Caroline Graham - A Ghost in the Machine

“Dad?”

“Sorry – yes, Poll.”

“How long…I mean, when could you—”

“Quickly. A couple of days.”

“And could I have it in cash, please?”

“ Cash? ”

“A cheque he might just hold on to. Not bank it, I mean. Christ knows, he doesn’t need the money. Then, in a way, he’s still controlling the situation.”

This was not the real reason. The truth was that Polly couldn’t wait to fling the money into Slaughter’s astonished face. Shove a giant fistful past those wet, slobbering chops. Ram some up his hairy nostrils. Stuff it into the waistband of his obscenely large trousers. Panting slightly now with triumphant expectation, she began to laugh. The vignette had been so vividly realised it was as if it had happened already. What he would do didn’t enter into it. Divorced from his power suddenly Billy Slaughter was nothing.

Mallory had got up, was walking towards the window. “I’d better ring your mother—”

“No!” Polly jumped up. Suddenly frantic she ran across the room and grabbed the phone. “You mustn’t.”

“She’s expecting me.”

“OK, but— I mean, don’t tell her about this, will you, Dad? Promise?”

“I can’t do that.”

“It’s none of her business.”

“She’s your mother, Polly.”

“She won’t understand – she doesn’t care.”

“That’s nonsense.”

“She hates me.”

“Of course she doesn’t hate you.”

“Now you’re getting angry,” cried Polly, swinging on her father’s arm like a child, trying to grab the phone. “You see—already she’s coming between us.”

“You’re making all this up.”

“Am I? Look how pleased she was when I left home.”

Mallory said, “That’s nonsense” again but, even as he spoke, couldn’t help remembering the change in Kate once Polly had gone. Drowning as he had been in misery of his own making he had still been aware of the gradual lightening of her face and manner. She moved slowly, would spend time sitting about doing nothing special but smiling a lot. She was at home more and even gave up a couple of evening classes, which she had always said she couldn’t bear to miss. Yes, she had been happier after Polly left home.

Polly watched her father, not without affection. He was so transparent. She said, with sorrowful gravity, “You see?”

“I don’t ‘see’ anything.”

“I shall never hear the end of it. How can I possibly come and visit under those circumstances?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t look so stricken, Dad.” She released her tight grip on the telephone and replaced it on the table. She gave him a reassuring smile. “We shall still see each other. Meet up in town for lunch and stuff…”

Mallory, cold to his stomach, said, “This is unworthy of you, Polly.”

“It’s how it has to be. I’m sick of family rows. And this one’ll run and run.”

Perhaps she was right. Mallory had never thought of Kate as naturally censorious but there was no doubt she would not just listen to the story and let it rest. There would be questions; she’d be as angry as he was. She’d demand the man’s name, perhaps try to see him. Which meant another person entangled in the mess. Two more really, for Mallory would not be able to stand aside if Kate got involved. Slowly he dialled the number of Appleby House.

“Hello, darling…yes, everything’s fine. I’m just running a bit late…Oh, there was more to do at the last minute than I expected. People kept coming in to…er…say goodbye, you know? Wish me well…”

“Are you ringing from home, Mal?”

“Um. Sorry?” Mallory remembered now that he had packed everything into the car that morning so that he could drive down to Forbes Abbot straight from work. Kate had helped him. “Home…?”

“I can hear the drilling.”

“Ah, yes. Home, yes. I forgot something.”

“What?”

“…Some books. Look – you and Benny eat. I’ll be down as soon as I can.”

He hung up and looked across the room at Polly. She was standing very still, her head drooping. He noticed her toes were very slightly turned in and felt a keen pang of memory. Exactly so had she used to stand as a child when, after some lengthy argument or discussion she had finally got her own way. A less subtle child would rejoice; be triumphant even. Not Polly. She never crowed. Just smiled, shrugged, murmured something more or less unintelligible and slipped quietly away.

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll never forget this.”

“It’ll take a few days to get the money transferred.”

“OK, fine.”

“And it’s just to cover what you owe, Polly. Don’t ask for any more.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” cried Polly, recognising immediately what a fool she had been to name the correct amount.

Kate had emptied the food cupboards and the freezer before driving down to Forbes Abbot. Quite unnecessary, really. She would pass plenty of supermarkets on the way and the sensible thing would have been to get there first, see what was actually needed, then go out and buy it. However, Kate was not feeling sensible. To her stripping the freezer, packing all the stuff into padded bags and polystyrene cartons then stuffing them into the car boot was moving house in miniature. A tiny step but something to be going on with till the real thing.

Kate asked what Benny would like for supper, emptying all her bags on to the kitchen table. Benny had no preference. She said everything looked lovely and she would have what Kate had. So they decided on Sainsbury’s Goa Fish Curry with fragrant Thai rice and some mangetout from the garden.

In spite of Mallory’s suggestion that they go ahead and eat, Kate delayed cooking for an hour or so, just in case. She opened a bottle of Vouvray demi-sec. Benny, after only one glass, started giggling so much she couldn’t swallow. Consequently Kate drank rather more than she intended. And, as she poured a third glass, felt her mood beginning to change. In vino veritas and all that. She started to feel aggrieved and inclined to defiant behaviour. A bit silly as there was no one present to be defiant to.

The truth was she had been tremendously looking forward to going out with Mallory tonight. To drawing a line under the past and celebrating the beginning of their new life together.

When Judith had rung describing Benny’s distress Kate, genuinely alarmed, did not hesitate. Mallory would have come with her if he’d been able. Both agreed it was sad about Riva’s but they could go another time. Anyway, their dinner that evening could still be a celebration but this time for three, which would be quite right, said Kate, because Benny would also be working in the new business. But, as eight o’clock slowly came around, there were still only two of them.

By now extremely hungry, she and Benny started to eat. They took it slowly and even had some pudding, apricot panacotta. Kate realised that in another hour or so this day, that was going to be so special, would be over.

So where was Mallory? The journey, even during the worst the Friday evening London exodus could muster, had never taken longer than three hours. They had spoken on the phone at around 5:30 and it was now nearly half-past ten.

Benny, aware that Kate was somewhat on edge, tried to express sympathy and concern without talking too much. Experience had taught her that this could be very annoying when a person was all wound up. She cleared the table, washed up quietly and put things away.

In herself, Benny was feeling much better. The muddle over the phone, while not exactly cleared up, now seemed pretty childish. Kate had actually laughed about it and said weird things were always happening to her as well. It was lovely, Benny thought, that they would both be down here now for the whole weekend. She pictured them sitting at the kitchen table, planning all sorts of things to do with books, and herself making tea and producing sandwiches and biscuits to sustain them all. Busy, useful, contented.