Стивен Бут - Drowned Lives

He looked at me slyly, trying to push his hair back into position against the wind. This was the man who, only the previous day, had made me feel I wasn’t alone. How quickly new-found allies can turn out to have feet of clay. And how quickly you can find you feel more alone than ever.

‘But you know how it is, Chris. There are some things you forget.’

‘Yes, all right, Frank. I know how it is.’

When I got home, the phone was ringing. It was Mrs Wentworth, sounding nervous at the aggressive note in my voice. Despite my message, she seemed unclear who I actually was.

‘It’s Christopher Buckley, Mrs Wentworth. Samuel Longden’s great-nephew. I called round to the house, you remember?’

‘Oh yes. How are you? I do hope the police—’

‘Yes, that’s all right, Mrs Wentworth. They’re not bothering me now. I think I must have been given a clean bill of health, though they don’t take the trouble to tell you that.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault. You were just being a good neighbour. But there was something I wanted to ask you.’

‘Yes?’

‘When I spoke to you the first time I came, when Samuel was out, you said he might have gone to see his friend in Cheshire. I think those were your words.’

‘Yes, that’s right. But I don’t think he can have gone to see him that time. Samuel usually told me when he was going to be away, so I could keep an eye on the house.’

‘Did he leave you a name and address, or a telephone number for this friend, in case you needed to contact him in an emergency?’

‘Well, it wasn’t as if he was away for long periods, you know. Only a day out.’

‘So you don’t know who this friend was?’

‘Well...’

‘It’s quite important that I trace him.’

‘Well, he did mention the name, actually.’ Her voice grew fainter, as if she’d turned away from the phone. ‘And it’s funny, but... well, I think his name and address is on the back of it.’

‘Mrs Wentworth? Are you still there? On the back of what?’

There was a thump as the phone went down, then echoing footsteps as she walked across the hallway of her house. The footsteps came back again, there was a rustling sound, and the phone was retrieved.

‘Yes, I was right. It is.’

‘What is? I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.’

‘The postman left it,’ she said. ‘The normal mail is still being delivered to Ash Lodge, but this came by parcel van and the man couldn’t get it through the letter box, so he left it with me.’

‘Left what with you?’

‘The parcel, of course. And it has the name and address of the sender on the back. Such a good idea, I always think. If it goes astray and has to be returned, the post office don’t need to open it to find out who it came from, do they?’

‘And are you saying this parcel is from Samuel’s friend in Cheshire?’

‘I’m almost certain this is the name. It sounds familiar. And it is in Cheshire.’

I was groping for a pen and a piece of paper in my pocket. ‘Could you read it to me?’

‘Oh yes. It’s from a Mr Godfrey Wheeldon.’

‘Wheeldon, did you say?’

‘Yes, does it mean something to you?’

‘Well, it might be a coincidence.’

‘The address is The Old Vicarage Nursing Home, Bennington Road, Ellesmere, Cheshire. Do you want the post code?’

‘No, that’s all right, Mrs Wentworth. Thank you.’

‘Are you going to speak to Mr Wheeldon, dear?’

‘I hope so.’

‘Well, I wonder if you’d ask him what I should do with the parcel? I was going to pass it on to Caroline next time I see her. But I don’t know when that will be, and Mr Wheeldon might want it returned to him, now that Samuel is no longer here, mightn’t he? I don’t know if it’s anything important, but it’s one of those padded bags.’

Finally, as the last job of the day, I had to ring Dan Hyde back. We exchanged guarded greetings. Our friendship didn’t look likely to survive a crisis facing our business venture, like a marriage falling apart on the death of a child. It was almost too easy to blame each other.

Dan sighed. ‘The thing is — there’s not much left to pay Poole House’s invoice with. The ad revenue won’t cover it.’

‘I know that. But that’s what the start-up loan is for — the twenty thousand from the bank. Pay them out of that.’

‘Well...’

‘We have enough left in the account, surely?’

‘Well... no, actually.’

I shivered, appalled at the significance of this latest blow. ‘There must be.’

‘There have been a lot of expenses, Chris. We had the lease to pay, and equipment to buy, not to mention the marketing consultants and the employment agency. There were legal fees. And the phone bills have been astronomical.’

‘Are you telling me there’s nothing left?’

‘A few hundred, that’s all.’

‘But, hang on, what about the investment from our anonymous backer?’

He mumbled something I couldn’t make out, as if he’d moved his mouth away from the phone.

‘I can’t hear what you’re saying, Dan. What about our backer?’

‘He pulled out.’

‘What?’

‘Our backer has pulled out, Chris.’

‘How can he do that, for God’s sake? Surely you had him tied down to some agreement? Didn’t you have it in writing?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘You mean someone can just pull the plug on us at the drop of a hat?’

‘I suppose he must have seen the way things were going.’

‘More than you did, then,’ I said angrily.

‘Come on, Chris. I know it’s a mess—’

‘A mess? If only we could have kept going a few more months. You always said that, didn’t you? Six months, and we’d be in the black. Didn’t you mention that?’

‘Of course I did. But once they think you’re a bad investment, these guys drop you as quick as hot coals. You know what it’s like, Chris.’

‘No. It’s perfectly obvious to me now that I’ve never known what it’s like. And I don’t think you ever did either, Dan.’

‘Chris, I’ve done my best. I’m sorry it hasn’t been a success. I was trying to help, you know?’

‘Help?’

‘I was worried about you, mate. You needed something to bring you out of your slump — everyone could see that. I thought this would be a great project to look forward to, something we could both get excited about. I’m really sorry. I was sure we had things worked out.’

‘ You may have had things worked out.’

I could hear him breathing slowly down the line while he thought about that. ‘What exactly do you mean?’

‘How do I know you haven’t been lying to me all along? I reckon you could have been having me for a complete fool. Well, you can sort the mess out yourself, mate.’

His voice no longer sounded apologetic when he said: ‘Hold on, we’re partners in this. Fifty-fifty all the way. And that is in writing.’

‘Bastard.’

‘There’s no point in being like that. We’re in it together, and that’s a fact. So you’d better start counting your pennies, Chris. This is going to cost us a fortune before we get ourselves out of the shit.’

I closed my eyes and clenched my fist. If he’d been there in front of me, I might have punched him in the face by now. But I had to know the extent of the disaster.

‘How much do we owe?’

‘Well, there’s the bank loan, of course. Twenty grand, plus interest.’

‘Right. But we can pay that back in instalments, at least.’

‘Yeah, but...’

‘What? Spill it, Dan. Tell me the rest.’

‘There’s still Poole House. If we don’t pay their invoice, they won’t release the designs in time for the launch. And if we don’t launch, our advertisers are going to want their money back.’