Peter Robinson - Not Safe After Dark

Though there were few young people to be seen, it still managed to be a warm and lively pub, Banks noticed as he walked in with his father just after eight o’clock that night, the steamed pudding and custard still weighing heavy in his stomach. His father had managed the walk without too much puffing and wheezing, which he put down to having stopped smoking two years ago. Banks, who had only stopped that summer, still felt frequent and powerful urges.

‘Arthur! Arthur! Come on, lad, come on over.’ It was Geoff Salisbury. He was sitting at a table with an elderly couple Banks didn’t recognize and two other men in their sixties he remembered from his previous visit. They cleared a little space when Banks and his father walked over to join them.

‘My shout,’ said Geoff. ‘Name your poison.’

‘No,’ said Banks, still standing. ‘I’m the visitor. Let me buy the first round.’

That got no argument, so Banks wandered off to the bar. He hardly had to fight his way through the crowds of impatient drinkers. The bartender, the same one Banks remembered when he had last been in the Coach that summer, nodded a curt greeting and proceeded to pull the pints. When Banks carried the tray back to the table, his father was already talking football with one of his old pals, Harry Finnegan. Harry looked up and said hello to Banks, asked him how he was doing.

‘Fine,’ said Banks. ‘You’re looking well yourself.’

‘Fair to middling. Sorry to hear about you and that young lass of yours splitting up.’

Sandra. No secrets here. He wondered if they also knew about Sean and the imminent baby. ‘Well,’ said Banks, ‘these things happen.’ More to his generation than theirs, he realized. Theirs tended to stick at marriage even when all the love had gone out of it. He didn’t know if that was better or worse than changing wives every decade. Probably best not to get married at all, he suspected.

But his mother and father still loved one another, or so he believed. Fifty years together meant they probably didn’t have much new to say to one another any more, and the passion might have disappeared from their relationship years ago, but they were comfortable together. Besides, passion is transitory and infinitely transferable, anyway, Banks believed. What his parents had was stronger, deeper, more permanent; it was what he would never get to experience with Sandra: growing old together. He was used to the loss by now, but every now and then he still felt a pang of regret for what might have been and a lump came to his throat.

Harry introduced Banks to the couple at the table, Dick and Mavis Conroy. The other man, Jock McFall, said hello and shook hands.

‘I hear you’re a Leeds United supporter these days, Alan,’ said Harry, a twinkle in his eye.

Banks nodded. ‘For my sins. Not that I get the chance to go to Elland Road very often. Match of the Day is usually the closest I get.’

‘ Elland Road ,’ his father said. ‘You’d not be able to bloody afford it on what a copper earns, son.’ They all laughed.

Banks laughed with them. ‘Too true.’

As the conversations went on in that vein, people started to pair off: Dick and Mavis talking to Jock McFall about the latest supermarket price wars; Harry and Arthur Banks discussing Peterborough United’s miserable performance that season. Banks edged his chair closer to Geoff Salisbury’s.

‘Sorry about that business with the change,’ said Geoff. ‘My eyesight’s not what it used to be. Honest mistake.’

Banks nodded. ‘Honest mistake. No offence,’ he said, though he still wasn’t convinced. It was the closest he was willing to get to an apology, so it would just have to do. There was certainly no point in antagonizing Geoff and upsetting his mother even more. After all, he was only down for the weekend; these people had to live close to one another day in day out. And if Banks couldn’t be around to help his parents with their shopping and house-cleaning, then it was a good thing Geoff Salisbury was.

‘How long have you lived on the estate, Geoff?’ Banks asked.

‘About a year.’

‘Where did you live before?’

‘Oh, here and there. Bit of a wanderer, really.’

‘What made you settle down?’

Geoff laughed and shrugged. ‘My age, I suppose. I don’t know. Wandering lost its appeal.’

‘Well, there’s something to be said for knowing you’ve always got a roof over your head.’

‘There is that.’ Geoff took a stick of chewing gum from his pocket. When he had unwrapped it and put it in his mouth, he folded the silver paper time and time again until it was just a tiny square, which he set down in the ashtray. He noticed Banks watching him and laughed. ‘Habit,’ he said. ‘Stopped smoking five years ago and got addicted to this bloody stuff. Wish I’d stuck with cigarettes sometimes.’

‘You’re probably better off as you are,’ Banks said. ‘What line of work are you in?’

‘Odd jobs, mostly.’

‘What? Fixing things? Carpentry?’

‘Cars, mostly. Tinkering with engines. I used to be a mechanic.’

‘Not any more?’

‘Got made redundant from the last garage I worked at, and I just couldn’t seem to get taken on anywhere else. My age, I suppose. Again. They can get young kids still wet behind the ears and pay them bugger all to do the same job.’

‘I suppose so,’ Banks said. ‘So you work for yourself now?’

‘I don’t need much, just enough to keep the wolf from the door.’

‘And you help out Mum and Dad?’

‘Grand folk, Arthur and Ida,’ Geoff said. ‘Been like a mother and father to me, they have.’

If there was any irony intended in the remark, Geoff didn’t seem aware of it.

‘How long have you known them?’ Banks asked.

‘Since not long after you’d left this summer. They told me about that business with the missing lad. Terrible. Anyway, they always said hello right from the start, you know, like, when they saw me in the street. Invited me in for a cup of tea. That sort of thing. And with them not being… well, you know what I mean, not as able to get around as well as they used to do, I started doing them little favours. Just washing, cleaning, shopping and the like, helping them out with their finances. I like to help people.’

‘Finances?’

‘Paying bills on time, that sort of thing. They do get a bit forgetful sometimes, just between you and me. And taking the rent down to the council office. It’s an awful bother for them.’

‘I’m sure they appreciate it, Geoff.’

‘I think they do.’ He nodded. ‘Another?’

Banks looked at his empty glass. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Go on, then. One more.’ He looked over at his father. ‘All right, Dad?’

Arthur Banks nodded and went back to his conversation with Harry Finnegan. The pub had filled up in the last half hour or so, and Banks thought he recognized some of the faces. One or two people looked at him as if they knew him, then decided perhaps they didn’t, or didn’t want to. Banks watched Geoff Salisbury at the bar. He seemed to know everyone; he was shaking more hands and patting more backs than a politician on election day. Popular fellow.

Geoff came back with the drinks and excused himself to talk to someone else. Banks chatted with Dick and Mavis for a while – they wanted to know if he’d helped catch the Yorkshire Ripper – then, after his second drink, his father said he was tired and would like to go home. ‘You can stay if you like,’ he said to Banks.

‘No, I’ll walk back with you. I’m feeling a bit tired myself.’

‘Suit yourself.’

They said their goodbyes and walked out into the cool autumn night. It was mild for the time of year, Banks thought: light jacket weather rather than overcoats, but the leaves were changing colour, winter was in the air and the weather forecast said they had a shower or two in store. Neither Banks nor his father had anything to say on the way home, but then Arthur Banks needed all his breath for walking.