Danny insisted that the two meet that morning, preferably at Grant’s home. The latter was surprised when Danny said he could be there in twenty minutes; clearly he wasn’t phoning from Brentwood. Reluctantly Grant agreed. When he got off the phone he ejected the DVD from the television and placed it carefully in a briefcase that he locked before pocketing the key. With the key safely wrapped in a handkerchief, he felt he had control of things, but he needed to turn his concentration to his unexpected visitor, as he had decided to resume viewing the film after Danny left.
The doorbell rang on cue, and Grant wondered if his friend had been waiting round the corner. They greeted each other formally, with none of the affection and informality of their youth.
Danny got straight to the point. ‘Why are you pursuing this, Grant?’
‘What?’
‘Why are you investigating Tom’s poisoning after all these years? Who are you trying to nail?’
‘Justice was never done. Besides, Hector’s drowning was no accident, and I can’t rest until I know my mother wasn’t involved in some way.’ Grant decided to go for broke and went on to reveal the affair between his mother and Suzie’s father.
His explanation had the required effect. Danny fell silent and finally said slowly, ‘Your mother?’ He put the stress on the first word.
The two stared at each other. Perhaps, hoped Grant, his revelation that his mother was his main concern might change things for the better with Danny.
Danny repeated, mechanically and without emotion, ‘Your mother?’
‘Yes. Is there something you need to tell me about your mother?’
Danny stared blankly at Grant. He couldn’t decide whether to open up. He felt like a child standing at the edge of a swimming-pool, knowing he should jump in but afraid to do so. ‘Where’s Brigit?’ he asked.
‘At work,’ replied Grant, who had no intention of discussing his private life.
Danny went quiet again but continued to stare at Grant, who was tempted to explode at his old friend. ‘Read the tea leaves, Grant.’
A cold sensation washed over Grant. He felt his blood pressure dropping but decided not to respond in the hope that the other might feel the need to fill the silence and reveal his hand.
An acute tension descended over them as Danny took some chewing-gum out of his pocket, put a piece in his mouth and started chewing in a slow rhythmic motion, staring at his host all the while.
‘Would you like a coffee?’ asked Grant, finding the atmosphere hard to bear.
Danny continued staring as if he hadn’t heard. Finally he spoke. ‘Henry Wilson filmed that last holiday on Super 8. Nobody took much notice, of course. He had filmed pretty well all our holidays down there on his cine camera.’
Grant shifted uneasily in his seat, avoiding Danny’s gaze. He unconsciously felt in his pocket for the key to the case that contained the DVDs and grasped it tightly. ‘Go on,’ he said.
‘They got stolen. All my DVDs got stolen the day after Suzie left.’
‘That’s strange. So nothing else was taken? But I thought you just said the footage was on Super 8 film rather than disk,’ said Grant, trying to box clever and pleased they were talking once more; the silence had created even greater tension.
‘It was shot on celluloid but converted to DVD.’
‘Had you seen what was on it? Did you report the theft?’ Grant was beginning to jabber.
‘Yes. Look, I don’t want you pursuing this further.’
‘I rather guessed that.’
‘How?’
‘Because you tried to put the frighteners on me in Zennor last month.’
‘No I didn’t!’ Danny protested in such an incredulous tone that Grant believed him. He knew he was unlikely to lie, as awkward and unpleasant as he could be these days.
‘Then who the hell did?’ Grant replied. He told Danny about the ‘spooks of Zennor’ – as he had termed them – withholding only the matter of the nursery rhyme, as he was sure this would invite derision.
‘Gordon Bennett, Grant, old son. Someone really is trying to put you off the scent.’ Danny seemed perplexed – but also appeared cheered to discover that he had an ally in opposing Grant’s obsession.
‘I won’t stop,’ Grant announced defiantly, but he was cut abruptly short as all of a sudden Danny jumped up and lurched towards him. Grant feared that he was going to pull a knife or a gun. He was prepared to punch him hard in the stomach if he tried anything.
However, Danny turned his back on Grant, and when he spoke his tone was more controlled, almost conciliatory. ‘Look, it will destroy Mum if you go on with all this.’
Grant had not expected this – Danny a mummy’s boy! However, he knew that Danny had never married, and received wisdom had it that he had never recovered from Suzie’s rejection of him more than twenty years earlier. But before Grant responded, an uneasy feeling swept over him. Maybe Danny’s mother was involved. Perhaps the DVD would reveal this. There was clearly something that he was not telling. The fear of the unknown was unwelcome and unnerving.
‘OK,’ replied Grant, after another awkward interlude. ‘No one wants to destroy innocent people.’ He watched Danny’s face carefully for a reaction. But his former friend remained as inscrutable as ever. ‘How is your mother?’
‘Living in Majorca. She’s in an apartment block in one of those built-up resorts near Palma.’
‘Is she well?’ asked Grant, already planning a budget airline flight to the island.
‘Um, yes. Kind of. Her arthritis is bad, but she has a gentleman friend who looks after her.’
‘Do you like him?’ asked Grant, pushing his luck but intent on keeping Danny talking.
‘Sort of. He’s solid enough. He got elected president of the block where she lives. He seems to get off on that, but he’s decent to Mum, and he’s a good odd-job man.’
Grant was pleased at how things were going. At least now Danny was conversing in a fairly civilized way, but he needed to make more progress. ‘When did your father die?’
‘About twenty years ago. He did well to survive the poisoning.’
‘What? Tom’s?’
‘No, his own.’ Danny released the three words slowly, pregnant with meaning.
‘No, you don’t see. No, you so don’t. You meddle in affairs from forty years ago that destroyed my family long ago, that sent the only girl I ever loved spinning out of my life and left me feeling bitter for the rest of my days. You don’t see, matey boy. You don’t see at all. To hell with you!’
Rocked by Danny’s heavy artillery, Grant considered walking out, when to his enormous relief the front door opened and in walked Brigit. For a moment they stared at one another; Brigit was in her City attire, wearing a skirt with patterned tights, high heels and heavy jewellery, with matching lipstick and nail varnish. Grant, by contrast, looked as though he had an unwelcome starring role in a horror movie.
‘Hi,’ Grant said, far more enthusiastically than Brigit expected. She was unaware of the tension filling the room. ‘Good to see you. Do you remember Danny Galvin? You met many moons ago.’ His greeting startled her.
‘Er, hello, Danny. Nice to see you again,’ she dissembled.
‘Yeah, hi. Well, I’d better be off. Catch up with you later, Grant.’
‘Yes, sure,’ replied Grant. ‘Good to see you. Keep in touch,’ he added, as the door closed behind Danny.
Once alone, Grant kissed Brigit on both cheeks without saying a word and looked solemnly into her eyes. Some of his familiar warmth towards her started to return. Brigit sensed that she had walked in on something but, bewildered as to what, she just pulled him towards her, and as they gently embraced she started to become emotional.
‘It’s all OK,’ he reassured her. ‘You have no idea – I am so pleased to see you … If you only knew what you just walked in on.’
Brigit wiped her blurry, tear-filled eyes and smiled, still trying to comprehend what she had interrupted.