter tomorrow. And give our love to Alison, won’t you.’

‘Not just our love – those papers as well!’ said Mr Byrne. ‘Don’t forget those papers! Don’t let her fob you off.’

‘I won’t.’

‘And thanks for the toothbrushes!’

‘Not at all. Thanks for the tea.’

I waved goodbye and closed the window before they had the chance to say anything else. Otherwise we could have been there all night. Talking to them was beginning to wear me out, frankly – especially Mrs Byrne, who I was beginning to think might be getting a little eccentric. Her remark about postcards seemed very peculiar, for one thing. It seemed highly unlikely that anybody would still be sending postcards to my father in Lichfield, after he had been away for more than twenty years.

So – now where?

I drove into the centre of town first of all. I had Emma to keep me company, of course, but I hadn’t given her a new destination to find so she thought we were still going to Mr and Mrs Byrne’s house and her directions were rather confused. I didn’t mind. I was happy just listening to her voice.

Birmingham had changed a lot since I’d last been there. So many new buildings had gone up – shopping malls, most of them – that I couldn’t get my bearings half of the time. Eventually I found a multi-storey car park and then walked up to the new development of shops and cafes in the old canal basin. There were quite a few restaurants whose names I didn’t recognize but in the end I went to Pizza Express because it felt familiar and comforting. You always know where you are with Pizza Express.

The restaurant was busy. Everyone looked about twenty years younger than me and as usual I felt self- conscious sitting there eating by myself. I’d brought nothing to read, so I took out my mobile phone and while I was waiting for my pizza I sent a text message to Trevor. He called me back a few seconds later, using the hands-free set we had all been given to use in our cars, but which I hadn’t got around to setting up yet. The accoustics in the restaurant were pretty bad so it was hard to hear what he was saying, but I gathered that he was only about half an hour away from Penzance already, and he seemed very amused to hear that I had only got as far as Birmingham. ‘Ah well,’ he said, before we lost reception altogether, ‘as long as you’re enjoying yourself.’

I’m not sure that I was enjoying myself, exactly. When I left the restaurant it was about eight-thirty and I found a quiet corner beside one of the canals in order to make my phone call to Lindsay – the treat I had been promising myself for the last few hours. But she didn’t answer. I left a message but maybe she didn’t get it because for some reason I never heard from her that evening.

Of course I could have driven up to Lichfield there and then, stayed the night in my father’s flat and saved Guest Toothbrushes the price of a night’s hotel accommodation. But I had a feeling that visiting my father’s flat wasn’t going to be the most cheering of experiences. I thought it was probably best to see it in the daylight. Meanwhile there was nothing much else to do but drive back to the Quality Hotel Premier Inn, and watch TV or maybe (on my laptop) the DVD of Deep Water which Clive had given to me.

On my way there, I must say, Emma and I got on famously. Especially when, as we approached the roundabout at Holloway Circus, I thought it would be funny if I tried to confuse her by driving round and round in a circle. What a laugh! ‘Next left,’ she kept saying. ‘Next left. Next left.’ Over and over, at shorter and shorter intervals, as I sped up and whizzed round the roundabout one more time. I still couldn’t get a rise out of her, though. However fast I went, however many circuits I completed, she never lost her