The Sleeping Salesman Enquiry (3 page)

F
our

STEVEN WRIGHT—STEVE
to his friends, of whom there were not many—pulled up his car with a spray of gravel in front of his pleasant, pebble-dashed house in the posh suburb of Thornwell. He had had a frustrating day at the office, where he worked as chief departmental manager in a large furniture emporium on the town’s new trading estate.

Trade was slow, partly because of the dire economic situation in the country, and partly because, as he knew, it takes a long time for shoppers to change their habits and try new suppliers. His wife saw his grim expression, and quickly handed him a large gin and tonic to match her own. This ritual had developed over the years, and Wendy Wright had come to need support when her quick-tempered husband returned from work, anxious to make her as unhappy as he was.

He was not unattractive, with clear blue eyes and thick gingery hair, which he kept bristly short, not making any attempt to conceal the grey streaks beginning to appear.

“Distinguished-looking, darling,” Wendy had said one morning, as he brushed fiercely, showing no mercy to his tingling scalp.

“Naturally,” he had replied, and for once waved a cheery good-bye as he set off in his car.

This evening they were due to have dinner with friends, and Steven made it quite clear that he would rather stay at home. “They’re your friends, not mine,” he said grumpily. “Tell them I’m sick. A bug going round the office. Something like that.”

“What happened today to put you in a more than usually black mood?” Wendy was a gin or two ahead of him, and spoke with Dutch courage.

Steven sighed and collapsed into one of his top-of-the-range armchairs. “Uncle Roy happened,” he said. “You’ll never guess what his call was about.”

“Tell me.”

“Asked me to be his best man at his wedding in May.”

There was a long silence. “You’re joking,” Wendy said.

He shook his head. “Nope. Absolute truth. He’s marrying some old harpy in Springfields residential home, and sounded extremely chirpy.”

“Oh my God. And is he likely to live that long?”

“Oh yes. He sounded years younger. I shall have to go over there, and see what’s to be done.”

“Couldn’t you push her into the garden pond and hold her under? Joke!”

Steven did not laugh. “Might come to that,” he said. “I have some serious thinking to do.”

More silence, and then Wendy said, “You need taking out of yourself. Go and get changed, and we’ll hope to be at least amused by our neighbours. It’s one of those parties where each couple takes a dish of something. I’ve done your favourite curried fish, so you can stick to that.”

• • •

IVY SAT IN
her room with Roy in his usual armchair. “Did you invite Steven to come over and hear our banns being published?” she asked.

She noticed his eyelids drooping as now she went through a provisional list of people they would ask to their wedding. She counted up, and made it over fifty. “I think this list is long enough,” she said.

“Yes, indeed, Ivy dear.” His answer was not much more than a mumble, and Ivy smiled.

“I’ve decided to call it all off,” she said.

“I’m sure you’re right, Ivy. As always.”

“Roy Goodman! What did I just say?”

Roy snapped awake. “Um, not sure, dearest. Would you mind saying it again?”

“Never mind,” Ivy said. “I’ve just had a count up, and the list stands at fifty-four. Enough, don’t you think?”

“Quite. But what did you say before that? Something about the banns?”

“Did you invite your nephew to come and hear them read on Sunday? Steven, I mean. I suppose we should, though I don’t much care for the sound of him. Perhaps his wife is more acceptable. Pity we can’t have a best woman.”

Roy chuckled. “Who do you suggest? Mrs. Spurling?”

“But seriously, Roy, are you sure you wouldn’t rather have someone else? I am sure James at the shop would be happy to oblige.”

Roy shook his head. “No, Ivy. I think family counts for quite a lot, and Steven is, after all, my last remaining relative. Close relative, that is.”

“What about distant ones?”

“Lost touch long ago. Nobody takes any interest in an old retired bachelor farmer, with nothing to talk about but the old days.”

“But there are some Goodmans somewhere?”

“Yes, I believe there were some Goodmans farming over Settlefield way. Not one of my farms. Another branch of the family, about ten miles away. But there was never any contact. A feud of some sort, I remember my mother saying.”

“Perhaps we should get in touch with them and settle the feud. Often in these cases the new generation has no idea what it was all about. My family were like that. Dad’s lot couldn’t stand my mother, and wouldn’t come anywhere near us. Mind you, I couldn’t really blame them!”

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” Roy said, struggling to his feet. “Time for my beloved to catch up on her beauty sleep.”

Ivy giggled, a rusty, unused kind of sound. “Oh, you!” she said, and took him by the arm to make sure he got safely to his own bed.

• • •

DRIVING BACK FROM
a particularly dull evening, Steven and Wendy sat in silence, until Steven said suddenly that he needed a pee. “Don’t think I can make it home,” he said, and stopped the car. Running for the hedge, he disappeared from sight. Wendy sighed. She had not enjoyed any part of their friends’ efforts to entertain them. The conversation was boring, and a couple of guests were an hour late owing to the non-appearance of their baby-sitter.

“You all right, Steve?” she shouted out of the car window.

He didn’t answer, but stumbled into sight and returned to the car.

“I chucked up,” he said finally. “Must’ve eaten something. I could taste something rotten. Did I have the stuff you cooked?”

“Oh yes. It was all set out on that big table. I had some of mine, and one or two others did, I think. I’m okay, for one, so I expect you’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Let’s just get home and go to bed.” He turned to look at her. “Perhaps next time you’ll take my advice and refuse the invitation.”

“The end of a perfect evening,” said Wendy sadly. As they drove up to their house, she said pathetically, “At least I quite enjoyed talking to the others. We don’t get out much.”

Without answering, Steven made straight for the stairs, looking to neither left nor right, and after a quick visit to the bathroom, he yelled that he would sleep in the spare room. If he died in the night, she was to make sure that stingy old sod, Uncle Roy Goodman, remembered his promise to take care of his heir’s family. “And tell him to find another best man, and good luck to him!” he shouted, banging the door behind him.

F
ive

“SO ARE WE
back to Thursdays being Enquire Within’s regular weekly meeting day?”

Deirdre had seen Gus’s new car—well, almost new—drive into Tawny Wings and park by the front door. He had insisted on collecting Ivy and Roy from Springfields, saying it looked like snow was on the way. His prime reason for buying the Peugeot Partner, or, as he referred to it, a van with windows, was to be able to take them safely up to Deirdre’s house.

“Very useful for a collapsible wheelchair, should you need one, Roy, plus any major shopping we might want.”

“If you ask me,” said Ivy, alighting with the aid of a hand from Gus, “it’s just like mounting and dismounting a horse! But very comfortable once you’re in it,” she added, seeing his face fall.

When they had all made their way upstairs to the Enquire Within office, Gus headed for the chair behind the big desk. But as usual Ivy got in first, and proceeded to act as unofficial chairman.

“Now, Gus, what have you to report? I gather you made it as far as the bus stop outside the shop? So would you like to tell us what happened next?”

“I certainly got as far as the queue waiting for the bus, and was gratified to see an elderly man answering Roy’s description, but perhaps rather scruffier. Anyway, I wished him a cheery good morning to introduce myself, and got a very dusty answer!”

“Oh, poor Gus!” said Deirdre. “So he wasn’t our unhappily married potential client, after all?”

“Let the man carry on, Deirdre,” said Ivy. “You can have your say later.”

“First of all,” continued Gus, “he took great exception to Whippy, who was nowhere near him. Then he said he knew nothing about Roy or me, and didn’t want to find out. In other words, get lost. I retreated with my tail between my legs, and watched him push his way into the bus.”

“Oh dear, so sorry,” said Roy. “Must have been the wrong man. Unless I was totally deceived when I met him. But you said my description was good?”

“Oh yes, it was him, all right. He had a very shifty look, and the minute I started to speak I could see his face close up. I think his denying everything was an automatic reaction. Goodness knows why. I don’t think I look particularly threatening; do I? And if Whippy had been a bull terrier, I might have understood. But a small grey whippet is never going to harm anyone.”

“Some people are just afraid of dogs in general,” said Roy mildly. “But anyway, Gus, I do apologise for leading you into an unpleasant experience. I suppose we should think about whether it is worth trying again on Saturday?”

“Of course it is,” said Ivy shortly. “Gus is thick-skinned enough, surely, to approach him again? He will probably have forgotten all about your first meeting by then, Augustus. Maybe just got out of bed the wrong side. Happens to us all now and then.”

“Thanks, Ivy. But there is more. As I was standing disconsolately watching the bus disappear into the distance—”

“Get to the point,” Deirdre said. “We can do without the literary stuff.”

“As I was saying,” said Gus. “There is more. James called me into the shop, and said the old man was called Alfred Lowe and was known locally to be a bad-tempered old sod, if you’ll pardon my French. He lives in Cemetery Lane, next to the old blacksmith’s forge.”

“So you and James went swiftly to the pub to regain your strength with a couple of pints and a game of shove ha’penny?” Deirdre said.

Gus smiled fondly at her. “More or less,” he said. “Oh, and yes, there was something else rather important. James said Alf was a bachelor and lived on his own. He’d never heard talk of wives, neither present nor past. So this makes the whole thing a puzzle. I could swear Alf did remember something about meeting Roy, and was his man. I could see it in his face. And yet the story of a cheating wife could not apply, could it, if James was right?”

“Unless,” said Ivy with emphasis, “he had been lying when Roy first met him. Sounds entirely possible that he was having a bit of sport to pass the time waiting for the bus. What do you think, Gus?”

“I think I should have another go on Saturday. He can only threaten to send for the police. But I shall be politeness itself. Humble, even. I could offer to buy him a pint. James said he was an occasional drinker at the pub.”

“Good. Now, what’s next?” Deirdre made a great show of looking at her watch.

“Hairdresser’s appointment, might I ask?”

“Well, yes, Ivy. But not for a while yet. Please carry on.”

“So, we continue with pursuing the man at the bus stop. Anything else? Something to keep us going if this turns out to be a nonstarter? We haven’t come up here on a cold winter’s morning for you to send us home after ten minutes so’s you can go off to get beautified.”

“Now, now, girls,” said Gus. “I was wondering, Ivy, how the wedding plans are going? Is there anything we can do to help?”

“If you’re implying I’m suffering from prenuptial nerves, the answer’s no. Maybe no thank you,” she said, relenting. “I must admit there does seem an awful lot to think about, just for a couple of old codgers deciding to get spliced.”

Roy reached out and took her hand. “My love,” he said. “Nobody could call you an old codger. And we are all here to tackle problems together. Including prenuptial nerves! Now, as it happens, there is one small thing I would like to ask you all to help with, if it is not too much trouble.”

They all relaxed, and Gus reflected that Roy was a national treasure. “Fire away, then, Roy,” he said.

“As you know,” Roy began, “my best man will be my nephew, Steven. He is, as far as I know, my only close relative.”

“And your heir,” said Deirdre.

“And, as you say, my heir. As I know little or nothing about him, I feel I should find out more, and at the same time do some research on the Goodman family over at Settlefield. All I know is that generations ago there was a link, but all connections were severed over a family squabble. It could be that there are still some of them over there, and it would be fitting, I think, if I could reestablish good feeling between the two branches of the family. I suppose I would like some family support, and it might be nice for my beloved here, should I go first. What do you think?”

This was a long speech from Roy, and Gus knew immediately that his colleague had been giving some serious thought to all this. For all their disagreements, there was affection between the members of Enquire Within, and certainly when Gus’s wife had caused so much trouble, the others had stood by him.

“Of course! We shall enjoy doing a bit of family research. And now I’ve got the van with windows, we can follow up any leads we might uncover.”

Ivy surreptitiously dabbed her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief, and said that if anyone asked her, she didn’t care if there were no other Goodmans in the entire world, so long as she could have Roy.

“Phew!” said Deirdre. “That’s got that one dealt with, then. I love delving back into family history, so count me in, Roy. There are lots of sites on the computer that might help.”

Roy smiled, and thanked everyone. “I shall expect to pay fees into the agency account,” he said, and his suggestion was immediately drowned out by noisy refusals.

“So, Gus is going to the bus stop tomorrow morning, and as there’s still time for a last coffee and a Miriam fruit scone, shall we end the meeting there?” Deirdre stood up, and walked towards the door.

“Looks like we already have,” said Ivy, a trifle acidly. “Now that Miriam is baking for the shop, there will be no need for any of us to turn on our cookers, will there, Deirdre?”