The Skeleton in the Closet

going business. But I’m not going to do anything at the moment. I’ll wait a bit.”

“Sure,” said Maggie, detaching herself gently. “I’m just going up to my room. I haven’t quite decided which paint to get.”

Maggie went upstairs and closed the bedroom door behind her. She sat down on the bed. She knew, she was sure, that Mrs. Melissa Harley was after Fell’s money. But there was no way to prove it. She had a sudden desire to watch Melissa covertly. She went downstairs and told Fell that she was going to call on her mother. Fell was busy unwrapping china and only nodded.

Maggie went out into the golden glory of the summer’s evening. She felt small and grubby and toadlike. She looked up at the clock on the town hall. The health shop would be closing soon, Melissa would be locking up, and Maggie could get a clear, calm look at the woman she considered her rival. She took up a position in a doorway opposite the health shop and waited. Five-thirty. A shop girl came out and walked off down the street. Maggie shifted restlessly.

“‘Allo, Maggie.”

She found the grinning face of the Italian barman, Gino, from the Palace two inches from her own.

“Waiting for a pick-up?”

“I’m waiting for a friend,” muttered Maggie. “Go away.”

Gino was handsome and knew it. He was wearing his off-duty clothes of leather jacket and jeans with gold chains nestling in his chest hair. He smelt overpoweringly of Brut.

“So you’ve moved in with the drip,” said Gino.

“Go away!” hissed Maggie.

Gino patted her on the bottom and walked off, whistling.

Maggie saw Melissa Harley emerge. She looked tired. Her hair was screwed up on a knot on top of her head. She was wearing a trouser suit and flat shoes. Her jacket was open, revealing a slightly bulging stomach.

She must have been wearing a body stocking last night, thought Melissa. And she’s not really beautiful at all. It was only my jealousy that made her appear beautiful.

Feeling comforted, she headed homeward.

¦

But Maggie did not realize that Fell only saw the Melissa he wanted to see, and that was the glamorous woman of his dreams. She realized later that she should have said nothing. But as soon as she was in the door, she burst out with, “I saw Melissa Harley in the High Street.”

Fell’s face brightened. “Did you talk to her?”

“No, I just saw her, and Fell, she’s quite old and not that good-looking. She must have been wearing some sort of foundation garment when we saw her in the restaurant, because she’s got a bulgy figure and I think she must be near fifty.”

Fell’s face darkened. “You didn’t go to your mother. You went to spy.”

And instead of denying it hotly, Maggie said miserably, “I only went to get another look at her. I’m worried about you, Fell. I think she’s after your money.”

Fell rose to his feet. His face was closed and set and bleak. “I’m going out for a walk,” he said.

“I – I’m s-sorry,” babbled Maggie, “but I couldn’t bear to see you tricked.”

“Yes, quite,” said Fell and walked out of the door.

He walked and walked that evening along by the river. He walked until his legs were as weary as his soul. He felt a dull hatred for Maggie. How dare Maggie interfere in his dreams? Well, he was not going to be chained to Maggie the way he had been chained to his parents. He was not swapping one prison for another. He would tell her in the morning she had to go. It was his house and his life.

¦

Maggie lay awake, waiting for him to return. If only she had never criticized Melissa. If only she had denied spying on her. But Fell was so naive. She heard Fell come in. Somehow Maggie felt his feelings seeping through the walls of her room. The fun was over. Fell would never forgive her. She would have to leave. Back to Mother, back to waitressing, back to empty days and lonely nights.

She remembered that enchanted meal in the restaurant, where she had put on the ring, where she had been happier than she had ever been in her life before, and she turned her face into the pillow and wept.

Maggie cried so hard that it was some time before she realized someone was knocking at the downstairs door.

She sat up and scrubbed her eyes dry with a corner of the sheet. She heard Fell open his bedroom door and go down the stairs. Maggie climbed out of bed and put on her dressing gown. She crept quietly downstairs and stood, listening.

Fell opened the door. A huge figure stood silhouetted against the street light outside.

“You Fellworth Dolphin, Charlie’s boy?” asked a gruff voice.

“Yes; what do you want?”

“I’m Tarry Joe’s boy. Let me in.”

“Why should I?” Fell remembered that Tarry Joe had been a railway worker at the station in his father’s day.

“Want me to talk about the robbery on the step?”

Maggie moved swiftly to the desk and took out the cash box as she heard Fell exclaiming, “What robbery? I don’t know anything about a robbery.”

Maggie let herself out of the back door into the garden. The new gardening equipment was lying about, along with plants from a gardening centre for the newly weeded garden.

She seized a spade and dug a hole in the soft earth and dropped the cash box into it, shovelled earth over it, and patted it flat. Then she crept back into the kitchen. She could now hear voices in the living room. “Anyone want a cup of tea?” she called.

There was a silence and then the man said sharply, “Who’s that?”

Maggie walked into the living room and said brightly, “I heard someone arrive, Fell, and I thought you might like a cup of tea.”

Her eyes quickly took in the visitor. Massive and brawny in a denim shirt with cut-off sleeves exposing tattooed arms, a bullet-like head with small babyish features crammed in the middle of a large face.

“Who’s this?”

“My fiancee, Maggie,” said Fell in a dazed voice. “Maggie, this man…” He looked helplessly at Tarry Joe’s son.

“Andy. Andy Briggs.”

“Andy,” said Fell, “says my father was part of a plan to rob a train. Andy here is looking for a place to stay. He also wants money.”

“Why should we give him any?” asked Maggie.

“Because,” said Fell in a thin voice, “he says he has proof of my father’s involvement in the robbery and if we don’t pay him, he’ll go to the police.”

Maggie came in and sat down. “What robbery?” she asked. “When did it happen?”

“It was over twenty years ago,” Andy said. “Never heard of the Post Office train robbery?”

“I remember that,” said Fell. “There was a trainload of used notes being taken from the North back down to the central post office in London. The train was attacked by masked men at Buss Station.” His voice sharpened. “The guard was bludgeoned to death. They never caught anyone.”

“That’s right. My father went to Spain with his cut, took me with him, and the silly sod drank himself to death. Your father got his cut for tipping us off about the train and looking the other way.”

“Fell’s father’s dead,” said Maggie.

“Heard that,” said Andy laconically. His small eyes focused on Fell. “Don’t want the world to know your dad was a criminal.”

“I don’t mind,” said Fell. “Go to the police.”

“Then let me put it another way, sonny,” said Andy. He had a duffel bag at his feet. He bent down and opened it. He pulled out an old service revolver. “You get me the money. I’ve been dossing in this town and know you’ve been left a mint. So we go to the bank in the morning and you pay up or I’ll blow your brains out.” Andy swung round on Maggie. “And you go and get me tea and some sandwiches. One false move and I’ll kill your