Doors Without Numbers (20 page)

Kathleen changed tack, she was curious to learn of Hammonds parents. He was rather reluctant to focus attention onto himself but he was grateful for the change in subject and answered her questions openly. He accepted a top up from the second bottle of wine and sipped it, enjoying the acidity after his rich meal.

“My mother was the typical home maker, always making jams and homemade breads. She used to refer to herself as a housewife but in reality she was a bit of everything, cook, seamstress, gardener, you name it, she’d do it!”

Kathleen watched him as he recounted stories of his youth. She didn’t interrupt and seemed to enjoy hearing of his childhood exploits.

“Many a time I would bring home frogs, newts that kind of thing, I would shove them in my pocket and hide them in my room. I remember when I was about ten, I befriended a mouse. My mother hated mice. She was absolutely terrified of them, but one day I came home and found her hand feeding it scraps of meat that she had saved from my Dad’s supper. She was angry with me for not leaving it any food or water whilst I was at school. I think that was the last pet I ever had!”

Kathleen laughed as she imagined a young mischievous Wallace and abruptly changed the subject.

“Has there been anyone since the divorce?”

“No. I haven’t had much of a social life to be honest, work tends to take up most of my time. I think that is why Lyn left. I couldn’t prioritise our relationship over my work commitments. Women tend not to be interested in a work-a-holic divorcee. Either that or I have been walking around like a jam jar with the warning.
‘Reject if depressed’
written on my forehead.”

Kathleen attempted a smile making it obvious she didn’t appreciate his humour. He reminded himself to keep the jokes to a minimum.

“Why did you become a policeman?”

“Blame my father for that. He loved watching a television series called ‘Fabian of the Yard’. I wasn’t born when the series was broadcast but he used to tell me how each episode had been a dramatisation of a genuine crime that had happened around London. He loved recounting the investigations and I guess I grew up doing what most kids do; wanting their father’s approval.”

“Did he approve?”

“He died of a heart attack before I enrolled, but yes, I think he would have.”

“What about your mother?”

“When my dad died, mum just faded out of her own life. She ended up in a nursing home when she was only fifty- five. I had just met Lyn and I guess my head was elsewhere, it never occurred to me how young my Mum was or how much she needed me at that time. She died two years later but by then I was married and about to be a father.” Talking about his mother made him sad, he was embarrassed that he had given so much of himself away and distracted himself from his musing by finishing his wine.

Kathleen was giving him her full attention. He rather liked it, although he was hoping she would talk about herself. He was curious about her husband but she simply shook her head when he asked. The desert menu was brought over and two diners contemplated their choices quietly.

The atmosphere had changed slightly, it was as if Kathleen had clammed up again, she studied her coffee thoughtfully. Eventually she pushed the coffee cup to the side dismissively and leaned forward.

“I think we should have an affair.”

The cheesecake about to enter Hammond’s mouth paused mid flight. He met her eyes and realised she was serious.

“Oh.” The fork was returned to its plate as he struggled to know what to say and realised he couldn’t say anything. There was a bubble of hysteria forming in his stomach, he had the dreadful feeling he was about to start giggling. Was she kidding? She was way out of his league!

“They have rooms here. A double is vacant if you are interested.” Kathleen’s foot travelled to Hammond’s leg under the table. He felt rather uncomfortable by her brazenness, checking the room availability meant her flirtation was premeditated. He replied quickly before he could change his mind.

“Kathleen, I am flattered but I am not really...” His voice trailed off unsure what reason to give. To decline such an offer was something bordering on crazy. Yet it felt wrong. Perhaps it was the wine but all he really wanted was to go home. He apologised for his lack of energy. Taking the hint Kathleen gestured to the waiter to bring the bill. Hammond felt ashamed, he wasn’t behaving like a gentleman but then she wasn’t behaving much like a lady either. He paid the bill on his credit card and left a generous tip with the promise his car would be collected from the car park when he was sober. As they waited for the taxi, Hammond took her hand and turned her around to face him. “Please do not think that I do not want you, Kathleen, you are a very attractive woman. I respect you and I like you.”

“There is no need to apologise Wallace, although I would be grateful if you could escort me home in the taxi.”

It was during the journey home that Hammond suddenly remembered he had left the box file at the restaurant. He slapped his forehead punishing his absent-mindedness and phoned The Oak asking them to keep the file in a safe place until he came to collect his car. Once reassured, Hammond allowed his head to loll back on the headrest as the taxi sped homebound.

“
A man must not swallow more beliefs than he can digest”
Henry Havelock Ellis. The Dance of Life. 1923

Overnight a rain shower had moved in from the North coast. Hammond watched as it rinsed all residue of rock salt and sludge away. The wet roads reflected the glare of the street lights sending white beams into the darkened room. He was sitting in the armchair looking out the window. A silver car passed by slowly, it’s sweeping lights disturbed a black cat that was resting on the wall at the end of the garden. It sat under the cover of an overhanging shrub watching the rain descend and tried to catch the droplets with a paw before licking itself clean. Occasionally Hammond would take sips of brandy before tilting the glass gently from side to side. The liquid swirled in waves that lapped against the side of the glass before it sloshed back into the brown pool. He had no idea what the time was, possibly early morning. It was as if time had slowed to a stop, causing his thoughts to linger unresolved.

Beside him Jenny stirred in her sleep, intermittently murmuring words that were incomprehensible. She was huddled under the duvet, hidden apart from one arm hanging over the edge of the sofa bed. He watched her in her slumber, wondering what it was that troubled her. Hammond wished she would trust him to help her, but maybe she could see what he feared, that he had lost his ability to see things clearly. To act with logical thought rather than over analysing situations that warranted no reasoning. Why can’t I just accept that crap happens? He thought about Lloyd Harris and wondered if he had been as corrupt as he had suggested. He was shocked that his former colleague had acted with such prejudice in his early years as an officer but at the same time, he wondered how possible it would have been to refuse to co-operate with what was seen to be normal practise. He remembered a television programme he had watched with his Father about corruption within the New York City Police. An investigation in the 1970’s had divided corrupt officers into two types; There were the
‘meat-eaters’
who misused their position of authority for personal gain, and the
‘grass-eaters’
who accepted such corruption existed and were willing to accept payoffs. He couldn’t know for sure which category Harris belonged to. Either way, Hammond knew he wouldn’t get rid of the disappointment he had felt as Harris told him. Hammond had admired his former DCI but now he wondered whether such admiration had been warranted. The sigh he emitted was heavy as he wondered if Beech was right, that he had lost his objectivity. He berated himself out loud and immediately regretted it, seeing Jenny twitch suddenly under the covers. He winced guilty that he had disturbed her as she poked her head from under the duvet. Her eyes squinted as they adjusted to the light that beamed through the window. He mumbled an apology and made a move to get up from his chair telling her to get back to sleep. Instead she sat up, pulling the duvet around her shoulders and held out a hand to take the Brandy glass from him. After draining his glass with what looked like expertise in slugging back liquor, she looked at him “Why aren’t you in bed?”

He expected a sarcastic remark, a suggestion that an old man like him needed recharging, but she simply waited for him to answer her question. He got up out of the armchair and moved beside her on the sofa bed, stretching his legs out to the length of the mattress and gave a grunt as it squeaked under the strain of his weight. He slid an arm behind her neck, offering his shoulder to her in a paternal manner. She accepted and they sat there in an embrace for several minutes not talking, enjoying the stillness.

“I have been an idiot, Wally.” Jenny spoke quietly. Her voice was muffled as her head lay against him. Hammond waited for her to continue; not wanting to interrupt what he hoped would be a moment of confidence.

“I fell in love. How crazy is that? After all the years of convincing people I was unlovable and didn’t give a damn, and then I go and let myself fall in love with someone who
really
didn’t care one way or other!” Jenny gave a short laugh, though her voice was devoid of good humour. Hammond glanced down and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze with his hand to welcome her into the broken hearts club. He felt dampness on his left shoulder and realised Jenny was weeping. It shocked him, he had never seen Jenny cry before. She always seemed so strong. Instead of replying, he allowed Jenny to talk. His willingness to listen was a surprise to him. Emotional outbursts were usually something he avoided and if he couldn’t avoid them, he would mimic the act of listening to the other’s cause of concern with deaf ears. But this was different. Jenny was an enigma to Hammond and he wanted to understand her. Since Paul had introduced Jenny two years ago, information about her had been withheld as if Jenny presumed people would accept her the way she was without knowing her background. She never mentioned her parents, her friends or her history. Jenny was a person of the moment, her past was irrelevant to her present. Despite Hammond’s curiosity, he had never asked Jenny about her family, it would have caused too much embarrassment to the both of them. She had been accepted into the family simply by stepping into it and declaring it as her adopted home.

“It’s the humiliation I can’t cope with. The fact that I was just Angela’s sexual experiment. If she were a lesbian, there was always a chance she would come back to me, but now she decides she isn’t, it makes everything seem so final.”

Hammond moved her so he could get the brandy bottle, and returned to the bed refusing the glass she held out to be filled, instead passing her the bottle. She grasped the bottle firmly and took a swig before nestling again against his chest.

“How do I breathe? It feels as if my chest has imploded, I can’t rid myself of this weight. I want to forget her, to move on, but this pain...” Jenny thumped her chest with a closed fist “It won’t shift. My body is going through all the motions of surviving, but inside I feel so empty. Wally, how can I go back there, knowing I will see her with him?”

Hammond felt his throat tighten as she expelled her heartache and found himself thinking of Lyn. He emphasised with Jenny’s grief. For several days after Lyn had walked out he had woken in the morning believing it had been a bad dream. When she had filed for divorce it made everything seem so final. There would be no second chances. He had failed. The anguish he had felt with the realisation that his nightmare was reality had engulfed him in a despair he had found impossible to shift. Over time he had learnt to bury his grief under his work but now Jenny was re-living his moment of agony.

“Jenny, you will carry on because you are a survivor. You will wake, eat and sleep one day at a time until gradually the pain becomes less and less. Eventually, you will wake up and realise that Angela had the biggest loss. She had a cool, hot chick girlfriend who has a wicked sense of humour, who makes the best baked beans on toast and who knows how to drink like a man. She will be the one humiliated for not knowing a good thing when she had it.” Hammond spoke the words without humour, he was serious. Lyn used to say all the time that all she wanted in a man was capability, humour and kindness. Jenny had all three. “You are a better man than me, that’s for sure!”

Jenny wiped her eyes on his shirt sleeve. “Thanks Wally, although you are not too bad, for an old fat man anyway!”

They took turns to swig the brandy. Hammond looked out the window. It had stopped raining; the sky was white with pink patches on the horizon. The day was approaching, but Hammond wasn’t ready to sleep. Jenny sat up and leaned against the back of the sofa enjoying the hazy warmth the brandy had bestowed upon her.

Hammonds’ stomach gurgled, he smiled noting Jenny had pretended not to hear it.

“Have you got any of those delicious cookies left?”

“No! Mary took them home with her to give to the cake stall. Greedy pig, you would have eaten most of her efforts!”

Jenny’s confession had allowed the rare opportunity for him to broach the subject which had reawakened his curiosity. He shifted his weight as he moved his legs to a more comfortable position, noting that his back muscles were stiff after his earlier chase.

“What is the story between you and Mary?”

Jenny looked at him sideways and shrugged as she examined the brandy bottle for drips.

“There isn’t a story. I owed Mary a favour for letting me park my van on her lawn. She took pity on me after I showed her the note you left.”

“Ah.” There wasn’t much more to say to this, Hammond felt rather embarrassed at having been found out, it had been easier accepting her counter attack message that she had left with Emma rather than risking a direct confrontation.

Jenny grinned at him before snorting with laughter as she recounted her presumption that it had been the neighbour who had insulted her vehicle. “Poor Mary, I woke her up from the vibrations caused by me banging on the door, I was shouting at her for ages before I realised she was staring at my lips. If she had been younger, I would have presumed she fancied me!”