Three Things About Elsie(55)

‘Ronnie Butler?’ I said.

‘But of course, it wasn’t.’ Mabel took another slice of cake. ‘It would be impossible.’

‘Impossible,’ I said.

‘Although …’ Mabel put the cake down again. ‘I really did think it was him for a moment. It was the voice as well, you see, when he spoke to the driver. Exactly the same. Took me right back.’

‘It did?’ I said.

‘And when he walked down the bus, he had a little scar, right in the corner of his mouth.’

She pointed, and we all pointed along with her.

‘I said to him, “You look just like someone I used to know.”’

‘You spoke to him?’ said Jack.

Of course she spoke to him. Mabel speaks to everyone. She’d find someone to speak to in an empty room.

‘What did he say?’ I leaned forward on the sofa.

‘What did you talk about?’ said Elsie.

‘Nothing much. He said he’d only recently moved, and he didn’t really know anyone around here.’

We all exchanged a look across a laundry basket.

‘It gave me quite a turn, it did.’ Mabel didn’t seem like the kind of woman who turns easily, but I would imagine that would almost certainly do the trick. ‘Reminded me of the last time I saw him.’

We waited. I was on the absolute edge of speaking. Elsie glanced over again and we had a conversation between us with our eyes. Elsie always says, if you leave someone to use up a silence, they will eventually fill it with far more enthusiasm than they would have done if you had said something. I don’t like to admit it, but she’s right. Mabel found the story all by herself.

I allowed Elsie a small nod of triumph.

‘It was the night Beryl died. I was just turning the corner on the way up to the town hall, when his car came tearing down the road like a bat out of hell. Nearly knocked me off my feet.’ Mabel pressed her hand to her chest. ‘It could have been me,’ she said, and her fingers left little red prints of thinking on her flesh.

‘Was Ronnie on his own in that car?’ Jack said.

I tried to swallow, but my throat point blank refused to go along with it. I was concerned I’d begin to cough, or have a choking fit, and the more concerned I became, the more likely it seemed it was going to happen. My body has always had a habit of failing to cooperate whenever it’s called upon.

‘Of course he wasn’t. But I’ve no idea who was with him. Don’t think I haven’t tried to work it out over the years.’

‘Nothing?’ said Jack.

Mabel shook her head very slowly. ‘All I remember is a flash of red. A scarf, perhaps.’

She stared at us.

‘Or a hat?’ she said.

One of the children barrelled into the room waving a piece of paper, and everyone reappeared in the present. A strange conversation ensued between Mabel and the child, and I followed every word with my mouth. I held out my hand for the child to come forward, but instead, he helicoptered back into the main part of the house.

‘I hope I see him again.’ Mabel watched the child disappear.

‘Who?’ I said.

‘The man who looks like Ronnie. Perhaps he’s a relative of his?’

‘I’d steer well clear, if I were you,’ Jack said. ‘And of anyone calling themselves Gabriel Price.’

‘Who?’

‘Just remember the name,’ he said. ‘And be careful.’

‘I’m fine.’ She took a mouthful of cake. ‘I’ve got my own resident copper.’

‘There’s a policeman in the house?’ said Elsie.

‘Our Sandra married a detective. Retired now, of course, but he still thinks like one. Then there’s my Norman.’

‘Norman?’ I said.

‘You must remember Norman from school. We’ve been married nearly sixty years.’

Norman. Short. Skinny. Can’t stand up for himself. ‘But I thought he ran away?’ I said.

‘Ran away?’ Mabel frowned at me.

‘To London,’ I said.

She laughed. ‘My Norman’s only been to London once in his life, and that was under protest. Do you want to say hello? He’s only in the garden.’

I looked through a window to where a man stood on the lawn, hands on hips, surrounded by children and chickens. He was skinny and short, but he had that settled, reassuring look that only seems to come from old age and good health.

‘We won’t trouble him,’ I said.

I looked at Elsie. ‘We found the long second, didn’t we?’

‘We did.’

‘Perhaps it’s time we were on our way,’ I said.

She smiled at me. ‘It’s always later than you think.’

As we climbed into the car, and Chris did the little cough he always does before he starts the engine, I looked back at the wedding-cake house, filled with children.

‘I would like to have lived somewhere like that,’ I said.

Jack peered through the side window. ‘In the middle of nowhere?’

I watched a line of grandchildren follow Norman back into the house. ‘That’s part of it,’ I said. ‘You always think “one day”, don’t you, and then you realise you’ve reached the point when you’ve run out of them.’