TWENTY-FIVE

Jane’s anxiety had reached a peak. She hoped it was the peak. It was as though her life was on hold, and would be until she discovered the truth. Never a big eater, she had lost her appetite almost entirely but, at lunchtime, had managed to force down a poached egg on toast. Washing up afterwards, and putting her plate and cutlery away, was more satisfying than eating because it provided order, moved things on. During the last few days she had made copious notes – writing things down sometimes had a soothing effect – but any information she had acquired was vague in the extreme, and possibly untrue.

Gus had been taking photographs at some unspecified location. Dave had been at an auction. Corinne had been at a lingerie party, whatever that was supposed to be. And Willa claimed she had been at the shops. Jane’s fear that Eddie had pushed Noel over the balcony was growing by the day.

Pursing her lips, she attempted without success to recreate the sound she had heard. Whoosh. Sh. Pushed. Everyone with a motive had an alibi. Not a good one since she had no means of checking. And there was Brian, who could have found out about Noel and Willa, and confronted Noel while he was checking the balcony. Part accident, part foul play. If Jane had managed to open the parcel and re-wrap it, so could Brian.

No opportunity to talk to him at home so she would have to make another appointment at the health centre and that might take several days to arrange, although, as it turned out, the receptionist – the friendly one, who smiled rather than behaving like the keeper at the gate – said Dr Molloy could fit her in at five-fifteen. What would she tell him was the problem? A bad back? Stiff neck? Both symptoms where the doctor had to take the patient’s word for it. No, there was no need to lie. She would say she was suffering from insomnia. If he reached for his prescription pad, she would ask if he had any other suggestions, a milky drink at bedtime – guaranteed to get you up to go to the loo – or whale music – how ridiculous – or an audiobook – more sensible. But, knowing Brian, he would say it was another psychosomatic symptom, this time brought on by Noel’s death.

The waiting room was full of silent patients, apart from a small girl who had found a copy of Country Life, with its pictures of working dogs, and shooting jackets, and was enjoying scribbling on the pictures with a red crayon, while singing Baa, baa, black sheep. Jane smiled at her and she put out her tongue, and Jane responded in like manner. People said children were not sufficiently disciplined these days – true in the case of the Tidewells – but as far as Jane could remember they had always put out their tongues, provided their parents were looking in the other direction.

A tall man, with rounded shoulders and ill-fitting trousers, was studying a poster for sexually transmitted diseases. He looked a bit past that kind of thing, but one could never tell. How old was Gus? Older than her or roughly the same? She could ask him and, unlike her, he probably had no objection to divulging his age.

‘Jane?’ Brian was smiling, but looked done in. Was he suffering from lack of sleep, too? They could commiserate together but, in spite of his wish for her to “get her feelings out in the open”, Brian gave little away, either in his personal or professional role. Not that she knew him that well, although Arthur had told her rather more than he should. Mum shouts at him when he leaves his pants on the bedroom floor and he loses his temper and says if she’s nothing better to think about she ought to get a job.

Jane hurried to join him, rehearsing in her head what she was going to say, but there was no need since Brian spoke first and it was not to ask how he could help, but to say how shocked he had been about Noel.

‘Yes, we all are. Such a tragedy.’

‘How did it happen, do you suppose?’ He drew his lower lip over the ends of his neat moustache. ‘Leaning over to check something? Leaned too far and lost his balance?’

‘I imagine so.’

‘And it was you who called the ambulance.’ His fingers were intertwined. ‘What a blessing you found him. I mean, what a blessing it wasn’t Dave’s daughter. How long did the ambulance take? It all depends ...’

‘They were in the area. Quite close by.’

‘Good, good.’ His voice shook. Not from grief that Noel was dead. Tiredness, overwork, or was it fear?

‘I talked to him – you’re not supposed to move people are you – but I think I knew it was hopeless. It’s such a long drop from those loft conversions.’

Something was going on in the waiting room, raised voices, shouting, but Brian appeared oblivious. Since the slot only lasted ten minutes he ought to be asking why she was there, but he looked as though he was more in need of a doctor than she was. He had a tic in his left eye, and the hands that fiddled with a pen on his desk trembled.

‘I’ve been sleeping badly, Brian. No, not just since the accident. Before that. I go to sleep quite easily but wake at two or three and it’s a time when things prey on your mind. No, I don’t want medication, it’s addictive and makes you feel drowsy the following day. And I like to keep my wits about me.’

He opened his mouth, possibly to tell her there were newer, better drugs, but she came in quickly again. ‘It’s because I’m old, isn’t it? Old people don’t need so much sleep.’

He picked up a large plastic apple that bore the name of a well-known pharmaceutical company. An apple a day keeps the doctor at bay. Or was it “away”? Doctors like Brian no longer sat behind a desk. They sat next to it. To put the patient at his or her ease, no doubt. Jane preferred a clear separation, doctor and patient, not a combined attempt to solve the problem. ‘How’s the rash?’

‘Oh.’ The sharpness in his voice had made her jump. ‘Gone. Disappeared.’

He nodded.

‘The problem is, Brian, when I’m lying awake I start wondering if it really was an accident.’

She expected an exclamation of surprise, even if it was feigned, but he sat up straight in his chair and cupped his face in his hands. ‘Willa’s gone.’

‘Gone?’

‘To her sister in Devon. No, Cornwall. On the border.’

‘I see, I thought ... I expect she needed a break, will be back in a day or two?’

He shrugged, picking up his prescription pad and putting it down again. ‘That parcel you dropped off at our house. Did she mention what it was?’

‘No.’

‘Just wondered.’ His attempt to sound casual was pitiful. ‘She’s a very sensitive person, easily upset, up and down. No, I don’t mean bi-polar, nothing as extreme as that.’

‘She was fond of Noel?’

‘Fond of him, why d’you say that?’

‘We all were. Well, perhaps not all, but he brightened up Faraday Road with his anecdotes. And antics,’ she added, although saying it made her flinch. Jumping up and swinging on the scaffolding, running down the street, with a hop and a skip. Perhaps it really had been an accident.

Opening a drawer, Brian took out a dog-eared sheet of paper. ‘Tips for getting to sleep at night.’ He began to read and Jane pretended to listen. A warm bath before bedtime. Did he want her to admit she had re-wrapped the parcel? A good mattress and thick curtains. A milky drink, not coffee or tea. Not something he was likely to mention, but apparently sex made you sleepy. Or, as the handy hints sheet was unlikely to suggest, if you lacked a partner, masturbation.

‘Were you around on Saturday, Brian? I wondered if you’d seen Noel going into the house next to mine. Gus was out, taking photographs and Dave was at an auction.’

‘Saturday?’ He scratched his chin. ‘Ah yes, where was I. I know, I went for a long walk. Good for the lungs.’

‘With Willa?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘She’s not a great walker, says she’d walk more if we had a dog. I needed the exercise.’ He patted his stomach. ‘Spend all week sitting listening to people. Need time to unwind.’

‘Did you go somewhere nice?’

‘The woods.’ He licked his lips. ‘No, come to think of it, Willa did accompany me.’

Willa had told Jane she was down at the shopping centre.

‘Or was that the weekend before? One week runs into another. I’m sure it’s the same with you.’ He glanced at his wall clock, relieved no doubt that her allotted time had overrun. Like Gus, he was not prepared to tell her where his walk had been. ‘Relaxation, Jane, not looking at screens immediately before bedtime.’

‘Yes. Thank you.’ She stood up. So did Brian. ‘Oh, dear,’ she said, ‘ you do look tired and all these patients, most of them with silly little problems like mine.’ Now he would say, “your problems are never silly, Jane”, but he was miles away and the lines between his eyes had deepened. What was he thinking about? She would love to have known.

To her surprise, Gus was in the waiting room, sitting next to one of the builders, the young one she thought was called Lee.

‘Cut himself.’ Gus pointed to an improvised bandage wrapped round the young man’s hand. ‘Thought it’d be better than A and E, not such a long wait.’

‘Oh dear, how did it happen?’

‘Screwdriver slipped. Blood everywhere. I offered to bring him here.’

‘That was good of you.’

‘Lee shares my interest in photography.’

‘Do you, Lee?’

‘Just family pictures.’ Lee pushed up his quiff of hair with his good hand. ‘My sister’s kids and that.’

‘Lovely.’ Blood had seeped through the bandage, a strip of cloth that looked none too clean. ‘I’m sure the nurse can help.’

‘Not as bad as it looks.’ Gus shifted irritably on his seat. He was not someone who liked to wait in a queue. ‘Not an artery, like that friend of mine I was telling you about, Jane.’

‘Anyway, Lee, you’ll feel better when it’s been dressed.’ Such a nice-looking young man, blond and with a clear skin and eyes that were almost as blue as Noel’s. Little did she know the two of them would meet again in a few days’ time – under very different circumstances.