4 Death at the Happiness Club (2 page)

'Can I help you?' he said politely.

'Do you know anything about this?' she flapped a hand at the poster. 'This Happiness Club? Only I think my friend could be interested in it.'

To his credit he didn't say 'Yeah, right,' or even look as if he was thinking it.

'There's a free speed-dating event,' he said. 'Next week.'

'And is that event being held right here?' said Maisie Sue. 'In this café?'

'Yes - only it isn't a café any longer,' said the man. He held out a hand. 'Sean Fraser. At your service. Want to have a look inside? We've done it up a bit.'

'So do you have some connection with the event?' said Maisie Sue, shaking his hand briefly.

'Yes, we’re in charge. Me and my sisters.'

He held the door open and, with some misgivings, she walked in. Her fears were partly allayed by the presence of two women bustling around at the other side of the room.

'Dee and Dilly,' he said, with a wave of his hand in their direction. 'What do you think of the place now?'

'I'm not sure I recall what it was like before?' said Maisie Sue. She gazed around her. She could tell the room was newly decorated. They had chosen a dark red colour for the walls, and a dark green for the curtains. It made the space look cosy and the service counter at one end unobtrusive. The two women had started to arrange and rearrange chairs.

'So I guess you've taken over this whole place?' she enquired.

'Only on a temporary basis,' he said. 'The décor's really meant for a Christmas shop that's going to be opening up later. In the autumn. We’re only using it to get things going. See if it's worth it or what.'

'What made you think of coming to Pitkirtly?' said Maisie Sue.

'To be honest, it could have been any of these towns along the coast here. We just chose Pitkirtly because we could get premises at a reasonable price. And no strings.'

'No strings?'

'In case it doesn't work out,' he explained. 'So we can move on.'

For some reason she was reminded of a travelling fair: here one minute, gone the next, constantly moving to new sites. Perhaps it was because of his black hair, green eyes and slight Irish accent. She found herself feeling unreasonably suspicious about the whole setup. The next moment, catching Dee's or Dilly's eye and exchanging smiles with her, she told herself not to be silly. She had been spending too much time with Amaryllis, was all.

'We really prefer to use village halls, that kind of thing,' he continued.

'Like the Over Fifties Keep Fit classes?' she suggested.

'Yes, I suppose so.' He didn't seem all that flattered by the comparison. And yet in some ways he was maybe targeting the same sort of client. 'But you don't have a village hall here.'

'Christopher might give you a room in the Cultural Centre if you ask,' she said.

An odd expression crossed his face: she couldn't tell if it was revulsion - surely not - or just mild surprise.

'We didn't think of that.'

'Have you had many sign-ups yet?' she ventured to ask.

'We haven't actually started signing people up,' said Dee - or was it Dilly? - placing a chair carefully in one corner of the room. 'We'll do that during the speed-dating.'

'It was real kind of you to show me what you're doing with this place,' said Maisie Sue to all of them.

'So do you reckon your friend will be interested?' said Sean Fraser conversationally as he showed her out.

'Friend? Oh! Yes, I guess she might.'

Maisie Sue resolved that if she did venture into the Happiness Club she would definitely find a friend to take along with her. She couldn't possibly reveal the full extent of her desperation by going in there alone.

Chapter 2 Small and harmless

Amaryllis liked to look out of the window as the plane made a big circle over the Firth of Forth and turned to fly up the River Almond, descending over the small and harmless-looking undulations of Central Scotland. After visiting the USA, where everything was on a much larger scale, she found the Scottish landscape soothing to the eye and calming to the mind.

Not that she needed to have her mind calmed, of course. What she had done at the other side of the Atlantic was already ancient history as far as she was concerned. Other people might have found it hard to push aside the scariness of breaking into CIA headquarters and hacking into Pearson MacPherson's personal file, but Amaryllis had years of experience at pushing aside things she couldn't be bothered thinking about any more, from that time in Ecuador to the nastiness in Murmansk and certainly including any events closer to home that she wanted to forget about.

She still wasn't absolutely sure what had made her do it. Pearson had upset Maisie Sue, of course, but normally she wouldn't have gone out of her way to do anything about that. And then there was the fish and chips incident. She hadn't really got her own back for that until now. But mostly, she realised, she had done it because she could. And because CIA headquarters was there.

She had thought of an excellent cover story in case Christopher asked where she had been, although he usually preferred not to know. That was one of several things she liked very much about him.

Suddenly Amaryllis could hardly wait for the plane to land so that she could see him at the arrivals gate, looking just that little bit anxious but ready to smile when he saw her. She wondered if his hairline had receded any further since she last saw him - but it had only been a couple of weeks, of course. Her other expeditions had lasted longer and had been more complex. She probably wouldn't notice any difference either in Christopher or in Pitkirtly itself.

She grabbed her rucksack from the overhead locker and wormed her way to the front of the queue to get off the plane. She always travelled light: she didn't believe in wasting time waiting for the hold baggage to be unloaded. In any case, in many of the places she had been during her former life the terrain was too rough for a massive suitcase and the welcome too uncertain. Having to make a quick getaway was always on the cards.

She stalked through passport control and customs, more or less daring anyone to stop her. She did have a momentary qualm when she saw a policeman waiting with the two customs officials, but it was almost as if they deliberately looked the other way when she came along. There was a man in a dark suit who was almost certainly a policeman too, but he didn't accost her or indicate in any way that she was likely to be arrested and extradited to the USA to account for her recent activities. She was such small fry that it was highly unlikely, and in any case any attempt to arrest her would have been made in secret in view of her past occupation and present status. So there was no need to go to Plan B, and that was just as well. Plan B involved a lot of dodging behind baggage trolleys and purloining people's uniforms. Although she had slept for a while on the overnight flight from Newark, she was still too tired to do any of that physical stuff.

Emerging at the international arrivals gate, she glanced quickly round to try and spot Christopher. She wasn't immediately alarmed when she didn't see him: he was quite shy and retiring, and would definitely have stationed himself at the back of any kind of throng.

'Hello, dear!' said Jemima Stevenson, suddenly popping up almost in front of her. 'I nearly missed you - I was doing the People's Friend crossword. There's quite a tricky clue here - look.'

She waved the magazine under Amaryllis's nose.

Amaryllis glanced down. 'Vampire,' she said, and started to look round again.

'Vampire - let me see, does it fit?'

'Where's Christopher?'

'Oh, he's gone away.'

'Gone away? Where? Is it another of these damn-fool management courses?'

'No, a holiday,' said Jemima. She took Amaryllis by the arm and started guiding her towards an exit. 'This way. David's brought his car.'

'What kind of holiday?'

'Well, it's a sort of walking and camping holiday, I think. Not the kind of thing Christopher would do usually, but he said she was very insistent.'

'She?'

Amaryllis didn't like being the one to ask silly questions. That was Christopher's role. It was just that she was slightly taken aback that he had apparently gone on holiday with a woman. Was she an old flame of his? A new acquaintance? Somebody's mother?'

'Yes, she got in touch with him again last week. Said her therapist had suggested they needed to bond with each other - to come to terms with the past and move on - you know, all that nonsense. The past's better left where it is. I should know.'

'But Jemima - who is she? Who is this woman?'

'Didn't I say? It's Caroline - who else would it be?'

Amaryllis gave a long sigh. 'Caroline. Of course.'

'I'm not sure it's wise. The two of them going off together. What if they stir up things from the past and set her off again?'

'I expect her therapist has thought of that,' said Amaryllis, as much to reassure herself as to set Jemima Stevenson's mind at rest. 'Christopher's old enough to look after himself, anyway.'

But she couldn't help wondering about it during the drive home in Dave's pick-up truck, now with added bumps and scrapes to the bodywork - he had ignored a Fiat Panda once too often. She wasn't sure that camping was the best idea either; the last time the brother and sister had lived together had been in a proper house and even then they had reached the point where Caroline tried to kill herself and Christopher had almost been arrested. Picturing the two of them in a tent, perhaps in the rain, she shuddered. But as long as there was no alcohol available perhaps it would be all right.

It was to keep her mind off these thoughts that she decided to break with tradition and do a tour of the town in daylight for once, instead of waiting until dark. It would be something to do while she waited for jet-lag to catch up with her too. Amaryllis was starting to notice jet-lag more as she got older, after imagining herself immune to it for the first forty years or so. She plodded up the road from her apartment towards the shops. It wouldn't be long before she needed a walking-stick at this rate - or a zimmer frame.

As ill-luck would have it, the first person she bumped into in the High Street was Jock McLean, complete with pessimistic outlook and unbounded cynicism about his fellow-beings.

'Do you know anything about Christopher and Caroline going off in a tent together?' she asked him, conscious that the words had somehow turned into an old-fashioned children's book title as she framed them.

'Hmph! It'll end in tears,' was Jock's contribution to the sum of human knowledge.

'But where have they gone?'

'He said something about the coastal path,' said Jock grudgingly, pausing to light his pipe.

'The Fife coastal path?'

'I assume so. I hope they've taken their wellies.'

Amaryllis glanced at the sky which was completely blue as far as the eye could see. 'I don't know - it's quite a nice day for it.'

'They're planning to walk the whole thing,' said Jock in a voice of doom.

'How long will that take?'

'About a week. There's rain forecast.'

'There's always rain forecast!' said Amaryllis, feeling she had to challenge at least some aspect of the unrelenting gloom. 'It's Scotland. It's July!'

'Heavy rain,' said Jock. 'One weatherman even said torrential rain.'

'Maybe it won't be that bad.'

'It'll be worse!' said Jock.

'When did they leave?'

'Yesterday. They've probably killed each other by now.'

'Hmm,' said Amaryllis, already bored with the argument. She knew Jock did it on purpose anyway.

They came to the old café where she had once had a difficult conversation with someone's grandmother. It wasn't a café any more.

'What the hell's the Happiness Club?' she said, peering at the poster in the window. For some reason the print got smaller and smaller towards the end. She wondered if she needed glasses. That was all she needed, another sign of galloping old age!

'It's one of those marriage bureaux,' said Jock.

'I don't think they call them that any more. Look, it talks about social activities. Adventure weekends - bingo - tea dances. Why don't you give it a try?'

Jock started to laugh, a wheezy exercise that made him sound like a rusty old steam engine. As it turned into a coughing fit, she patted him gently on the back.

'Can you really see me,' he spluttered, 'setting foot in something called the Happiness Club?'

She looked at him sternly. 'You shouldn't let the name put you off. You might enjoy it.'

'You daft wee lassie, I've spent my whole retirement so far avoiding tea-dances and bingo, especially if they're meant for old people.'

'There'd be people of all ages at this,' said Amaryllis. 'Look - free speed-dating to start it off.'

'What's that when it's at home?'

'I think it's a bit like musical chairs,' she said. 'You move on when the music stops. Or something.'

'It'll be something, all right.'

'I might give it a try,' said Amaryllis vaguely.

He gave her a look. 'You've got no need of a social life.'

'Everybody needs a social life. What do you think our gatherings at the Queen of Scots are?'

'Well, they're not tea-dances, that's for sure,' he said. He shook his head vigorously. 'What do they want to start stirring up that kind of thing for? In Pitkirtly?'

Someone opened the café door.

'Come on, let's get out of here,' said Jock. They moved along hastily before they had to speak to the man who came out.

'He looks like a right villain,' said Jock in what he seemed to think was an undertone.

'I expect he's only the shop-fitter,' said Amaryllis.

She had made up her mind to investigate the Happiness Club further, as she did with anything new or unusual on her patch. Finding a 'perfect partner' didn't come into it. She already knew there was no chance of that.