Tableland (31 page)

Just as well we had an early night last night as Trev was up at the crack of dawn wishing everyone Merry Christmas. He made us all a cup of tea in bed so we had to get up after that, although it was only 6.30. Perishing cold and dark.

Switched the fire on in the living room, also the tree lights to brighten the place up a bit and put on the radio, and after breakfast, had our ritual present opening. Everyone duly gratified none more so than me and was just expressing my thanks to Trev for the Wheeler's tie, which I had asked for and which I promptly put on, when the telephone rang.

It was Dave and Marcia ringing to say Happy Christmas. ‘We're into a snowy white snow and jingle bells situation here in Harpenden,' he said. ‘What's it like with you?' Discussed the weather for a while and then heard the familiar click as our party line picked up the receiver. Could even detect Butt breathing down the ‘phone while Dave and I were saying that we must try to arrange to meet this year. That man is really beginning to annoy me.

While Julie was gathering up the Christmas paper and smoothing it out ready to be reused at some future date, Julie's mother, ever neat and methodical, went to fetch a cardboard box from the garage for the rest of the rubbish.

Trev and I gave Eric his breakfast and made an unaccustomed fuss of him and I was just about to start reading a page of a new book on cars, when Julie's mother came hurrying in minus the box.

‘You're not going to believe this,' she said, ‘but I'm sure I saw something in your garage – something moving, scurrying across the floor. I'll almost swear to it.'

‘Perhaps a dead leaf blowing across,' I suggested

‘It seemed to be alive – some sort of animal – but it couldn't have been, could it?' Reassured her but caught the warning look in Julie's eye.

No one really cared to fetch the box after that and we just piled the rubbish in the bin.

Julie said she could manage in the kitchen without our help. ‘I'd rather have the place to myself – I can get on more quickly,' she explained. ‘Why don't you take Mum to the Cock and Bull for a quickie before dinner, and don't forget to bring me back some pork scratchings.' These are one of Julie's weaknesses and usually referred to as Arab's toenails.

It just so happens that Ted, the landlord at the pub, had been in the RAF and stationed for a time at Queensferry, where Julie's mother had done a stint, and they were soon chatting away as if they'd known each other all their lives. Had a job prising her away and only did so eventually with the promise of another session at the pub before she went home.

‘You know, you really must get started on your memoirs,' I told her on the way home. ‘There's quite an interest in World War II at the moment – Naughty Nights at the NAAFI… Scarlet Women in Blue…' I warmed to the subject.

‘Yes, I really must,' she said.

Unfortunately, the Mickey Mouse watch that Trev had been given by his Gran disintegrated during the afternoon. The second hand became loose and wedged itself between the other two hands and this caused quite a bit of upset.

‘It will be taken to the jewellers first thing on Tuesday morning by yours truly,' I promised after trying, without luck, to open the front and snapping off the winder, which I quickly hid in my pocket.

Bri rang up from Glasgow while we were having tea. Julie took the ‘phone call as I was choking at that particular moment in time, due to the sudden shock to my throat of the sherry trifle.

‘He's got a concert in Liverpool on Wednesday and is arranging to keep a couple of tickets for us at the box office at the Empire.'

‘It's not exactly my scene,' I said, and this was putting it mildly. Would have expressed myself more forcibly had it not been for Bri's mother sitting opposite me and the fact that it was Christmas Day.

However, I do not intend going to a pop concert, thank you very much. All that noise, teenagers screaming – very embarrassing. Will have a word with Julie about this later. Trev chipped in with ‘Well, if you don't want to go, I know one or two people who would – and I bet they'd give good money for the tickets,' he added thoughtfully, his entrepreneurial traits ever at the ready.

Changed the subject by reminding everybody that we are all invited to the Downes' for drinks tomorrow and made a mental note to wear my Wheeler's lapel pin and tie, and avert my eye from the fish pond.

Gathered round the television for an old Audrey Hepburn film and some of Julie's mother's homemade fudge which she makes every year. Dozed off and missed the end of the film, which didn't really matter as I've seen it twice before.

If it hadn't been for the lingering doubts which came back to haunt me in my quieter moments, and the fact that Julie was still smarting over the medallion, it would have been one of my best Christmases in living memory.

How do I even begin to explain the events of today? Just thinking about them makes my blood run cold and my hand is shaking so much I can hardly write. Better start at the beginning.

The rain seemed to be coming down in buckets as we crossed the road to the Downes', huddled in our macs and blown around by a sharp east wind, but a cheery welcome awaited us as we brushed by the holly and tinsel wreath on the door and were ushered into the living room (decorated for Christmas in white and silver by Kevin and Tracy).

Kev gave Trev a Coke and they vanished upstairs to play darts, Julie's mother was settled in a chair by the window and given a glossy new book on Gardens of the North to look at – incidentally, a subject in which she has no interest whatsoever and we were all handed glasses of spiced punch so hot that I nearly dropped mine. Luckily a faint mist had descended as the wind had dropped, and that, added to the rain, obscured the view of the fish pond.

‘Compliments of the season,' Steve said, beaming.

‘Cheers,' we replied.

We weren't the first to arrive. Una was over in a corner chatting to Ron Spicer. The Uppes were making animated conversation with him too – the first time I'd seen them all looking so friendly together for a very long time and I took Steve to one side. ‘It's good to see Ron and the Uppes have patched up their differences,' I said.

‘Oh, well, they're naturally feeling rather sorry for him at the moment.' He was just about to say more when the Goodchaps arrived with the Dugeons. The girls all crowded round Janice to ask about her course and talk then turned to the plum pudding relay and the general unfairness of the umpire, a fierce chap by all accounts, with pebble lenses.

Some people we'd never seen turned up, together with the Blades, the Price-Potters and the Gropes, and soon the air became thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of spiced punch.

The chat grew loud and, over the shoulder of Neville Price-Potter, I suddenly spied Julie's mother, still sitting by the window, deep in conversation with Rodney Blade, of all people. What on earth could they be talking about, I thought to myself. He had his pipe in one hand and his punch in the other and for a second he caught my eye. He gave a look which was almost sheepish and raised his glass to me. He's obviously been to another party, if not two, before he came here, I reasoned, seeing him so mellow, and turned my attention back to Neville, but I had somewhat lost the drift. ‘Basically,' he was saying, ‘it's your actual stopcock, as it were.' Was glad to see Una bearing down on us with the vol-au-vents. They were stuffed with very hot white sauce and so flaky that mine disintegrated at the first bite and I spent a bit of time trying to pick up pieces from the thick pile carpet.

Joined Julie, who seemed to be on the point of accepting a job in Nina Price-Potter's playgroup, so turned to have a chat with Alan, who was standing nearby. ‘It's right in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales – real James Herriot country,' he was enthusing to Mike Grope. ‘A trout stream at the bottom of the garden, log fires – a cottage for a real get-away-from-it-all holiday. I'm totally into ecology.'

‘Sounds just the job,' said Mike. ‘I'll have to have a word about it with Angie first, of course.'

‘No time like the present,' Alan said and they made their way over to where Angie was discussing the gardening book with Julie's mother.

Steve came by with his jug of punch and topped me up for the fourth or fifth time. Remembered that he had been about to say something about Ron Spicer before being interrupted so reminded him.

‘Oh, yes, well…' he put his head close to mine, ‘Brenda and Clive Dilley…'

But this was the moment I'd been waiting for, a chance to get him on his own. Felt I'd been suffering long enough in a private torment due to this obsession with Les Crow's fate. Surely, I reasoned, I was due a proper explanation now that I'm a co-Wheeler, an accessory after the fact, which thought gave me a very nasty turn.

I'd come to a big decision in bed last night – I would engineer a confrontation situation with Steve, put my cards on the table and hope he'd do likewise. After all, would I ever be able to look Trev in the eye in the years ahead if I didn't? And after that… well, as the old saying goes, I'd wait and see.

So, downing my punch quickly as a bracer and without waiting to hear about Brenda and Clive Dilley, I plunged in.

‘I think I know what happened to Les Crow.' My voice didn't seem to come from me at all, it sounded querulous and unnatural but it stopped Steve in mid-sentence. He gave me a strange look and refilled my glass. I wondered if he would bluff his way out of it and tell some glib lie. What I didn't bargain for was the cold matter of factness of his reply.

‘You do, do you?' he said and his tone was – well, disagreeable. ‘Aren't we clever then? Quite the detective, eh?' There was no beating about the bush, it was a straight forward, cards on the table affirmation. The full impact of the crime hit me again as I drained my glass. The horror of it made my flesh creep and took my breath away. What sort of cold blooded Ku Klux Klan had I joined, I wondered.

Una came up and grabbed Steve's arm at this point.

‘Don't make a scene but Kev's put a dart through the toilet window. ‘Could you have a word with him?' she hissed through the corner of her mouth, smiling all the while.

Steve disappeared. Looked at my watch and was surprised to see that it was half past two. People were starting to go.

Tried to gather the stupefied thoughts whirling round my mind as Julie gave me a look and went to gather up Trev and her mother, who was sipping her punch, looking comfortable and sleepy in the warmth and loth to move. Felt relieved we didn't have far to go.

Due to the congestion in the hall, where Steve was giving Kevin and friend a noisy dressing down, we let ourselves out through the kitchen. Trev led the way, followed by Julie propelling her mother along as fast as possible, she being anxious now to reach home and the bathroom. After the heat inside, the cold air struck me in the face like an icy sponge – and then it happened, and my hair stands on end to think of it.

Out of the mist, a figure loomed up by the fish pond – shiny black leather clothes, soaking wet, dripping black hair plastered to the head, drooping black moustache.

I couldn't scream, I could only stare in a blind panic at the nightmarish figure. It was looking straight at me and gave me a thumbs up sign – it was Les Crow, risen up from the dead.

Swear I don't remember another thing after that – Julie says I was sick all over the Butts' viburnum. Deny this hotly but her mother confirmed it, adding that someone was looking out of the window at the time and how embarrassed she'd felt. No chance to get a word in edgeways, attacked from all sides.

Get no sympathy as I lie here with a splitting headache. Refused plate of cold turkey. I know what I saw and what I saw was definitely not a figment of my imagination.

Was still feeling very much below par this morning and not a little sorry for myself when Steve rang the doorbell, causing a sound like vibrating gongs. Felt awkward seeing him after yesterday's showdown and thanked him for the party a shade stiffly.

‘Rumour has it that you're a touch under the weather,' he said and went straight on to say, ‘well not rumour exactly – Les Crow to be precise. Said you looked as if you'd seen a ghost when he bumped into you yesterday. I know I brew a pretty potent punch but…'

I interrupted him in a weak voice, ‘Les Crow?'

‘Yes, he saw you when he came round the back. Anita and the kids were trying the front doorbell, but due to the shindig going on with Kev and yours truly, no one heard.'

‘What was he doing there?' I asked – nothing seemed to make sense.

‘Celebrating like everyone else, of course. Oh, you mean after…'

‘After?' I echoed.

‘Well, you know Les – always one to brazen it out. You must have seen Janice at the party with Ken and put two and two together.'

‘Yes, I suppose so,' I lied. I now put two and two together and came up with an astonishing answer.

‘Well, you said you knew what was going on, though it beats me how you found out, we all had our instructions to keep mum.' He looked at me sharply.

‘Oh, quite,' I said and I was thinking, Les Crow and Janice Dugeon!

‘Apparently it's happened before with Les but he always returns to hearth and home and, it being Christmas and all that, he ran true to form. It's been an anxious time for Ken but he held on in there – least said, soonest mended, and how right he was. Now it's forgive and forget time. He's all heart is Ken. As they say, “To err is human, to forgive is… div something”.'

I suggested divorce but it didn't sound quite right. We agreed that Ken was a worthy chairman and it felt like old times again as we discussed the meagre charms of Janice Dugeon.

‘Always the quiet ones,' Steve said and shook his head. ‘You never can tell. Take Brenda Spicer…' But I'd had a sudden thought: there was still a piece of jigsaw to be fitted in.

I said, ‘Back in a second' and went to fetch the medallion.

‘Where on earth did you get that?' he said. I couldn't tell him now, without going into long and embarrassing explanations, so I hedged, ‘Do you recognise it?'

‘Of course I do, been missing for ages. It's off Tracey's charm bracelet, pretty, isn't it?'

Julie came in, which luckily put off more questions. ‘Would you like some coffee?' she asked but I saw her eyes go straight to the charm – will have to work my way out of that one later.

Waves of relief were still flowing over me while at the same time I couldn't help thinking of Ken's “forgive and forget”. Well, fair enough but am not altogether sure that I can forgive when I think of the worry and mental anguish of the past weeks.

Felt that a breath of fresh air and a brisk walk should be the order of the day after all that, so suggested a walk along the old railway track before lunch. My suggestion was greeted half-heartedly, but I persuaded them eventually and we set our faces to the wind.

‘I can't go any further, my feet are killing me,' Julie's mother said after about five minutes. ‘I'm not wearing the right shoes.' This was quite true. She then reminded me that I'd promised to take her back to the Cock and Bull for another trip down memory lane with the landlord, so our walk was abandoned. Trev called in to see Craig and the three of us adjourned to the pub, where more sagas of World War II were recounted.

‘By the way,' I said to Julie, suddenly remembering something that had intrigued me, ‘I noticed your mother and Rodney Blade in a huddle together at the Downes' yesterday. What on earth could they have had to talk about? I've never seen him so animated, all smiles he was.'

‘Oh, Mum thought the young chap with the pipe was very nice. He has this daughter who is keen on pop music and he was asking Mum if she could get Bri's autograph for her.'