The Writer (17 page)

“I can’t imagine why,”
Sophie said as she went to leave.

“Best you two work it out,”
Susan said as she quickly made her way back to the kitchen,
realising that the whole meeting was not such a great
idea.

“What are we working out?”
Sophie asked her but she didn’t reply. “Why would you think there’s
anything to work out?”

“Come on, Sophie,” he said.
“Don’t be like that. I remember our walk through town and what a
good time we had. If there’s something I did wrong, just tell me. I
know I haven’t been here, since I kept getting called back home. My
boss says he can’t cope. I told him, I’m having a break, leave me
alone, let me have my time off in peace. And if it’s because you
were worried about the twins, I already explained that I found them
following me, and I made sure they got home safely. And I don’t
need to mention why they were in the city. Or that you think you
know me well enough to add me to your story.”

“You’re right, I don’t know
you. And I don’t want to.”

“You’re not being fair. Your
grandmother’s been saying all kinds of stuff about you, so I know
you’re not normally like this. Don’t you want to know what she
said?” He picked up his bag and hooked the strap over a shoulder,
and then put one hand in a pocket, again like he was a model posing
for a magazine shoot. And there was that slight smile.

“Not at all. My grandmother
can say what she likes, doesn’t change anything as far as I’m
concerned.”

“She’s been saying what a
great couple we’d make. She also said how when you were a girl you
hoped to be swept away by some tall handsome stranger. From the big
city.” He started swinging the bag, and then it came off his
shoulder and almost made him fall over, and he lost some of his
coolness. Not acting like he cared, he dragged it beside him as he
walked to the door.

“That’s true. But I’m not a
girl anymore.”

“But then, perhaps one day
we’ll see each other in the city. It’s not so big a place, I
guess.” He got to the door and pushed it open with the
bag.

“Don’t believe it. I’ve
lived there most of my life, and I never laid eyes on you until
now. Far as I’m concerned, you’re as real as a figment of my
imagination. When I go back home, it’ll just be like it always was:
you won’t exist.”

“How can you say that? We
could bump into each other on the street, at a mall, buying coffee,
anywhere. And you think we’ve never passed each other on the
street? What if we did and we both thought, ‘Who’s that cool
person,’ but we were not about to go asking anything personal since
we’re both just walking down the street and minding our own
business. I know if I was passing you by, I’d give you more than a
passing glance. If I’m not wrong, you’d have done the same for me.
But now we know each other, it’d be like, ‘There’s that cool person
I met in Gendry.’ I should say hello and chat a while.”

He then stood in the doorway
smiling and waving the bag in and out, like he wasn’t sure if he
should be going just yet.

“Listen to me, man,” she
said as she shoved his bag out and went to close the door. “You
won’t see me again, okay? There are thousands of guys like you, and
they’re probably as equally delusional as you.”

She watched him walk away
and was pleased that he didn’t look back. For just a second she
remembered how nice he was on that walk through town.

The only bad thing about the
train ride was that the sun was in Max’s eyes most of the way. He
thought about changing seats but each time he did the light
changed, but then changed back into his eyes not long after. He
just laughed to himself and decided to not worry about it and think
about his destination, and be grateful that there was any sunshine
at all. Once they left the city they also left the bleak weather
that had been hanging around for a couple of weeks, and that put
Max in a good mood.

Not having his wife around
him didn’t hurt either.

Gendry was the fifth stop
and Max counted them down with increasing anticipation. When he
finally walked out into the Gendry station he recalled memories
from his last visit. The air was noticeably sweeter than it was in
the city and the sun didn’t feel as bright or hot. Gone was the
bustle of his normal life: no hurry, no crowds, no traffic, no
worries, no stress, no wife. It was just Gendry; do what you want
when you want to and say hello to whomever you pass in the street,
maybe stop to have a chat or maybe not. It didn’t really matter,
since you could talk tomorrow or the next day, or the day after
that.

If he was a cat he would
have been purring as he walked out to the main street. The first
thing he noticed was the age of the people. They not only made him
feel young, but he did not feel out of place in using a crutch to
walk. He took note of the more important buildings, to give him a
point of reference. There was the church, the library, the
courthouse, the police station, and the best of them all, Sal’s,
the only food house in town and the only one that anyone really
needed. He was surprised to see that some of the old shops were
empty, and one was boarded up. A couple of elderly people politely
greeted him but didn’t stop to chat. They were moving so slow that
he probably could have taken time to ask them a few questions, but
he let them go. That same old Gendry was still here, he thought,
even if some of it was trying its best to disappear.

He was happy to see that the
boarding house was still going. Susan Tyle was still the owner but
it came as a small letdown that she didn’t recognise him. It was
too much to hope that she would remember him and was excited to
catch him up on family details. They were friendly in Gendry, but
not that friendly. She had probably had other guests over the
years. He knew that he could remind her that five years ago he
stayed there for two days and he still remembered it even if she
didn’t, but there was no point. Together with the fact that Max
usually didn’t want to talk about his family, meant it was best she
didn’t pry.

“And a warm welcome to
Gendry,” Susan said with a big smile. She tapped uncertainly at a
small laptop that sat on the counter in the room that served as the
foyer. He realised that she wasn’t too adept at using it, but he
also knew that it would be rude to try to help her.

“How long are you looking to
stay with us, sir?”

“A week at the most,” Max
said. “Although, you never know, I might find some reason to stay
on. I’m not on any kind of timetable here. Since it’s a small place
I don’t think I’d take much more than a week to get through, but
I’m always hopeful of finding something unexpected.”

“What kind of work are you
in?”

“I’m a writer. You might
have heard of me: Max Marshall.”

“Can’t say I
have.”

Max took that on the chin.
She must have had hundreds, if not thousands of guests since he was
last there. “My next novel’s actually set here, in Gendry. I’ve
already started it, but it helps to be here, get a feel for the
place. I’m hoping to talk to as many people as I can, get the local
flavour, so to speak.”

“Flavour? You mean the
trout? Depends how you cook it.”

“No, I mean flavour as an
expression. The atmosphere of the place is what I meant. I don’t
fish, and I certainly don’t cook. You wouldn’t know the best place
to visit? Is there a common meeting-ground, a popular bar or
something, in town?”

“Most people go to Sal’s
when they’re not here with me.”

He knew she would say that,
but it didn’t hurt in asking. Max glanced down the hall and into
the neighbouring dining room, seeing that they were alone. “Must
all be at Sal’s,” he suggested, intending her to think he was
funny.

“I guess they must be,” she
answered, mildly insulted. She had a slight edge to her voice when
she said, “Well, you’re lucky, sir, I have my best room for you. My
granddaughter was the last one to use it, so you know I’m not lying
when I say it’s my best room. If it was good enough for Sophie, you
know it must be good enough for anyone.”

“If you don’t mind my
asking, why did she leave the room? Is she in another
one?”

“No, she lives in the city.
She’s just gone back there. I’m always sad when she leaves, but I
know she doesn’t belong here in town, not anymore. She was born
here and loves the place as much as she can, but it’s the city that
has her heart now. I shock myself admitting that, but it’s best we
deal with that reality, that she’s her own person and she can make
her own decisions for her life.”

There was a moment of
awkward silence, as Max was not expecting such words from this
woman he did not know, even if it was right in the heart of Gendry.
Susan then showed him to his room, making no further
conversation.

Taking the train back to the
city was never as enjoyable as going the other way. Now it made
Sophie feel sad, and it was more than leaving her family and the
quiet town. She was making the same journey without any of the
excitement. The hopes of being able to relax with family and create
an interesting piece of fiction, was now just as much fiction as
her intended story. Having had time to reflect on what went wrong,
she knew it wasn’t really Craigfield’s fault and she was too harsh
with him. It was more that her writing had not come together. There
were other factors too, such as the murder, and the twins going
missing. A folder of twenty-odd pages was all she had to show for
herself, and it all needed reworking. She wasn’t sure if she should
just go and dump it in the nearest train station trash bin. If
anyone found it and sat down to read it they would probably have a
good laugh over how bad it was, and wonder why the name Craigfield
was crossed out with heavy strokes.

The city was cold and rainy,
and it made Sophie notice that the people seemed exactly the same;
cold, beaten-down, dreary, unwelcoming. There were so many people
but she couldn’t talk to any of them, or even make eye contact, or
trust anyone. Not like Gendry. Everyone was a stranger, but in
Gendry everyone was a friend. But then, there were signs that one
day Gendry would be the same. Just a matter of time before both
became the same place, the same story.

Her five-year-old cat Ginger
reacted like he barely knew she was gone. An easygoing furry Maine
Coon with a fixation with playing in water, the guy could sleep
anywhere, befriend anyone, and even not mind being woken up from a
deep sleep for a pat. She greeted him as she always did and felt
calmed by his strong purr. He looked overweight, which was normal,
but it told her that he was being regularly fed by her neighbour,
as was promised.

“Thank you so much for
looking after my cat,” Sophie said to Miss Hudson later that day
when she had a chance. Her elderly neighbour had lived alone in the
world since she was only a girl of twelve, and she enjoyed telling
anyone she met that it was the best way to live. Sophie did not
know her first name and it never felt polite to ask.

“He made himself at home
without a fuss,” said Miss Hudson. “Looked like he owned the place,
so much that I almost gave him my power bill to pay.”

“But he was no
trouble?”

“He tore some of my nets,”
she replied in a manner that made it difficult for Sophie to tell
if she was angry or content, “and all day wanted to go outside.
Made such a racket, meowing all the time. He’s a meower, that one.
But I didn’t let him get the better of me, and I told him you would
be back from your holiday soon.”

“I’m sorry to hear that he
was a pain like that. He can be a naughty boy when he doesn’t get
what he wants. I’ll pay you for the damage.”

“No need, dear. They were
old nets and I was going to get new ones anyway. It was just that
he was such a pest when he didn’t get his way; nothing at all like
he is when he comes over to visit when you’re at work. Shows you
cats can be different when you own them.”

“He can be like that, but
he’s normally a nice boy. He just missed me, I think. He acts up
when he misses me.”

“Men can be like that.
Exactly like that, actually. A mixture of animal-brain and
child-brain. Men, I mean, not your Ginger.”

Sophie was about to point
out that because he was a male cat that didn’t mean he was like a
male human. Then she thought it wasn’t a good time to start
disagreeing with her since she had been so much help.

“They don’t get to see you
when they want,” Miss Hudson continued, “or they don’t get what
they want from you when they want it, they go a little nuts. I
never had any need for them, and if I had it my way, more young
women would do the same, and let them all go.”

“Do you mean cats or
men?”

“Men, dear. Oh, wouldn’t the
world be so much better if men were like cats? Feed them, let them
sleep where they want, and go out and catch mice when they need to.
On second thoughts, that’s about all men do anyway.”

“Gendry was very nice, as it
always is,” Sophie said, trying to change the subject. She was
unsure if she was now talking about men or cats, but knew that it
was most likely to be men since it was her favourite
subject.

“Tell me all about it. Did
you have a good time? Did you finish writing your book as you
wanted?”