Ripped (21 page)

She
looked
vaguely
offended
.
'No
matter
how
much
talk
there was,
there
would
be
no
way
of
finding
out.
The
person
would
be
buried
until
it
didn't
matter.'

'I
think
it
would
always
matter,'
he
said,
and
then,
afraid
that
would
sound
dull
and
moralising,
hurried
on,
'I
don't
think
the
police
ever
close
the
file
on
an
unsolved
murder’
What
had
first
occurred
to
him,
however,
what
he
had
meant,
being
serious minded
and
something
of
a
moralist,
was
that
time
had
nothing
to
do
with
it;
it
would
never
stop
mattering
that
a
soul
had
been
deprived
of
life.
'Anyway,
there
couldn't
be
a
body
in
all
of
them,'
he
explained
reasonably.
'It's
just
like
the
old
days
in
the
country
when
every
tree
and
hill
had
a
story
about
a
suicide
–
or
a
murder
come
to
that.
Girls
who
killed
their
babies
so
no
one
would
know.
But
you
come
from
the
country,
don't
you?'
She
had
the
rising
inflections
and,
still,
some
of
the
vowels
of
one
of
the
rural
parts
of
the
East
Coast.

'From
a
fishing
village,'
she
said.

'Plenty
of
superstitions
there.
It's
not
any
different
in
the
city.
People
think
they're
different,
but
human
nature
doesn't
change
.
'

'You
must
have
done
a
lot
of
travelling
to
find
out
so
much.'

'No!'
He
felt
that
he
had
let
down
his
guard
and
she
might
be
laughing
at
him.
'It's
just
that
I
grew
up
in
the
country.
I
haven't
travelled
much.
What
chance
have
I
had?
I've
been
with
the
same
firm
for
almost
thirty
years
–
twenty-eight
years
and,
eh,
five
months
to
be
exact.'
She
smiled
and,
realising
,
he
wanted
to
say
to
her
–
you're
right;
what
does
it
matter,
five
months,
six
months?
He
had
always
been
exact.
'What
chance
have
I
had?
Clerk,
chief
clerk.
I
couldn't
have
done
so
well
if
I'd
moved.
I
began
to
take
the
exams – but
I
had
to
stop –
I
was
warned
about
my
eyesight.
In
the end,
I
was
running
the
place.'

'You've
done
well,'
she
said.
'Now
you
own
the
business,
isn't
that
right?'

'It's
a
family
firm.'
There
had
been
a
time
when
he
thought
he would
get
on
the
board
of
MacKinlays.
'The
father
still
runs
it –
he's
nearly
eighty.
I
can
still
see
him
the
way
he
was
on
the
day
he
interviewed
me
for
the
job.
Sometimes
I
think
he's
never
changed
.
I
changed
–
and
the
firm.
It
got
bigger,
and
I
helped.'

'I
can
see
you'd
be
pleased,'
she
said,
and
yawned.

'He
has
two
sons
.
..
never
give
your
life
to
a
family
firm.'

Shamefully,
tears
prickled
in
the
corners
of
his
eyes.
It
had
been
a
nasty
little
scene.
'I
can't
see
what
good
it
will
do
for
you
to
run
after
her,'
the
old
man
had
said
angrily.
'It's
such
a
bad
time
for
you
to
go.
I
feel
let
down.'
He
was
glad
of
the
excuse,
he
thought
suddenly;
he
wanted
to
get
rid
of
me.

'His
older
son
never
liked
me.'
He
stared
blankly
at
the
passing street.
There
was
a
corner
shop,
closed
and
shuttered;
and
a
pub
with
narrow
high-set
windows
like
a
fort.
He
realised
they
had
left
the
main
road
behind.
'In
that
kind
of
work,
the
main
thing
is
being
able
to
cost
a
job
properly.
That's
how
you
manage
to
make
a
profit.
When
he
started,
he
couldn't
do
it,
no
matter
how
hard
he
tried.
He
couldn't
get
the
hang
of
it.
He
made
a
botch
of
everything.
It
was
me
that
tidied
up
after
him.
If
you
want
a
crime,
that
was
my
crime
.
It
would
have
been
better
for
the
old
man
if
I'd
been
his
son.'
Appalled,
he
fell
silent.
'That
was,
oh,
years
ago.'

When
they
got
out
of
the
taxi,
it
was
a
street
of
tenements.
The
impression
was
shabby
only,
not
of
a
slum,
nothing
degraded.
Yet
he
was
disturbed.

'I
don't
know
where
we
are,'
he
said.
'My
flat's
on
the
first
floor.
It's
nice.'
'What
district
is
this?
What
street
is
it?'