‘What do I do now, Eva?’ she would ask, because she had got it into her head I was my mother.
I gave up telling her I wasn’t Eva and trying to explain about taps. I just got on and washed her. It was like looking after a small baby. Sometimes she would sit and cry quietly because she was frightened and depressed and I couldn’t help.
On the other hand, when my mother left us when I was seven, I blotted that out quite quickly. She wasn’t there any more so I didn’t look for her and I stopped thinking about her. It was only much later as a teenager I decided she was dead. But she wasn’t dead, that was the problem, and I did meet her again. She’s dead now and I’m sorry that we didn’t have time to make up for the lost years. I think she regretted it too.
Life is a little like the kaleidoscope. Once the pieces have been shaken up and a new pattern formed, you can’t get the old one back again. That’s to say, I suppose theoretically it might be possible. I’m not a mathematician. I don’t know how many permutations of design there are. It’s like that idea of a monkey and a typewriter, tapping away randomly. Sooner or later, as an assemblage of letters, the monkey writes
Hamlet
. I believe some scientists tried that out once but the monkey didn’t oblige them and wrote drivel before it got bored and smashed up the machine. I like to think the chimp was smarter than the guys in the white lab coats.
‘I’d like to see it,’ said Ganesh with suspicious enthusiasm.
I didn’t fancy revisiting the spot where I’d found Ivo bobbing about in the river but if Ganesh wanted to be put in the picture I couldn’t refuse. Even so I did wonder if his motives were founded more in tourism than detection.
‘I’ll take you there. It’s on the way to Beryl’s place,’ I said to him.
The warm sun on the grass was causing the overnight rain to evaporate quickly and rise in a vapour so that it looked as if the whole of Christ Church Meadow was steaming gently. Soon my trainers were covered in little bits of grass like a green fur.
‘It’s nice here,’ observed Ganesh. ‘I should have brought my camera.’
‘You’re not on holiday,’ I grumbled.
‘All right, keep your hair on. Which way to the river?’
‘Down here,’ I said, leading him to the left.
He strode out briskly alongside me still muttering about photographic opportunities missed and having to get a souvenir somewhere to take back to Hari.
It was quiet and very peaceful. Only a few waterbirds busied themselves about their business in the bankside reeds. I was beginning to feel easier in my own mind about being here. Perhaps it was having Ganesh with me. Then he touched my arm and asked, ‘What’s going on over there?’
We stopped beneath the spreading branches of a big old tree and I looked in the direction he’d indicated. Two human forms were moving about slowly, bent double and poking around in the undergrowth.
‘Police?’ asked Ganesh doubtfully in a low voice. He sounded depressed as if suddenly recalled to the true nature of our visit.
‘No,’ I whispered, grabbing his arm to stop him progressing any further. I dragged him aside under the shelter of the nearest tree. ‘That’s Lisa Stallard and the guy with her is Ned, her friend. I told you about him.’
Ganesh frowned and peered into the distance. ‘What are they doing? Are they looking for something?’
The couple in front of us were still poking about in the long grass and bushes on the opposite side of the path to the stone steps. As I watched, Ned straightened up, the morning sunlight setting fire to his gingery-blond hair. He put his hands on his hips and said something to Lisa, shaking his head.
Lisa replied and they both resumed their search, Ned in a desultory manner which suggested his heart wasn’t in it.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘They’re looking for something and I know what it is. Come on.’
We left the cover of the trees and walked towards the searching couple. They were so intent on what they were doing that neither of them noticed us until we were upon them. Then Ned saw us and straightened up again. He looked wary but that turned to surprise when he saw me. His gaze flickered to Ganesh and the wariness returned to his expression. He looked back at me again and this time there was a familiar hostility in his face.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked sulkily. ‘Who’s that?’ He pointed at Ganesh.
‘Very rude,’ I reproved him. ‘May I introduce Ganesh Patel, who is a friend of mine from London.’
Ned looked even sulkier and mumbled, ‘Hi.’
Lisa had heard our voices and spun round. She didn’t come forward to meet us but stood a little way off, glowering defiantly. She wore blue jeans and yet another of those loosely knitted sweaters she favoured, this one in pale lemon with embroidered daisies. She must have had a cupboard full of them. Her hair was attractively tousled and tumbled to her shoulders. The grim look on her face meant she didn’t look nearly so pretty as usual but she was still a stunner. She was holding something in her hand: a little cloth bag of the sort dance students carry their pumps to ballet class in. The bag was clearly empty, collapsed like a burst balloon.
‘Hello, Lisa,’ I called to her. ‘I won’t ask what you’re doing because I know.’
At that she did start to walk towards me. She was a quick thinker and by the time she’d reached us she’d rearranged her features into a pleasant smile. She beamed warmly at Ganesh and said, ‘Hi! Nice to meet you.’
‘Hello,’ mumbled Ganesh and looked all daft.
Lisa obviously considered that any problem likely to be posed by Ganesh had been defused and turned her attention to me. ‘We thought, Ned and I,’ she said, ‘that we’d investigate Ivo’s death. If we came down here, we might find some clues, right, Ned?’
‘Yeah, right,’ said Ned obediently.
I managed not to hiss in exasperation. What was it with men? I felt myself bristle and when I spoke I knew I sounded churlish. ‘What would you do if you found any clues?’ I asked.
Ganesh glanced at me and Lisa blinked. ‘Tell the police, I suppose. Or tell you and then you could tell the police because you’ve already been questioned by them.’
Ouch! ‘I don’t think you’re looking for clues,’ I said. ‘I think you’re looking for something quite specific. I expect your dad is missing his pet.’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, come on, yes, you do. You’re looking for Arthur, the grass snake. I’ve told Ganesh about that. Your father said it was missing from the garden when I saw him last. You’d like to find the creature and take it back, wouldn’t you?’
‘Why,’ demanded Lisa, reddening, ‘should Arthur be here? You’re nuts.’
I shook my head. ‘No, I’ve been a bit slow to work it out, I admit that. But now I have. You brought Arthur here with you, probably in that little bag you’re holding, early on the morning Ivo died. You had originally arranged to meet me here. But then Ivo got in touch with you and you arranged to meet him here too, but earlier. You were very scared of him, weren’t you, Lisa? I’m not surprised. He was a scary sort of bloke. But there was something he was scared of himself, really terrified, wasn’t there? Snakes.’
‘How would I know?’ Lisa snapped, her eyes sparkling with anger.
‘You knew because you were at the club the morning an exotic dancer turned up to audition, bringing along a python as part of her act. Ivo must have really freaked out. You saw how scared he was of reptiles, really frightened. Not just an ordinary fright but something much more, a phobia. Since then one other person had told me that Ivo was funny about animals. Even Vera told me he didn’t want to go back to Croatia because it would mean working on the farm with his parents. Perhaps it was just the hard work he didn’t fancy, but perhaps it was because it meant handling the livestock. He didn’t like being around any of them, but snakes were really the things he couldn’t stand.’
I pointed at the bag. ‘It was a good idea to bring Arthur with you and hold him in your hands while talking to Ivo. I bet that made Ivo keep his distance. How did you get him to fall in the river? Just walk towards him holding out the grass snake? Just making him back off until he lost his footing?’
Ned, who had been listening with increasing unease, now burst into speech, his face red. ‘Look here, Lisa didn’t mean any harm. She was frightened of the bloke. That’s why she brought the snake with her, like you say. If she’d asked me, I’d have come with her. But she thought she could manage it if she had something Ivo was so frightened of.’
Well, well, with friends like Ned, as the saying goes, Lisa didn’t need enemies.
She turned on him savagely. ‘Shut up!’ she shouted. ‘Shut up, you idiot! She was just guessing I was here. She couldn’t know! Now she does!’
Poor Ned looked stricken. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘But you didn’t mean any harm, Lisa, did you? I keep telling you, if you just go to the police . . .’ He turned back to us. ‘She didn’t know he’d drown!’ he said. ‘For God’s sake, she wouldn’t have left him to drown! I keep telling her the police would understand that.’
‘Will you just shut up?’ she yelled again and he fell silent.
Too late, he seemed to realise the extent of the harm he’d done. It almost made me want to help him out; he looked both miserable and confused. He was an idiot but he’d meant well. I suppose meaning well is an excuse of sorts. My original diagnosis that he wasn’t too bright was confirmed, however, by his words. The police would be unlikely to take the charitable view of Lisa’s actions he had suggested. But stupidity isn’t a crime. Lisa would argue she was stupid to leave Ivo in the river threshing about. But that’s not what happened, I thought, with growing conviction.
‘Perhaps,’ I suggested, ‘we can all go somewhere quiet and discuss this.’
‘I’ve got nothing to discuss with you,’ she told me in a small tight voice. ‘All you’ve done is cause trouble for me. You’re just Mickey’s mouthpiece. I’ve told Mickey I want nothing more to do with him and I’m telling you now that I want nothing more to do with you. Stay away from me and from my family.’
‘She’s got a point,’ said Ned, ever loyal. But he said it rather nervously because now he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say.
I ignored him and held Lisa’s gaze. ‘But I’ve got something you want,’ I said and tapped my breast pocket.
The bright pink flush drained from her face as she grasped my meaning.
‘You got it?’ she whispered and ran the tip of her tongue over her lips and then stuck out her hand. ‘Give it to me!’ Her voice rose to an unattractive squawk.
‘Manners, manners,’ I said. ‘I’m a woman of my word. We made a bargain, you and I, remember? You phoned Allerton and I went to London for you. If anyone here has the right to be tired of anyone else, it’s me. I’m tired of you and your boyfriend - both your boyfriends . . .’ I nodded to include Ned. ‘I’m tired of running errands for others. But I said I’d do it, and I did. Yes, I’ve got it.’
‘What’s she got of yours?’ asked poor old Ned, who really was out of the loop.
‘Passport,’ said Ganesh briefly. He’d been standing by as observer, looking from Lisa to Ned and back again. Over the last few minutes he’d been showing signs of impatience and had decided to cut to the chase.
‘Why has she got your passport?’ Ned turned to Lisa, bewilderment written all over his bovine countenance.
‘You don’t tell the poor guy anything, do you?’ I said. ‘Well, you told him you brought Arthur here because you needed him to come and help you hunt for the snake. I’m not handing over the passport, Lisa, until we’ve got a few things sorted out.’
‘You’ve got to give me the passport!’ she snapped. ‘It’s mine!’
‘Actually,’ I said, ‘if you read the notes inside the front cover, you’ll see it’s the property of Her Majesty’s Government. ’
‘Well, you aren’t the bloody government!’ she shouted. ‘Hand it over!’ She thrust out her open palm again.
I just smiled at her.
She bit her lip and scowled at me but she had realised she wasn’t in a position to call the shots. Her manner had become more placatory. ‘Come on, Fran. What’s it to you?’
Ned was catching up and realising there were a few things he wanted to know. ‘Perhaps we
should
all talk it through without getting hot and bothered,’ he said. ‘We can go to my flat. I’ve got my car. It’s parked right near here.’
Lisa looked furious but she needed to keep Ned on side. ‘I’ll go if you’ll give me my passport afterwards,’ she said.
‘No deals,’ I told her. ‘I’ve made enough of them. I told you, I’m tired of it. Now we do things my way.’