34

Signed in Green Ink

Matthew asked Big Lou if he could see the letter. She hesitated, and he was about to tell her that it didn’t matter and that she should just destroy it anyway. But then she reached below the counter and brought out a single sheet of paper. It was typed, although the final line, A well-wisher, was written by hand, and in green ink.

Matthew’s first thought was of his English teacher at the Edinburgh Academy, Mr Vansittart, an enthusiast for the novels of Anthony Trollope, who was also a foe of what he called “ridiculous beliefs of every stripe”.

“Be aware of false beliefs,” he said. “They are all about us: such as the proposition that those who write in green ink are lunatics.”

And here was a letter signed in green ink.

“Green ink,” he said to Big Lou.

She nodded. “A sign of lunacy. Well-known.”

Matthew looked at her, but said nothing. This was too upsetting a moment to engage in a discussion of popular myths, and Mr Vansittart, he thought, would agree with him.

“Read it,” said Big Lou. “Go on.”

Matthew read out loud. “ ‘Dear Lou,’ ” the letter began, “ ‘You do not know me, but I have seen you once or twice in your coffee bar – a long time ago. I know that you got married recently to a man they call Fat Bob. He used to stay down here in Leith, where I stay. I know it’s none of my business but I thought you should be told that although he recently married you, Bob has been seen down here a lot recently with a woman called Betty. You should see her. She has a tattoo on her right arm of Atlas holding up the world. I’ve seen it. He spends a lot of time in her house and the only conclusion I can reach is that he is having an affair with her. I can’t stand by and watch a man cheating on a woman like that. We women have so much to put up with, and men think they can get away with it because we won’t stand up for ourselves. Well, I say that it’s about time we stood up to men like that and stopped them making our lives a misery. That’s why I’m writing to you. I would give you my name, but Bob has been known to be violent and I’m not going to risk it. Sorry about that, Lou. And I’m sorry if this comes as a shock to you, but I think it’s best for you to know.’ ” And then, in emerald green ink, A well-wisher.

Matthew handed the letter back to Big Lou with a groan. “This is awful, Lou. It’s horrible.”

Lou slipped the letter back under the counter. “Do you think it’s true, Matthew?”

There was sorrow in her voice, and Matthew thought that, although she asked this question, she had already decided on the answer.

“I don’t think so, Lou,” he said. “This woman could be anyone. She could be…” He was about to say “a lunatic”, because there was the green ink, of course, but he did not.

“Mental?” asked Big Lou.

“Possibly,” said Matthew.

Big Lou shook her head. “It doesn’t sound like that to me,” she said. “I think the person who wrote this letter was as sane as you and I are, Matthew. I think this is not the letter of somebody who’s mental. This person knows what she’s doing.”

Matthew bit his lip. That was exactly what he felt, but had yet to say. This letter was, he suspected, entirely truthful. He thought of something. “Did you look at the postmark?”

“None,” said Lou. “The envelope was slipped under the door.”

“Saving postage?” asked Matthew.

Big Lou shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I see that she uses the word stay when she mentions being down in Leith. That’s genuine. Edinburgh and Leith people always say stay rather than live. You never say, Where do you live? You say, Where do you stay?”

“I don’t think that helps,” said Big Lou.

“No,” admitted Matthew. “It doesn’t. I was just making an observation.” He paused. He and Big Lou were old friends. He could speak frankly to her. “Do you think that Bob might be…?” He looked for a tactful way of putting it, and decided upon “Do you think Bob might be seeing somebody?”

Big Lou looked away. She was clearly upset, and Matthew regretted having asked her.

“I don’t know, Matthew,” she said eventually. “If you had asked me that up until two days ago, I would have said it was impossible. But over the last few days he has been out when I phoned the flat. And then, when he was due to collect Finlay from his dance lesson yesterday, he didn’t turn up. I asked him where he was and he said that he had gone out for a walk and had forgotten that he was meant to be collecting him. But there was something in the way he said this that worried me. There was tension in his voice.”

“That might have been because he had forgotten to collect Finlay,” said Matthew. “That could have been embarrassment.”

“Perhaps, but it made me think.”

For a few minutes Matthew was silent. He was unsure what to say. Then he decided. “Would you like me to check up?” he said.

Big Lou turned to face him. “Do you think we should?”

Matthew nodded. “The truth of the matter, Lou, is that I’ve heard – very much at second-hand – somebody say something about Bob. It wasn’t anything specific – just something to think a bit about.”

“So you think we should do something?”

“It’s up to you, Lou, but if I were in your shoes I’d want to find out whether there’s any truth in what that letter says. And if there isn’t any, you can ignore it. I suspect there’s nothing.”

“But you’ve just said that you heard something.”

Matthew winced. “Sorry, Lou, I was trying to protect you, I suppose. This letter might be serious, I’m afraid. Might be. Who knows?”

Big Lou closed her eyes. “It always happens to me, doesn’t it?” she said. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve this bad luck I have with men, but—”

Matthew interrupted her. “You’ve done nothing to deserve that, Lou.”

Lou was silent. Then she said, “All I want out of life is to get a small amount of happiness, Matthew. Not a lot.” She checked herself. “That sounds like self-pity. Sorry.”

Matthew shook his head. “It isn’t, Lou. I don’t think it’s that at all. Not for one moment.”