The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper(6)

Arthur knew nothing about this part of his wife’s life. But he knew this was the same woman that they had both loved. Miriam’s laughter did sound like tiny bells. She did have a bag of marbles, which she gave to Dan. He was still reeling from astonishment, but he could hear the longing in Mr. Mehra’s voice. He cleared his throat. “Yes, she forgave you long ago. She spoke of you kindly.” Mr. Mehra laughed out loud. A short ha, ha! “Mr. Pepper! You have no idea how happy your words make me feel. For years this has felt like a huge weight for me. Thank you for taking the trouble to ring me. I am so sorry to hear that Miriam is no longer with you.”

Arthur felt a glow in his stomach. It was something that he hadn’t felt for a long time. He felt useful.

“You were a lucky man to be married for so long, yes? To have a wife such as Miriam. Did she have a happy life, sir?”

“Yes. Yes, I think she did. It was a quiet life. We have two lovely children.”

“Then you must try to be happy. Would she want you to be sad?”

“No. But it’s hard not to be.”

“I know this. But there is much to celebrate about her.”

“Yes.”

Both men fell silent.

Arthur turned the bracelet around in his hand. He now knew about the elephant. But what about the other charms? If he didn’t know about Miriam’s life in India, what stories did the other charms hold? He asked Mr. Mehra if he knew anything about the bracelet.

“I only gave her the elephant. She did write to me once, a few months after she left, to say thank you. I’m a sentimental fool and I still have the letter. I always told myself that I would get in touch, but I felt too ashamed about my lie. I can see what address is on the letter if you like?”

Arthur swallowed. “That would be most kind.”

He waited for five minutes until Mr. Mehra returned to the call. He reached out to stop the potpourri leaf from twirling. He flicked through the leaflets Bernadette had posted through the door.

“Ah, yes, here it is—Graystock Manor in Bath, England, 1963. I hope this helps with your search. She talks in the letter about staying with friends there. There’s something about tigers in the grounds.”

“There is a tiger charm on the bracelet,” Arthur said.

“Aha. Then that might be your next port of call. You will find out the stories of the charms one by one, yes?”

“Oh, this isn’t a search,” Arthur started. “I was just curious...”

“Well, if you are ever in India, Mr. Pepper, you must look me up. I will show you the places that Miriam loved. And her old room. It hasn’t changed much over the years. You would like to see it?”

“That’s very decent of you. Though I’m afraid I’ve never left the UK before. I can’t see myself traveling to India anytime soon.”

“There is always a first time, Mr. Pepper. You bear my offer in mind, sir.”

Arthur said goodbye and thank you for the invitation. As he placed the receiver down, Mr. Mehra’s words rolled over and over in his head: next port of call...find out the stories of the charms one by one...

And he began to wonder.





The Great Escape


IT WAS STILL dark the next morning when Arthur woke. The digits on his alarm clock flicked to 5:32 a.m. and he lay for a while staring at the ceiling. Outside a car drove past and he watched the reflection of the headlights sweep over the ceiling like the rays of a lighthouse across water. He let his fingers creep across the mattress, reaching out for Miriam’s hand knowing it wasn’t there and feeling only cool cotton sheet.

Each night when he went to bed, it struck him how chilly it was without her. When she was next to him he always slept through the night, gently drifting off, then waking to the sound of thrushes singing outside. She would shake her head and ask did he not hear the thunderstorm or next door’s house alarm going off? But he never did.

Now his sleep was fitful, restless. He woke up often, shivering and wrapping the duvet around him in a cocoon. He should put an extra blanket on the bed, to stop the cold from creeping around his back and numbing his feet. His body had found its own strange rhythm of sleeping, waking, shivering, sleeping, waking, shivering that, although uncomfortable, he didn’t want to shake. He didn’t want to drop off and then wake with the birds and find that Miriam was no longer there. Even now that would be too much of a shock. Stirring through the night reminded him that she had gone and he welcomed those constant reminders. He didn’t want to risk forgetting her.

If he had to describe in one word how he felt this morning, it would be perplexed. Getting rid of Miriam’s clothes was going to be a ritual, to freeing the house of her things, her shoes, her toiletries. It was a small step in coping with his loss and moving on.

But the newly discovered charm bracelet was an obstacle to his intentions. It raised questions where once there were none. It had opened a door and he had stepped through it.

He and Miriam differed in how they saw mysteries. They regularly enjoyed a Miss Marple or a Hercule Poirot on a Sunday afternoon. Arthur would watch intently. “Do you think it’s him?” he would say. “He’s being very helpful and his character adds nothing to the story. I think he might be the killer.”

“Watch the film.” Miriam would squeeze his knee. “Just enjoy it. You don’t have to psychoanalyze all the characters. You don’t have to guess the ending.”