Last Tango in Aberystwyth

The bright spirit slowly drained from her face.

'That's why there's no one here then, isn't it?'

I made a circling gesture with the hand clutching the glass. 'Oh they're all here, Myfanwy and Marty ... sorry to say I don't have a photo of your sister.'

'You didn't let her down, you helped her. She thought the world of you.'

'That just makes it worse.'

'You're talking crap because you're drunk.'

'I'm not drunk yet.'

She took the glass from my hand. 'You're drunk and feeling sorry for yourself. And if Bianca's ghost was here she'd call you a twat for talking like this.'

She put the glass down and I picked it up. She grabbed it again and threw it against the wall. It didn't break, just bounced and landed on the record player. The arm jerked back to the beginning and clicked to a halt.

'You never let Bianca down, it's other people who always let you down.'

'Oh sure! It's sweet of you but you don't need to.'

'But it's true. That girl for instance ...'

'What girl?'

'Oh nothing.'

There was something in her tone that signalled there was more than nothing.

'Go on, you might as well say it.'

'Well ... that Judy Juice, I know it's none of my business ... but I can't help what I hear.'

'And what do you hear?'

'That you and her ... you know ... I mean it's nothing to do with me and I don't care what you do but they say you should be very careful of her ...'

'They, whoever they are, always say the worst things about the best people, surely you should know that.'

'Yes but sometimes they're right, and —'

'If it makes you feel better there was nothing between me and Judy. But I do like her.'

'Of course, all the men do, but what sort of girl would go with Jubal?'

'She hates Jubal.'

'Well that just makes it worse.'

'She wouldn't give him the time of day.'

'She's given him a lot more than that from what I've heard.'

'You must have heard wrong.'

'No I didn't. She was seen with him tonight, kissing him, and cuddling, and then they went off together ...'

I groaned. 'Oh God.'

'I'm sorry, I mean if you liked her and that ...'

'It's not that, it's just I've been such a fool today. I trusted her and it sounds like she was working for Jubal all along. Telling him everything I said ... shit. Such an idiot.'

'No you're not.'

'Oh believe me, I am. All it takes to make a fool of me is a jar of damson jam.'

Ionawr rushed forward and grabbed my head and held it to her. 'Oh come on, Louie!'

I put my arms round her waist and squeezed and then she broke away and said, 'Have a rock cake.' She opened her bag and took one out. 'I baked them myself, just for you.'

'That was nice of you.'

'They're pretty crappy actually. I've never done them before.'

I took a bite. 'You got the rock bit right!'

She grinned.

I put the letter down on the desk and then noticed the writing on it. There was no address, just the name 'Louie' in a childish scrawl. I tore it open and groaned.

Dear Louie,

I have decided to Kwit because I no your going to fire me for screwing

up like a dumbkopf. I cant believe I fell for that stupid bird seed

rootine. Do not worry about me. I am going to bring custard Pie

in on my own. It's the only way. We probably wont meet again

for a while because I'm going to leave Aberystwyth and get a job

in another detective agensy some place where they won't know what

a bungler I am.

Thanks for everything.

I love you,

Calamity Jane

I let out a long deep sigh of despair. And then staring at Calamity's handwriting a thought struck me; a soft tingling hunch that you sometimes get when you least expect it. I stood up and walked over to the bureau in the corner of the office. She had left a file of Aunt Minnies there, gathering dust in the way that often happens when a kid gets a passion for something and then moves on to the next. I took it back to the desk and started leafing through. It was the longest shot in the world, of course, but worth trying. Maybe there was something in them that might help, that might give me a clue to her movements. The photos had been neatly filed according to time of year, time of day and geographical vicinity. Shot after shot taken around town of people chosen only because something was happening behind them. On the Prom, down at the harbour, the camera obscura, outside the Cabin, and one at the railway station. It was clear that, try as she obviously had, the people in the background were no more shady than Aunt Minnie in the foreground. Just out of focus because she hadn't mastered the depth of field. It wasn't surprising she'd given up. I was about to do the same. And then my gaze lingered on the picture taken in the railway station. I blinked, snatched it up and peered at it. My heart lurched.

It was a snap of a family leaving for a walking-holiday, four of them, two adults and two kids, all wearing hiking boots with rucksacks on the dusty platform floor. And in the background there was a woman standing and looking as if she had just stepped off the train; at her feet a suitcase. Out-of-focus, indistinct, the colour washed out; but even so you could tell she was beautiful. And, more to the point, I knew who it was.

'Oh my God!' I groaned. 'It's Myfanwy.'

I looked at the date under the photo. It had been taken six months ago.

*

The gale shrieked like a ghoul, sweeping roof-tiles like leaves into the night sky. Against the base of the Prom the waves crashed and tore out blocks of stone the size of steamer trunks, spitting them on to the road. We drove along the Prom, dodging the debris, the rocks and stones, the matchwood that earlier had been a bandstand. The hotels were dolls' houses tonight, the seaside railings broken and bent like pipe cleaners. I remembered the tales from the South Seas I read as a kid, about the typhoons in which the coral islanders lashed themselves to the coconut trees to avoid being swept out to sea. The booming and pounding of the sea was relentless, as sustained and regular as the artillery barrage that preceded the assault on the Somme. And with each fresh wave, spray soared high into the sky, rising like a geyser above the rooftops and then remaining suspended at the acme, for breathless seconds, like poplar trees of milk glittering in the streetlights.

Eeyore's stables were down by the harbour on the Pen Dinas side, next to the oast houses. We found him knee-deep in straw, running a gentle, calming hand along the flanks of the frightened beasts. They were fearful and restless, flinching at the sound of every crash of the wind against the door and staring with terror in their lake eyes. The girl from the Chinese was also there in Wellingtons, pouring the contents of a bucket into a manger.

'What is it?' I asked.

'Chop-suey!'

'They eat that?'

'They love it, it's a treat for when they are frightened. It's mostly grass anyway, isn't it?'

We went into the kitchen and sat at the unstained oak table listening to the fury of the storm. I told Eeyore about Calamity and asked what he thought I should do and he said he didn't know.

'The note isn't necessarily bad,' he said at length. 'It doesn't mean they've got her.'

'But she's going looking for them, it's what they want. Obviously Custard Pie set her up.'

'It still doesn't mean they've got her yet. There's still time.'

I could feel his eyes on me, watching me, secretly willing me to be strong.

'Anyway,' he said, 'wherever she is, I hope she's not out in this.' He stood up and walked to the rain-blasted windows. 'You could die in a storm like this. We forget how puny we are. Everything we do in life conspires to hide from us this simple truth. And because every day we escape to live another day, the world deceives us ... makes us believe there is some force protecting us ... that says it can't happen ... When it does, we feel almost ashamed at the stupidity of it, embarrassed that we ever thought for a moment that we were immortal