Part 14 (1/2)

'No, I'm not.'

'Yes you are. That's who was in your room, wasn't it?'

'No.'

'Oh yes it was. Uncle n.o.bby knows. That time when you wouldn't let me in. That's who it was. You can tell me. I know the meaning of discretion.'

'Do you?'

'Oh yes. Oh yes.'

'No, it wasn't Nikki.'

'Oh yes it was.'

'I'm not arguing with you, n.o.bby.'

'If it wasn't Nikki it was that Terri, wasn't it?'

That went through me like a sword.

'It was, wa'n't it? She's a right blue blazer that one. Bing bang bong. Careful there my son, careful there. Remember Nigel? He who came before you? He had to leave in his socks when her old man found out Nigel had been poaching in his pond, oh yes. Chased him down to the pier with a scalping razor ho ho ho. You be careful where you park your Zephyr, my son. Uncle n.o.bby knows.'

I made a superhuman effort to ignore all of this by focusing on the happy little five-year-old girl holding my hand. She was a sweet thing with white-blond hair, tender cheeks and startling blue eyes. 'Are you going to have a go with the bow and arrow?' I asked her.

She beamed at me and said, 'My dad says b.o.l.l.o.c.ks to that.'

Nikki had managed to pacify the silver-haired revolution and the whist drive had been restored to full operational efficiency. From what she told me the grey-haired Whist Liberation Front were ready to hang n.o.bby by the neck. It wasn't clear what he'd done exactly. I was starting to feel sorry for him. It seemed he had enemies everywhere without knowing how he attracted such odium.

'He gets the blame for everything,' Nikki admitted. 'He seems to set himself up for it.'

'He thinks you and I are an item,' I blurted.

'Chance would be a fine thing,' she said. 'Anyway you're seeing someone else.'

We'd gone up to the beach to have half an hour's peace before our afternoon duties resumed. We sat on the great concave wall with our legs dangling over the grey-white concrete. A light breeze streamed in from seaward. It was a relief because, unless this light wind was a hint of a weather change to come, the heat still showed no sign of breaking. The breeze lifted at her hair.

Nikki turned to me and made a sun-visor of her hand, to look at me. It was stupid because the sun was behind her, and I was the one who was squinting; but she did it anyway. 'I know,' she said.

'Know what?'

'Your little secret.'

'That being?'

'Your little friend.'

I felt as though I had just been given poison to drink. My guts churned.

'Who's my little friend?'

'Oh come on, David.'

'No, you come on. Who's my little friend?'

Nikki dropped her fake visor. She made a little shake of her head. Then she mouthed the name. Or just half the name. Or even just the last syllable. 'Ri.'

'How did you know?'

'Have you ever seen people deliberately not looking at each other?'

She was smart, that Nikki. She was one of those women on whom nothing is lost. She was a much shrewder judge of human psychology than people gave her credit for. Though it was bad that she knew, I had an odd sense, from somewhere nine feet above myself, of staying calm.

'Who else knows?'

'What does it matter?'

'It does matter. Who else knows? I mean who do you know for certain who knows?'

'Calm down, David. If they do know they're really not that interested. Not as interested as you seem to think anyway.'

I nodded. I looked out to sea. I was thinking hard.

'I was more surprised than interested, to be honest.'

'Why do you say that?'

'Well I didn't think she would be your type. She's quite hard-faced. When you get to know her. Oh, am I speaking out of turn now?'

'No,' I said. 'No, you're not.'

'I was a bit taken aback. When I realised, I mean.'

'Right.'

'She just didn't seem to be the sort of woman I would have expected you to go for.'

'What sort of woman would you have expected me to go for?'

'More feminine. More sophisticated, I suppose.'

'More like a dancer?'

'That's the word I was trying to think of,' she said.

'I've been an idiot,' I said.

Along with Gail I was responsible for organising the Glamorous Grandmother compet.i.tion that afternoon. The previous week when I'd organised the Glamorous Grandmother I'd been an adulterer. Now I was wondering whether it was possible that I was a murderer's accomplice. It hadn't escaped me that maybe Colin had stuck a pig's trotter or two in those bags of meat just to disguise any dismembered human remains. Of course, he might not have done; but all things were possible. I was moving in a world where I didn't know what people were capable of.

I supposed that murderers' accomplices did trivial and quotidian things like anyone else. I mean, murderers peel potatoes and watch quiz shows on the television. But I think it must be quite rare that a murderer's accomplice has to organise a Glamorous Grandmother compet.i.tion.