A Line in the Sand (56 page)

to come forward."

"That's mighty high talk."

"I'm talking about cowards who know what is right, and stay silent."

"Do you want to know?"

"Do I want to hear a string of snivelled excuses? Not particularly."

ot proud of what happened."

"I am n

rank and Meryl Perry need someone from among you bastards to hold

"F

out

d of friendship."

the han

know your name. You're another of the strangers who has

"I don't

invaded our little place. Till you came, we were just ordinary

people

370

living hidden and un achieving lives, we were like everybody else, y

everybod

anywhere. We were not challenged... I don't know your name

but, stranger, I am homosexual. Queer, got it? I live with my

friend

and I love him. But, I am discreet.. . I do not cause offence, I do

not draw attention to myself. If I did then in this little place

I

would be labelled a pervert. I buy tolerance with my work as the

storian.

village hi

I can tell you where the old shore-line was, and

the old churches, and the old shipyard, all that stuff, but at least I

take this place seriously. If I were blatant I would be

ostracized...

Yes, I should have spoken up for Frank and Meryl. I like them, but I'm

a coward. Yes, I'm ashamed.

, yes, I go with the tide.

So

But, it's

ke the sea and the history here.

li

It makes for a sense of futility.

Little gestures against the strength of the sea, over many centuries, d the worthlessness of man's efforts.

have prove

We bow before the

force of the inevitable."

rkham stared out over the marshland, and the peace that settled

Ma

on

it.

here when this is over, stranger. We'll be left to

"You won't be

pick

es, and you'll have moved your caravan on where you can

up the piec

make

ts on other ordinary people. Is it satisfying work? You

judgemen

sneer

at me because I didn't, publicly, offer my hand in friendship to the Perrys.

me tell you no, listen to me.

Let

Twice, in the night when

I

wouldn't be seen, I've put my coat on and determined to walk to Frank yl's door, and each time I failed to find the courage.

and Mer

Will

you

m that I'm ashamed of my cowardice?"

tell the

Markham said icily.

"No,"

himself for his cruelty.

He cursed

The man was gone, stumbling away.

the challenge had faced him.

He wondered how he would have been if

The

warm sun was on his face. Geoff Markham watched the flight of the 371

bird

and he had no sense of what was remarkable, what was a miracle.

"Do you know what, Barney?"

"What, Harry?"

"I think it's an away goal."

"Come again."

"I think the Yank's scored away from home."

Harry Fenton and Barnaby Cox stood at their adjacent office doors.

Duane Littelbaum, flushed, yawning, had his feet up on the central table, scanning a newspaper.

"What's that mean?"

"Got his leg over with Miss Prim Parker."

"You sure?"

Cathy was at her place at the console. Her eyes were on her screen.

She never looked up, didn't glance at the soles of his shoes.

"Look at her. You ever seen her so feminine? God, next she'll be wearing lipstick, mascara and eau-de-toilette. Ever seen her so

gly coy, even shy? You noticed Geoff Markham's door, the

becomin

number

y on it? Just before you came in, she scratched out one

of the da

day

and wrote DAY SIX, and underneath she's put, "The worm has turned,"

and

I haven't decrypted that cypher, but she and the Yank sniggered like kids. As an expe~enced, senior, dedicated intelligence officer, I'd say the evidence points to last night's naughtiness."

"Not many been there before."

chap, so he said, who tried to get his arm up her skirt, that

"Last

Adonis from D Branch, said she damn near broke it off at the elbow.

claims he was there, admits she was so stressed out that

Brennard

she

didn't know who he was. Well done, the Yank."

372

"He's been useful, but I wouldn't want Mr. Littelbaum, or his people,

to believe we are overly dependent on them... if you're with me. I wouldn't wish them to believe we're in their pocket, or not competent in our own theatre."

A wolfish grin played at the sides of Harry Fenton's mouth.

"Our show, done quietly, yes?"

"You are, Harry, managing this matter?"

The grin vanished.

"Time will tell I live in hope."

Davies brought him a mug of coffee.

Perry had lifted his plans out of the chest's bottom drawer in the sitting room and carried them into the dining room. He had asked

Davies if he minded the intrusion and the detective had shaken his head. It was only a small job, a problem with the air filtration

on

the production line of an assembly plant in Ipswich. Davies had

moved

his machine-gun and the spare magazines across the blanket over the table to make room for him, then headed for the kitchen.

It was the first time that Frank Perry had taken out some work in

a

week. Only a small job, which wouldn't pay more than a thousand

pounds, but it was his little gesture of defiance. He had noticed that

Davies didn't ask before going to the kitchen to make coffee, and

he

thought the detective was at home now, comfortable, in their house.

Perry thanked him for bringing the coffee. Meryl was upstairs,

packing.

She had slept alone.

Poring over the workshop plans, tracing the course of the filtration pipes, Perry reckoned out where the new motor should be placed, and what power it must have to create the necessary airflow down the pipes to the unit. There were two more consultancy jobs in the drawer,

373

one

larger than this and one smaller, and after that there was nothing.

He

was tapping out calculations and jotting the numbers while she

packed.

The ceiling beams and floor planks of the old house creaked under

her

ove him. She was in Stephen's room. He didn't know how

weight ab

much

nded to take, everything or the bare minimum.

she inte

If she took

everything, cleared the child's room of clothes and toys, then she was

going for ever.

ut, and he'd come reluctantly

She had called Stephen in from the h

his

days were now split between the television and the hut. He'd noticed that, just as he had noticed that Davies was now more comfortable

in

the house. He had not asked how much she intended to take because he

had not dared to hear the answer. The footfall moved above him.

She would be in the gloom of their bedroom. She had left the child on

pack his toys.

his own to

Perry heard the thud as she pulled down the biggest of the cases from the top of the wardrobe, and then another.

own, doggedly,

He stared d

at the plans for the new filtration unit.

all right, sir?"

"Are you

n't I be?"

"Why should

"Where's she going?"

"Haven't the faintest idea."

"She has to go somewhere."

"Her mother and father died in a coach crash, and she's never spoken of

any relatives. She's no friends where she came from... We only have different."

each other. We thought it was

374

"Shall I book a hotel?"

st."

"That would be be

"Where should the hotel be?"

"How the hell should I know?"

Davies slipped away, left him. Perry swore. He had made a bloody e, had missed a bloody decimal point.

mistak

He ripped up the sheet

of

ich he'd written his calculations, threw the pieces to

paper on wh

the

started again .. . She'd be packing the blouse he'd bought

carpet and

for her last birthday, and the diamond cluster ring with a central ire that he'd given her last Christmas, and the underwear she'd

sapph

ng

shown him when she came home from Norwich three weeks ago; everythi er, and to him, would be going into the suitcases.

that mattered to h

He

corrected the positioning of the decimal point. It was the principle tered.

that mat

He would not surrender. Why did no one understand

at

th

he had to hold on to the principle?

Davies came back in. Perry saw the smudge of lipstick on his collar, mp patch around it, and knew the detective had comforted her.

the da

"How much is she taking?"

"Not too much, not too little."

"How long is she going for?"

"Not for me to say, sir."

"Where is she going?"

"An hotel in London I've said I'll book it."

Davies asked him if he'd like a refill of coffee, and Perry nodded.

He

s wondering, when she was in a hotel in London and the detective

wa

was

rom the duty, when a new man

relieved f

had come to replace him down

here, whether Davies would see her, seek her out.

375

His fingers smacked clumsily against the keys of the calculator.

idea.

It had been her

Simon Blackmore held tight to Luisa's hand.

He had had the same idea but it was she who had articulated it.

They walked through the village with purpose.

Either they did it or they left. They both knew that and did not

have

to speak it. If they had not started out on their walk through the house on the green, both of them would have gone to

village to the

the

he cottage and brought out the empty packing boxes

garage beside t

and

ed to fill them.

start

They would already have rung for the van and

telephoned the estate agent, and they would have gone.

Separately, when they had first seen the cottage, they'd each thought ge was a small corner of heaven, a place of perfection for

the villa

them. But, as Luisa Blackmore had said, pulling on her coat before the

start of their walk, a place in heaven had to be earned.

It was a fine morning. The sunshine played on the tiredness of her face, and on his, and on the brick walls of other cottages where the le and the climbing roses were already budding.

honeysuck

The light

shimmered off the neatness of lawns cut for the first time that year.

went past the pub, not yet open, and the empty car-park, and

They

saw

runting as he manoeuvred beer kegs from the outbuilding

the landlord g

the main door.

to

The caretaker's bicycle was leaning against the

wall

of the hall. A young woman sat on the bench and read a book. The shop

s open.

wa

The builder went by in his van, the man who had told them

about their damp problem, and they had seen him the night before,

and

he waved to them as if nothing had happened in the darkness. They went

on to the green, towards the house.

All the

they

time

walked, on the road and on the green, Simon Blackmore

376

held his wife's hand on which there were no fingernails. Her coat ffs hid her wrists and the old marks of razor slashes.

cu

Under her

coat, across her breast, was a thick scarf, and under the scarf and her

blouse were the burn scars. He supported her.

o

It was necessary t

y from long back.

give her support because of the knee injur

They came to the front gate. They were watched, eyes strip-searching the policemen in the car at the front. They were within

them, by

the

sion of the camera on the wall above the front door. Simon

vi

Blackmore

hard on his wife's hand and rang the bell.

squeezed

d. The camera's image would be watched. The policemen

They waite

in

e car would be reporting. He was middle-aged and frail. She

th

limped,

d her face showed harmless exhaustion. Nothing about them was

an

threatening.

The lock turned.

The policeman wore a bullet-proof vest over his shirt and his hand ed near to the pistol in his waist holster. Two bulging

hover

suitcases

re in the hall behind him.

we

His expression, cutting his eyes and

mouth, was of contemptuous hostility.

and, looking up at the policeman, Simon Blackmore

Holding his wife's h

ew a deep breath. He said, "We heard him speak last night. We dr

were

the crowd but not of it... We haven't met him, we're newcomers,

in

so

won't know us. He said his wife would leave but that she had

he

nowhere to go, and that she would need to find an hotel. We live

at

the far end of the village, near to the church, at Rose Cottage. It's only our third day here. We have come to offer the lady, and her