The Doll’s House (13 page)

‘Cheers,' he said.

‘Cheers,' Harry echoed. ‘Now, what can I do for you?'

‘Well,' Parker sounded a little smug. ‘I'm really here to see if there's anything I can do for you. That's my job, you know. We're very conscious of how difficult it may be to adjust after leaving the Service. And you were with it a long time. Twenty-seven years, wasn't it?'

‘Twenty-eight,' Harry smiled at him. ‘I haven't found any problem. I was behind a desk for the last eight years. This is a little different, but it's interesting. I've always liked the idea of catering, running a service business.'

‘Oh yes? Yes, it's the growth industry these days I'm told.'

Never boiled an egg
…
Never washed a cup
. The words of the wife came back to him. He leaned forward.

‘How did you find this job then?'

Harry gave a little chuckle. ‘Through influence, I'm afraid. I'm a local lad you see. I was born at Dedham and I've got family still living there. They knew the new owners and recommended me. I was here on trial for the first couple of months, but they seem to think I've done a good job and I'm permanent now. It's a great place; nice staff, reasonable salary, all accommodation and food provided. And a few perks besides.'

He was elbow-nudging when he said that. Cheerful, friendly.

Parker nodded. ‘You seem to have fallen on your feet. Good for you. By the way I went to see your wife.'

‘My ex-wife,' Oakham corrected. The smile was still on his face. ‘Why was that? Nothing wrong with her, is there?'

‘Oh no, she's quite all right. I went to your old house and the new owners gave me her address. She told me you'd got divorced.'

Harry raised both hands in a gesture of regret.

‘Well, it was better to make a clean break. She had another chap. It hadn't mattered while I was working, but when I left the office I began to mind. I expect she'll marry him. I hope she does. I wasn't all that good a husband, too wrapped up in my work. We hadn't any children either, so there aren't those bones broken. It's bloody when children get involved. You married, Jim?'

Parker noted the Christian name.

‘No. Never got round to it. Tell me, didn't you have to take some catering course or something to get a job in a place like this?'

‘No,' Harry shook his head, his eyes full of amusement at his own cheek. ‘I just took up where the last manager left off. I've changed a few things as I found my way round, but it's really a case of man management. And I've always been quite good at that. I ran all sorts of people in my old job. I like people.'

‘And it's doing well? I saw lots of cars in the car park. Must be expensive to stay here.'

‘It is,' Harry agreed. ‘Very expensive. But we give value for money. Come and spend a night some time.'

‘Not on my salary,' Parker said.

‘As my guest,' Harry countered. ‘I mean it. I'd like to show you round, but I am a bit busy this afternoon.'

It was a dismissal accompanied by a bribe. Parker didn't get up at once. He frowned and cleared his throat. He looked worried.

‘I've been trying to trace an old colleague of yours, Harry.' He dropped in the Christian name this time. ‘Jan Ploekewski. He's disappeared. He wasn't too stable, as you know. I've tried everyone who knew him but he just packed in his job, walked out of his room and disappeared. You haven't heard from him have you?'

Harry Oakham got up.

‘He hasn't disappeared! He went back to Poland after Solidarity took over. I had dinner with him the night before he left. He was in great form, very excited about going. He said he'd make a new start among his own people. He was born here but he always said he never felt English. I had a postcard from him some time ago saying he was travelling around and wasn't planning to come back. There's nothing to worry about. I think he's found his niche in life. I hope so. He was a good man.'

He opened the door and Parker followed him out into the reception hall. They came down the steps together; the sun was shining. Parker looked back at the building.

‘Must be very old,' he said. ‘Has it got a history?'

He was lingering on purpose, Oakham decided. Didn't like being ushered out till he was ready. He knew that type. Officious, petty, cloaked in good intentions. He hated the Parkers of this world. He was gracious when he answered.

‘Yes, it has, it was a Catholic stronghold in Tudor times, priests' holes and the rest of it. It's supposed to be haunted by a child who was murdered – all good rousing stuff but we don't put it in the brochure.

‘I mean it, Jim, come and stay a night. Just give us a ring.'

He opened the car door and Parker got in.

‘Thanks, I might take you up on it. Glad everything's turned out so well. And by the by – if you do hear any more from Ploekewski, here's my telephone number. If he's really gone for good we ought to close the file.'

He waved as he drove off. Harry turned and went inside.

He locked the piece of paper in his desk. Close the file on Jan. He'd feed them something later on.

‘Look at the time, I must be off,' Jim Parker said suddenly.

Rosa got up with him. He'd left the story hanging, driving away from the hotel, and she said, ‘But you haven't told me half enough. Is that all, just that intuitive feeling when you met him? It doesn't seem a lot to go on, if you don't mind me saying so.'

‘I don't mind at all,' he answered. ‘But it's interesting, isn't it?'

‘The tiger in the cat basket,' she murmured as they began to walk back towards Birdcage Walk. ‘It sounds like a good title for one of those thrillers you don't like. And where does this leave me, Mr Parker?'

‘It leaves you in Birdcage Walk, Mrs Bennet, and if you hurry, you can catch that taxi I see cruising along. I'll ring you tomorrow. I could come and see you and we can go on from there. If you're really interested.'

She felt irritated with him.

‘Of course I am,' she said. ‘You don't need to ring. I'm meeting my ex-husband for a drink at twelve and then I'm at home for the rest of the afternoon. And evening.'

‘Three o'clock then? I know the address. See you then.'

He turned and walked briskly in the opposite direction. She took his advice and hailed the taxi. She was having supper with friends that evening. People were being very kind once they heard she was alone.

James Bennet had suggested neutral ground for their last meeting. There was a wine bar on the corner of World's End where he'd dropped in once or twice. He suggested they wrap up their marriage between twelve and one o'clock. He was waiting for her when she came in; he looked relaxed as he got up.

‘Hello, Rosa.'

‘Hello, James.'

She looked rather pale, he noticed. His girl was blooming with pregnancy.

Rosa sat down; she lit a cigarette.

‘Started again?' he asked. ‘I thought you said you'd stopped last time.'

‘You're looking well,' she said.

‘I'm fine. Busy, things are picking up at last.'

‘I'm glad.'

‘How about you? How's the office?'

She heard the edge in his tone. He was still bitter. She'd agreed to everything he asked, but he hadn't forgiven her. Perhaps he wasn't as happy as he made out.

‘I'm on leave,' she answered.

‘When do you go to Brussels?' He signalled for the waiter. ‘What will you have? Red or white?'

‘Nothing thanks. I may not take the Brussels job. I want to get my affairs sorted out. There'll be other opportunities.'

‘Don't expect me to say I'm sorry. If it hadn't been for your bloody job, Rosa, we wouldn't be sitting here now, saving money on lawyers.'

She looked at him and said quietly, ‘Are you sure about that? I'm not any more. It didn't take much to pull us apart, did it? We made a mistake getting married. Let's leave it at that.'

He drank his red wine, looked at her over the glass.

‘You'll meet someone else,' he said. ‘If you haven't already.'

‘I haven't,' she said flatly. ‘You were the one who went shopping, not me. Why don't we stop sniping at each other and get this over and done with? I don't want to argue.'

‘You never did,' he said. ‘If I step out of line, Bella gives me hell. I find it easier to live with.'

‘Lucky for you,' she shrugged. ‘I don't want to talk about her. You've got the papers?'

He opened his briefcase.

‘They're all here,' he said. ‘That's a list of stuff I'd like to take. See if it's OK with you.'

‘It's mostly your furniture,' she said, pushing the list back at him. ‘I don't need to see it. When's the van coming?'

‘I don't need a van,' he said irritably. ‘What did you expect me to do? Strip the bloody house? There's a desk and my mother's two pictures. I think she ought to have them back. Odds and ends of books and the hall chairs. I'm not sticking on them but they did come from my grandfather originally.'

‘You take them,' Rosa said. ‘Please, James, whatever you want. Here, let me sign this damned thing.'

It had been her idea to renounce alimony. Oddly, he had needed some persuading before he agreed to let her sign away her right to part of his income. But once the decision was made, he had got the documentation drawn up and told the lawyer briskly that he and his wife didn't have to meet in his office to tie up the loose ends. The lawyer had annoyed him by a shaft of sarcasm.

‘Nice to think you're on friendly terms. Maybe you shouldn't rush into divorce?'

James didn't react.

He took the papers back from her, glanced at them to make sure all was in order – Rosa knew he couldn't help being meticulous – and put them away.

‘So what are your plans?'

‘I haven't really thought,' Rosa answered.

It was like talking to a stranger; he'd been her husband, her lover, now he was a stranger, asking about her plans.

‘If I don't go to Brussels, I might take a holiday somewhere. James, if we've nothing more to sort out, I think I'll go now.'

He called for the bill. She didn't want to wait, she wanted to say goodbye at the table. The pain of a final parting or the pain of failure; she didn't know which it was. But the pain was very real. He opened the door for her.

‘Rosa,' he said, and he held her arm for a moment. ‘You mind, don't you?'

‘Yes, of course I mind.'

He said, ‘I know I've been a shit, I'm sorry. If ever you need anything, any help – just let me know. Promise?'

‘Thanks. I'll remember.'

‘Don't forget,' he insisted. ‘I hope things turn out well for you. Maybe we'll be friends. You'd like Bella.'

‘Goodbye, James.'

He let go of her arm.

‘There's a taxi. Hey!'

It drew up alongside them. The driver leaned out and opened the door.

‘I'll walk,' she stepped back. ‘You take it.'

‘All right, I'm running a bit late. Bye, Rosa!'

The door slammed; he looked through the window, raised his hand briefly and sat back out of sight. It was all over. With regrets, she could see that, and a little sadness because he had been disappointed in his hopes. But with a clean page on the ledger. It was a clean page for her too.

Parker was late. She laid a tray for some tea and put out biscuits and wondered if something had stopped him coming. There was no message on the answer machine. She looked at her watch. Three twenty. Then the bell rang and he was on the doorstep. He didn't apologize, he just said, ‘Hello,' and followed her through the hall and into the drawing room. He looked around him.

‘Nice house you've got. How did the drink go?'

She stared at him.

‘Drink?'

‘With your ex,' he said. ‘Shall I sit here?'

‘It went off perfectly well.' Her tone was curt.

He had no right to ask about her private life, and then she realized that in his world he had every right. And now it was her world too.

She said, ‘I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be offhand. It wasn't too bad. We didn't argue about anything. He's been very generous in fact.'

‘Guilty conscience,' Parker stated. ‘But you're getting over it?'

‘I've got over it. Well, very nearly. I'll make some tea. Do you like milk or lemon?'

‘Milk please,' he said. He got up when she came back. ‘Let me take that. Do you live here alone, Mrs Bennet?'

‘Why don't you call me Rosa? On this table, thanks.'

She poured tea for both of them and he took two biscuits.

‘You get a lot of oddballs in our Service,' he remarked. ‘They have to be, I suppose, to do it in the first place.'

‘Are you an oddball?'

‘I expect so. Now, war is one thing, but to do what Oakham did in peacetime is not the same at all. Quite a few operators resigned after the war. They couldn't kill in cold blood – well, without the flags and the bugles in the background. He came into it young, twenty-four, out of university via a City job. Insurance broking. Bored to tears, he said he was, when he was interviewed. He wanted a challenge, something to test him.

‘He had a long training, psychological checks all the way, he was pushed to the limit physically and he held up mentally when some of the same intake simply cracked up. He was killer material, that's what they decided. But even so, he went the long route through surveillance and the cipher school.

‘Explosives and radio communication. Bugging. The lot. He did the equivalent of a copper on the beat before they moved him up. And then sideways in what we call Department “F”. “F” for Freedom.'

‘What does that mean?' Rosa asked.

‘Freedom from the cares of this world,' he said. ‘I think it was some snide old pansy up at Cambridge who thought that one up. Giggle, giggle.'