Running Stupid: (Mystery Series) (8 page)

When Matthew entered the house, he was immediately greeted by a middle-aged woman in a blue and white striped apron. There was margarine grease on her hands and flecks of flour in her hair. She introduced herself as Mary, and when Matthew reached forward to shake her hand, he could smell the delights of freshly baked bread and pastries.

“I found this lad out on the fields,” James explained to his wife. “He’s got himself into a bit of bother by the looks of it.” He looked at Matthew. “Isn’t that right?”

Matthew stood, frozen to the spot. “
Sorry
?”

“Your shoulder, lad.”

“Ah,” Matthew said, relieved. “It’s no problem, really.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” the woman spoke, her smile as warm as a loving grandmothers, her voice soft and delicate. “I’ll get it sorted for you in no time.”

Matthew smiled. “Okay.”

“If you’d like to come along with me,” the woman said, walking away from the entrance, “I’ll get your shoulder looked at. I’m sorry you caught me at a bad time.” She untied the apron from around her back, folded it, and rested it on a coffee table she passed. “I was just making tea.”

“The lad can stay,” James said broadly. “We’ll pull up another chair.” He turned to Matthew, who had started to follow Mary. “You look pale and thin, lad,” he explained. “A good hot, home-cooked meal will do you wonders.”

“Are you sure?” Matthew asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding, dear,” Mary explained. “We’d be more than happy to have you at dinner. We don’t get many opportunities to entertain.”

“Well, if it’s okay,” Matthew began, and he touched his stomach instinctively. “I
am
rather hungry.”

Mary walked into the living room and Matthew followed. Instant warmth greeted him when he stepped into the room; a strong lavender fragrance hung in the air. A log fire slowly burned on the centre wall, giving off a soothing heat and a relaxing mood. The décor reminded Matthew of a typical grandmother’s house, but he loved it.

Mary instructed Matthew to sit down before sitting next to him. “If I can just have your arm,” she said.

Matthew smiled and let his injured arm fall her way. He looked around the room. The walls were painted with pictures of lakes, forests, and mountains. Across the fireplace and on top of an outdated television set were numerous family portraits. Children, nieces, nephews, mothers, fathers, grandchildren. Matthew stopped admiring the photos when Mary popped his shoulder back into place.

For a fleeting moment, a matter of seconds, an extreme agony burned through Matthew’s blood. His forehead instantly spawned sweat, the hairs on his neck and arms stood to attention, and his mouth muttered an incoherent and obscene gurgle.

“There you go,” Mary said, removing her hands from his shoulder. “As good as new.”

Matthew looked across at the smiling woman, the pain in his arm decreasing to a numb throb. “As quick as that?”

“It’s just a dislocated shoulder, darling.”

“I know … but couldn’t you have warned me first?”

“Believe me, if you know the pain is coming, it’s a lot harder to handle,” she said warmly.

Matthew nodded. “I guess so.”

“How did you get into this mess, then?”

Matthew studied the woman’s features for a moment. If she or her husband knew who he was, they would have said something by now.

“I fell.”

“What were you doing out in those fields?”

Matthew paused, pondered, and then spoke, “Collecting apples.”

“Apples?”

“From the trees. Then I fell.”

The woman smiled and stood. “Whatever you were doing is none of my business, my darling,” she said warmly. “You seem like a nice man. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks,” Matthew said bleakly.

“Let’s get you some food then,” Mary exclaimed happily. “I have some freshly baked bread, some lovely stew, and a cherry pie for afterwards.”

“That sounds delicious,” Matthew said with a gleeful nod.

Mary stood and started out of the room. Matthew’s eyes crossed to the television set. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” he said, catching her attention. “But do you …” he paused, struggling to find an innocent question to receive a serious answer. “Do you watch the television much?”

“No, dear,” Mary said instantly. “The twins, my nieces, they watch it when they come over to visit. My nephew, Carl, too, he likes television, but other than that, no. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering,” Matthew said distantly. “This seems like such a beautiful place, and it’s a nice distance away from the big cities. How do you keep up with current events, news, sports and what not?”

“What goes on behind those walls doesn’t interest me,” Mary said placidly. “James, on the other hand …” she allowed her sentence to trail off.

“James?” Matthew snapped, worry in his tone. “What does he watch? He watches the television, does he? Reads newspapers?” He realised he sounded desperate and strange, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to know if they were likely to know who he was and what he had -- supposedly -- done.

“Nothing like that. He watches the odd England game, that’s all. He can’t stand sports, but he’s a very patriotic man. Whenever England is playing, be it cricket, football, or field hockey, he’ll be there watching it.”

Matthew nodded, content.

“Follow me, love,” Mary ushered. “Dinner will be ready soon. In the meantime, you and James can pass the time.” She paused in the doorway. “Do you know how to play chess?”

“No.”

“Backgammon?”

“No.”

“Drafts?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” Mary pondered. “What about cards?”

“Poker,” Matthew said. “I know poker.”

“That’ll do,” Mary said with a smile. “James likes to play a few games and have a couple of drinks before dinner.” She paused and pondered. “James likes his games,” she finished with a smile.

Matthew nodded and followed Mary into another room.

Matthew spread his hand of cards in front of his face: nine of hearts, seven of diamonds, two kings – club and spade – and the ace of hearts.

“Two for me,” he said, laying the nine and the seven flat on the table and receiving another two cards from the dealer.

“I’ll take just the one,” James said.

They both studied their hands and then they started making their bets. A mound of one and two pence pieces sat in the middle of the table. James had supplied the money, purely for practical purposes. As James had explained thoroughly to Matthew, ‘
gambling is a fool’s game and I am no fool.
’

James had won seven of the eight games played so far, putting James in an ironic position and leaving Matthew thankful that his host wasn’t a fool.

“I’ll see you,” James said, nodding to Jester.

Matthew smiled and spread his cards on the table, exposing all four Kings. James did the same, showing a full house of three aces and two Queens. He smiled at Matthew as he scooped the copper coins over to his side of the table.

“People say I’m lucky,” Matthew said. “You’re just taking the piss.”

James laughed boorishly. Over the last thirty minutes, Matthew had realised that no matter how simple, patriotic, hardworking, and middle class James was, he didn’t object to Matthew’s profanities.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Matthew began as James racked up the cards. “But … well.” he paused, the words on the tip of his tongue, unwilling to leave and form.

“You’re wondering how a middle-class man, raised through public schools and universities, ends up as a simple farmer?” He spoke without lifting his head, his eyes on the shuffling cards in his hands.

“Well … Yes.”

“It’s hard for people to understand, and I understand that.” He looked up from the cards, right into Jester’s eyes. “Everybody wants what they haven’t got. For example,” he started. “Everybody wants to be rich when they grow up, right?”

Matthew nodded.

“Everybody wants all the luxuries that money can provide. But,” he tapped the deck of cards on the table to emphasise his words. “In striving to achieve wealth, they miss out on all the things that life
has
given them. Things that money can’t buy: love, family, happiness.”

“That much I understand,” Jester said.

“Right,” James explained, “now switch scenarios. I grew up rich. I didn’t have all the simple luxuries that everyone takes for granted. I wasn’t happy, I wasn’t loved, and my family was too interested in money to show me any attention. I grew up dreaming to be like other people; when the rest of the world dreamt of a high-life full of money, champagne truffles and nonstop parties, I dreamt of a simple family life.”

“But dreams never turn out the way you expect them,” Matthew noted. “For the people wanting riches, they get their riches but they lose love, happiness and family. No one gets what they want. How did you know this path was the right path?”

“I didn’t. I just took a chance.” James smiled and began to deal the cards. “Life is all about luck, young Matthew. I got lucky.” He finished dealing the cards and then faced Matthew. “What about you? How’s your life?” he said with a smile.

“
Ha
!” Matthew laughed exaggeratedly. “Put it this way,” he paused. “Have you ever seen
The Twilight Zone
?”

“I watched the occasional episode as a child.”

“Well, that’s the way my life is going at the moment.”

“Everyone has their problems, son,” James said sympathetically.

“Some bigger than others.”

James studied Matthew momentarily. “If there is something you wish to discuss, I have a perfectly good shoulder to cry on.”

Matthew laughed softly. “It’s okay,” he said blandly. “I’m sure everything will turn out all right. Things have a way of sorting themselves out. What goes around comes around, right?”

James merely shrugged his shoulders.

Jester sighed, tapped his cards on the table, and then spread them in front of his face. He was in for another loss.

***

They ate tea after a half an hour of playing cards. Matthew found himself sitting down to a feast of freshly baked, home-cooked delights. Due to the arrival of the unexpected guest, Mary had cooked up a pot of her ‘special’ soup, ladling litres of the vegetable broth into Matthew’s bowl. Every time he finished the bowl, he was brought a refill from the pan, which sat on a simmering heat in the kitchen.

He ate almost half a loaf of bread with his soup, as well as two portions of cherry pie. An intense hunger had gripped him hard as soon as he sat to eat. Before that, he’d been sure he could plod along for days without food.

After eating, Mary and James cleared the table – refusing Matthew’s help, insisting that he was the guest and it was their job to look after him. They draped a wool cloth over the table top and then laid out four place mats; one for each diner and one for the centre of the table.

Leaving James and Matthew to their topical banter, Mary returned ten minutes later, cradling a large tray. She rested the tray on the table and slowly began removing its contents.

On each mat, in front of each person, she placed a cup, a saucer, and a silver spoon. In the middle of the table she put a large teapot, steaming with hot black tea; a tray of assorted biscuits, rich tea, digestives, bourbons, custard creams; a small jug of milk and a cup of sugar cubes. After returning the empty tray to the kitchen, she sat down to join her husband and their guest.

“Thanks a lot,” Matthew said. “The dinner was wonderful,” he said, filling his cup with tea, milk, and, to the surprise of his hosts, four sugar cubes. “You’ve been really nice. You don’t meet many people like you anymore. I thought society had completely sucked the kindness out of the world, but,” he looked at the pair and smiled. “I guess not,” he finished.

“We like to please our guests,” Mary said gently.

“I thought you said you didn’t get many guests?”

James shot an awkward glance his wife’s way. She stumbled on her words before answering, “We don’t. But like I said, we have our nephews and nieces. They come often.”

Matthew smiled and took a small sip of tea. “Have they been recently?” he queried.

“Not for a few years,” Mary quickly answered, but her words were overlapped by those of her husband’s.

“Not recently,” he said, his voice raised. He frowned, his features twitched, and then he said, “Like Mary said, not for a few
days.”

Matthew looked up to see the married couple smiling at him. Their eyes almost transfixed on him. “Uh-huh,” he nodded slowly, feeling ill-at-ease all of a sudden. “You know, it’s getting late. Maybe I should get going.”

“But you haven’t finished your tea,” Mary said, her voice as warm as ever.

“I know, but,” Matthew paused. James had stood and was walking out of the room, heading in the direction of the front door. Matthew arched his neck, trying to see what he was doing whilst still speaking to Mary. “If I don’t leave now, you’ll never get rid of me,” he joked.