Little Fingers! (22 page)

“
Who on earth
are you?” demands the screamer.

I consider
running out of the house, except that all the doors are locked
again.

“
Julia. And
you?”

“
Sam.”

“
Sam?”

“
What on
earth are you doing here, Julia?”

“
And
you?”

“
Probably the
same as you.”

“
What's
that?”

“
Snooping
around. Trying to work out what old Jeff has been up
to.”

“
Yes that is
why I am here.”

“
Good, we can
work together then. I'll drink to that, and I have just stubbed my
toe on the drinks cabinet, so I know exactly where to find
it.”

Sam chooses
whisky for both of us. “Chin-chin,” she says, chiming my glass.
"Did you know that Jeff used to rape me regularly as a ten year
old?” It comes out brazenly, challengingly, a truth that must be
declared in a hurry, braced for rejection and regret.

“
I had heard
rumours. I'm sorry.”

“
Did you know
that he is supposedly my father.”

“
Yes, I had
heard that rumour too. That must be really hard.”

“
Yes, no,
don't know.” Sam shrugs her mind.

“
What exactly
are you looking for?”

“
Nothing
exactly. Just something. I'll recognise it when I see it. And
you?”

“
The same.
Maybe I simply want to be in his house and get a feel for
him.”

“
I've had
that. Now I want the proof.”

We search the
house for two hours as best we can without turning the lights on.
We find nothing. I suddenly realise that I cannot hear Sam's
thoughts, which is disconcerting. Is she evil too, or have I lost
my powers suddenly?

I am
apprehensive. What if she stops pretending to rummage around the
house, and takes that carving knife to me (for some reason I am not
privy to she insists on carrying a carving knife around with her)?
What if she pushes me down the stairs?

There is
something about Sam I cannot make out. Are we acquaintances, or
friends, or do I serve a purpose yet to be revealed? She appears to
be behaving normally enough, for someone ransacking a house in the
dark. She does not even consider tidying up after herself. There is
mess everywhere. Is this how she is at home?

“
Why are you
not searching properly?” she challenges me.

“
I was
contemplating all the mess.”

“
Oh, don't
worry about that. Nobody will say anything. They cannot afford to.
Old George will clear everything up for us. He is a right old
woman, that George, with baggy pants.” She laughs.

“
You are
leaving fingerprints everywhere.”

“
And when
they come round to question me, and I simply explain that I was
looking for evidence that he raped me and countless other girls? I
don't think so!”

“
And if they
did?”

Sam sits down
on the bed. “If they did, it would be a relief, wouldn't it? No
more sordid secrets. Out in the open. If I had told someone when I
was ten, they would not have believed me, or at least would have
chosen to pretend not to believe me. Even my father, the lovable
Freddy, would not have taken on Jeff Berringer. He had already let
it pass with his raping my mother. Forget it. I would have been
fantasising about him, or trying to get him into trouble for some
obscure girly reason, or something. This way, they are coming after
me. I will coolly explain what he did to me (with a few tears in
all the appropriate places, of course), then everything is
immediately on the record on that interview recorder, and everyone
has a lot of explaining to do - Jeff obviously, Phyllis, and even
that flaming Inspector Frampton of yours, you are so pally with. He
knows exactly what has been going on, and he has never done a
single sodding thing to stop it. Berringer even raped his best
friend, and he did nothing.”

“
Why should
he know what Dr. Berringer gets up to?”

“
Because he
is from Hanburgh, you know. You didn't know? Oh yes, he is. He was
born here. He was brought up here. He hung around with everyone you
have met - Tom Willows, Henry Spence, my father Freddy, all that
crowd. And then he betrayed them by becoming a copper. They never
trusted him after that. They disowned him. That is why you would
never realise that he is from here. Mind you, he was always a
loner, so everyone says. The only person he really gelled with was
Lucy Benson, the one nobody else dared go near. They were as thick
as thieves, apparently, if you pardon the irony. Nothing happened
between them in that way, as far as I am aware. She wouldn't touch
anyone, so it was quite a revelation when she became pregnant and
abandoned the village, and her precious John. He was absolutely
heart-broken, apparently. So was Tom Willows. She was the one girl
Tom couldn't break and couldn't charm. She tormented his ego, as he
admitted to me once. That is how I learnt all about Lucy and John,
from Tom. He was really angry that she befriended John, and
despised him. I laughed at Tom when he told me this, and ordered
him not to be so stupid, but it was no laughing matter. I thought
Tom was going to strangle me. I am not surprised that whoever axed
him attacked him from behind. If they had come at him from the
front, he would have killed them. He was really dangerous, was Tom,
but you already must know that.”

“
No, I didn't
know Tom well. And, I must say that I did not like him much either
by the end. He was a good fuck, that is all.”

“
That is what
he thought of me, apparently. Mind you, he is not the only one to
say that.”

Her publicity
hangs for a while, and I let it go. I am not sure what Sam is up
to. She is certainly fucked-up, that is for sure.

“
Do you think
we will find anything?” I ask.

“
No, I doubt
it. What could there be? He could have kept a diary, I suppose, but
it would have been written in code, you can bet on
that.”

“
So why are
you hunting around, tossing all his things around the room as you
have been for the last hour or so?”

“
To invade
him. I want him to feel invaded. I want George to report to him
that he has been invaded. I want him to worry about it. And maybe I
want one of George's little visits. So there is no way that I am
tidying up.”

“
What on
earth are they?”

“
Oh, if
anyone threatens to spill the beans, they get a visit from George.
He sits you down and tells you with great seriousness what will
happen to you if you try to harm even a hair of Jeff Berringer's
reputation. In fact, he frightens the living daylights out of you.
You wouldn't believe that of old George, would you? Yet old women
are the scariest, aren't they? And one day that will be
us!”

“
And what
happens if you decide to go ahead anyway and denounce
him?”

Sam lifts her
eyebrows. “Who knows? No-one has ever done it. However, a couple of
the girls did top themselves. Maybe they didn't. Maybe creepy
George did it for them. Now there is a shadow we all have in the
backs of our minds. Old George bumping us off to protect kith and
kin. I believe it. Old George is capable of anything. Let's face
it, he has lived with Mary for nearly forty years. He must have a
constitution built from titanium. One thing everyone knows about
George, he will protect Mary and her father, my father, at all
costs. Good old George, God rot him.”

* *
*

Mary is
looking shaky. While she welcomes me warmly into her house, her
mind is dense with pre-occupation.

As far as I
can hear, both from what she says and what she is thinking (my
inner-hearing is back again), her concerns are not specific. Frank
is in there somewhere, and so are you, Inspector. You circle each
other in her mind, like heads surfacing through water.

It is a deep
fear, as yet not fully realised, throbbing beneath the surface of
her consciousness.

She enters
rooms she has no purpose in, she catches furniture with her foot,
and glasses and plates with her hands. Nothing is either broken or
damaged, yet she has a clumsiness one would not normally associate
with her.

She is eating
too much, snacking on chocolate, cakes and other sugar-drenched
comestibles. She has shown me pictures of herself even two years
ago, and she was slim. Now the body is rolling over the edges of
her clothes, and her face is less sharp.

She has no
solution to the problem she has yet to recognise or define. She is
prodding it with a mental stick and hoping it will resolve itself
rather than bite her. It is not going away.

In the way she
approaches decision making, she could not be more different from
Frank who worries at issues as he sits on the riverbank in all
weathers, scrutinising the line as it trails towards the float in
an oxbow, considering the ripples that appear and disappear,
waiting for that slight tug on the float that will provoke him to
jab with his rod to gain a hook-hold in the mouth of the panicking
fish. All his decisions take weeks. He sees no virtue in sudden
action. He does not believe in heroics other than of the quiet,
relentless kind, driving home into the heart of the problem at a
deliberate pace. He is slow to anger, even slower to act. He rarely
forgives. Once his strategy has weathered all seasons, it is
robustly built, founded on the interweaving of logic and morality.
It would make no sense to abandon it.

Frank's
drinking companion at the Hanburgh Arms nowadays is Tony James.
When he is not working, Tony has an excess of time as Sam is rarely
in the house, and has minimal need of him when she is. Frank knows
that Mary awaits him at home, but has many years of precedent in
allowing him space.

Seeing Tony
and Frank together one evening when she came to collect her husband
shocked Mary. Even if Tony is a relative newcomer to the village
and not a natural gossip, he is clearly extremely observant and
shares Frank's straightline morality. She can imagine Tony leaning
forward in that affable way of his and intimating “Frank, if I were
you, I would get home early tonight. Women should not be left alone
as much as Mary is.”

“
That's kind
of you to be so considerate of Mary,” would come the mildly
affronted response, “however Mary has no issues with my having the
occasional pint in the Hanburgh Arms. She knows that I am up to no
mischief here.”

“
That was not
my concern, Frank. It is merely that you would be very wise not to
leave Mary alone for too long. The devil finds work for idle
hands.”

“
I certainly
would not call Mary idle. She does my books, arranges all the
financing of the business, keeps the men jollied along. A fine
woman, is our Mary, and a very decent one.”

“
So why do
you not spend much time with her?”

“
Oh, we spend
enough time together, I would say on behalf of both of us. You see,
we got to know each other very young, and we have developed such an
understanding between us that we are together even when we are
apart. I never stop thinking about her, and she about me. We have
no need to live in each other's pockets when we are quite so buried
in here.” Frank beats his chest. “You, on the other hand, are
recently married to a young girl. The same considerations do not
apply.”

“
Oh, I know
what Sam gets up to. I know all about her escapades with Brian and
numerous others. I would like to be able to console myself that
when she has finished with them, she will always come back to me.
Unfortunately, that would not be true in the least. She bounces
from one to another, always on the rebound, and often back to
Brian. She has a real thing for Brian. I am sure that all the
others are there only to make Brian jealous, although she realises
that she is doomed to coming second to Kate. That really infuriates
her. Kate really infuriates her. What she would not do to that
woman. We hate those we have hurt, as Tacitus once
said.”

“
Not around
here, he didn't. He did however say mine's a pint.”

“
Sorry,
Frank. I didn't notice that your glass was empty.”

“
And some of
those chilli-flavoured crisps, if you don't mind.”

“
Not at
all.”

Tony shuffles
back his captain's chair, and approaches the bar. “Hello Tony,”
Brenda greets him. “Two more of the usual?”

“
And a packet
of chilli-flavoured crisps,” they chorus together, and laugh. “It
must be wonderful to be as predictable as that,” Brenda observes,
still grinning, “although not for poor Mary.”

“
I keep
trying to persuade him to go home and keep her company, but he is
not listening.”

“
Oh, he'll
take it on board in time. He listens more than you think. I just
hope that he does not take your advice suddenly, like. He can have
a brutal temper that man. I don't have any special feelings for
Julia, although she seems nice enough, particularly for someone who
is so drop-dead gorgeous, but I am very fond of Mary. I would hate
any harm to come to her. And I think it might if Frank surprised
them.”