Martin Edwards - I Remember You

Debbie shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me! You’re the lawyer. Although I do know there was some stuff about a loan from Merseycredit.’

Mystery solved. It must be cosy for Stuart, borrowing money from his own business. Better than a bank or building society, any day.

‘Go on.’

‘The key to the bureau was on a ring. Luckily, he keeps it in the pocket of an old coat he hangs in the hall cupboard. When I got the idea about selling the house…’

‘Yes, how did that flash of inspiration strike you?’

‘I remembered a remark Phil once made, about the money you could make from selling something you didn’t have. Much easier than parting with something of your own.’

Phil sounded like a chap who would always keep the lawyers in business. Harry shook his head. ‘So the rest was easy. Take the title deeds, find yourself an estate agent and a buyer who wasn’t in a chain, offer the place at a cut price to secure a speedy sale, then hey presto!’

‘It seems so simple when you put it like that,’ she said. ‘Believe me, I’ve died a thousand deaths during the past few weeks. It was no problem coming into town to see you — Mum has a council house down the road in Maghull. She was willing to look after Rainbow with no questions asked. But I could never be certain when the Ambroses or their surveyor came here that bloody Rosemary wouldn’t decide to take an early dart home. I had this nightmare that she would come back and find someone peering under her floorboards or sticking a knife in the putty of her window frames. Thank Christ the woman gets off on working in the city.’

‘I see why you said you were ex-directory: to cut out the risk of gaff-blowing phone calls at night, when the owners were at home.’

‘Right. I’m not saying there weren’t perks. Rosemary has better taste in clothes than in men. She’s not much bigger than me, she’s got the midriff bulge under control. I loved wearing her things whenever I went into town to see the estate agent or you. At last I knew what it felt like to be rich.’ She smiled. ‘Believe me, changing your identity gives you a taste of freedom. It’s a fresh beginning, a way to put the past behind you and start a new life. But all the same I was scared of putting a foot wrong. The fear of being found out ate away at me. Tell you the truth, I reckoned I was earning my profit.’

‘And you were even able to bestow a little largesse, so far as professional fees were concerned.’

She gave him a sly look. ‘You must admit, knowing Merseycredit would pay the bill made you willing to give me top priority.’

‘That wasn’t just because of the costs.’

‘Oh?’ Her lips parted a little. ‘And what other reason could there be?’

He was tempted to explain her resemblance to Liz. But he told himself this was neither the time nor the place. Outside his fantasies, there never would be a right time and place so far as he and Debbie Warrington were concerned.

Before he could decide what to say, a loud thump could be heard from the room with the playpen. It was followed at once by a squeal of dismay.

‘Oh God, it’s Rainbow! I won’t be a minute.’

During her brief absence he mulled over what he should do. He was vaguely conscious that something she had said to him had a deeper significance for him than she had intended, but he could not pin it down. As he heard her coming back, he tossed the deeds envelope on to one of the occasional tables.

‘I don’t think you’re cut out for nannying.’

‘I’ll have to iron plenty more sleepsuits before I can afford to go to Spain now,’ she said. After a pause, she added, ‘If I get the chance.’

‘Meaning?’

She gazed at him. ‘Well, it all depends on you, doesn’t it? Whether you shop me or not.’

He pointed to the deeds. ‘Put them back in the bureau. Stuart will never know they’ve gone walkies.’

‘What about the Ambroses?’

‘No problem. They want out, you want out.’

Of course it was more complicated than that; Stanley Rowe would not easily be persuaded to waive his fee. The mischievous thought occurred to him that Geoffrey Willatt would be delighted to settle for the estate agent’s costs if his clients could reclaim the balance of their deposit. Harry saw scope for a little rough justice of a kind likely to cause apoplexy if the Solicitors’ Disciplinary Tribunal ever got to hear of it. But perhaps not even he would be quixotic enough to risk his practising certificate for the sake of a neat solution to someone else’s problem.

Debbie was staring at him. He could almost believe there was awe in her expression, as if she were a trainee escapologist, taking a masterclass from Houdini.

‘Is that it?’

‘What else is there? Find another job, why don’t you? Write this one off to experience and leave crime to criminals. Sooner or later you’ll realise you’ve been lucky.’

She breathed out and glanced heavenwards. He guessed a silent prayer had been answered.

‘Lucky to have been dealing with a human being, for sure. Funny, I used to be desperate to shake the Liverpool dust from my feet. Now I’m not so sure.’

He couldn’t help smiling. Perhaps he had achieved something.

‘Phil was never going to be the love of a lifetime,’ she continued. ‘When I was a small girl I used to dream one day I would meet a man I could die for. Well, I’ve not had much luck in finding him so far.’

‘A man you could die for,’ repeated Harry slowly. A vague idea began to form in his mind.

She smiled, pleased he was responding to her fantasy. ‘Yes, I always wanted that grand passionate affair. One that mattered more than anything else in the world.’

‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘We pay a price for those passionate moments.’

She gave him a quizzical look. ‘I suppose I ought to try something new. Perhaps — I might even pick your brains sometime. We could have a drink one evening, if you were willing. What do you say?’

He returned her gaze. Her resemblance to Liz was stronger than ever; Debbie too was a modern Micawber, forever optimistic that something would turn up. He would find it easy to say yes to her. Yet he knew he had to learn to stop believing in ghosts.

‘I don’t think that would be such a good idea.’

‘In that case,’ she said ruefully, ‘I suppose we’d better say goodbye. I have plenty to do before the Graham-Browns get home.’

‘At least it still is their home,’ he said.

She laughed and led him to the front door. ‘Yes. They’ll never know what a narrow escape they had. Thanks for everything, Harry. Who knows, we may bump into each other again one day.’

He hesitated as he stepped past her into the cold air of the afternoon. As his cheek brushed her hair he was seized by a fierce urge to put his arms round her, but he conquered it in a split second and did not look back until he was half a dozen paces down the path. She was framed in the doorway, an attractive, naive young woman. Not a ghost at all.

‘Take care of yourself,’ he said. ‘I’ll remember you.’

He arrived back at the office on the stroke of five. Despite his lack of sleep, he felt as though he had gained new strength. So much remained unclear to him, but on the drive home from Crow’s Nest House, he had made a promise to himself. Before the day was through, he would come face to face with Finbar’s killer.

Suzanne was preparing to leave for the day, gathering her bits and pieces together, checking her make-up in a pink pocket mirror. She glanced ostentatiously at her watch as he strode past her and clicked her tongue in reproof.

‘You never gave me any idea when you’d be back,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know what to tell your client.’