Peter Robinson - The Price of Love and Other Stories

“Do you remember that concert?” he asked.

Kay’s eyes sparkled. “Of course I do. Well, not so much the music... I mean, if you asked me I couldn’t tell you what they played or who else was on... but the occasion...yes, how could I forget? My mother wouldn’t let me out of the door for a week afterward, except to go to school.”

Banks laughed. “Mine, too.”

On June 7, 1969, the same day Kay had bought Lady Chatterley’s Lover at a secondhand bookshop on Charing Cross Road, Banks and Kay had taken the train to London for the free Blind Faith concert in Hyde Park. Through a combination of circumstances — partly to do with going off to smoke dope in a flat in Chelsea with some people they met — they had missed their train back and ended up getting home very early the following morning. Needless to say, parental recriminations were severe.

“So,” said Kay, “tell me about the last thirty years. I suppose you’re married? Children?”

“Two children: one girl at university, and one boy in a rock band. And don’t say it serves me right.”

Kay laughed. “Heaven forbid. Maybe he’ll make enough money to keep you in your old age.”

“That’s what I’m banking on.”

“What about your wife?”

The waitress came over, notepad in hand. “Have you decided yet?”

Banks glanced at Kay, who nodded and ordered the sole and salad. Banks went for venison medallions in port and mushroom sauce.

“More drinks?”

Banks looked at his half full glass and shook his head. Kay asked for a glass of white wine with her meal.

“You were saying?” Kay went on when the waitress had gone away. “About your wife.”

Banks paused. “I’m divorced.”

“How long?”

“Two years. She’s already remarried.”

Kay whistled. “That’s pretty fast. Usually you’d expect some sort of... well... I don’t know...”

“Period of mourning?”

“That’s not the term I was looking for, but I suppose it’ll do.”

“It took me by surprise, too. I can’t say I’m in any hurry to get married again.”

“Is there someone?”

Banks thought of Michelle and Annie and experienced another pang of guilt as he said, “No one serious. It’s too soon for that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You?”

“Me? What?”

“Are you still married?”

“Not for the past five years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You needn’t be. He ran away with his secretary.”

“That must have been tough.”

“At the time, yes, I’d say it was a bit of a blow to the old self-esteem. She was much younger than me, of course. But I’m over it now.”

“Someone new?”

“No one special.” Kay smiled and gave a slight blush as she picked up her glass and sipped. It was the same smile and blush Banks remembered from those years ago when he first asked her out. What had happened to them? he asked himself. Why had they split up? But he knew the answer: it had been his fault.

Their meals arrived, and Kay’s glass of wine soon followed. Banks stuck with his one pint, as he had to drive. “How are you coping about your mother?” he asked, after they had both eaten a couple of mouthfuls.

“Not bad. I think. I’ve got most of it done except the cleaning.” She smiled. “Never was my strong suit, not even in my own home. I’ll probably do it tomorrow. Anyway, a local dealer’s coming to take away the furniture on Monday morning. Didn’t offer much for it, but what the hell... The rest is already packed and ready to go to my house.” She shook her head. “It was difficult, you know, going through someone’s life like that. Your own mother’s memories. Do you know, I found letters to her from a young man — this was before she and Dad met, of course — but they were love letters. Quite spicy, too, one or two of them.”

“It is hard to imagine your parents having lives of their own, isn’t it?”

Kay nodded. “There was lots of other stuff, too. Old photos. Me when I was a kid at the seaside. Letters from me, too, when I was at university. Full of energy and ambition.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

“And now?”

Kay wiped away the tears. “Oh, I suppose I’m still ambitious enough. I work practically all the hours God sends. I know I neglected Mum, especially since Dad died.” Banks remembered hearing that Kay’s father had been killed ten years ago in a car accident, an accident her mother survived. It had been the talk of the estate for weeks, so his mother had told him. Kay laughed and made a dismissive gesture. “I don’t know, maybe there’s something Freudian about it — I always was Daddy’s little girl — but my career really started to take off around then, too. Life was exciting at last: lots of travel, parties, financial success. I hardly ever made time to come home and help Mum, even when she was ill. For crying out loud, I was in Zurich when she died. I barely managed to get back in time for the funeral. Some daughter. Some mother, too. Even my kids say they never see me.”

“Kids?”

“Three girls. All married. I’m a grandmother, Alan. Can you believe it? A bloody grandmother.”

“It is hard to believe, looking at you.”

She blushed and smiled again. “Why, thank you. I’ll tell you, though, it takes a lot of hard work and a lot of investment in potions and salves these days. Remember when we were kids? We thought we were immortal, that we’d be young forever.”

“True enough,” Banks agreed. “I’m still waiting for the wisdom that’s supposed to come with age.”

“Me, too.”

They paused in comfortable silence for a while and ate some more food. Banks watched Kay break off flakes of moist sole with the edge of her fork. His venison was good, tender and tasty. He decided he could risk one more drink and asked the waitress to bring him a glass of red wine.

“How are your parents?” Kay asked.

“Fine. Oh, that reminds me: Mum asked me to invite you to drop by tomorrow, if you want.”

Kay nodded slowly. “Yes. All right, that would be nice.”

“About six, okay?”

“Fine. Just for half an hour or so.” Kay frowned. “You know, there is one thing that puzzles me a bit about Mum,” she said.

“Oh?”

“It’s nothing, really, but I was going through her finances yesterday, and I noticed she’d withdrawn a hundred pounds from the bank machine the day she died, but I can’t find it. There’s only about six or seven pounds in her purse, and she wasn’t the type to hide her money under the mattress.”

The little scar beside Banks’s right eye began to itch. “Maybe she had bills to pay, or she owed it to someone?”

“Neither a lender nor a borrower be. That was Mum’s motto. And all her bills had been paid. No, it’s a mystery. What do you have to say, oh great detective?”

“I still think there’s probably a logical explanation.”

“Probably. The other thing that puzzles me, though, is how did she get it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she was bedridden for the last few days. There was a nurse on call twenty-four hours a day, of course, and Dr. Grenville dropped by quite often, but... I just don’t see how she could even have got to the bank machine.”

The itch got stronger. Banks scratched the side of his eye. “Have you ever heard of a fellow called Geoff Salisbury?” he asked her.

Kay frowned. “The name sounds vaguely familiar. I think he introduced himself to me at the funeral. A neighbor. Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Banks. “Nothing important. Sweet?”

“Would you like some music on?” Kay asked. They were back at her parents’ house, and Banks had accepted her invitation to come in for a nightcap — a half bottle of “medicinal” brandy that Kay had found tidying up the kitchen cupboards. They drank it out of cracked teacups that she had been about to put in the dustbin.