“Right, I’m going to grab that eleven to four while stocks last,” said Gerald Hume and hurried up to the counter with open wallet.
“Are you not betting?”
“No.” Carole still avoided Jude’s eye.
“Well, I’m going to do something. I can’t watch a race without having a financial interest in it.”
Jude went each way on a wild outsider called Lumsreek, which she got at thirty-three to one. Already planning how she’d spend her winnings, she rejoined Carole and Gerald, who seemed as relaxed as if they’d known each other since schooldays.
Before the race started, Wes and Vie rushed in from some other abandoned decorating job and just managed to get their bets on in time, so the actual running was accompanied by their raucous shouts of encouragement.
Not that they did much good. In both cases, the horses whose praises they had been singing before the ‘off’ were condemned at the end as hopeless nags. Deirdre’s Cup did better, though. Never out of the first four, he put in a big challenge in the last furlong, actually leading for a few strides before the favourite reasserted its class and got home by a short head.
“Worth watching, that horse,” said Gerald Hume. “Going to win a race soon.”
“Yes,” Carole agreed sagely.
“So how much did you lose?” he asked.
“Oh, I didn’t bet on it.”
“Canny. You fancied it, but you knew something…?”
“Well…”
“Thought he needed the race?”
Carole wasn’t quite sure what the question meant, but it seemed to invite agreement, so, ignoring the flabbergasted look on Jude’s face, she agreed.
“Yes, I should have thought it through,” said Gerald Hume. “Are you going to do something on the next?”
“Oh no, I think Jude and I had better be off. Things to do, haven’t we?”
Jude, still mystified by Carole’s behaviour, agreed that they did indeed have things to do. “Also,” she said, “if the way my luck’s going is characterized by the running of Lumsreek…” Her fancy had come a very distant last “…I think I should keep out of betting shops for the next few days.”
“Still, maybe I’ll see you in here again?” asked Gerald Hume, directing the enquiry very firmly towards Carole rather than Jude.
“Oh, I don’t think so. As I said, I’m not an habituee.” This time she didn’t feel so stupid saying the word. In fact, she felt rather classy. Confident even.
“Well, I hope we will meet again somewhere,” said Gerald.
“I’m sure we will. Fethering’s a very small place, and I only live in the High Street.”
“Good heavens, I’m in River Road.”
“Very close then.”
“I’m sure we’ll meet up.”
The two women were nearly back at their respective homes before Jude asked, “So what was all that about, Carole?”
Her friend looked all innocent. “What?”
“Gerald Hume. Had you met him before?”
“Never.”
“Well, you behaved as if you knew each other very well.”
“Yes. Strange, that, isn’t it…?” Carole mused.
“Any explanation…?”
“No, it’s just…there are some people one meets, with whom one just…clicks. Do you know what I mean?”
“Oh, definitely,” said Jude, suppressing a smile. “I’ve fixed to meet Ryan in the Crown and Anchor soon after five-thirty. Are you coming?”
“I certainly am,” Carole replied.
“Very well. See you then.” And Jude went into Woodside Cottage, her bewilderment by no means reduced.
Carole went into High Tor, feeling really rather good. She really had clicked with Gerald. For a moment she toyed with the unfamiliar sensation of being a bit of a femme fatale.
Twelve
“I speak to Tadek’s landlord. Nothing,” said Zofia. Her voice down the phone was cold and disappointed.
“What do you mean – nothing?” asked Jude.
“It is like he do not know who he rents his rooms to. So long as they pay, he doesn’t care who they are. Tadek was just another student for him. If the police had not questioned him, he would have forgotten my brother’s name.”
“So you didn’t get any idea of how Tadek spent his time?”
“The landlord does not live near the house with the rooms in. It is just for money. He might as well be taking profits from slot machines.”
“Did you go to the house?”
“Yes.”
“And did you manage to speak to any of the other residents?”
“Not many are in. Two I speak to. They also only remember Tadek because the police have been round asking questions. How can people live so close and not know each other?” the girl asked plaintively.
“They can do it because they’re English,” Jude replied. “I’m afraid there’s a strong tradition in this country of keeping oneself to oneself. Have you heard the expression: ‘An Englishman’s home is his castle’?”
“No. And certainly where Tadek was living was not a castle. It was very bare, not a nice place.”
“So what you’re saying, Zosia, is that you’ve drawn a blank? You haven’t met anyone who knew your brother?”
“I meet the woman at the pub he work. Cat and Fiddle. But she no use. She did not seem to know him at all.”
“Shona Nuttall. A friend and I met her too, and that was the impression we got. I think your brother was just cheap labour to her. She seemed to be a bit of a slave-driver.”
“She not even know Tadek was interested in music. That means she did not know him at all.”
“No.”
“It is strange, Jude. Tadek is a warm person, he always have friends. But no one in the house at Littlehampton know him. And that woman in the pub, she not interested in him.”
“I don’t think Shona Nuttall’s interested in anyone but herself.”
“No. But, Tadek…how can he come somewhere and make no friends?”
“He may not have made friends where he lived, but perhaps he had some somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“At college?”
“Tadek was at university in Warsaw. I tell you. He finish there last year.”
“Yes, I know. But we’ve got a lead that he might have had some connection with a college near here. Clincham College. Now called the University of Clincham.” Jude briefly outlined the information they had got from Harold Peskett. “Tadek didn’t say anything to you about going to college here?”
“No.”
“I mean, he was in touch with you, was he?”
“Tadek was never very good at keeping in touch. Oh, he always meant to, but other things would take his attention. He was a dreamer. So, since he leave for England, maybe he send one letter to our mother.”
“Was he close to her?”
“No. Like me, he did not get on with her.”
“But was he in touch with you?”
“More. But not a lot. A few texts on the mobile phone.”
“When was the last one you had from him?”
“I do not remember. Not since Christmas perhaps.”
“Well,” said Jude, “I’m planning to make contact with Clincham College. Just see if anyone there knows anything about your brother.”
“Yes. You will tell me, please, if you find out something.”
“Of course.”
“You will keep in touch, Jude?” The appeal in Zofia’s voice was naked. She sounded much younger than the nineteen or twenty that she must be. Jude felt a sudden rush of pity for the girl. Already shaken by bereavement, she had rushed to a country where she had no contacts, and had just experienced encounters with the English at their most aloof. She must have been feeling very alone.