Peter Robinson - A Dedicated Man

‘I’m sorry to disturb you at work,’ Banks said, sipping the refreshing liquid.

‘Think nothing of it. It’s an occupational hazard.’

Banks raised an eyebrow.

‘What I mean is,’ Barker explained, ‘that if you work at home, you’re at home, aren’t you? Fair game for any salesman and bill collector. Somehow, the old Protestant work ethic won’t allow most people to accept that writing books in the comfort of one’s own home is really work, if you see what I mean. I can’t think why, mind you. It was common enough for weavers and loom operators to work at home before the Industrial Revolution. These days, work has to be something we hate, something we do in a noisy dirty factory or an antiseptic fluorescent office. No offence.’ But Banks could tell by the sparkle in his eyes that Barker was baiting him gently. ‘None taken,’ he replied. ‘As a matter of fact, I’d be happier to spend a bit more time in my office and less of it tramping about the dales in this weather.’

Barker smiled and reached for a cigarette from the packet on the table. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I don’t seem to get many visitors, except salesmen. I take the phone off the hook, too. Work was going well. I’d just got to a good part, and it’s always been my practice to stop for a while when things get good. That way I feel excited about going back to work later.’

‘That’s an interesting work habit,’ Banks remarked, trying to ignore the craving he felt when Barker lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply.

‘Sorry,’ Barker said, offering him a cigarette as if he had read his mind.

Banks shook his head. ‘Trying to stop.’

‘Of course. You’re a pipe man, aren’t you? Please feel free. Pipe smoke doesn’t bother me at all.’

‘It broke.’

After the two of them had laughed at the absurdity of the broken pipe, Banks gave in. ‘Perhaps I will have a cigarette,’ he said. As he reached for one, he noticed Barker tense up to face the inevitable questions. The cigarette tasted good. Every bit as good as he remembered. He didn’t cough or feel dizzy. In fact, he felt no indication that he had ever given up cigarettes in the first place; it was like a reunion with a long lost friend.

‘So, what can I do for you this time?’ Barker asked, putting unnecessary emphasis on the last two words.

‘I suppose you’ve heard about the girl from the village, Sally Lumb?’ he asked.

‘No. What about her?’

‘You mean you don’t know? I’d have thought in a community this size the news would spread fast. People certainly knew about Harold Steadman soon enough.’

‘I haven’t been out since I walked Penny home after the folk club last night.’

‘The girl’s missing,’ Banks told him. ‘She didn’t go home last night.’

‘Good Lord!’ Barker said, looking towards the window. ‘If she’s wandered off and got lost in this weather… What do you think?’

‘It’s too early to know yet. She could have got lost, yes. But she grew up around here and she seemed like a sensible girl.’

‘Run away?’

‘Another possibility. We’re checking on it.’

‘But you don’t think so?’

‘We just don’t know.’

‘Have you got search parties out?’

‘We can’t in this weather.’

‘But still… Something’s got to be done.’

‘We’re doing all we can,’ Banks assured him. ‘Did you know her?’

Barker narrowed his eyes. ‘I wouldn’t say I really knew her, no. I’ve seen her around, of course, to say hello to. And she once came to me about a school project. Pretty girl.’

‘Very,’ Banks agreed.

‘I don’t suppose that’s what you came to talk to me about though, is it?’

‘No.’ Banks stubbed out his cigarette. ‘I wanted to ask you about Penny Cartwright.’

‘What about her?’

‘Are you in love with her?’

Barker laughed, but Banks could see the strain in his eyes. ‘What a question. I don’t know whether to tell you it’s none of your business or applaud your insight.’

‘You are, then?’

‘I’ll admit I’m rather smitten with Penny, yes. What red-blooded young bachelor wouldn’t be? But I don’t see what my feelings for her have to do with anything else.’

‘Was she having an affair with Harold Steadman, do you think?’

Barker gazed at Banks for a few moments. ‘Not that I know,’ he answered slowly. ‘But how would I know?’

‘You knew the two of them quite well.’

‘True. But a man’s private life… and a woman’s? If they wanted to conceal something like that from the world, it wouldn’t have been very difficult, would it? Even here, it could be done. Look, if you want my answer to your question, you’ll have to understand that it’s just an opinion, like yours. Certainly neither of them confided in me, or anything like that. And I’d say no, they weren’t having an affair. As you guessed, I am very fond of Penny and, given that, I’d naturally be interested in her relationships. As far as I can make out though, their friendship was based on mutual respect and admiration, not sexual desire.’

This was almost exactly what Banks had heard from Penny herself and from Emma Steadman. Indeed, the only person who seemed to think differently about Penny and Harold Steadman was the major, and he was very much a victim of his own obsessions. But what if he was right?

‘You seemed rather sharp last night when I mentioned Michael Ramsden,’ Banks said, changing tack. ‘Do you have any particular reason to dislike him?’

‘I don’t dislike him. I hardly even knew him. He’s been in the Bridge a few times with Harry, and he always seemed pleasant enough. I will admit that I found something a little sly about him, a bit off-putting, but that’s a minor personal reaction; it’s neither here nor there.’

‘I suppose you knew about his relationship with Penny?’

‘Yes, and I’m quite willing to confess to a touch of instinctive lover’s jealousy. Come to that, I may have been envious of her relationship with Harry, too; it seemed so close and easy. But I’ve no claim on Penny’s emotions, sad to say. And as far as Ramsden was concerned, that was years ago. They can’t have been more than kids.’

‘Where were you then?’

‘What? On the night of the twelfth of February, nineteen sixty-three, between the hours of-’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Ten years ago?’

‘Yes.’

‘I lived in London then, in a poky little bedsit in Notting Hill writing real novels that nobody wanted to buy. Penny wasn’t around when I first came to Gratly – we didn’t meet till she came back – but I did see her play once down south.’

‘Why do you think Ramsden and Penny split up?’

‘How should I know? It’s not a question I’ve concerned myself with. Why does any young couple split up? I suppose they felt themselves moving in different directions. Christ, they were only kids.’

‘That was when Michael lived at home with his parents, wasn’t it? In the same house Steadman and his wife used to visit on holidays?’

‘Yes,’ Barker answered. ‘Ten years ago. It was just before Ramsden went off to university. Penny was just discovering her talent then. Harry told me he used to teach her folk songs he’d collected.’

‘And the kids just drifted apart?’

‘Well, Michael went to university, and Penny went all over the place with the group. That kind of folk music was still popular then. It still is, actually. I mean, there’s always a sizeable audience for it.’

‘How was Penny discovered?’

‘The usual way, as far as I know. An agent for a record company was scouting the provinces for new folk talent. He offered her a chance to make a demo and off she went. The rest is history, as they say.’