Part 32 (2/2)

After letting that lot settle I pulled on my tracksuit again and took a dander round the accessible parts of the garden, breathing deeply of the fresh sea air all the time. Refres.h.i.+ng. Dizzy-making, but refres.h.i.+ng. I looked in on the hedgehog, but with all the dead leaves in the box it was difficult to determine if he was at home.

I was just turning back into the cottage when a Land-Rover eased its way down the lane and pulled up. The driver's door opened, banged shut, but for a moment, with the undergrowth/overgrowth, I couldn't see who it was; I heard a smoker's ragged cough, the flick-flick-flick of a cigarette lighter in a strong breeze, and then Dr Finlay's head appeared at the front gate. The rest of him too.

*Ah,' I said, which wasn't one of my better opening lines but the best I could do with a numb tongue.

*Starkey,' he said, *I hoped you might be here.' He pushed the gate open and walked slowly up the path, shaking and flicking the lighter the whole way. When he drew level with me he gave a big tut and thrust it back into his pocket. *b.l.o.o.d.y waste of money,' he said. *Do you have a light?'

*You didn't come all this way for a light, Doctor?'

*Don't be daft,' he said gruffly, stopping before me and holding his cigarette up expectantly. It was a self-rolled job, untidily done.

I nodded back to the house. *If you can work out how to turn the cooker on without burning the place down, you're welcome to a light.'

He followed me into the kitchen and fiddled with a ring. I hadn't touched a cooker in fifteen years and I wasn't about to start now. I wors.h.i.+pped at the altar of Pot Noodle and Microwave. And with Patricia I'd no choice.

It only took a few moments for him to get his cigarette lit; he straightened slowly, took a deep suck, held it, then puffed out contentedly.

*So, what's up, Doc?' I asked. He looked as if he hadn't heard the line before. Which was strange, considering the number of rabbits about. I tapped my skull. *The head's all healed, if that's what you're here for. And the baby's away to town with the wife. And doin' fine.'

*No, no,' he said, *it's not your health that concerns me. Or the family's.'

*And if you're here to recruit me for the Alcoholic Front for the Liberation of Wrathlin, I'm afraid you're too late. I'm going to sign on with the Pioneers just as soon as I get rid of the shakes enough to write my name.'

He blew a cloud in my direction. I waved it away with my hand.

*Aye,' he said, *Duncan told me he'd told you about that foolishness. Pay no heed to him, Starkey, it's just a joke that got out of hand.'

*I know. You're just drinking buddies.'

*That's the sum of it.'

*p.r.o.ne to a bit of vandalism.'

*That wasn't my idea.'

*I didn't think it was. So to what do I owe the pleasure?'

*I have a letter for you.' He reached inside his anorak and withdrew an envelope. *It's from Mary Reilly's mother.'

I took it from him. I shook my head. I knew instinctively what it was. She was backing out of our deal now that Mary was dead. I couldn't be of any more use to her, so the bargain was off. I tried hard not to feel too despondent. It wasn't as if I was ever going to drink again anyway. *The old cow didn't have the guts to come and tell me herself.'

*The old cow hung herself last night.'

*Oh.'

*Oh. Indeed.'

I looked at the envelope. It suddenly felt cold in my hand. It was a suffocation-blue airmail envelope. Most of my name was written on the front in pencil: DAN STARKY.

*Hung herself?'

*Aye. A woman who looks in on her from time to time found her this morning. She'd been dead for quite a while. A day, anyway. Hanging from a wooden beam in the kitchen. She used a pair of tights. Brown ones. From a different era. There wasn't even a run in them.'

*G.o.d.'

*Aye. Well. What can you say? Her only daughter dead. Ostracised by most of the people here. Nothing to live for. And all she left was a letter for you.'

I turned it over in my hand. *Shouldn't you give it to someone else? The police or something?'

*There are no police.'

*The law, then. Father Flynn.'

Dr Finlay shook his head mournfully. *There's no law, either, son.'

I waved the envelope in front of him. *Won't people be wondering what . . .?'

*If they knew about it, I dare say. We'd most of the Council round to see the corpse. But I thought it better to keep the letter to myself.'

*The woman who found it didn't . . .?'

*Never noticed it. Too shaken up by the body.'

*So,' I said, and looked at the envelope again.

*Up to you now, son,' said Dr Finlay. He tapped his cigarette and a spray of ash flittered to the floor. We both watched it. He didn't apologise.

I tore the envelope and withdrew a folded single sheet of wispy-thin airmail notepaper. I unfolded it. The handwriting was spidery, starting flush with the top left-hand corner but descending in a rough diagonal across the page.

*You'll want to read it to me,' the doctor said.

*Of course.'

There wasn't much to it. But there was enough, after a suitable period of respectful mourning, to brighten my day and change my priorities.

Dear Mr Starky, a so this is the end, and at the end of it all, all I have to do is finish my half of our agreement. Go to Mulrooney's field. Fresh dug bit in the corner on the coast side. Buried there. Thank you for agreeing to speak up for Mary, I know it would have helped. It was very good of you.

I looked up at Dr Finlay. *To the point,' I said.

He nodded. *What's this agreement?'

*She promised to track down some drink for me if I spoke up on behalf of her daughter.'

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