Nocturne (55 page)

Clewson had produced a pipe. He began to fill it with tobacco from
a lovely old leather pouch.

‘
Do you view him as a threat?
’

It was a question I knew he had to ask. I tried to explain about how
erratic Gilbert could be, how his behaviour could veer wildly from
total coherence and genuine kindness to the craziest excesses. The
latest, of course, was the stuff through the floorboards.

‘
The what?
’

‘
Urine.
’
I nodded at Billie, asleep on my lap.
‘
Wee-wee.
’

I described the events that had probably triggered my labour. The
cupboards falling down. The kitchen floor awash with olive oil and
shattered china.

Clewson was looking thoughtfully at Billie.

‘
What do you think made him do it?
’
he asked at last.

I
’
d spent a great deal of time over Christmas tackling exactly this
question and I answered it as truthfully as I could. I told him a little
about Brendan, about my own circumstances. Gilbert, I suspected,
had been jealous. Every time Brendan had made an appearance, he
assumed the worst.

‘
The worst?
’

‘
That we were together again.
’

‘
And did he ever talk to you about it?
’

‘
Never. I don
’
t think he
’
s like that. I don
’
t think he can. It
’
s beyond
him.
’

‘
So he expresses himself in a different way? Is that what you
’
re
saying?
’

‘
Yes, that
’
s exactly what I
’
m saying. There are some things he just
can
’
t handle.
’
I frowned, trying to put this conviction of mine into
words.
‘
Life just gets too much for him.
’

‘
You
’
re sounding sympathetic.
’

‘
I
am,
’
I nodded.
‘
He
’
s a nice man. With Billie, he
’
s wonderful. I
don
’
t want to see him hurt, nothing like th
at. I just want to be sure that we
’
ll both be
…
’
I
smiled rather bleakly,
‘
…
safe.
’

Clewson tamped the tobacco and lit a match. What I really
wanted was some clue to his firm
’
s relationship with Gilbert. I
’
d got
enough from Tom to be reasonably certain that he wasn
’
t just
another tenant. On the contrary, his family seemed to own our little
house.

I put this to Clewson. There wasn
’
t much point in leaving it unsaid.
He looked at me through a cloud of blue smoke.

‘
It
’
s the case that I represent the family
,
’
he nodded.
‘
That
’
s certainly
true.
’

‘
Gilbert
’
s family?
’

‘
Yes.
’

‘
So you
’
d know about his problems already?
’

‘
I know,
’
he frowned,
‘
that he has his upsets. But
some
of what you
’
ve told me is, to say the least, a surprise.
’

‘
He
’
s not done this kind of thing before?
’
I was thinking of his
pr
evious neighbour, Kevin Witcher.

Clewson shook his head.

‘
Certainly not. As far as I
’
m aware, he
’
s always coped. I
’
ve
absolutely no evidence to the contrary.
’

‘
But you do believe me, don
’
t you?
’

‘
Of course.
’

‘
And you think something should be done about it?
’

He didn
’
t answer. Billie was stirring. Her little arms went out and
Clewson smiled, watching her.

‘
Of course,
’
he said at last.
‘
Of course it should.
’

He took us for lunch at a pub across the road. We sat in an alcove at
the back, waiting for a waitress to arrive with the menu. I was
determined to find out more about the family. Where they lived
seemed a good place to start.

‘
Tom says the family come from round here,
’
I ventured.

‘
Who?
’

‘
Tom.
’
I paused.
‘
Gilbert
’
s brother.
’

Clewson was looking at Billie again. Eventually he reached out,
tickling her under the chin.

‘
I
think it
’
s wise to clarify our interests in all this,
’
he said at last.
‘
The firm represents the family. You
’
ll understand that.
’

‘
Of course.
’

‘
That imposes certain duties.
One of them is a duty of confidentiality.
They are our clients. You wouldn
’
t expect us to break that
confidentiality.
’

‘
No, absolutely not, all I
’
m asking—
’

Clewson held up both hands, a gesture that produced a gurgle of
applause from Billie.

‘
I
know what you
’
re asking,
’
he said.
‘
You
’
re asking me to help you.
And you have every right to do that. Indeed you have a duty to do
that.
’
His eyes were still on the baby.
‘
Have you thought of moving?
’

‘
I
’
ve tried that already.
’

‘
And?
’

I told him about my adventures with Mark. Gilbert had done his
level best to wreck the sale and he
’
d been a hundred per cent
successful. Now, though, Billie and I were nicely settled in Napier
Road. Just as long as Gilbert behaved himself.

‘
You
’
re saying he didn
’
t want you to leave?
’

‘
Yes.
’

‘
Why would he want to do that?
’

This, of course, was the heart of it. Th
e waitress had arrived with the
menu. I took Clewson
’
s advice and or
dered steak and kidney pie. The
waitress disappeared again. Clewson returned to Gilbert. Was I
implying some kind of obsession?

‘
I
think he
’
s in love with me,
’
I said simply.
‘
Not that he
’
s ever said
it.
’

‘
In
love
?
You mean
…
?
’
His elegant gesture encompassed the
baby.
I shook my head.

‘
Nothing physical. Nothing like t
hat. I just think he has
a thing
about me. It
’
s not threatening. It
’
s more
protective than anything else.
As far as he
’
s concerned, I think I
’
m al
most family.
’
I nodded, pleased
with the phrase.
‘
It
’
s almost as though h
e
’
s responsible for us. You can
see it when he
’
s with Billie. He dote
s on her. He
’
s like a favourite
uncle.
’

‘
And Brendan?
’

‘
Brendan
’
s a threat. Brendan
’
s the one who wants to take us away.
’

And does he? Is Gilbert right?
’

I looked down at Billie for a moment, thinking about all the
literature from the estate agents.

‘
Yes,
’
I muttered. T think he does.
’

The meal, when it arrived, was a bit of a disaster. Billie got fractious
and in the end I had to retreat to the loo to feed her. When I got back,
Clewson was sitting in front of his empty plate, his raincoat folded on
his lap.

‘
I
’
ve been thinking,
’
he said.
‘
And I suspect there
’
s a way round all
this. It needs me to talk to the family, of course, and I can
’
t possibly
pre-judge what they may come up with, but I
’
d hope to have a
proposal for you within, say, a couple of days.
’

‘
A proposal?
’
I was lost.
‘
What do you mean?
’

‘
I mean, and this of course is extremely provisional, that there may
be options we can pursue.
’

‘
What kind of options?
’

‘
I can
’
t say. Not until I
’
ve had a word.
’

‘
But what about Gilbert? What would happen to him?
’

‘
Gilbert?
’
Clewson stood up, putting on his coat.
‘
Gilbert, I
’
m
afraid, would be out of my hands.
’

He offered to drive us back to the station but I sai
d we were planning
to look around town. We said good
bye on the pavement outside the
pub and, when he asked for it, I
gave him my phone number. When
he
’
d gone, we walked down the street
until we found the post office.
They had a local phone directory but wh
en I looked under Phillips,
trying to find an address, there were s
o many entries it was pointless
trying to pinpoint anyone in particular.

There was a phone outside the post office and I tried Tom
’
s mobile
number. If he really lived nearby perhaps, at long last, we could meet.
He might be a good deal more frank than his solicitor.