Serenely even-handed, that day Lily granted smiles to her grandmother as well as her mother. There had been some discussion with Stephen and Gaby as to what Carole should be called in her new role. All the possibles – Gran, Granny, Grandma, Nan – sounded dispiritingly old, but there was no avoiding making a choice. She had settled for ‘Granny’ as the least offensive, and indeed the name her own almost-forgotten grandmother had been known by.
With Lily there as a catalyst, Carole was surprised how much more relaxed she felt with her daughter-in-law. She had always liked Gaby, but felt an edge of unease when Stephen was not there and there were just the two of them. She had a bit of that feeling when she was alone with anyone. Her insecurities rose to the surface, she was always afraid that the other person was making judgements and finding her wanting.
But now with Gaby and the baby, Carole experienced something she had never relaxed into before, a kind of gender solidarity. Though she didn’t rate her own maternal skills very highly, the shared experience of motherhood had brought the two women closer. Carole was amazed how unperturbed she could be by Gaby openly feeding Lily. She felt a kind of regret for her own time with Stephen as a small baby, when social convention and her own modesty had made breast-feeding a rather furtive exercise.
But perhaps what she appreciated most was the ease that her daughter-in-law showed in her presence. Gaby did not question Carole’s right to be included in the care of her baby. She even asked for advice and reassurance over Lily’s little quirks of development.
So at two o’clock sharp Carole was sorry to see them go, but warmed by the encounter. She felt bonded with the next two generations of women, and she looked forward to watching the development of the new person in her life.
She also knew that the visit would not have been nearly so satisfactory had her ex-husband been present.
So she was already in a good mood when the phone rang at about half-past two, and the ensuing conversation cheered her even more.
“Is that Carole Seddon?” The voice was cultivated, precise and vaguely familiar.
“Yes.”
“I found your number in the local directory.”
“Well, you would. It’s in there,” said Carole rather fatuously. She still couldn’t identify the voice, but was not left in ignorance for long.
“It’s Gerald Hume speaking. Remember, we met in the betting shop yesterday.”
“Yes, I remember. I’m surprised you’re not there now.”
“Oh, I am. As you may recall my saying, I am an habitue.” His use of the word echoed their conversation of the previous day. “Well, to be strictly accurate, I am not inside the betting shop. I’m standing outside the premises. The mobile phone signal is better here, and also I don’t like having my telephone conversations listened to by all and sundry.”
“Nor do I. That’s one of the reasons I don’t want a mobile phone.”
“I understand.” There was a brief silence. “I thought you might have come in today.”
“Good heavens, no. As I believe I told you, yesterday was the first time I’ve crossed the threshold of a betting shop.”
“I thought you might have got the taste for it.”
“Certainly not,” came the instinctive, Calvinist response.
“Well, Carole,” said Gerald Hume with a sudden change of tone, “I wondered if we could meet for a drink.”
“Meet for a drink?” she echoed stupidly. “You and me?”
“Yes. I enjoyed meeting you yesterday. I thought it would be nice to talk at further length.”
“Well…”
“I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think me forward.” Which was a comfortingly old-fashioned word for him to use. “If you don’t relish the idea, you have only to say no.”
Carole found herself saying “Well…” again. The proposition was so unexpected that she couldn’t immediately adjust to the idea.
“If you’d rather not, you needn’t be embarrassed by refusing.”
“No, I’m not embarrassed.” To her surprise, Carole realized this was true. And suddenly she could see no reason to refuse his suggestion. “Yes,” she said. “Yes. Let’s meet for a drink. When were you thinking of?”
“Would this evening be convenient?”
“This evening would be most convenient.”
Jude also had an invitation that afternoon. She had been half-expecting the call, with foreboding but an undercurrent of excitement. From the moment she’d met Andy Constant, she knew that something had connected between them.
On the phone he sounded even more languid and laid-back. The offer was made very casually, as if the manner of asking somehow took the curse off it. If she refused, his manner implied, it had never been any big deal anyway.
“Thought it’d be nice to meet again,” he said.
He was taking a risk. He knew nothing about her. She might be in a long-term relationship. But still he asked. Jude had already got the impression that Andy Constant was used to getting his own way with women.
“Well, yes, it might be,” she responded. She was taking a risk too. But she reassured herself that it wasn’t only because she was attracted to him. He still might have some information that was of relevance to the murder of Tadek. To keep in touch with him would be in the cause of pursuing their investigation, she told herself with knowing casuistry.
“Thing is, I’m doing a show at the college with some of the Drama students. Wondered if you’d like to come and see it. Then we could have a drink afterwards.”
Again, he made it sound very casual. Quite clever too, Jude thought. Not a direct request for a date. He made it sound as if the main purpose of the invitation was for her to see the show. And hopefully be impressed by it, perhaps warm to him because of his skills as a director. Then have a few drinks and maybe fix to meet again. There was something disquietingly practised about his approach.
“What is the show?” she asked.
“It’s called Rumours of Wars. Something the students have built up through improvisation and I’ve kind of tailored into a script. I promise you it’s less dreary than it sounds. They’re a bright lot of kids, some real talent in there.”
“When are you talking about?”
“Short notice, I’m afraid. Show only runs for three performances. Saturday I have to entertain a lot of college bigwigs. So I’m talking about this evening.” Jude hadn’t complained about the short notice, but he still seemed to feel the need to apologize. “Ideally, I’d have asked you further in advance, but I hadn’t met you then, had I? And I do think the show’s something you might enjoy.”
Which Jude considered was a rather bold claim, since he’d had no time to assess her theatrical interests.
“It’s in the college’s new theatre. Building’s worth seeing, apart from anything else. So tell me, do you fancy it?”
Again, he fostered the illusion of distancing himself. It was the show she’d be coming to see, not him. Jude had to acknowledge that his technique, though obviously well practised, was rather good.
“All right,” she said. “I’d like to come.”
Seventeen
On a day when she had been feeling less good about herself Carole Seddon might have balked at Gerald Hume’s suggestion that their meeting that evening should take place in the Crown and Anchor. The proposed encounter did have elements of a ‘date’ about it, and the pub’s landlord was one of the very few men in Fethering who had ever shown an emotional interest in her. In less certain moods she might have agonized about some awkward scene arising between the two men. But that Friday evening Carole had no qualms about the venue. For a start, her affair with Ted Crisp was long over and their relationship had settled down into an easy friendship. Besides, the Crown and Anchor did have certain advantages. Apart from anything else, she would be on home territory and not far from High Tor, should the meeting prove to be uncomfortable. After all, she knew nothing about Gerald Hume.