Twenty - Nine

‘Mum!’ Thomas complained. ‘Simon pushed me on purpose.’

Simon jabbed his younger brother with a finger. ‘Wally!’ he sneered.

‘Stop it! Both of you,’ Mary said, her voice tired, drained of emotion, as she struggled to fit the key into the front door.

It had been one hell of a journey from Blackpool, due to engineering works. The children hadn’t stopped complaining that they were bored or tired or hungry. Never again would she travel by rail on a Sunday.

She eased open the door, the bottom of it scuffing against a pile of letters and leaflets on the mat. Bills no doubt. Mary sighed and stooped to pick them up as the children barged past, their hostilities forgotten now they were home.

‘Have we got any biscuits?’ said Thomas, racing towards the kitchen, dumping his backpack in the middle of the hall.

‘Don’t eat the last one, else I’ll kill you,’ said Simon, following his brother.

Mary closed the front door and breathed a sigh of relief as she put her suitcase down. She took the bundle of letters through to the kitchen. They were all addressed to Dave, and she was right - they were mostly bills. As she dropped them onto the table, she noticed a blank audio cassette tape, propped against the salt cellar, which she didn’t remember leaving before she left. She remembered the last minute check to see that everything was switched off, but she couldn’t recall seeing the tape on the table. She knew Dave often used audio tapes to record and learn musical numbers, which he played on the cheap portable radio and cassette player in the kitchen, but there was something alarming about the way this tape had been left on the table, like a message, as if it had some sort of meaning. She picked it up slowly, frowning, wondering if it had some significance, or if she was being paranoid.

‘What’s that?’ Thomas asked through a mouthful of biscuit.

‘Tape, stupid,’ said Simon. ‘Can we use it to record on, Mum, with Uncle Dave’s recorder?’

Mary opened the cassette box. ‘I don’t remember this being here before we left.’

‘I expect it’s Uncle Dave’s,’ said Thomas casually, who was more interested in rummaging through the biscuit tin and anything else he could find in the food cupboard.

Simon snatched the tape out of his mother’s hand. ‘Why don’t we play it and find out?’

While he slotted it into the tape player, Mary went to the sink and filled the kettle. As soon as the tape began playing, Simon noticed the tension in his mother’s back, just as if she had received an electric shock. She slammed the kettle onto the work surface and spun round.

‘Turn it off!’

Simon was confused. He could tell his mother was upset, the way her voice was hoarse and strained, but it was, after all, only some guitar playing something he didn’t recognise.

‘Why? What’s wrong?’ he said.

‘I just don’t like this song, that’s all. Please - there’s a good boy - switch it off.’

Sensitive to his mother’s genuine distress, Simon shrugged and clicked the off switch, just as Eric Clapton began singing.

Mary tried to control her fear, but cold clammy hands made a ghostly assault on her body, sending shock waves through her skull.

‘Wonderful Tonight’ was their song. Ronnie used to play it when they first went out together. She knew that somehow or other he had managed to get into the house while they were away.

***

Nigel tugged the Windsor knot on his tie and spoke to Jackie’s reflection in his hall mirror. ‘It’ll make a change from the morning service.’

‘I only wanted us to go to the morning service because I don’t like to think of you working so hard.’

‘I had to get off some urgent quotations before we fly off into the sunset.’

Jackie tittered shyly like a young girl. ‘Our flight is mid morning.’

‘Metaphorically speaking,’ said Nigel, turning to face Jackie. He held her hands. ‘We get married on Wednesday, fly off on Thursday, which only gives me two days to finish off a mountain of work.’

Jackie shook her head disapprovingly. ‘You’ll have a nervous breakdown if you carry on like this.’

Nigel smirked. ‘Won’t be the first time.’

‘It’s nothing to be proud of.’

‘I know, but I’ve got a living to make. And it doesn’t get any easier.’

‘But you’ve had quite a good year haven’t you?’

Nigel looked up at the ceiling, deliberating. ‘Hmm. Not really. Only forty-five K profit last year.’

‘That doesn’t sound bad to me.’

‘I can do a lot better. It should be double that. There’s still a great killing to be made out there.’

‘It all sounds a bit...’

Nigel sensed her disapproval, and irritation slipped into his tone. ‘What?’ he demanded.

‘Well, a bit thrusting.’

Nigel frowned deeply. ‘Thrusting? What on earth d’you mean, thrusting? Unless it’s something you’ve got in mind for the honeymoon.’

She smacked his arm playfully, frowning to indicate that she was serious. ‘You can be very obtuse when you want to be. I just mean that we mustn’t get too greedy. Too materialistic.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with trying to carve out a decent living.’

‘I’m not saying there is.’ She picked up her handbag from the hall table. ‘We’d better go. We’ll be late.’

Nigel pulled a face, his lips puckering, as if there was a bad smell under his nose. ‘I mean, you wouldn’t want me to end up like that Arnold creature.’

Jackie smiled sadly. ‘Poor chap.’

Nigel almost exploded. ‘Poor chap! He’s downright ignorant.’

‘I must admit that business about the sparkling wine was terrible behaviour.’

‘Intolerable!’ said Nigel, then added: ‘And the sparkling wine I selected is as good as champagne. You couldn’t tell the difference. In this test they did with wine experts....’

‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said Jackie impatiently, glancing at her watch. ‘There was nothing wrong with the champagne. I was really disappointed in Arnold. He showed himself in his true colours. But don’t you see, darling, he was jealous of you. Apart from his amateur dramatics, he’s got very little in his life. Fifty years old, and he still works at the counter selling motor car parts. We really ought to be tolerant and pray for him tonight.’

Nigel grinned suddenly, and his eyes lit up mischievously. ‘As long as he doesn’t find salvation at the church we attend.’

***

Mary had just got the children to bed when the phone rang. She hurried to answer it, thinking it might be Dave to see if she had arrived safely. It was Ronnie.

‘Just got the kids to bed, sweetheart?’

She felt herself grow numb with fear.

‘You there, sweetheart? I hope you liked the song. Our song. Remember?’

Mary’s voice was hoarse once she started to speak. ‘Ronnie, can’t you get it into your head, we are finished. A long time ago.’

‘Oh come on, sweetheart. I saw the way you looked at me, when I came round. Like you was in love all over again. Loads of couples realise they’ve made a mistake by splitting up. And I can’t get you out of my mind. You can’t deny we had something special going for us.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘And tonight, I know you’ll be lying in bed thinking of me. But I’ll be with you sweetheart. I’ll be right by your side. I don’t mind if you touch yourself, in those places you liked to be touched by me. Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll be there with you.’

She was about to hang up, but Ronnie anticipated it and the line went dead. She stood in the hall, numb with shock and fear, wondering what to do next. She stared at the telephone, wondering how soon she could get the number changed.