Simon Beckett - Fine Lines

The prospect of life without Anna, even for a short time, was awful to contemplate.

I went to see her before she left the next morning. Debbie answered the door. “How is she?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “She seems better. Not hysterical like yesterday, anyway. Just quiet, like she’s in shock or something. Her mother’s here.”

We went into the lounge. Anna was on the settee. I was shocked by the change in her. She looked paler and more lifeless than ever. She gave me a watery smile that flickered out almost immediately. Her mother was sitting close by. By contrast she seemed to dominate the entire room before she even spoke. Large and buxom, even her floral print dress shrieked and demanded attention.

“I’m pleased to meet you Mr. Ramsey,” she said when Debbie introduced me. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I made the usual self-deprecating sounds. Her hand felt dry and cool, almost leathery. “How are you feeling, Anna?” I asked.

“Okay.” Another weak smile.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Ramsey?” Her mother asked. She did not wait for an answer. “Debbie, would it be too much to ask you to put the kettle on? I’m sure we could all do with a cup before we go.”

“I’ll do it,” Anna said, starting to get up. Her mother put a hand on her arm.

“No, that’s all right darling. I’m sure Debbie won’t mind. Will you, dear?”

Debbie clearly did. Letting her face show her objection, she turned to me.

“Would you like a cup, Donald?”

“Please. If it’s no trouble.”

“Actually, I think I’ll have coffee,” Anna’s mother said. “Wake me up for the drive home. Haifa sugar, please.”

Stony-faced, Debbie left the room. Mrs. Palmer smiled at me, the master of ceremonies. “I hope we’ve not taken you from your work. From what I hear, you’ve been giving up enough of your time as it is.”

“No, not really.”

“I’m sure you’re just saying that.” She turned her domineering attention to her daughter. “Anna, darling, while Debbie’s putting the kettle on, why don’t you finish packing? Then we can all sit down together.”

“There isn’t much left to do.”

“No, I know dear, but once it’s done it’s done, isn’t it? Then we’re ready to leave whenever we feel like it.”

Without further argument, Anna mechanically rose and left the room. Her mother waited until the door had closed and then turned back to me. “I’d like to thank you for what you’ve done for Anna. From what she and Debbie have told me, you’ve been a great help.”

“There’s not really been very much I could do.”

“Nonsense. You’ve supported her, that’s something. And then there was the detective. Why Anna didn’t come to her father and me, I don’t know. She’s such an independent girl. But if you tell me how much it was, I’ll write you a cheque. There’s no reason why you should have to pay for it.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Of course it is! You’ve done quite enough for Anna as it is. Now you must tell me how much it was.”

It was easy to see why Anna had not wanted to involve her parents earlier. It would have been a constant battle not to be swamped. “No, it’s quite all right. Really.”

“I insist.”

“So do I. It was the least I could do.” I smiled, but my tone was firm. I was not going to let this woman railroad me.

“Oh.” She seemed nonplussed at being refused. “Well, I suppose if you’re adamant, there’s nothing I can do about it. Thank you. That’s very decent of you.” She sighed. I sensed a change of tack. “It’s quite a mess, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She lowered her voice as a concession to privacy. “What do you think about it all, Mr. Ramsey?”

“I really don’t know. I’m not sure what to think, to be honest.”

“No, it is rather worrying, isn’t it? I must say, when Anna first called and said Marty had vanished, I thought it was a lot about nothing. Well, no, that sounds callous. I don’t mean it was nothing to Anna, but I thought he had simply left her. And to be perfectly honest, although I wouldn’t say this to her, I wasn’t particularly sorry. I wasn’t happy about her going to America in the first place. It was so rushed. Meeting someone one minute, living with them the next. And then planning to move abroad with them. Perhaps I’m old-fashioned, but it all seemed a bit premature to me. Do you know what I mean?”

I inclined my head, noncommittally She took it as agreement. “I said from the start that it wouldn’t last. Not to Anna, of course.

I knew better than that. But it struck me as being... well, a bit unrealistic, shall we say? So when I heard he’d gone, I thought, “Oh well, it’s probably for the best. Better now than later.”

I could not have agreed more. But loyalty to Anna prevented me from saying so.

“But now it’s gone on for this long without hearing anything,” she continued, “It does rather make you wonder exactly what’s happened to him, doesn’t it? He’d have to be very cruel not to get in touch with Anna at all, and he never struck me as being like that. Then again, I must admit I hardly knew him. They kept themselves to themselves.” She paused. I waited for the next question. “What did you make of him, Mr. Ramsey, if you don’t mind my asking? You probably knew him better than I did.”

I answered carefully. “I only knew him through Anna, so I can’t claim any deep insight. But he never struck me like that, either.”

She sighed again. I thought I detected a shade of disappointment. “No, that’s what I thought. But as you say, you only knew him through Anna. And when all’s said and done, even she had only known him for a matter of months. Less than a year, anyway. I might be being cynical, but I don’t think that’s really long enough to know everything about someone, no matter how much you think you do.”

I looked thoughtful, but said nothing. “Do you think he might have left her for someone else?” she asked, after a moment.

“I don’t know. Anna doesn’t seem to think so, and I suppose she should know better than anyone.”

She looked at me rather archly. “Well. That depends.” She leaned closer. When she spoke again, her voice was hushed, as though she were in church. “I gather the police think he might have been homosexual.”

I noticed how she used the past tense. “I don’t think they’ve actually said that in so many words,” I said, “But...” I shrugged. She nodded as though I had confirmed her suspicions.

“I must say, that was something that had never occurred to me. But it does make you think, doesn’t it? It opens up all sorts of possibilities.”

I did not comment. This was obviously not good enough for her. She pressed further. “Do you think that might... well, might have anything to do with what’s happened?”

“I really wouldn’t like to say.”

“No, of course not.” She hesitated. “But what do you think? Do you think he might have been that way inclined?”

I thought back to when I had encouraged Zeppo to that same point of view. “I’m sure Anna would have realised if he was.”

Now there was no mistaking her disappointment. “Not necessarily. It’s not the sort of thing one advertises, is it? A friend of mine was married for twenty years, and never knew her husband was a transvestite until she found him in her clothes one day.”

She seemed almost as much of a homophobe as Marty’s father. “I don’t think there was ever any suggestion that Marty wore Anna’s clothes.”

“No, I’m sure there wasn’t. But he did go to those nightclubs, didn’t he? And Anna only had his word for what happened.” She gave me a meaningful look. “It does seem a bit peculiar, don’t you think?”