Fine Lines

Chapter Fourteen

I would have known who he was even if Anna had not introduced him. He had the same runtish characteristics as his son, but without even the few redeeming features that youth had lent to Marty. As I stood up to offer my hand, I reflected that I had at least spared Anna the ordeal of growing old with someone like that.

He shook my hand reluctantly, dropping it almost straight away. He said not a word, making no attempt to be civil or explain his presence.

“This is a... a complete surprise,” Anna said. “I had no idea you were planning to come over.” She seemed shell-shocked. Her friend Debbie stood beside me wide-eyed, as though this was some kind of new and fascinating spectator sport.

“I wasn’t. But since I want to get this sorted out quickly, I obviously didn’t have much choice except to come here and take charge myself

The criticism was so blatant it bordered on the insulting, and the tone of the man’s thin, waspish voice made it clear that was how it was intended. Anna coloured up and seemed on the point of reacting. But all she said was, “You should have let me know. I could have met you at the airport.”

He rebuffed the pleasantry. “That’s quite okay. I’d rather settle in by myself. Although I hope all your cab drivers aren’t as incompetent as the one who drove me here. I had to almost find the way for him.” He cast a brief glance towards where I was standing with Anna’s friend before addressing Anna again. “Now, if you don’t mind. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

I was so astonished by his lack of manners that I was slow to realise this was a dismissal. There was a moment’s stunned silence. Then Debbie began collecting her things together.

“I’d better be going anyway, Anna,” she said, moving towards the door. “I’ll call you later. Goodbye, Mr—” Her mouth worked as she groped for Marty’s surname.

“Westerman,” his father said, curtly.

Reluctantly, I followed her cue. “Yes, I’d better be off, too.” I resented being ousted in such a way, but there was no excuse for me to stay. Westerman and I exchanged brief nods as the girl and I left. Anna-came with us into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry about this,” she whispered.

Debbie gave her a hug and kissed her cheek. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault.”

“I’d no idea he was coming! Why didn’t he tell me?”

“He’s just being an awkward sod. Don’t let him get to you. Look, do you want me to stay?”

“No, I’ll be all right. Thanks.”

“I’ll be at home all afternoon if you want me,” I said, not to be outdone. Anna nodded, but I could see she was not really listening.

“I’d better go back. I’ll talk to you both later.”

“God, poor Anna!” Debbie said, as we went down the stairs. “Can you believe how rude he was? What a pig!”

I found myself agreeing with her, something I would not have thought possible ten minutes earlier. I was even moved to offering her a lift, and found I did not object to her garrulousness half as much when it was directed against someone I disliked.

After I had dropped her at the nearest tube station, I went home. I had told Anna I would be there, and now my visit had been interrupted I had no other plans.

For a while I was able to occupy myself in making lunch. Eating it took up a little more time. But after that I was once again faced with an empty day. The only subject I could concentrate on was Anna. I sat and waited for her to call, wondering what was being said in my absence. Nothing else seemed worth thinking about.

It was then I remembered my private gallery. With surprise I realised I had not been in it for weeks, not since the night of Zeppo’s visit. I had not even thought of it since, and felt mildly amazed that my former passion had gone neglected for so long.

The prospect of an afternoon of self-indulgence seemed heaven-sent to take my mind off Anna. I deliberately eked out the moment, delaying going upstairs until I had washed the lunch dishes and had a cup of tea. Then, with a sense of reward, I went up to the gallery.

The anticipation was better than the fact. I turned on the lights and closed the door, and waited for the usual sense of contentment to wash over me. When it did not, I began my study of the pictures anyway, consciously trying to manufacture the mood. It would not come. I found I had wandered past several pieces without really seeing them, and tried to force myself into a more receptive state. But all that achieved was to make me notice the flaws in each work. The sensuality, the beauty of them was lost to me. Faults I had previously been able to overlook, even considered a part of their charm, now seemed clumsy and glaring.

In desperation, I went to the piece I had spent so much time over on my previous visit: the lovers and their hidden observer. The chair was still lying where Zeppo had knocked it over. Righting it, I sat down and stared at the trio, searching for my earlier absorption. All I found was an irritating awareness that the girl’s feet were too small for her body, and that the artist was weak when it came to depicting hands.

Finally, I gave up. I set the chair back in the centre, turned out the lights and closed the door. The room no longer held any pleasure for me. Anna had spoiled my palate.

The telephone rang as I was going downstairs. I almost fell in my hurry to answer it, and picked it up, breathlessly.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Donald. It’s Anna. I thought I’d better apologise for what happened earlier.”

My restlessness dropped away. “There’s no need for that. You’re not responsible for the man’s manners. He has gone now, I take it?”

“Yes. He didn’t stay long.”

“Did he improve after we’d left?”

“Not so much that you’d notice.” She sounded very low.

“Did he give you a rough time?”

“A little. But he’d just had a long journey. He was probably tired as well as worried.”

“That’s no excuse. Was he very unpleasant?”

“Well, he let me see what he thinks of me. Which isn’t very much.”

I felt a flare of anger. “Then he’s a fool as well as a boot. What did he say?”

“More or less what you heard. That it was time something was done, and he could do more here than in America. He made it clear that he begrudged having to come, but he obviously thinks that no one’5 trying to find Marty. And I don’t think he trusts me stall.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“I know, but...” I heard her sigh. “Well, that’s the impression I got, anyway. He asked to look through Marty’s things, and when I stayed in the bedroom with him, he seemed to actually resent me being there. As if I was trespassing on his son’s property, or something. I don’t know, perhaps I’m being too touchy.”

“Having met the man, I doubt it.”

“I just can’t understand what I’ve done. I know he’s bound to be worried and upset, but so am I. I can’t see why he’s got to be so nasty. We should be helping each other, not arguing. He treats me as if I’m some sort of... of gold-digger, or something, who’s led his son astray. I’m starting to think I must have done something wrong. I just don’t know what.”

“That’s silly, Anna. This isn’t your fault, and you know it.”

“I don’t know. I just... He makes me feel so guilty!”

“And I daresay that’s exactly what he wants. You said yourself that Marty didn’t get on with him. He’s probably jealous of you, and so he’s trying to make you suffer for it. Don’t let him.”

“But he’s so sure of himself! I really tried to be friendly, to make him less hostile, but he didn’t want to know.”

“Anna, the man’s clearly nothing but a bitter-minded, petty little tyrant. He’s not worth upsetting yourself over.”

There was a pause, and then she gave a low laugh. “You don’t like him, do you, Donald?”

I smiled, realising how worked up I had become, but glad I had given Anna at least some light relief. “Not the slightest bit.”

“Thank God for that. I was worried it was just me.”

“No, I think it’s a perfectly reasonable opinion.”

She laughed again. It sounded wonderful. “Well, hopefully he’ll be able to do some good now he’s here. He’s asked me to go to the embassy with him on Monday morning. He even managed to make that sound as if he was doing me a favour. I said I would, because I didn’t want to give him a chance to say I’m not trying, but I still want to clear it with you. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not. I only hope they’ll listen to him.”

“So do I. I would think they’ll have to, now. He’s his father, and he’s come all the way from America. Surely they’ll have to do something, won’t they?”

“I’m sure they will.” I wondered what. “Are you seeing him again before Monday?”

“No. I asked him if he wanted to come here for something to eat tonight, but he said no. He wasn’t exactly gracious about it, but I can’t pretend I’m disappointed.”

“I can’t say I blame you.” On impulse, I asked. “What are you doing tonight? Not staying in by yourself, are you?”

“No, I’m seeing some friends at Debbie’s. And in case you’re interested, she doesn’t like Marty’s father, either.”

“So I gathered.” I felt a stab of jealousy. Anna must have spoken to the girl before she telephoned me. “Well, I’m glad you’re going out. It’ll do you good.”

“That’s what Debbie said. I don’t really feel like it, to be honest, though.”

“Nonsense. You deserve it after putting up with that awful man all afternoon.” I hesitated. “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Not so far. Why?”

I felt ridiculously nervous. “If you’re not, I wondered if you might like to go out somewhere?”

“It’s nice of you to offer, Donald, but I better not. I’m not sure what Marty’s father’s doing. He might want to meet me again, or something.”

“Of course. I only wondered. Well, you know where I am if you want to get in touch.” I was glad she could not see me. My face was burning like a schoolboy’s. After I had put the telephone down I told myself that I was over-reacting, that she had not thought anything of either my offer or her refusal. But that did little to ease my embarrassment.

To take my mind off it, I thought about Marty’s father, indulging in self-righteous anger against him. His entire attitude, particularly his treatment of Anna, was deplorable. There was simply no call for it. I spent a while contemplating scenarios in which I told Westerman exactly what I thought of him, while Anna stood by as a grateful witness. After half an hour of such juvenile fantasies, I felt much better. Until I remembered the reason he was here in the first place.

I wondered what, if any, effect he would have on the investigation into Marty’s disappearance. Hopefully none, but it was a situation I would rather have avoided. Then I wondered how Zeppo would react to the news.

I decided not to tell him.

Monday lunchtime came and went without sign of Anna. I found it difficult to concentrate on the everyday chores of the gallery. Even when a garish and enthusiastic American came in and bought one of my more expensive pieces for cash, I found myself resenting the intrusion.

I had not spoken to Anna again. On Sunday, despite her refusal of my offer to go out, I had called around to see her. But she was not in. The doorbell rang hollowly, and there was that indefinable quietness about the flat that said it was empty. I left feeling the same way.

It was after two o’clock before she arrived at the gallery, and my relief at seeing her was instantly tempered with anxiety for what might have occurred.

“Sorry I’m late. It took longer than I expected.”

“That’s all right. Did you have any luck with the embassy?”

She took her coat off and hung it up. Her motions were slow and deliberate, as though she were very tired. When she turned to face me again, I noticed she had faint black smudges under her eyes. I wondered how long they had been there. “Sort of,” she said. “Well, not even sort of. Yes, we did.” She gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m not quite with it today.”

“What happened?”

She took a deep breath and sat down. “The embassy have finally agreed to get involved. Marty’s father did all of the talking. I just sat there like a jellyfish. He told them that he’d spent time and money to come over here, so the least they could do was take it as seriously as he did. He went on about how it was completely out of character for Marty to do something like this, and said he could supply written references from the university and half a dozen other sources to back him up, if need be. Anyway, to cut a long story short, they finally agreed to give us their backing when we went to the police, if we needed it. So that was where we went next. Marty’s father demanded to see the detective inspector instead of the sergeant I’d spoken to last time, and got all high and mighty with them. It was a bit embarrassing, really. But it worked, I suppose, so that’s the main thing. Marty’s now been moved on to a “high priority” category. That means that instead of just having him on file, now the police will actively start looking for him.”

“How will they do that?” I hoped my tension did not show.

“Circulate his description to other divisions, try to trace his movements. Generally make more of an effort, I suppose. I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but at least they’re trying.”

She kneaded her eyes with one hand. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I should be relieved that they’re actually doing something at last, but I’m not. I know I’m being stupid, but now the police are taking it seriously, it seems to make it more real. As though something must have happened to him.”

I found it easy to reassure her. From what she had said, the police could search from now to judgement day without finding anything. “I think that’s probably just reaction,” I said. “The fact that the police have started to look for him isn’t going to alter where he is, or why he went, is it? All it means is that you have a better chance of finding him sooner.”

“Oh, I know that, really. It’s just...” She shrugged. “Well, like you say, it’s probably reaction. And Marty’s father doesn’t help.”

“I take it he’s no pleasanter.”

“You could say that. And I’m in his bad books more than ever now. I stayed at Debbie’s on Saturday night, and didn’t get back to the flat until Sunday afternoon. He phoned about ten minutes after I’d got back in, and said that he’d been trying to get hold of me since the night before. It wasn’t anything important, but he made it clear he disapproved of me being out. He didn’t actually accuse me of being unfaithful, but he might as well have.” She shook her head, exasperated. “I wouldn’t mind so much, except it’s the first time I’ve been out since Marty went missing. And I probably wouldn’t have gone at all if he hadn’t upset me so much.”

I was outraged that he could even think such a thing. “He’s a despicable little man. Don’t let him bother you.”

She hesitated. “Actually, he might have done something to upset you as well.”

“Me?”

Anna nodded, grimacing. “After we’d been to the police station, he insisted on going to see the detective. I thought he just wanted to talk to him himself, to find out how far he’d got. Anyway, Mr. Simpson hadn’t found out anything else since the last time we spoke to him, and seemed pleased when I said that the police were finally getting involved. Then, out of the blue, Marty’s father suddenly said that now they were, we wouldn’t be needing him any more. I didn’t know what to say. I was just so surprised. And it was the way he said it. Not “I’m sorry”, or “thank you”, or anything like that. He just blurted it out! I didn’t want to argue in the detective’s office, so I waited until we were outside before I asked him what he thought he was doing. He said that Simpson was obviously inept, and that now the police were taking over there was no point risking amateurs clouding the water and ant agonising them. So I told him he still shouldn’t have done something like that without discussing it first with me. And you, because you’re paying, after all. But he said there was more at stake than personal pride, and he wasn’t going to waste time on etiquette. After that, I couldn’t bear it any longer. I said I’d phone, and left him there. If I’d been with him another minute, I think I’d have strangled him.”

She looked at me, contritely. “I’m sorry about the detective, Donald. He had no right to do that.”

I agreed, but was relieved he had. It was one less factor to worry about. And a considerable expense saved. “Well, I suppose he is Marty’s father,” I said. “And the police have far more resources than a private detective anyway.”

“I suppose so. It’s just his attitude. I was going to be his daughter-in-law eventually, so you think he’d at least make an effort to break the ice.” She stopped. “I said “was”. Not “am”.”

“It was only a slip of the tongue.”

“It’s the first time I’ve done it, though.” She looked on the verge of tears.

“You’ve had a trying day. What with the police, and the embassy, and the detective. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“No.” She shook it off and smiled. “Anyway, talking of Marty’s father, I’ve got a favour to ask.”

“Yes?”

“I was stupid enough to ask him over for a meal again. This was before we went to the detective’s, I might add. It doesn’t promise to be a very joyous occasion, but I wondered if you’d mind coming as well? I know it’s asking a lot, so if you’d rather not it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course I will. I’d love to.” Westerman or no Westerman, I was pleased that she had asked.

“Oh, thanks. I was hoping you would. It would have been pretty grim with just the two of us.”

“Aren’t you inviting anyone else?”

“No, I don’t think so. The fewer people I inflict him on the better. Not that I want to inflict him on you,” she said, quickly. “But I thought I might not seem so bad if he sees I mix with respectable pillars of society like you. And he might mellow a bit with someone his own age.”

The last comment was unfortunate, but I refused to let it bother me. Anna had still invited me rather than anyone else, age notwithstanding. Flattered, I remembered my protective fantasies of the weekend.

I dared Westerman to bully her while I was there.