Why do you always do that? demanded Joe. Time for that is before I clean things up.
Whitey gave him a look which wondered how an intelligent being, or even a human, could imagine he was going to use a soiled tray, jumped into the bottom desk drawer and went to sleep. Joe flung the windows open, cleaned the tray again, made a pot of tea, and settled down in his chair with Pius Thoughts. There was an article on Combating Stake-Out Fatigue Syndrome which looked interesting. He got through two paragraphs and fell asleep.
He was awoken by Aunt Mirabelles voice and looked around for her in disorientated panic till he realized hed forgotten to turn off his answerphone.
I know youre there, Joseph. I can feel it, she was declaiming. So you come out from behind this ungodly machine and speak to me plain.
There was no point in pretending. He picked up the phone.
Morning, Auntie, he said.
Good morning to you, Joseph. How long is it since you seen Beryl?
Saw her last night at the rehearsal, remember?
Not likely to forget, the things you got up to, am I? retorted Mirabelle. I mean, seen to talk to, take out? Youve been neglecting that girl.
Auntie, whats to neglect? Beryl and mes just friends, not a couple, courting or anything like that
Courting? You dont know the meaning of the word! But thats no reason not to be polite and pass the time of day instead of sneaking off to that sin-hole of yours to meet that trollop youre making a fool of yourself with!
Hed been right. Even in the Glit, Mirabelles agents kept their eternal vigil.
Auntie, the Glits a pub, the girls a client
You her client, more likely! Joseph, you stick with Beryl. If its little Desmond who bothers you, hes a nice kid and once you get two, three more of your own, youll hardly notice him!
Auntie, Ive got to go out. On business
Business? What business? Only business you and that cat have got is lying around all day seeing who can sleep the longest. Tell you what. You can pick me up, drive me to rehearsal tonight. Give me a chance to have a good close talk without you running off somewhere.
Joe desperately tried to think of an acceptable excuse.
Auntie, Im not sure I can make it tonight
He was saved the agony of invention by Mirabelles outrage.
You not thinking of missing rehearsal, I hope, Joseph? That voice of yours gets so rough from all that profane singing you do down that hellhole, it needs all the rehearsing it can get!
Yes, Auntie, said Joe meekly. Ill pick you up. Bye.
He put the phone down and cleared his throat and tried a couple of notes. That wasnt so bad, he thought. What did she mean, rough? He had a tape of The Creation in his radio cassette and he switched it on now. At first he only joined in the baritone line of the choruses, then he thought, guy whos modest when hes by himself must be really stuck up! And he started joining in the male solos too. When he got to Uriels words with beauty, courage, strength adorned, to heaven he stands erect and tall, a man an inbuilt sense of irony made him break into the little soft shoe shuffle which had them beating the tables at the Glit on Karaoke Nite.
He wondered which would offend Mirabelle more the outrage to religion or to music. Himself, he felt they were both big enough to take anything he could throw at them. But when he reached the partner for him formed, a woman fair and graceful spouse, his thoughts turned to Mirabelles attempts to marry him off, and to Beryl Boddington.
It wasnt that he didnt like her. In fact, of all Mirabelles candidates for his hand, she was way ahead of the field. Not that this meant much when you considered many of the others didnt even make it out of the starting gate!
Thing was that Mirabelles hopes for his happiness, plus her real affection for him, plus her family pride, didnt combine to dull her sense of reality.
Joes the kind of catch a one-armed woman might be glad to get a hold of, she opined to her coven of confidantes.
And whenever a woman came her way who seemed in need of a man and not well placed to be choosy, Mirabelle pounced.
Beryls disability in Mirabelles eyes was the existence of a young son, Desmond, without benefit of clergy. In Joes eyes her only disability was being elected by Mirabelle which, coupled with his own disability of having got pretty near forty without getting caught, made him naturally wary.
Getting caught was, he knew, a deplorably politically incorrect way of looking at marriage, but it had been the received wisdom at Robco Engineering where hed spent the first twenty years of his working life, and that was an indoctrination harder to throw off than a Jesuit education.
To be fair, Beryl had shown little sign that she was interested in getting caught either, and so far their occasional dates had ended with nothing more than the swooning softness of a good night kiss, leaving him to soothe his frustration with the thought that once more hed pulled back from the brink. Except of course there was no escaping the fact that it was her push rather than his pull which kept him from falling!
Nevertheless, a relationship undoubtedly existed. He tried to imagine how hed feel if Beryl took up with some other fellow, found he didnt care for the feeling, so switched it off.
Sometimes it wasnt such a bad thing not having one of those creative minds.
Galina was dead on time. As soon as he saw her Joe felt guilty. Last night hed had no compunction about asking her to come to the office. But back in her building society mode she was a very different kettle of fish from the exotic alien of the Glit, and he came over all avuncular.
Gallie wasnt having any of that, however.
She refused a cup of tea, settled down with the apple and low fat yoghurt shed brought with her for lunch, and said, OK, Ive not got much time. This operative of yours find out anything?
Something, said Joe.
Omitting any reference to Piers or Butcher, he told her about the lists.
She listened intently, her yoghurt ignored. Her face gave nothing away but Joe could feel the pain inside. She must have been hoping even more than him for an official blank.
So whats it all mean, Mr Sixsmith? she asked.
My operative reckons the third lists just there to make the numbers up, said Joe.
Why should anyone want to do that?
Its the civil service mind, he said. Everything by threes.
So theres nothing to worry about?
He was desperate to give her reassurance but knew he mustnt go further than the facts warranted. Hed fallen into that trap before.
We cant get away from the fact someones asking questions, he said. But theres still nothing to say for sure its got anything to do with these lists.
It was the best he could do but he could see it was far from enough.
Just coincidence, you mean? she said doubtfully.
It happens, he said. And even if it is connected, well, if theres nothing to find out, then this guy will just give up and go back and say so.
If?
Building society mode or exotic alien, the look she was fixing him with was cold enough to kill.
Just coincidence, you mean? she said doubtfully.
It happens, he said. And even if it is connected, well, if theres nothing to find out, then this guy will just give up and go back and say so.
If?
Building society mode or exotic alien, the look she was fixing him with was cold enough to kill.
You stupid git! Joe accused himself. Putting up the possibility that all her certainties are calculated to hide.
He played dumb. It wasnt difficult.
Yeah, you know, theres no mileage in these guys making something up. He probably found out day one there was nothing to find and hes been spinning it out a bit for expenses. He could be back in Whitehall now wondering who to bother next.
She shook her head.
I dont think so, Mr Sixsmith, she said. I think hes still around and hell keep on digging and digging till something shows up. Ive read about these people. They dont ever give up.
Joe looked at her with a heart-squeezing pity he didnt dare show. It was herself she was talking about as much as the nosey stranger. Apart from lying in permanent ambush, Joe didnt have a clue how he might get a line on him or what he could do if he did. But that didnt matter. The real focal point of all this trouble was old Taras and the way he was reacting. That was where the doubt whose existence was too terrible to admit had started.
He said, It might help if I could get into the club, socially, I mean. Chat to Mrs Vansovich without making her curious.
That friend who brought you there last time
A client, rewarding me with a drink, said Joe. If I ask him to invite me back, that would really make him suspicious.
She frowned, then her face cleared.
Theres a family night day after tomorrow. Mums told Grandda he may not feel like going out, but hes jolly well going to that! People often bring friends. I can invite you.
As a friend? said Joe, thinking how most parents he knew would react to their little girl bringing home a friend who was black, balding, and twice her age.
Why not? You are, arent you? Besides, people do turns. Youre a singer. Everyone down the Glit thinks youre great. There you are. A performer, an important customer from the society, and a friend! Dead natural I should invite you, isnt it?
She spoke with utter conviction. Oh the youth of the heart, thought Joe. All that innocence which loving parents think is at risk when their daughters go out into the world and start painting their faces and flashing their flesh. But guilt, like charity, begins at home. Its in the genes. Its an hereditary disease.
Yeah, dead natural, smiled Joe.
6
Aunt Mirabelles favourite reading in the Good Book was the Lamentations of the prophet Jeremiah, and she had his style off to a t. On their way to St Monkeys that night, Joe could not but admire the way in which his lousy job, his squalid lifestyle, and his terrible driving, were woven into a seamless whole.
The flow didnt halt till the car did in St Monkeys Square.
What you doing? demanded Mirabelle.
Im going to drop you here then go find somewhere to park, he explained.
Whats wrong with that parking place back of the church?
The Cloisters? I think thats reserved for special permits.
And Im not special? You drive round there, Joseph. Good Baptists more special than a good Anglican any day!
There was one space left. As Joe backed in, the Visigothic verger appeared, wearing an expression that fell a furlong or so short of Christian welcome. But when Mirabelle eased her bulk out of the car and greeted him with a hearty Good evening, brother! he remembered urgent business elsewhere.
Pity he hadnt been so conscientious the previous night, thought Joe. If the boy in the box had been found a couple of hours earlier, there might have been time to save him.
No sign of Mrs Calverleys Range Rover tonight. Maybe her peep over the edge had dulled her appetite for eavesdropping on The Creation. He guessed she might have a reputation for toughness, but last nights experience had visibly upset her.
The rehearsal went fairly well. As he sang, Joe studied the clarinettists and tried to guess which of the two young women was Mavis Dalgetys ex-friend, Sally Eaglesfield. He settled for the smaller, darker girl who studied her music with unblinking intensity as though fearful it might blow away. He didnt know what instrument Willie Woodbines wife played and as the Sinfonia was an equal opportunities orchestra with women puffing and banging and scraping everywhere, there wasnt much hope of picking her out. Maybe the girl he thought was Sally would identify her by making a beeline for her after the rehearsal was over.
He was distracted from this bit of great detectivery by Mirabelle, who materialized at his side while the last Amen was still trembling on the air. He guessed the little side door was probably nailed up too.
Now look whos there, she exclaimed in a tone of surprise that rang as false as a cracked bell. Beryl. We were just talking about you.
Hi, Mirabelle. Hi, Joe. Sorry, cant stop to talk. Im on my way to work.
She was a nurse at the Royal Infirmary and, cap apart, was already kitted out in her uniform.
Mirabelle said, Joseph was just saying hed run you there, werent you, Joseph? All them attacks, you dont want to be walking round there by yourself.
Thered been a couple of recent incidents with a flasher in the hospital grounds and the police were advising extra caution till the intruder was caught.
Well, thats very kind of you, Joe
No trouble at all, assured Mirabelle. Now excuse me, I want a word with Rev. Pot.
She moved off and Joe found Beryl regarding him quizzically. He returned the look with pleasure. She was he sought for the right word and all he could come up with was sturdy. This was why he had to invent answers for crossword puzzles and make up his own clues to fit them. On the other hand, what was wrong with sturdy when it expressed not just a physical but a spiritual characteristic? Strong, self-reliant, dependable, trustworthy
What are you staring at, Joe? she asked.
You. You look great, he said. Smooth talker he might not be, but he knew better than to offer sturdy as a compliment. Not that sturdiness meant lack of shape. And those wide brown eyes and full red lips
The full red lips opened to show strong white teeth in a moist pink mouth as she yawned.
Sorry, she said. Nothing to do with you.
He looked even more closely at her and saw that as well as sturdy and great she looked tired.
You getting any sleep? he asked.
Surely. Between getting home in the morning, doing the chores, and picking Desmond up from school at three, I usually manage to snatch a couple of minutes, she laughed. Are you serious about this lift?
He led her out to the Cloisters.
Going up in the world, arent we? she mocked. I thought only the nobs got to park here?