Get Carter (8 page)

“ ’Course they don’t,” I said. “ ’Course they don’t.”

I left Keith at one o’clock, picked up the car from the garage in Holden Street and went back to Frank’s. Doreen was as I’d left her, except she was asleep. I poured myself a drink and sat down on the divan and waited for her to wake up. I sipped my drink and looked at her. She was well away. You’d have thought she was dead.

Well, if she was mine there was nothing of me there to show for it. There was a lot of Muriel there, but because
Doreen was young and looked after herself it didn’t matter. I tried to see something of Frank in her but I’d stared at her for too long: she was just a young girl I’d met for the first time that morning. A young girl I’d been to a funeral with.

And now in a way, it didn’t matter who she was. If she came to South Africa with me and Audrey then it was up to me to take up where Frank’d left off. Mine or not, like it or not. Whatever she felt about me wouldn’t matter all that much: she’d never be short of anything if she came with us. If she came. If she didn’t I wasn’t going to make her. She could suit herself. I always had done. If she didn’t come I’d make arrangements for her to have set amounts of cash from time to time. At least she’d appreciate that. I know I would have done at her age.

She woke up.

She looked at me for a few minutes while she remembered who I was and what had happened.

“How are you feeling now?” I said.

“Lousy,” she said. She moved her tongue about in her dry mouth.

“Would you like another drink?” I said.

She pulled a face.

“Cigarette?”

She shook her head.

I waited for a while.

“Doreen,” I said, “I know it’s not a good time.”

She just stared in front of her at the wall.

“But I’m, you know, I’m a bit puzzled. You know, about what happened.”

Nothing.

I leant forward.

“I mean, was your dad worried about anything?”

She shook her head.

“Don’t you think he’d have to be, or annoyed or something, to get drunk the way he did?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, something like a row with the boss or something?”

“I didn’t see him Sunday night. He was at Margaret’s. I was in bed when he got in.”

I took another drink.

“Did you like Margaret?” I said.

“She was all right. She was good fun.”

“You didn’t mind what was going on between her and your dad?”

“Why should I?”

I shrugged.

“How do you mean, she was good fun?” I said.

“She just was. When we went out and that.”

“Did you and her ever talk? When Frank wasn’t about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, just talk.”

“Sometimes.”

“What about?”

“All sorts.”

“Like what?”

“Nothing in particular. She used to tell me what she’d got up to in London and that.”

“When was she in London?”

“I don’t know, years ago.”

“What was she doing down there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

“Well, she worked as a hostess or something.”

“Or something. Was she on the game?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Clip joints?”

“I suppose so.”

“And you didn’t mind your dad having it off with a slag like her?”

“Look,” she said, “bloody shut up. Me dad knew what she was like. It was his business. She was all right, was Margaret. She understood things.”

“What things?”

“About life.”

“What about life?”

“She didn’t care what everybody thought.”

“In what way?”

“She lived as she pleased.”

“And you agree with her?”

“Well, why not? You’re only here once.”

“How many blokes have you had, Doreen?”

“Now look …”

“How many?”

“Mind your bloody business.”

“Did your dad know?”

“Nowt to do with anybody but meself.”

“Did he?”

“Shut up.”

“Do you think he’d have liked it?”

“Shut your mouth.”

“I bet Margaret knew, though. I bet you talked about it with her, didn’t you?”

“Why not?”

“I bet you had a right laugh behind his back. I bet he didn’t know half of what she was up to, let alone you.”

“She was married. She did as she liked.”

“You sound closer to her than you were to your dad.”

She stood up.

“She understood me,” she said, tears beginning. “She knew what it was like.”

“Didn’t your dad?”

“No.”

“You’ll have a better time now he’s gone, then, won’t you?”

She flew at me. I took hold of her wrists.

“Now listen,” I said. “Tell me. What was up with your dad? What did he know?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“I don’t believe you. What was wrong?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Margaret …”

“What?”

“Maybe she finished with him.”

“And he’d get drunk over that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I bet,” I said. “I bet.”

I pushed her down on to Frank’s chair and leaned over her.

“Now look,” I said. “It strikes me that for Frank to get drunk the way he did and for him to drive off top road, there must have been something on his mind that was pretty heavy.”

She stared at me.

“Now,” I said, “I don’t know whether it was an accident or on purpose or what. But I’m going to find out. And if it turns out that you know something you’re not telling me then I’ll knock the living daylights out of you.”

She was frightened to death and at the same time she was bewildered by what I’d said.

“What do you mean?” she said. “It was an accident. What do you mean?”

I straightened up. So that was it. She didn’t know anything.

“What do you mean?” she said again.

“I’ll tell you if and when I find out,” I said.

I started to go out of the room and up the stairs. She followed after me.

“What, Uncle Jack?” she said. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “so don’t ask.”

I went into the bedroom and picked up the hold-all and the shotgun and box of shells.

“But you think …”

“I don’t know what I think,” I said.

I walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Doreen stood at the top of the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“To where I’m staying.”

“But what about me dad?”

“I’ll let you know what happens.”

“You don’t know where I’m staying.”

“I’ll find you,” I said.

I closed the front door behind me. I put the hold-all on the front seat and went round to the boot and opened it. I laid the shotgun and the box of shells down on the carpeting. I closed the lid and turned the key in the lock.

I phoned Audrey again. This time Gerald wasn’t there.

“Jack,” she said. “I’m worried.”

“What about?”

“I’ve been thinking. About what Gerald might do.”

“Don’t. He’s got to go to the trouble of coming out to Johannesburg himself if he wants you back and I doubt if even you’re worth the trouble that’d cause him.”

“But supposing …”

“Listen. I’ve told you. Stein knows. He’ll back me. I’m valuable to him. What I know means money to him. That’s what he’s paying for.”

There was a silence.

“You know what Gerald would do, don’t you? If he ever caught me?”

“Well, he won’t because he’d have to do it to me too. So drop it.”

There was another silence.

“Will you be back Sunday?”

“I don’t know. You may have to collect the stuff from Maurice yourself if I’m not.”

“When will you let me know?”

“I don’t know. Saturday. I’ll phone Maurice.”

“What about Doreen?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Do you want her to come with us, Jack?”

“I don’t know.”

“I hope you’ve thought about it, Jack.”

“I’ve thought,” I said. “Anyway, I’ll phone Saturday.”

“Jack, you’d better be careful. Gerald just might drop you in the cart.”

“I know that. What do you think I am?”

“All right,” she said. “But try and make it Sunday. You never know.”

“I’ll try,” I said and put the receiver down.

I knocked on the door of the boarding house. When she came to the door I said:

“Hello, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m a bit earlier than I expected. I hope it’s okay.”

“It makes no difference to me,” she said.

“Oh, good,” I said.

I went in and she watched me go up the stairs.

“I expect you’ll need some rest,” she said.

I played along with her. I turned at the top of the stairs.

“Well, you know,” I said.

Her face cracked for the first time since we’d met. She obviously liked to think what she was thinking.

“I’m making a cup of tea,” she said. “Would you like one?”

“Oh, yes, please,” I said. “That’s very kind of you.”

I went into my room and lay down on the bed and lit cigarette. A few minutes later the door opened. She walked over to the table by the bed and put the tea down. I leaned up on my elbow and took the tea. She sat down on a chair opposite the bed. She folded her arms and crossed her legs. I could see her stocking tops and she knew I could so I looked at them over the top of my tea.

“Ah,” I said, “that’s better.”

“You’ll be needing that,” she said.

“Too true,” I said. “Too true.”

She smirked again. She sat there smirking for a long time. Then she uncrossed her legs so that I could see up her knickers. They were loose-legged and bright green with white lace. They looked new. She watched me watch her. Slowly she got up, her arms still folded.

“Well,” she said, “I’ll let you get your rest.”

“Thanks,” I said.

She opened the door.

“Will you be going out tonight?” she said.

“Yes, probably,” I said.

“Because if you’re back at a reasonable hour I’ll do you some supper if you like.”

“That’s very kind of you,” I said.

She didn’t say anything and then she closed the door.

Six-thirty and Friday night. Too late for people going home from work and too early for people coming out to get drunk. Except for the workmen who were already in the pubs splashing their pay packets about.