Careless in Red (Inspector Lynley, #15)(199)

He knew he’d carried things as far as he could, and it was time to bring it all to a conclusion, so he’d gone into Tammy’s cramped little bedroom, and from the cupboard he’d taken her canvas rucksack, which she’d first brought with her from Africa. She hadn’t needed it then and she certainly didn’t need it now, because her possessions were few and pathetic. So it was the matter of a moment only to remove them from the chest of drawers: a few pairs of knickers of the overlarge sort an old lady might wear, a few pairs of tights, four vests because the girl was so flat in the chest that she didn’t even require a brassiere, two jerseys, and several skirts. There were no trousers. Tammy did not wear trousers. Everything she possessed was black, except the knickers and the vests. These were white.

He’d scooped up her books next. She had more books than clothes and these comprised mostly philosophy and the lives of saints. She had journals as well. Her writing within them was the one thing about her that he hadn’t monitored, and Selevan was rather proud about this since during her stay with him the girl had done nothing to hide them from him. Despite her parents’ wishes in the matter, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to read her girlish thoughts and fantasies.

She had nothing else except a few toiletries, the clothes she was currently wearing, and whatever she had in her shoulder bag. That wouldn’t include her passport, since he’d taken it from her upon her arrival. “And don’t let her keep her bloody passport,” her father had intoned from Africa once he’d put her on the plane. “She’s likely to run off if she has it.”

She could have her passport now, Selevan decided. He went to fetch it from the spot where he’d hidden it, beneath the liner of the dirty clothes bin. It wasn’t there. She must have found it straightaway, he realised. The little vixen had probably been carrying it round for ages. And she had been carrying it on her person as well, since he had regularly gone through her bag for contraband. Well, she’d always been a step ahead of everyone, hadn’t she?

Selevan had made a final stab that day at bringing her parents round. Ignoring the cost and the fact that he could ill afford it, he’d rung Sally Joy and David in Africa and he’d felt them out on the matter of Tammy. He’d said to David, “Listen here, lad, at the end of the day, kids got to follow their own path. Let’s s’pose it was some ruffian she decided she was in love with, eh? More you argue against it, more you forbid her seeing the bloke, more she’s going to want to do it. It’s simple psycho-whachamacallit thingummybob. Nothing more or less’n that.”

“She’s won you over, hasn’t she?” David had demanded. In the background, Selevan could hear Sally Joy wailing, “What? What’s happened? Is that your father? What’s she done?”

“I’m not saying she’s done anything,” Selevan said.

But David went on, as if Selevan hadn’t spoken. “I’d hardly think it was possible for her to do it, all things considered. It’s not as if your own kids were ever able to make you see reason, were they.”

“’Nough of that, son. I admit my mistakes with you lot. Point is, though, you made lives for yourself and they’re good lives, eh? The girl wants nothing less.”

“She doesn’t know what she wants. Look, do you want a relationship with Tammy or not? Because if you don’t oppose her in this, you’ll not have a relationship with her. I can promise you.”

“And if I do oppose her, I’ll have no relationship with her anyway. So what would you have me do, lad?”

“I’d have you show sense, something Tammy’s clearly lost. I’d have you be a model for her.”

“A model? What’re you on about? What sort of model am I meant to be to a girl of seventeen? That’s rubbish, that is.”

They’d gone round and round. But Selevan had failed to convince his son of anything. He couldn’t see that Tammy was resourceful: Being sent to England had hardly put her off her stride. He could send her to the North Pole if he wanted, but when it came down to it, Tammy was going to find a way to live as she wanted to live.

“Pack her on home, then,” had been David’s final remark. Before he’d rung off, Selevan could hear Sally Joy in the background, crying, “But what’ll we do with her, David?” Selevan had said bah to it all. He’d set about packing up Tammy’s belongings.

That was when he’d phoned Jago. He’d be fetching Tammy from Clean Barrel Surf Shop for a final time and he wanted to do so with someone’s goodwill behind him. Jago seemed the likeliest someone.

Selevan hadn’t been happy drawing Jago away from his work. On the other hand, he needed to set out on his journey and he’d told himself that Jago would go to the Salthouse Inn for their regular knees-up later on that day, so one way or another he had to tell him he wouldn’t be there at their regular time. Now he waited and felt the nerves come upon him. He needed someone on his side, and he’d be in a state till he got someone there.

When Jago came in, Selevan waved a hello with no small measure of relief. Jago stopped at the bar to have a word with Brian and came over, still in his jacket with his knitted cap pulled over his long grey hair. He shed both jacket and cap and rubbed his hands together as he drew out the stool that faced Selevan’s bench. The fire hadn’t yet been lit?too early for that as they were the only two drinkers in the bar?and Jago asked could he light it? Brian gave the nod and Jago put match to tinder. He blew on the emergent flames till they caught. Then he returned to the table. He gave a thanks to Brian as his Guinness was brought to him and he took a swig of it.