had much experience of business, have you?”
“No, but – ”
“So why don’t I just lock up. I know a nice cafe down by the river, Gerald’s. We can talk there.”
He knew he should protest, that he really should see those books, but he followed her weakly out of the shop, and then to her car. She drove off competently and they went to Gerald’s, which was down on the riverside just below the Mayor Bridge.
Melissa found them a table in the cafe garden beside the river. “Let’s not talk business until we have tea.”
She was wearing a silky dress of peacock colours. She chatted about a film she had seen the night before as she poured tea and ate cream cakes. “Now, my little businessman,” she said, throwing a flirtatious look at Fell, “are you ready to come in with me?”
Fell clasped his hands together and looked at her beseechingly. “The fact is, Melissa, that I discussed your proposition with my lawyer and he says your business is in financial difficulties.”
“You didn’t trust me? Really, Fell, you are no gentleman.”
“If you are not in financial difficulties, then there is no problem,” said Fell. “We will take your accounts round to my lawyer.”
She put a hand over his clasped hands and said beseechingly. “Look, Fell, I’ll come clean with you. I have had a certain amount of difficulty, but I feel I am turning the corner.” Her thumb stroked his wrist. “With your investment, I could expand.”
Just then the sun slid from behind the trees on the opposite side of the river and cast a merciless light on Melissa’s face. He saw for the first time the wrinkles at the sides of her mouth, the pouches under her eyes, and above all, the calculating avarice in those eyes.
But he still wanted his dream back and said, “I have a proposition to put to you.”
“This is so sudden!”
“Seriously.” He outlined his idea of buying the lease, of the bookshop.
Melissa laughed. “My dear boy, it’s obvious you’ve spent your life waiting table. Do you think any of the cloth-heads in this little burg are going to flock to a
Fell drew his hands away and then stood up. “I have to get back to Maggie,” he said.
“Oh, your little friend. I’ll drive you back.”
“I’d rather walk.”
Fell turned and strode away. He could hear her calling to him, but he walked on.
¦
He walked and walked in the heat, trying to walk his misery away. He felt like a wimp, like a naive fool. He did not get home until half past eight. Maggie called down the stairs, “Is that you, Fell?”
“Yes.”
“I left some quiche and salad in the kitchen for you.”
“Thanks.”
Fell was sitting at the table, staring at an untouched plate of food, when Maggie came into the kitchen. He looked up. She was wearing the green chiffon dress and high heels. Her hair shone and her green eyes looked large and luminous behind the new contact lenses.
Fell tried to smile. “You look much too good to be going out with Peter,” he said.
“I shouldn’t be too late. You look awful. What have you been up to?”
“Just walking. Walking too long in the heat. Don’t worry about me.”
She hesitated and then she said, “I’m off, then.”
“Have fun.”
Maggie went reluctantly.
Fell had looked so shattered, she longed to stay with him. She walked through the evening streets to the Red Lion. Peter was already there and she saw from his flushed face and bright watery eyes that he had already been drinking. He rose and tried to kiss her on the lips, but Maggie quickly turned her face so that a wet kiss landed on her cheek. “What’ll you have?” asked Peter.
“Just orange juice,” said Maggie, hoping that her choice of a non-alcoholic drink would slow him down. But he returned with an orange juice for her and a suspiciously dark glass of whisky for himself.
¦
Fell found he was waiting and waiting for Maggie to come home. It was nearly midnight. At last he could not bear the stuffiness and silence of the little house where the ghosts of Mr. and Mrs. Dolphin seemed to be standing over him, calling him a failure. He remembered he had forgotten to give Maggie any money. The money he had drawn was upstairs in his bedside table. He went out, setting the burglar alarm, and walked to the Red Lion, but the pub was dark and closed for the night. He could not bear to return home and thought he would go down and walk along by the river. Sometimes there was a cool breeze from the water.
He made his way across the gardens to the riverside. The black water chuckled lazily past.
He was standing by the water on a little jetty used by the pleasure boats when he received an almighty shove on his back and tumbled headlong into the water. He struggled desperately to the surface, but his struggles took him out to the middle of the river.
And Fell could not swim.
? The Skeleton in the Closet ?
Seven
MAGGIE had a horrible evening. Peter grew progressively more drunk and maudlin, yet she had neither the experience nor the courage to leave him and go home. They ended up at a noisy cellar disco which to Maggie was like a scene from hell with the smoke-filled heat of the room and the strobe lights that hurt her eyes. And then, to her relief, Peter sank down in a chair and promptly fell asleep. Guiltily, feeling that she should at least waken him and help him home, Maggie picked up her handbag and went up the stairs from the disco and took great gulps of fresh air.
She set off in the direction of home. A group of youths shouted at her, “Where you going, love?” and strung across the street, barring her way. She slipped off her high heels and ran in the opposite direction, down towards the central bridge of the town. Only once she had reached the middle of the bridge did she stop, panting. There were no sounds of pursuit. She had saved and saved to buy her little old car to take her to and from work, for Buss, which could look like something out of a Merchant Ivory film during the day, could be a dangerous place for a woman on her own at night. Drugs had crawled into every town and village in England, with the resultant crime.
The night was once more still and quiet. Then she heard a faint sound from the river below and leaned over the bridge. In the light of a security lamp in a house by the river, she saw a head rise above the water, flailing arms, and then the head disappeared. She did not stop to think. She climbed up on the parapet of the bridge and dived in. She surfaced and swam to where she had seen that head just as, with a great gasp, Fell’s white face appeared above the water. She reached him and said, “Don’t struggle. It’s me, Maggie. Turn on your back. No don’t clutch me, or we’ll both go under.”
He did as he was told and Maggie pulled him towards the shore. She ploughed towards a low grass bank. “You’ve got to help me, Fell,” she said. “I’m not strong enough to pull you out.”
With Fell’s last remaining strength he crawled on his hands and knees up the grass and collapsed on his face. Maggie, grateful for all those swimming classes and life-saving techniques she had learned years ago, turned him on his side and began to pump the water out of him. “I’m all right,” spluttered Fell weakly. “I kept my mouth closed nearly every time I went down.”
“Just lie still,” ordered Maggie, sitting back on her heels. She looked around in a dazed way. How quiet it was! Not a soul about to witness the drama. Maggie did not believe in God, but she suddenly remembered a mild preacher saying, “If there is no God, how do you explain coincidence?” Why should she of all people have been at the right place at the right time? If Peter had not passed out, she would still be in the disco.
Fell sat up. “I think I can make it home.”
