The Likes of Us (62 page)

‘How could I? Why'd I want to do that?'

Where was the body? Didn't anybody else see it? Why wasn't there somebody in the street to pick him up? She had hold of Roseanne's arm again and her grip tightened.

‘They couldn't, Louise. Let go, will you, you're hurting.'

‘I don't understand why—'

‘There was a lorry passing by. It was full of old stone and bricks. It fell straight on top of that an' never moved. Then the lorry just carried it away.' Louise thought she was going to pass out. When she took hold of Roseanne again it was to keep herself upright.

Roseanne was sobbing, her face drenched.

‘Oh, isn't it awful? What a terrible thing.'

The bus was approaching. It slowed.

‘You'll miss the bus, Roseanne.'

‘What about you?'

‘I'll get the next one.' She gave the younger girl a gentle push. ‘Off you go. I'll see you later.'

Louise turned and walked down the steps of the pedestrian underpass. She put her face on her forearms against the wall. She wanted to retch. She heard footsteps and the old voices, a man's first:

‘What have you had for your breakfast, lass?”

She made no response.

A woman said, ‘Been glue-sniffin' or summat. God
knows what they get up to nowadays.'

They went. Their slow footsteps scraped on the concrete stairs.

Louise suddenly realized that she was living the most important moments of her life so far. As she slowly brought the horror under control she knew with the growing calm of clear resolve what she must do.

‘I shall kill him.' she said aloud.

She told her mother what she knew as soon as she got back from school. Somehow she had got through the day and done her work without drawing attention to herself. Her secret had held her steady.

She would kill him.

‘I'm sorry, Louise. I'd give
anything
for it not to have happened.'

‘Oh, you don't mean that. Not anything.' It was the cause of it all that she would never give up. Not until she was released.

‘I don't understand you.'

‘Well, you don't have to bother, because I shall see to it meself.'

‘Louise, what–'

‘I shall get him for it. That's what I mean.'

‘Love, for God's sake don't–'

‘Face him? Oh, I won't. He's never knocked me about and I don't intend to start him off. But I shall get him for it, have no fear.'

‘Oh,' her mother began, ‘don't talk so…' But her faint patronising smile died with her voice as she gave her a suddenly uncertain sidelong look.

‘Sooner or later,' Louise said. ‘The time will come.'

Preparing for it, working out ho
w
, would steady her in resolve. No more railing. No more corrosive despair. She had a purpose now. All she had to do was keep cool, be patient, think of ways, while she sharpened her loathing into a deadly point of resolute steel. It would be the more satisfying if he could know about it when the time came.

For it
would
come. And she would know when it arrived – oh, yes – the day, the hour, the moment… when…

Safe Journey On

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Melanie and Heather were going down from the mountains to the coast, by coach, for the second half of their holiday. Heather's ex had tried to warn her off the entire trip because of trouble inside the country; but simply talking to him on the telephone had upset her so much she wouldn't have taken his advice on anything. Heather and Keith had not lived together for three years, but as soon as the divorce had become final he seemed to want to hold an inquest. Melanie's husband couldn't have cared less about any trouble they might run into; his own plans were all he was interested in. And although there had been empty seats on the aircraft and the hotel wasn't full, Melanie couldn't understand what the panic was about, because their week in the mountains had been quiet enough to be boring. There was no night life – even the bars closed at ten-thirty – and the hotel was deserted during the day while people walked in the high meadows and woods, or made lengthier excursions over the passes where there was still some snow this late in spring and reports of melting slides which closed the roads for a time. Somewhere up one of the passes was the chapel of the Russian prisoners who had built the road. Heather had read about it and kept letting Melanie know that she fancied a day out to look at it. But walking all that way was not Melanie's idea of a holiday pastime and Heather did not want to go alone.

Melanie's friend Susan had chosen and arranged the holiday then fallen ill, leaving a place which Heather, who needed a distraction, had been persuaded to fill. A bright idea of Melanie's to contact Heather, whom she had not seen for years. Or so she had thought. She wasn't so sure now. But that could be the deadening effect of this place, which Melanie was surprised Susan had chosen (and that she had allowed her to choose without checking), and everything would surely be better once they were on the coast. Melanie was going to sunbathe topless when they reached the sea and regretted that it did not seem the done thing here, because she spent most of each day lying in the sun on the hotel terrace while Heather sat nearby in the shade and read one paperback after another. Melanie had attractively firm breasts for a woman turned forty and had not been afraid of showing them on beaches in Spain and Italy. Seeing Heather stepping out of the shower one time, she had told her, in her usual candid way, that she had nothing to hide either, and why didn't she join in when they reached the coast. But Heather, trying not to look self-conscious at being caught naked, had said she did not enjoy lying in full sunlight anyway. A hospital almoner, Heather was used to hearing and dealing with people's difficulties; yet there was often a shy, almost vulnerable look about her.

Sometimes after dinner they chatted with the only two unaccompanied men in the place, a couple of Scots who left the hotel every morning straight after breakfast, wearing thick stockings and walking-boots and carrying knapsacks. They amused Melanie. ‘Doch an' Doris' she had christened them as she and Heather saw them setting out on another twenty-mile tramp. ‘They say it's wonderful above the snow-line,' Heather said. ‘Another world,' Melanie murmured. ‘Another worrrld.' She sighed. ‘There's almost bound to be something more enticing on the coast.' ‘Enticing?' ‘Fetching, then.' ‘They're all right,' Heather said. ‘The younger one – Andrew – is quite good-looking in his own way,' Melanie allowed, ‘but Gavin
…
well, I never did go for wiry little men with ginger hair on their legs.' ‘You sound as if you've known a good many,' Heather said, and Melanie said, ‘Oh, I've been around, Heather my girl, I've been around,' while she opened one eye behind her sunglasses to see how shocked Heather might be looking.

On the last night before the women left one of the men sniffed at Melanie's maraschino on the rocks as the bar was closing and said why didn't they come up to their room and have a farewell drop of malt whisky from their duty-free bottle. ‘Just a wee doch an' doris,' Gavin said, so unexpectedly becoming the stage Scot that Melanie, glass at her lips, almost choked as she tried not to burst out laughing.

A quick conference in the ladies told her that Heather wasn't keen.

‘I'd planned to pack and have an early night. The coach leaves at half-past seven.'

‘Oh, come on, let yourself go for half an hour.'

‘But what do they want?'

‘It's not what they want, it's what we're prepared to give them.'

‘In my case, that's nothing.'

‘Not even a joke and a laugh?'

‘Half an hour, then. I shall leave after half an hour whether you're ready or not.'

Melanie could not help, all the same, looking at Heather in slight puzzlement when she did get up to go as second drinks were being offered.

‘I did say
…
'

‘Well, yes, if you must.'

‘You're not going yet, are you?” Andrew asked, flourishing the bottle. “Won't you have another? I thought we were just getting really relaxed.'

‘I did say to Melanie.'

‘You run along, then,' Melanie said.

‘Shall I bring you back the key?'

‘Just leave the door unlocked, can't you?'

‘If you're not going to be long I shall probably still be packing.'

I really can't say how long I'll be, Melanie wanted to say. If you're going go, don't hover.

‘We'll say good-night, then,' Andrew said, already pouring into Melanie's glass. ‘And if we don't see you in the morning, safe journey on.'

They had been talking about the seaside resort where Melanie and Heather were heading for and Gavin had described it, a town of ornamental stucco on baroque villas, dreaming behind trees of their imperial past, when, a part of the old Hapsburg empire, they had been visited by lesser lights of the Austrian court and their women. Now Melanie realised that Gavin had gone. Where was he?

‘I think he went after your friend.'

‘Did he really?'

‘He might be just seeing her to her door.'

‘Or what?'

‘Or I don't really know.'

‘Do you two have some kind of signal?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Meaning, now I want to be left alone.'

‘What a suspicious mind you've got.'

Melanie smiled at him. She enjoyed this game. She had played it before.

‘If you'd anything else in mind you've left it a bit late.'

‘Have I?' He was, to give him his due, making a good job of looking puzzled.

‘We shall be two hundred miles away this time tomorrow. I intend to have everything I came with. Nothing more; nothing less.'

‘It's a pity. I think that next week could have been much more interesting than this last.'

‘And now we'll never know.'

Andrew came with his glass and sat beside Melanie on the sofa. It was not a sofa really, just an extra built-in single bed, and not what you would call comfortable to sit on for long. He took her hand. She let it lie.

‘You really are a rather attractive woman, Melanie, all the same.'

‘All the same as what?'

‘That we're not going to get to know each other any better.'

‘Are you married? Tell the truth now.'

‘Yes.'

‘What about your friend?'

‘Separated. What about yours?'

‘Divorced.'

‘And your marriage is
…
' His thumb moved the rings on her hand
…
‘is it in good working order?'

‘Yes, it's all under control. And now might be a good time to tell you that you are holding the hand of a grandmother twice over.'

‘I don't believe you.'

‘Married for the first time at eighteen; daughter not much older and pregnant in the first year. Nothing to it.'

‘What happened to the first husband?'

‘Killed in a road accident.'

‘And the second one believes in live and let live?'

‘Something like that.'

‘You know, I'd no such thought in my mind until you started to talk about it.'

‘Which I wouldn't have if your friend hadn't left us alone tight on cue.'

‘Have it your way.'

‘Oh, I shall. And please don't kiss me, Andrew. I'm unusual for this day and age, but I do find it such an intimate thing.'

‘Well then, I'll remove myself from temptation.” He got up and went back to the bottle.

‘No more for me,' Melanie said. “In fact, I think I should be toddling along,'

‘And feeling grateful for your lucky escape,' Andrew said. He was looking at her with an expression of slight amusement. She felt herself flushing. It was not working out quite as it should have.

‘Better luck next week,' she said as he opened and held the door.

He allowed her that and, she knew, stood to watch her till she had turned the corner.

Irritability was ready when she put her hand to the knob of her own door and felt its resistance. She knocked, wondering why Heather could not remember a simple request to leave the door unlocked. She knocked again, louder, and a third time hard enough to hurt her knuckles. Turning her hand she thumped the door with the bunched edge of it. ‘Heather,' she said loudly, ‘for heaven's sake open the door.' She looked round as a door opened behind her. A man in pyjamas looked out.

‘Are you having trouble?'

‘I think my friend must have gone off into a deep sleep.'

‘The night porter downstairs should have a pass-key.'

‘Yes. Thanks. That's a good idea,'

‘It's the only idea, unless you want to wake the whole floor.'

What a dump it was, with everybody in bed by midnight and afraid of being disturbed.

Melanie went to the lift. A few dim bulbs cast a miserable light on the square of sofas and low tables which turned the inner part of the lobby into a lounge. There was a brighter glow coming from the room behind the desk, where the night porter sat. Melanie rapped on the desk until he looked round the door.

‘I'm locked out of my room. I wonder if you have a spare key.'

He stood behind the desk in his shiny blue uniform, thick-set, square-featured, Slavic.

‘Number, please.'

‘Three-one-one.'

He turned and found the empty hook. He waved his hand at it.

‘I know it's not there,' Melanie said. ‘My friend has fallen asleep and locked me out.' She was about to mime sleeping when someone tapped on the glass of
the entrance door. The porter turned and looked. ‘A moment.' He walked to the door and opened it as Melanie made out two people. Heather came in with Gavin. The porter was pointing to the room key in Heather's hand. Heather's voice carried across the space. “I know I should have, but I didn't.' She came towards Melanie, looking apologetic.

‘I must have wakened half the floor, Heather, thinking you'd gone to sleep.'

‘I'm sorry, Melanie. I never thought.'

‘
I
put it out of her mind,' Gavin said. He held out his hand to Heather. ‘I'll say goodbye now.'

‘We're on the same floor,' Heather said. ‘Aren't you coming up?'

‘In a minute. I want a word with the porter.'

‘I'll say good-night, then.'

‘Yes. Good-night.' He nodded at Melanie. ‘Good-night.'

Melanie managed to keep silent until they were in their room, when she let rip.

‘Really, Heather, you made me feel quite foolish.'

‘I expect I did, and I'm sorry.'

‘What were you doing out there, anyway?'

‘I was keeping Gavin company until he felt he could go back to his room.'

‘What was keeping him from his room?'

‘I should have thought you'd be in a better position than me to know that.'

‘Of course Andrew thought it all very convenient when Gavin left us alone.'

‘Did he? Did he try something on?'

‘They always try something on. How far they get is another matter.'

‘So long as we know.'

‘Is that what you take me for, Heather? Because if it is I'd better tell you before we go any further that I like men, I enjoy their company, but I'm not especially interested in sex.'

‘As long as your husband knows it's general and not just something about him,' Heather said.

‘Are you trying to be offensive?'

‘I believe I am.'

‘I don't know why. I've done nothing to you.'