Jim’s place was on the top floor of a block of maisonettes in North Finchley. There were four flats in the little block, and a small front garden round it with a close cut lawn and neat privet hedges. The secluded road curved round and Jim said that they led to some playing fields and allotments.
‘Not a bad little place,’ he commented as I stood and looked about me, savouring the contrast of this peaceful leafy suburb to Portdown Rd and all its noisy traffic and varied humanity.
‘It’s wonderful,’ I sighed.
‘You’ll be nice and comfy here.’
He led me round to his front door which was situated at the side of the flats. The door was made of solid oak with a thin panel of bubbly glass down the centre.
‘Burglar proof, I reckon,’ Jim nodded, ‘not that we get too much trouble round here. It’s a quiet area with a lot of old folks and a few families. I don’t really know my neighbours much, don’t want to get too involved. I hope I’ll be leaving here soon and off to something a lot better.’
‘Where would you go?’
‘I’d like a smart house in Hampstead some time, like Alice’s mum, Mrs Townsend. It’ll be a while before I can afford that sort of luxury, though.’
‘But you mean to get there someday,’ I smiled.
His face was serious. ‘I will get there someday.’
We went upstairs to his flat. Apart from a tiny kitchen and bathroom, there were two sizeable main rooms, a sitting room and a bedroom. Looking around, I realised that Jim had surprisingly good taste for a man. Two or three large paintings graced the wall; one especially caught my eye. It was a painting of a Chinese lady with a strange green face by someone called Tretchikoff. I rather liked it. She had a mysterious look about her, exotic and intriguing. I was later to find copies of this picture all over the place, even at the dentists. But I’d never seen it till then and found it arresting. The room was in cream with alcoves round the fireplace painted a dark green and there were dark green armchairs and a sofa to match. A gilt framed mirror was hung over the fireplace, which had the effect of making the room look larger and brighter.
‘You like it here?’ asked Jim, seeing me look round.
‘I do. You’ve got really good taste, Jim. It’s not something you inherited from Millie. Or Joe, for that matter.’
Dad Joe had never been a bit interested in décor. He liked comfort and all our homes were arranged to suit this idea. As for Millie, hers had been the most pedestrian and suburban of tastes. Jim’s artistic flair was a surprise.
He smiled. ‘You see, Bridie, you don’t really know me as well as you think. I’m full of hidden talents.’
‘You are, Jim.’
‘We should eat something. Bet you haven’t eaten all day.’
‘I had a sandwich. And I’m just too tired and upset to go out now, Jim.’
‘We’ll get some fish and chips, then. You just relax. I’ll toddle off round the corner and get them. Make yourself at home. Relax, rest, you’ve come home, Bridie.’
I was too weary to make any comment on this last remark. Jim went out and got in some cod and chips and though half an hour ago I would have said I couldn’t eat a thing, the appetising smell of the vinegar-soaked chips and battered fish made me realise how very hungry I was. He served the food up on plates and we tucked in with a will.
‘There,’ he said, looking pleased to see me wolfing it all down. ‘I knew that would do the trick. You’ll feel a lot less tired now. Uncle Jim’s the doctor! Put your feet up tonight. I’ll wash up.’
He had an air of pleasure about him as if he was truly glad to see me there and I did relax. For the first time I felt comfortable, wanted, in a pleasant place. I sat in an armchair, let my head fall back and sighed deeply. For once, I was able to let go and it was good to do so. We passed the evening chatting about varied topics. I mostly listened while Jim told me amusing stories about Cambridge and his office. I even laughed now and then. Slowly I began to feel better than I had in a long while.
‘Right, you take the bedroom. I’ll sleep on the sofa. It turns into a bed at night so don’t feel bothered on my account, it’s a very comfy bed. I’ve slept on it before when friends have stayed over.’
‘Oh, Jim, I can’t take your bed. I’ll have the sofa. I won’t be here for long, anyway.’
He gave me a funny look when I said that. Coming over to me he put his arms round me again and I stiffened just a little. But he made no attempt to kiss me, just held me. I clung to him and we stood together for a long time, his hand slowly rubbing my back in a comforting, almost maternal gesture.
‘I love you, Bridie,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘I love you so much. I’m hoping that eventually I’ll persuade you to stay.’
At that moment it didn’t seem such a far-fetched idea. Ryan was far away from me now. I hadn’t heard from him since my reply to his last letter. He was happy in his solitary splendour on some rock light out in the ocean while Jim was here, warm, human and loving. He really cared and showed it. My steely heart began to soften with his warmth. Jim was growing on me.
He seemed to sense some change for he drew away and held me at arm’s length, looking deeply and seriously into my eyes.
‘I’m not rushing you,’ he said. ‘I’m just so glad you’re here. We can discover each other again. You can stay as long as you like. Stay forever, Bridie.’
‘People will think we’re lovers,’ I objected. ‘I can’t stay, Jim. I’ll have to live somewhere else.’
‘Is being lovers so bad an idea?’ he murmured and drew me to him again. I thought he was going to kiss me this time but he didn’t and after a while he let me go. I was glad and yet not glad with all the perversity of a woman.
So the bedroom was mine to use and Jim cleared a space in the wardrobe and one of the drawers for me.
‘Soon as I can I’m treating you to some nice clothes,’ he said.
He left me, sensing my exhaustion. I was tired but lay on the bed thinking things over and wondering about the strange turn of events. Jim seemed to have got his way somehow but I still hoped to go out and find a job and a flat of my own. I didn’t want to owe him anything. I already owed him far too much and it weighed the gratitude scales too much in his direction. I’d try and do something for him tomorrow.
With this thought in mind, I fell into a peaceful, sound and dreamless sleep.
Waking the next day without the incessant sound of traffic in my ears was a delightful sensation. I had slept more soundly here than in a long time. I could hear the rattling of cups in the small kitchen and it felt comforting to know a friend was out there and not the uncertain and unfamiliar.
Jim knocked on the door after a bit and brought me in a cup of tea.
‘I’m off to chambers now,’ he said, ‘but you lie in, Bridie, have a relaxing day. Don’t go dashing off anywhere and exhausting yourself. Everything in good time. There’s no hurry to find a job or a flat. I’ll be going back to Uni soon and then you can stay here and look after the place for me. You’re safe with me. I’ll take care of you.’
‘That’s good of you, Jim,’ I said, feeling truly grateful for the chance of some respite from my own compulsions as much as anything else. After all, why not accept his hospitality and generosity? It would be wonderful to use this flat while he was at Cambridge. Why was I so bull-headed and determined to make myself miserable?
I drank the tea, ran a bath and enjoyed a good long soak. It was such a relief to be out of that awful house in Archway. I thought now and then of Luke McGraw and wondered why he was there and what he was doing. He didn’t sound or look like someone on the buses or working in the sewers or wherever such people usually ended up. I’d never see him again, which was a shame as I felt he was a man I could trust. But I put him out of my mind and revelled in my new found sense of freedom and comfort.
I looked around the flat. Jim had few possessions but what he did have were tasteful; a marble bust on a stand in a corner, a strange, heavy but attractive piece of modern art on a shelf and a few interesting paintings and prints. He had a shelf full of books, mainly law and psychology but also quite a lot of crime novels. The old favourites were there: Raymond Chandler, Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh, Dashiell Hammett. There was a book on Auto-Suggestion which looked interesting but it was in French which was rather daunting. I thought I’d have a stab at it sometime and hopefully improve my knowledge. Languages had never been my forte. Jim, I decided, was really clever.
In his bedroom I saw a cello propped up in its case in a corner. He’d promised he would play for me some time. Was there no end to his talents? I sighed. It made me feel ill-educated and inadequate and I remembered my silly boast that I knew more than he did. I meant to take my education even further, acquire more knowledge through evening classes and the like. It was true that I was better read than Jim but he had a broader field of knowledge and understanding. Life was the real education, as Joe always used to say – and he was right. He always said Jim would turn into a penniless Professor while Andy would make the millions and live in style.
With nothing else to do, I routed out a duster, a vacuum and other cleaning items and began a thorough tidy-up of the flat. When I had finished that task, I contemplated what I might cook us for dinner that night. There was precious little in Jim’s fridge except necessities. I would have to go out and explore and find a butcher, get a nice steak perhaps. Or make a casserole. He’d enjoy that. Just as I got myself ready to go forth, I remembered that Jim hadn’t thought to leave a spare key to his flat and I wouldn’t be able to get back in. Plus the fact that Jim had taken my money envelope last night and said he’d look after it as I was so careless. I hadn’t been too pleased about that but he said he would come along with me when I opened a bank account as I’d probably need a reference anyway and he could provide one via his beloved Sir Simeon.
‘After all,’ he said, ‘he is one of the best barristers in London. You could hardly have a better reference than that!’
‘But he doesn’t know me,’ I objected.
‘Oh, we’ll fix it somehow,’ was the reply. ‘I’m sure he’ll do it for a friend of his son’s.’
I wasn’t convinced about it but London ways were beyond me; they seemed to have rules of their own here. Jim always sounded so positive about everything it was hard to resist him. So I agreed and handed over the envelope. Looking in my purse now, I found I still had some change from a fiver. That would be plenty enough for the meat and there were potatoes and carrots mouldering in his cupboard which I could use up. However, I could hardly go out and leave the door on the latch. Jim had said it was a quiet, crime-free area but I didn’t like to risk it. He had some nice stuff in his flat.
This was a frustrating dilemma. I so wanted to please him and do something for him in return but I couldn’t. I wondered if he kept any spare keys anywhere. It wouldn’t be right to hunt through his things. I did have his number at work but on looking around I realised that he hadn’t had a phone connected yet. Strange for someone as efficient and up to date as Jim but maybe it was to save money. Despite all his boasts, Millie hadn’t exactly left a fortune to her boys. What there was from the house sale and her savings (augmented by the fact that she had inherited her own parents’ place) had been shared with Andy. It had been enough to buy the flat and the car and that was probably about it.
I went to the window and looked out at the quiet scene below. Plane trees lined the street, giving it a pleasant, green appearance. It was nice here, a leafy suburb, yet suddenly it felt a bit like a prison. There was nothing I could do and nowhere I could go until Jim returned and a feeling of panic arose in me. I told myself I was being silly. It just had not occurred to Jim I would be stuck in here and we hadn’t had the sense to sort it out before he left for work. I would tackle him about it tonight and ask him to get a set of keys cut for me. I also decided I’d ask for my cash back and open a Post Office account instead. They didn’t need references for that and it was a lot simpler. I preferred not to be beholden to anyone, Jim’s marvellous boss or anyone else.
Making that decision made me feel better and more in control. I made myself a simple lunch of bread and cheese with a glass of milk and began to read one of the crime books on the shelf. After a while, I rose and paced about and stared again out of the window. There was scarcely ever a passer-by here. It was an odd thing that the loneliness in London troubled me a lot whereas being out in the open with only the rolling sound of the waves and the cries of the sea birds for company never worried me at all. I loved to feel alone with just the vast expanses of land and sea, the sense of communing with something greater than myself. Here I felt hemmed in and trapped and the empty streets seemed to symbolise my empty life.
Surely there must be some spare keys somewhere. This flat door had plenty of locks: both a Yale and a mortise lock. I assumed that spares were usually left with a neighbour or under a plant pot or something. Oh, well. To pass time I decided to forgo my sense of nicety and have a look around anyway so I searched the kitchen drawers and then peered into the bathroom cabinet full of male shaving equipment. Jim didn’t stint himself on things like aftershave; he liked the expensive stuff, Christian Dior and the like. I smiled. And they thought only women were vain! I thought of Ryan who wouldn’t touch such stuff, said it was for queers. That, of course, was going to the other extreme but then these two men were so different in nature. They couldn’t be more different.
Thinking of Ryan gave me a sudden lurch and I longed to be with him. I was beginning to get a funny feeling about being here with Jim. It all felt wrong. He was pleasant and charming and when he was with me I always fell under his spell but when he was absent something niggled me about him.
There was nothing very personal in his flat but in one of his bedside drawers I found a cache of my letters and a photo of the four of us taken some years ago when I lived at Millie’s. The body language in that photo said it all. I stood there shrinking away from Millie and Andy and leaning my body towards Jim. It was subtle but noticeable. I looked thinner and my face had a sad, wistful look about it. Jim had an arm about my shoulders and was smiling into the camera with his usual boyish charm.
I was touched that he kept my letters. I hadn’t done the same; his had all been destroyed almost as soon as I read them. I wasn’t the least bit sentimental about them. A picture of Millie and Andy and one of Joe and Sheila at their wedding stood on the mantelpiece. There didn’t seem any signs of any other love interest in his life. I didn’t like to look in the little desk in the corner. It was rude enough of me to pry into his things and only desperation and boredom had driven me to do so.
In the little hallway was a rack with a couple of jackets and a mackintosh. I felt in the pockets. In the mac, I discovered a set of keys and for a moment felt delighted. But they didn’t look right. In fact they looked very like the keys to Portdown Rd; one yale key for the front door and a big old key for the room upstairs. He’d locked up last night, so of course that was why they were here. He hadn’t worn this mac last night but probably slipped them in there on the way in, meaning to return them to the landlady.
No, that was wrong. I frowned. Searching for my handbag, I looked inside and found the identical keys still there. Yes, he’d handed these to me when he got back in the car and I’d put them in my bag. So why the other set of keys as well? Why keep spares to my room?
Oh, he was just well organised, I thought; that’s what it was. He probably thought to keep spares in case I lost mine. How sensible of him. But what a pity it hadn’t occurred to him to give me a spare set to his own flat.
When at last he came back home, I ran to greet him.
‘Jim, I’ve been so miserable and bored! I couldn’t go anywhere.’
He looked taken aback then flung off his jacket and gave me a hug and a kiss.
‘I thought you’d just want to rest today,’ he said. ‘Sorry, Bridie, I didn’t think. That was stupid of me.’
‘I would have rung you at work but you don’t have a phone in the flat.’
He was apologetic. ‘No, I keep meaning to get one put in but as I’m only here over the summer and then back to Cambridge and my student digs, it didn’t seem worth it. The car is more useful to me and it costs a packet to run. Once I’m living here on a permanent basis and working full time, I’ll sort it out, make this place nicer. Have to take things a bit carefully until then. However, that doesn’t mean we can’t go out and have a nice meal tonight.’
‘I wanted to cook for you, to thank you for your kindness.’
I sounded so disconsolate that he smiled and looking around remarked, ‘Why, Bridie, you’ve already done wonders. The place has never been so clean and tidy. Thank you for that. It’s more than enough. I don’t expect you to be my slave, you know. I’m not my mum.’
‘Thank God for that!’
‘No, I’m not at all like her,’ he went on, ‘I love you and I want to make amends to you for all you’ve suffered. I want you to be happy, Bridie. I’m so sorry you’ve been stuck in all day. We’ll go out now to make up for it so go and put on your pretty blue dress. On Saturday when I’m free we can shop for some nicer things for you.’
‘With what?’ I said. ‘Neither of us is exactly flush. Which reminds me – I think I’ll have my money back, Jim. I’ve decided to put it in the Post Office after all.’
‘Oh, sure. I haven’t got it here just now though. I put it in the office safe. We don’t want anyone pinching it again.’
I was annoyed by this but said nothing. He really did take things into his hands that were no business of his. However, I didn’t want to spoil the evening and was determined to look my best so I dressed with care, put on some powder and lipstick and came out of the bathroom to be greeted with an admiring look.
‘You look like Maureen O’Hara,’ he said, ‘with that lovely coppery hair of yours and those green eyes. You’re a beautiful girl, Bridie. You ought to be a film star or a model.’
‘Oh, shush!’ I said but felt a bit flattered.
‘I mean it.’
‘You are a charming old flatterer, Jim Bosworth.’
We both laughed and set off in his car to a nearby restaurant. We ordered a meal and while we waited Jim chattered away as he always did. He had lots of funny anecdotes. He was clever, interesting and enjoyable company. We had some wine that night and unused to drinking anything but tea and lemon barley I found myself mellowing and becoming decidedly woozy too. It was a nice feeling – as if all the cells in my body were expanding and relaxing and I felt happy and beautiful and special. It really made up for the lonely, frustrating day.
‘You look so much happier and at ease now. Not the wild-eyed lassie who greeted me earlier. You had the air of a bird in a cage busting to get out. Hope you feel better,’ smiled Jim. ‘You’re not mad at me, are you?’
‘Of course not. You’re right, it forced me to rest. I’m never like this as a rule. It’s something about being in London. There’s this restless energy everywhere and it makes me feel bothered and rushed. I want to be on the go, busy. It’s not a peaceful place, Jim.’
‘It’s a city, the Metropolis, it’s bound to have that sort of energy. You get used to it after a while. You won’t be a country lass forever and believe me, you won’t want to go back to that slow, quiet pace of life after this. London’s the place to get your blood pumping a bit more, gets you going. It’s active, exciting. Isn’t that much better than being stuck on some old cottage by a lighthouse?’
I was dubious. ‘I suppose so. I suppose I will get used to it.’
‘I’ve asked for another day off, Bridie, made up a good excuse. Fact is I want to take you sightseeing, really show you the London sights. I haven’t taken you anywhere yet what with one thing and another. It’s time to do so, don’t you agree? You’ll be thrilled. I don’t want you to think living in London is all bad, you know. You’ve just had a difficult experience. And we must do some shopping.’
‘Yes, we must do some shopping tomorrow but not clothes, Jim. Food shopping is what we need then I can cook. We can’t eat out all the time, can we? I can’t afford to and neither can you by all accounts. As for a new dress, I’ll get something nice with my next wages. As you know I mean to find work and then I may use Joe’s money as key money and look about for another place to live. It’s nice of you to ask me to stay in your place but I’ve been thinking it over and don’t feel right about it. I really don’t. If I found a couple of rooms round here, I can still keep an eye on your flat. You think I might find some lodgings in this area?’
‘As we’ve already said it’ll be a lot pricier here than Archway. You’ll have to get a decent job to afford it, Bridie, not your scumbag cafes. We’ll discuss all that in good time. Don’t rush things, Bridie. Promise me.’
With reluctance I agreed. ‘By the way, Jim,’ I asked as the thought struck me, ‘why do you have a spare set of keys to my room in Portdown Rd?’
He looked slightly shocked and said nothing for a moment. ‘Have I? Where did you find them?’
‘In your mac.’ I blushed a little but said quickly, ‘I was looking for a spare set of your own keys, Jim, sorry. Didn’t mean to be prying in your pockets or anything but I felt a bit desperate stuck indoors like that.’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ he said in an absent-minded sort of way. ‘I understand. I forgot I had those spare keys. Mrs Townsend must have given me two lots. You may as well give me the other ones and I’ll give them back to her agent tomorrow. I told you, didn’t I, that she was my friend Alice’s mother?’
‘You’ve told me a dozen times. Was Alice really your girlfriend?’ I asked to tease him.
‘For a bit,’ he said, ‘but it was never anything serious. Alice is a useful contact, that’s all. She lives with her mother in their Hampstead house. Mrs Townsend is a divorcee and a pretty astute business woman – reckon she’s making a mint. She has property all over London and lets it out. She buys up in cheap places like Islington and Archway where she can pack loads of people into one house. It doesn’t bother her that they’re African, Irish or Greek as long as she can pack them in.’
‘She sounds awful and very greedy.’
‘She is. You’re right. Put that awful place behind you, Bridie. I’m sorry I found you such dismal lodgings; it just seemed so reasonable a rent and a nice enough room at the time. I thought it would be fine to start with.’
I looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Well, it would have been all right. But things just seemed to go wrong. Maybe I was silly to rush off like that. After all, it was my fault I left the door unlocked like that. I suppose it was a temptation to someone.’
‘You were probably in a hurry that day, you said you woke early and became a tad disorientated.’
‘I was. The whole thing was odd.’
‘And don’t forget the damage to your nice little garden. You couldn’t have stayed there.’
‘I know. That upset me more than nearly losing my money,’ I sighed. ‘Well, never mind, it’s over now.’
I ate my dessert in silence. Then as if in a dream, in my mind’s eye, I had a flash of Jim opening the door for me when we first went to Portdown Road. He’d been wearing a jacket that day and had handed those keys over to me. Then the next day he had almost taken some other keys out of his pocket and that day he had been wearing the mackintosh. Then there was the strange gut feeling that someone had been in my room when I had been out and it had felt as if Millie had been there. Well, of course she hadn’t – but Jim might have been – and he always carried an aura of Millie for me. I was absolutely sure I hadn’t left the door unlocked that day I went out. Who else could have got in but Jim? He had the keys. And then there was the photo of Ryan … and the strange visit of the tax inspector after I’d mentioned looking at Mo’s books to Jim …
Jim was staring at me. ‘What is it, Bridie?’
I mustered myself and forced a smile. ‘Nothing.’
But inside my gut churned with a sense of fear. Had Jim sabotaged my job with Mo’s café? Had he stolen the money and planted it on poor old Dixie Dean? If so, why on earth would he do such a thing?