4 Death at the Happiness Club (3 page)

Chapter 3 Two in a Tent Together

Christopher hoped there wouldn't be too much hugging. He braced himself for a welcome hug as he saw Caroline hurrying along the platform towards him like some character from 'The Railway Children'. She looked rounder and jollier than he remembered. It was a couple of months since he had last seen her.

She reached him and flung her arms round him enthusiastically. He staggered back, bumping into a courting couple who had been exchanging kisses outside the exit doors ever since he had arrived at the station. The young man swore at Christopher at some length but not very imaginatively. If this was the swearing factor or something similar, Christopher thought, he would definitely have been voted off by now.

'… slept in a tent since we were wee,' Caroline was saying. 'Remember we had that tent up in the garden for a while and then the first night we slept in it I got scared and we had to go into the house instead?'

Recollections of a boringly normal childhood. Christopher didn't actually remember that particular incident, but he smiled and nodded. Already he had the familiar urge to placate Caroline. He must try and fight it. Amaryllis wouldn't approve. Although there wouldn't be any point in trying to placate Amaryllis by trying not to placate Caroline, would there?

Memories of a much worse kind were starting to flood back into his head. He had to fight these, at least. They certainly wouldn't be helpful if he were building bridges or mending fences with his sister.

Still clutching at his arms, she stared earnestly up into his face.

'Are you sure you remember it? You're not just saying that, are you? It's just that the therapist said I sometimes don't remember things properly. He thinks I sometimes make things up - to fill in the gaps.'

'Like a cd player,' Christopher suggested.

It took five minutes to explain that throwaway phrase. He resolved not to say anything else that could in any way be misinterpreted. He must remember that after all the drugs and different types of therapy Caroline wasn't quite the same person as she had been. He sincerely hoped not, anyway.

'How are Faisal and Marina?' he asked, gently detaching her hands and leaning down to pick up his backpack.

'They're fine!' said Caroline. A flicker of suspicion crossed her face. 'Why shouldn't they be?'

'No reason,' Christopher assured her. 'I was just asking. Has Faisal decided what to do with himself? When he leaves school?'

'He wants to be an archaeologist,' said Caroline proudly. She fell into step beside him as they left the station. 'Which way are we going?'

'I thought we'd head straight down to the coastal path and get on with it,' said Christopher. 'Have you brought everything you need?'

He eyed the large beach bag with the giant sunflower stuck on the side. It didn't look like serious walking gear - unlike his own colossal backpack, which held a tent, two sleeping bags and assorted equipment which he suspected would start to weigh more heavily as he walked along.

'I don't need anything much,' said Caroline vaguely, swinging the bag as she walked.

He wasn't sure if she was wearing the right clothes either, but he knew better than to make any comment. He just hoped she had a folding mac in the bag for when the torrential downpours started. It was bright enough at the moment but it was only a matter of time before traditional Scottish summer weather set in. But of course they could always give up if they couldn't stand it any longer.

'I really want to do this,' said Caroline, out of sync with his thoughts as always. 'The therapist says it's going to do me a lot of good planning a project and carrying it through to the end.'

Ha! Christopher knew who had planned this project, and it wasn't his sister. He had the maps of Fife and the details of every campsite from here to St Andrews in his pocket to prove it.

'So where are the kids?' he said, to take his mind of this unproductive train of thought.

'Oh, they've gone away on a narrow-boat with some friends. In the south,' she added, waving a hand in the direction of the Forth Bridge.

'That's interesting,' said Christopher. 'What canal are they on?'

'Oh, you know me, I can't take in details,' said Caroline. She looked up at him as they walked down towards North Queensferry harbour. 'How are you anyway, Christopher? You never talk about yourself. The therapist says I should make you open out a bit more. Find out what you're really thinking.'

Heaven forbid, thought Christopher, and became even more determined to keep his mind a closed book. He couldn't think of anything worse than people rampaging around in his mind as if it were a library or a supermarket. It would probably never be the same again.

'I'm fine,' he said.

'You do want to come on this trip with me, don't you?'

'It's fine. I mean, I've always wanted to walk the coastal path,' he lied. 'And it's good to spend some time with you, too.'

She smiled. Surely she didn't believe him?

'Good,' she said. 'I want to have a lot more conversations like this. The therapist says it's important for me to come to terms with my childhood. Otherwise I'll never be able to move on.'

Christopher racked his brains for anything that had been remarkable about their shared childhood. As far as he was concerned, it had been completely normal. No domineering parents; no traumas in the school playground; no interfering grannies in the next street. There had been a lot more sunshine then, he thought vaguely. And they had spent a lot of time wandering about outdoors, clambering around the beach, falling in water and ruining their shoes. He didn't remember much more than that. He couldn't work out what Caroline thought she had to come to terms with. Her adult life had been a lot more unsettling.

'How much further is it?' she enquired just as they reached the start of the path.

'Don't you mean are we there yet?' he said, smiling with all the tolerance he could muster.

'Sorry - I'm just not used to walking. Somebody told me this was quite a good walk for beginners.'

'Hmm,' said Christopher. He glanced down at her shoes. They looked a bit flimsy, but perhaps she had imagined a summer walk along the coast would be light going. He decided not to break the news about the Rope Walk at Elie until much later. Possibly not until they were actually in the middle of it.

'I thought we might get as far as Inverkeithing by the end of the afternoon,' he added. 'It's not that far.'

'More than two miles?'

'Maybe. But we'll need to make about twelve miles a day to get the whole coastal path done.'

'Twelve miles a day?' she squeaked.

He stopped in his tracks. The backpack weighed him down so much that stopping felt luxuriously easy compared to the effort of walking on.

'You haven't thought this through, Caroline, have you?'

He felt bad about saying it so early on in their joint venture, but on the other hand, he was sure Amaryllis would have encouraged him to say it. On the other hand again, Amaryllis would never have viewed this mad jaunt with anything but healthy suspicion in the first place. Maybe he shouldn't have been so hasty about getting away while she was still in America - if she was indeed in America. He had been suspicious about that from the start. He wasn't even sure she would get a visa for America after doing some of the things she had done.

Caroline gazed at him like a hurt spaniel. But with lighter-coloured eyes.

'I planned it as well as I could,' she said. Her voice had a break in it. 'But I expect you could have done it better. You always did do everything better than me.'

'Don't be silly,' he said. 'Of course I didn't.'

Having said that, he couldn't conjure up an example of her doing anything better than him. But his memory might be deceiving him. Surely she had once been able to cook better than he could - it was just that she was never satisfied with her own cooking and tended to hurl it around the room instead of eating it the way most people did with their culinary mistakes.

'Well, if we can't get as far as Inverkeithing we can always try some other way,' he said at last. 'It doesn't matter - we’re not in a race, are we? We can just as easily come to terms with the past and - um - bond with each other at a slower speed.'

She was coming towards him again - yes, it was another hug. Christopher didn't know if he would be able to cope with all this hugging.

'You're so nice to me, Christopher. After all that's happened, too,' she murmured, clinging to him with a grip that threatened to topple him over, since he was already stooped under the weight of the backpack.

'It's fine,' he said.

A large black and white dog ran towards them. In his efforts to get out of its way Christopher did indeed topple over, landing on the grass verge by the path with the backpack on top of him. Caroline helped him up as the dog's owner walked past, giving them a stern look.

'What was that for?' said Caroline, glaring after the woman.

'Sssh, it's all right - I should think she thought her dog had hurt itself running into us.'

Christopher brushed himself down and they set off again. After a while they found themselves walking downhill. He was automatically suspicious of this, since it meant they would have to drag themselves back uphill sooner or later. They walked along the back of a rocky beach where pretty little waves rippled ashore. The sun, which had popped out for a moment, went behind a cloud. They didn't speak to each other for a while. It was restful, and he began to relax. Maybe it had been a good idea to have a short holiday with his sister after all. The fresh air and exercise wouldn't do him any harm, anyway.

He mulled over the possibilities for doing something like this with Amaryllis instead of with Caroline. It could be interesting - although with Amaryllis as a companion you never knew if things would get a bit too interesting.

'I need to ask you to forgive me,' said Caroline slowly. 'Then I'll be able to move on. The therapist says so, anyway.'

'That's ridiculous! Why should people have to go to the bother of forgiving each other all the time? Then you'd have to forgive people for forgetting to forgive you, or for not forgiving you, and life would just be one big round of forgiveness and counter-forgiveness!'

He marched on ahead.

'He said you might say something like that,' came a small voice from behind him.

For God's sake! How was he supposed to put up with all this?

'OK, I forgive you. Is that the right thing to say?'

She caught up with him, swinging the ridiculous bag at her side. 'Only if you mean it.'

'Yes, I mean it!' he snapped.

There was a pause.

'Would you like me to give you his phone number?' she said quietly.

'Whose phone number?'

'The therapist. He said you might need a couple of sessions to address any unresolved issues.'

'I don't have any - ' he began crossly.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her.

'I'm sorry, Caroline. I didn't mean to snap at you. Let's see if we can get on a bit better this time. I don't know what you want to get out of this week's expedition, but that's what I'd like.'

She ran towards him again, arms outstretched. He held her at arm's length. 'That's enough hugging for now. Come on, we can make it to Inverkeithing and then we'll have a cup of tea somewhere.'

She nodded. They continued on their way, more or less in step with each other. Christopher tried not to feel hard-done-by when it started to rain. Caroline hadn't brought a waterproof, and he had to lend her his.

'Maybe we should get to some shops and buy you a few extra things,' he suggested.

'No, won't that hold us up? I want to get on with the walk.'

At a café in Inverkeithing High Street, they sat by the window and watched the rain together. That was companionable enough. Maybe they should just have settled for a brief meeting on neutral territory, Christopher thought, and not gone for the full week's enforced togetherness.

Chapter 4 The need for speed

'So what do you do?' said the tall, very upright man who sat opposite her on a hard chair. He sounded almost like the Queen, thought Maisie Sue, giving him the once-over: a bit old for her, and too skinny. She wouldn't be proud to be seen with him as she had been with Pearson. She stifled a sigh.

A bell rang.

'So nice to talk to you,' said the tall thin man, getting up and giving a small bow. He had written his name on one of the name-badges they were all supposed to wear, but his writing was so tiny she hadn't been able to read it. Or maybe she needed glasses. She sighed again, this time not bothering to suppress it.

'Hey,' said Jock McLean, sitting down opposite her with an aggressive thump. 'No need for that just yet - I could be very interesting for all you know.'

He managed to give the words a suggestive tone that made his usual gnome-like appearance rather unpleasant and sinister.

She sighed again. 'Hi there, Mr McLean. I sure didn't expect to see you here.'

He leaned towards her and lowered his voice. 'Somebody told me there'd be free drinks. But there's been no sign of that. It's false pretences.'

He sat back again, glowering. Everyone's going to think he's glowering because of something I've said, thought Maisie Sue in a panic.

'Maybe we have to work a while for our refreshments,' she said. 'There's no such thing as a free lunch, is there?'

'What happened to that quilting group you used to go around with?' he asked suddenly.

'We don't really meet up any more. Some of the ladies moved away. It reached the end of its natural life, I guess.'

The conversation stalled. They sat in silence for a moment as people all around them desperately tried to engage each other's interest with sparkling wit and repartee. Maisie Sue overheard the tall thin man saying earnestly, 'That must be so interesting. I wish I could crochet.' She was well rid of him anyway.

'Have you ever been to the States?' she said. It was one of the conversational gambits she had thought up right back at the start of the evening, when Sean and his sisters had given them advice about what to talk about.

'Certainly not!' said Jock McLean. He glared even more sternly if anything. 'Have you ever been to the Gorbals?'

She didn't believe that was a gambit he had been rehearsing.

'Well, I guess not,' she said. 'Is it nice there?'

She willed the bell to ring again so that he would move on to another victim.

'Not as nice as Pitkirtly,' he said suddenly with a smile that appeared almost genuine. He leaned forward again. 'Amaryllis said she might come along tonight - have you seen her?'

It would have been impossible to miss someone as striking as Amaryllis in a room this size, but Maisie Sue didn't want to bring back Jock's glower by pointing that out.

'Amaryllis?' she said instead. 'You think this is her kind of thing?'

'Definitely not,' said Jock. 'But she does like to know everything that's going on around here. I'm surprised at her missing out.'

The bell rang. Maisie Sue was relieved to see Jock moving on. She glanced up to find out who the next man would be. At that moment there was a kind of scuffle by the entrance, and everyone turned to look at the newcomer.

'I told you,' said Jock McLean, leaning over his next victim to tap Maisie Sue on the arm.

'Sorry, everyone,' said Amaryllis, not sounding a bit sorry. 'Sorry I'm late - I had a bit of trouble with some of my American cousins. But I've sorted them out now.'

There was a sudden burst of laughter and chatter. Maisie Sue hunched down in her chair, embarrassed by mention of Americans. Of course, almost everyone else in the room would assume Amaryllis had been joking, but Maisie Sue had a horrible feeling she hadn't been.

'Hello, Maisie Sue,' boomed Dave, who had appeared opposite her while she wasn't looking. 'How are you this evening?'

She wanted to ask him what he was doing there. Surely he and Jemima hadn't split up? But he didn't seem heart-broken enough, and she had seen them together going into the Golden Peach only a few days before.

'Is Jemima with you?' she asked, hoping it wasn't the wrong question and wondering what she would do if he burst into tears or started to rend his clothing or exhibit any other sign of unbearable grief.

'Oh, yes, she's over there!' he said, waving a hand in some direction or another. 'It was her idea to come along. Said she'd never tried speed-dating, and this would be her last chance. Hmph! It will if I have anything to do with it. Happiness Club, indeed. We could be at home playing Scrabble. Eating some of Jemima's tablet. Having a bit of a cuddle.'

Desperate to interrupt him before his train of thought steamed off into places she really didn't want to go, she plunged into speech.

'I'm planning to join the club and take part in some of the other events. Are you and Jemima planning to do that too?'

To her relief, he shook his head. 'We only came along tonight because it was free. This kind of thing's all very well for young people like you, footloose and fancy free. Jemima and I are happy enough as we are - we don't need to look for anybody else.'

'I guess that's a wise decision,' said Maisie Sue. 'To be truthful, I'm missing Pearson a lot, and I need something to take my mind off it.'

'No wonder, lass,' said Dave, leaning forward and patting her hand. 'Just don't be too hasty, that's all.'

'Too hasty?'

'You can't be too careful when it comes to men,' he said rather mysteriously.

The bell rang.

'You've all done very well.' Sean's voice rose above the chatter, quietening everyone down for a few moments. 'Let's have a bit of a break now. Feel free to mingle. Back to work in twenty minutes.'

He was quite right, it was work, Maisie Sue reflected as they headed for the counter where Dee and Dilly were now serving teas and coffees. She thought of herself as a sociable person; even the loss of Pearson hadn't really made a dent in her self-confidence. But she had found herself struggling for something to say to the five men who had introduced themselves so far. Of course the unexpected encounter with Jock McLean hadn't helped at all. For the first time she wondered if Pitkirtly society was big enough, diverse enough to provide whatever she needed. Maybe she should think about going further afield. Spreading her net a little. She blushed at her own thoughts: she didn't like to think of herself as predatory but some people might see her in that light.

Dave, Jemima, Amaryllis and Jock McLean were clustered together a little way from the counter. They had taken over a little table and acquired a plate of cookies. Collectively the group of friends looked fairly gloomy. Maisie Sue wondered if it was because Christopher wasn't around. Was he the one who usually cheered them up? It seemed odd, since he wasn’t exactly dynamic and extrovert. Maybe it was just that they all seemed cheerful compared to him, then? She collected a cup of coffee and joined them.

‘Have a Bourbon,’ said Jemima Stevenson, passing her the cookie plate.

‘Why, that’s real neighbourly of you, Jemima,’ said Maisie Sue, taking one. She didn’t usually indulge in cookies, which she knew were called biscuits here, but it was a special occasion – in a way. ‘Thank you… Where’s Christopher this evening?’

‘He’s away,’ said Amaryllis shortly.

‘I think he’s gone on a walking trip with his sister,’ said Jemima.

‘Oh, I didn’t know he had a sister?’ said Maisie Sue.

‘Of course, you probably didn’t know about all the fuss,’ said Jemima.

‘I don’t think Christopher would want us to talk about it,’ said Amaryllis with a glare.

Maisie Sue was surprised by how grumpy Amaryllis seemed this evening. She had never exactly been a model of conventional politeness, but lately when they had bumped into each other at Cosy Clicks or at the shops, Amaryllis had shown a kindly interest in Maisie Sue’s visa plight, and had even offered to get some documents forged for Maisie Sue in Thailand the next time she was over there. Of course Maisie Sue wouldn’t have dreamed of taking up an offer like that. No, she wanted to stay in the UK fairly and without taking any shortcuts. Marrying a UK citizen seemed like the least underhand way of getting permanent residence and never again having to face Pearson’s mother’s scorn at her inability to make an acceptable apple-pie.

‘Funny,’ said Dave, looking over their heads into the far corner of the room. ‘That looks like whats-her-name. What’s she doing here?’

Jemima stood on tiptoe to have a look. ‘Penelope Johnstone!’ she exclaimed. ‘I thought she was married.’

‘She’s got an absentee husband,’ said Amaryllis. ‘He only comes home on alternate weekends to take Zak to the gun club.’

How like Amaryllis to know all that! Maisie Sue didn’t know how she did it, and without employing any of the normal social skills either. Maybe it was her spying background. Or the way she wandered around town at night. Maisie Sue and Pearson had bumped into her on several occasions when they had been out for a late-evening walk – back in the good days before Pearson’s betrayal.

Maisie Sue sighed again.

'She's getting quite friendly with that Sean Fraser,' said Dave critically.

'He's likely spotted her looking like a fish out of water and taken pity on her,' said Jemima.

'Has anybody finished with their cup here?' said Dee, or perhaps it was Dilly, suddenly appearing with a tray just behind Jock McLean.

How had she sneaked up on them so quietly? Maisie Sue glanced at the woman's feet to see if she had on these flat pumps that always seemed too flimsy for the climate around here. But she seemed to be wearing plain court shoes with medium heel, completely suitable for her rôle as member of staff at this event.

The woman was glaring at them, for no apparent reason. Maisie Sue decided on a minor charm offensive. She smiled as she handed over her coffee mug and said,

'Thank you so much - that was a real nice cup of coffee. Now tell me, are you Dilly or Dee? Mr Fraser told me he had two sisters.'

The woman scowled even more fiercely.

'I'm Dee,' she snapped, turned on her heel and stalked off back towards the counter.

'Oh, my - was it something I said?' asked Maisie Sue, puzzled but willing to believe she had infringed some local taboo. She had found Pitkirtly folks could be very subtle in their social dealings, and it was easy to offend someone without intending to.

'I don't think so,' said Amaryllis, staring after Dee Fraser. 'It's not you, it's her. Something's biting her.'

'Hope it's not fleas,' said Jock McLean cheerfully. 'Did they give this place a good clean out before they opened it? That old café used to be a real tip.'

Maisie Sue watched as Dee dumped the tray on the counter and spoke to Dilly. Seeing them together, she could tell that Dee was a little taller and thinner than her sister, and her brown hair a little darker and straighter. Dilly looked like she would be the pleasanter of the two. But what could you tell from outward appearance, after all?

Sean strode into the middle of their little group. ‘Come on, people, we can’t have this! I gather you all know each other – but we need you to get out there and meet new people! That’s the whole point. Mingle, just mingle!’

‘Well!’ said Jemima indignantly after he had gone. ‘If he’s going to be like that, we might as well go home! I didn’t come here to mingle with a lot of complete strangers.’

‘Let’s go then, Jemima,’ said Dave. ‘We’ve seen what speed-dating’s like now – there’s no shame in admitting it isn’t for us.’

He got Mrs Stevenson’s coat and escorted her to the door, saying goodbye to people on the way. What a nice man, thought Maisie Sue. We should all have somebody like Dave to look after us.

‘I don’t think Jemima’s got the point of speed-dating,’ said Jock, gazing after them.

Amaryllis was looking in the other direction. ‘Oh – my – God!’ she exclaimed.

‘What?’ said Jock.

‘Isn’t that Chief Inspector Smith over there – just in front of Penelope?’

Jock and Maisie Sue both looked.

‘There,’ said Amaryllis, indicating a man in a dark green cardigan and jeans. ‘What’s he up to?’

‘He doesn’t have to be up to anything,’ Jock pointed out. ‘He’s entitled to a social life just the same as we are.’