Alexis reached along the side of the table and pulled a drawer open. She tossed a packet of photographs at me. Look at that, Kate. Isnt it stunning? Isnt it just brilliant? She pushed her unruly black hair out of her eyes and gazed expectantly at me.
I studied the pictures. The first half-dozen showed a selection of views of an area of rough moorland grass that had sheep grazing all over it. Thats the land, Alexis enthused, unable to stay silent. I continued. The rest of the pictures were views of distant hills, woods and valleys. Not a Chinese takeaway in sight. And those are the views. Amazing, isnt it? Thats why Im going through this. She waved the catalogue at me. I could see now it was a building supplies price list. Personally, Id have preferred a night in with the phone book.
Where on earth is it? I asked. It looks so rural. That was the first word I could come up with that was truthful as well as sounding like I approved.
Its really wild, isnt it? Its only three minutes away from the M66. Its just above Ramsbottom. I can be in the office in twenty minutes outside rush hour, but its completely isolated from the hassle of city life.
If that had been me, Id have ended the sentence six words sooner. If youre more than ten minutes away from a Marks & Spencer Food Hall (fifteen including legal parking), as far as Im concerned, youre outside the civilized world. Right, I said. Thats just what you wanted, isnt it?
Yeah, its the business. As soon as we saw it advertised, we called a meeting of the other people well be building with, and we all went off to see it. Weve agreed a price with the builder, but he wants a quick completion because someone else is interested. Or so he says, but if you ask me, hes just on the make. Anyway, weve put down a deposit of five thousand pounds on each plot, and its looking good. So its time to sell this place and get our hands on the readies well need to build the new house.
But where are you going to live while youre building? I asked.
Well, Kate, its funny you should mention that. We were wondering I nearly panicked. Then I saw the smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. Were going to buy a caravan now, at the end of the season when its cheap, live in it over the winter and sell it in the spring. The house should be just about habitable by then, Alexis told me cheerfully. I couldnt control the shiver that ran through me.
Well, any time you need a bath, youre more than welcome, I said.
Thanks. I might just take you up on that, you being so handy for the office, she said.
I drained my mug and got to my feet. Ive got to run.
Dont tell me, youre off on some Deep Throat surveillance, Alexis teased.
Wrong again. I can see why you just write about crime rather than detecting it. No, Richard and I are going ten-pin bowling. I said it quickly, but it didnt get past her.
Tenpin bowling? Alexis spluttered. Tenpin bowling? Shit, Brannigan, itll be snogging in the back row of the pictures next.
I left her giggling to herself. All through history, the pioneers have been mocked by lesser minds. All you can do is rise above it.
There are probably worse ways to spend a wet Wednesday in Warrington than wandering round modern housing developments talking to the local inhabitants. If so, I havent discovered them. I got to the first address soon after nine, which wasnt bad considering it had taken me twice as long as usual to get ready that morning because of the painful stiffness in my right shoulder. Id forgotten you shouldnt go tenpin bowling unless youve got the upper body fitness levels of an Olympic shot putter.
The first house was at the head of a cul-de-sac that spiralled round like a nautilus shell. I tried the doorbell of the neat semi, but got no response. I peered through the picture window into the lounge, which was furnished in spartan style, with no signs of current occupation. The clincher was the fact that there was no TV or video in sight. It looked as if my conservatory buyers had moved and were renting out their house. Most people who let their homes furnished tuck their expensive but highly portable electrical goods away into storage in case the letting agency dont do their homework properly and let the house to people of less than sterling honesty. Strangely, a couple of the houses Id visited the previous evening had had a similar air of absence.
Round the back, there was more evidence of the missing conservatory than in the others Id seen, where the concrete bases theyd been built on had simply looked like unfinished patios. Here, there was a square of red glazed quarry tiles extending out beyond the patio doors. Round the edge of the square was a little wall, two bricks deep, except for a door-sized gap. And the walls showed the now familiar traces of the mortar that had attached the extension to the house.
Id noticed a car parked in the drive of the other half of the semi, so I made my way back round to the front and rang the doorbell, which serenaded me with an electronic Yellow Rose of Texas. The woman who opened the door looked more like the Dandelion Clock of Cheshire. She had a halo of fluffy white hair that looked like it had been defying hairdressers for more than half a century. Grey-blue eyes loomed hazily through the thick lenses of gold-rimmed glasses as she sized me up. Yes? she demanded.
Im sorry to bother you, I lied. But I was wondering if you could help me. I represent the company who sold next door their conservatory
Before I could complete my sentence, the woman cut in. We dont want a conservatory. And weve already got double glazing and a burglar alarm. The door started to close.
Im not selling anything, I yelped, offended by her assumption. Great start to the day. Mistaken for a double-glazing canvasser. Im just trying to track down the people who used to live next door.
She stopped with the door still open a crack. Youre not selling anything?
Cross my heart and hope to die. I just wanted to pick your brains, thats all. I used the reassuring voice. The same one that usually works on guard dogs.
The door slowly opened again. I made a great show of consulting the file I was carrying in my bag. It says here the conservatory was installed back in March.
That would be about right, she interrupted. It went up the week before Easter, and it was gone a week later. It just disappeared overnight. History had just been made. Id dropped lucky at the first attempt.
Overnight?
That was the really peculiar thing. One day it was there, the next day it wasnt. They must have taken it down during the night. We never heard or saw a thing. We just assumed there must have been some dispute about it. You know, perhaps she didnt like it, or she didnt pay or something? But then, youd know all about that, if you represent the firm, she added with a belated note of caution.
You know how it is, Im not allowed to discuss things like that, I said. But I am trying to track them down. Robinson, my file says.
She leaned against the door jamb, settling herself in for a good gossip. It was all right for her. I was between the cold north wind and the door. I jerked up the collar of my jacket and hated her quietly. She wasnt what youd call sociable. Not one for joining in, you might say. I invited her in for coffee or drinks several times and she never came once. And I wasnt the only one. Were very friendly here in the Grove, but she kept herself to herself.
I was slightly puzzled by the constant reference to the woman alone. The form in the file was in two names Maureen and William Robinson. What about her husband? I asked.
The woman raised her eyebrows. Husband? Id have said he was somebody elses husband, myself.
I sighed mentally. How long had you known Mrs Robinson? I asked.
Well, she only moved in in December, the woman said. She was hardly here at all that first month, what with Christmas and everything. Most weeks she was away three or four nights. And she was always out during the day. She often didnt get home till gone eight. Then she moved out a couple of days after the conservatory went. My husband said she probably had to move suddenly, on account of her work, and maybe took the conservatory with her to a new house.
Her work?
She told my Harry that she was a freelance computer expert. It takes her all over the world, you know. She said thats why shed always rented the house out. Theres been a string of tenants in there ever since we moved in five years ago. She told Harry this was the first time shed actually had the chance to live in the house herself. There was a note of pride in her voice that her Harry had managed to get so much out of their mysterious neighbour.
Can you describe her to me, Mrs?
She considered. Green. Carole Green, with an e, on the Carole, not the Green. Well, she was taller than you. Not hard. Five three isnt exactly Amazonian. Not much, though. Late twenties, Id say. She had dark brown hair, in a full page-boy, really thick and glossy her hair was. Always nicely made up. And she was a nice dresser, you never saw her scruffy.
And the man you mentioned?
There was more than one, you know. Most nights when she was here, a car would pull up in the garage later on, about eleven. A couple of times, I saw them drive off the next morning. The first one had a blue Sierra, but he only lasted a couple of weeks. The next one had a silver Vauxhall Cavalier. She seemed very positive about the cars and I commented on it. My Harrys in the motor trade, she informed me. I might not have noticed the men, but I noticed the cars.
And you havent seen her since she moved out?
The woman shook her head. Not hide nor hair. Then the house was rented out again a fortnight after she moved. A young couple, just moved up from Kent. They left a month ago, bought a place of their own over towards Widnes. Lovely couple, they were. Don and Diane. Beautiful baby girl, Danni.
I almost pitied them. I bet theyd not thought fast enough to get out of the little social events of the Grove. I couldnt think of anything else to ask, so I made my excuses and left. I considered trying the other neighbours, but I didnt see how anyone could have succeeded where Carole with an e had failed.
Scarborough Walk was only a mile away as the crow flies. Clearly the crow has never inspired a town planner. Only a Minotaur fresh from the Cretan labyrinth would feel at home in the newer parts of Warrington. I negotiated yet another roundabout with my street map on my knees and entered yet another new development. Whitby Way encircled a dozen Walks, Closes and Groves like the covered wagons pulled up to repel the Indians. It was about as hard to breach. Eventually, second time round, I spotted the entrance to the development. Cleverly designed to look like a dead end, in fact it led straight into a maze that I managed to unravel by driving at 10 m.p.h. with one eye on the map. Sometimes I wonder how I cope with a job as glamorous, exciting and risky as this.
Again, there was no conservatory. The couple who lived there now had only been renting it for a couple of months, so the harried mother with the hyperactive toddler wasnt able to tell me anything about the people whod actually bought the conservatory. But the woman next door but one had missed her way. She should have been on the News of the Worlds investigative desk. By the time I escaped, I knew more than I could ever have dreamed possible about the inhabitants of Scarborough Walk. I even knew about the two couples who had moved out in 1988 after their wife-swapping had turned into a permanent transfer. However, I didnt know much about the former inhabitants of number six. Theyd bought the house the previous November, and had moved out at the end of February because hed got a job out in the Middle East somewhere and shed gone with him. Shed been a nurse on permanent night duty, at one of the Liverpool hospitals, she thought. Hed been something in personnel. Shed had a blonde urchin cut, just like that Sally Webster on Coronation Street. Hed been tall, dark and handsome. Shed had some kind of little car, hed had some kind of big car. He often worked late. They went out a lot when they werent working. The perfect description to put out to Interpol.
The next house still had its conservatory. It also still had a satisfied customer, which I was grateful for. I really didnt need to be mistaken for the customer services department of Colonial Conservatories. I ploughed on through the list, and when I reached the end, I reckoned I was entitled to a treat for having spent so task-orientated a day. Four oclock and I was back in Manchester, sitting in my favourite curry shop in Strangeways, tucking into a bowl of karahi lamb.
As I scoffed, I popped the earpiece of my miniature tape recorder in place and played back the verbal notes Id made after each of my visits. Five out of the eight were victims of MCS (Missing Conservatory Syndrome, Id christened it). The only common factor I could isolate was that, in each case, the couple concerned had only lived in the house for a few months after buying it, then theyd moved out and let the place via an agency. I couldnt make sense of it at all. Who were all these people? Two brunettes, one auburn, two blondes. Two with glasses, three without. All working women. Two drove red Fiestas, one went everywhere by taxi, one drove a white Metro, one drove something small. All the men were on the tall side and dark, ranging from handsome to nowt special. A description that would cover about half the male population. Again, two wore glasses, three didnt. They all drove standard businessmens cars a couple had metallic Cavaliers, one had a red Sierra, one had a blue Sierra, one changed his car from a big red one to a big white one. Not a single lead as to the whereabouts of any of them.
I had to admit I was completely baffled. I dictated my virtually non-existent conclusions, then checked in with Shelley. I answered half a dozen queries, discovered there was nothing urgent waiting for me, so I hit the supermarket. I fancied some more treats to reward me for the ironing pile that faced me at home. I had no intention of including myself in Richards plans for the evening. I can think of more pleasurable ways of getting hearing damage than boogying on down to a double wicked hip hop rap band from Mostyn called PMT, or something similar. Theres nothing like a quiet night in.
4
And thats exactly what I got. Nothing like a quiet night in. Id gone back to the office after a quick hit on Sainsburys and dropped off my cassette for Shelley to input in the morning. I was sure the thought that it was for Ted Barlow would make her fingers fly. Then Id finally managed to find the peace and quiet to develop my surveillance films from PharmAce Supplies. As I stared at the film, I wished I hadnt. On the other hand, if youre going to have a major downer, I suppose its as well to have it at the end of a day thats already been less than wonderful, rather than spoil a perfectly good one.