— That would be a big mistake on his part, Notman says, turning and heading to his car.
Greg swallows hard, and says to his wife, — Frank would be proud of you.
It’s the wrong thing to say. As it sinks home, Elpseth bursts into angry, frustrated tears, to be comforted by the advancing Stella, who leads her into the house.
24. THE DANCE PARTNER 3
Melanie was surprised to see Martin, Jim’s agent, who had driven up yesterday evening from LA. He was desperate to get in touch with her incommunicado husband. She issued him with the UK number, with a warning about inherent transmission difficulties, citing her own fruitless attempts to contact Jim. — Sometimes it works, she told him over coffee.
— There’s another reason I came, Martin confessed. — I had a visit from a cop, a detective in the Santa Barbara PD, name of Harry Pallister, he said, not stalling on her reaction. — He told me he was investigating a complaint you made about a couple of guys harassing you on the beach. He asked about Jim. I didn’t like his tone, so I challenged him, and asked him if Jim was a suspect in anything. He said no. Then he was on his way. Something about all this just didn’t quite sit right, so I thought you should know.
Melanie expressed her gratitude to Martin, telling him as much as she felt able, which was just about everything she knew. He appreciated her candour, offering any assistance he could, and then left to head back to Los Angeles.
She is therefore expecting another visit from Harry, yet when it comes, it still causes real discomfort. She has only just got Grace and Eve strapped into the car, when he arrives. Melanie knows that her skittish, distracted behaviour has been noticed by her daughters. It has taken them much longer to get ready than usual. The girls have been acting up, and Eve has bitten Grace’s finger. It isn’t acceptable, but her older daughter is determined to make an issue of it. They have just settled down, when Harry pulls up, with that suffering expression on his face. He is out the car and asking her, — Mel. . sorry to trouble you, just wondered if anything else had popped into your head about those guys?
So Melanie moves out of the kids’ earshot, away from the driveway, up onto the stoop, compelling him to follow. — Nothing that I haven’t already mentioned, she says stiffly. Martin’s news from last night has put her on edge. She hasn’t talked to Frank properly for a couple of days; the time differences and this awful phone he bought have made it awkward. Now Harry’s limpet-like presence, with the same insinuating tones, going over old ground. Here, on her front porch, and so early in the morning.
— When you came back, you’re sure Jim was with you?
— Where else would he be? Melanie says brusquely. Harry looks heavy-eyed, still focused, but as if at the cost of great mental effort. There is a whiff on his breath. Alcohol. For a second she considers confronting him about his visit to Jim’s agent in LA, but decides against this. It’s preferable that he remains unaware of her knowledge of this line of enquiry. She recalls Jim’s — or Frank’s — mantra regarding the cops: tell them fuck all.
Harry nods slowly, cagily taking a step back, as if understanding that he’s overstepped the mark. He is a policeman first and foremost, and he hasn’t mentioned the burnt-out car. Jim was right; a cop couldn’t be trusted socially with people, in the same way an alcoholic couldn’t be around a cabinet full of liquor. He would always have to open it up, to see what was inside. Now it seems like he already has. What sort of cop stank of alcohol at this hour of the morning? And on some deep psychological level (which is now starting to openly manifest) Melanie knows that Harry wants to replace Jim, which first means having Jim out of the way. Melanie realises she has made a decision there and then: Harry cannot be allowed to break up this family.
The cop has embarked on a game of silence, which she is in no mood to play.
— I really have to get the girls off, she states. Melanie now knows that she isn’t taking them to the school and kindergarten, but she’s not going to tell Harry that.
— Of course. . but, Melanie, you know you can talk to me, Harry says earnestly. His words are slurring a little and she can see, in the sunlight, the puffiness around his eyes and cheeks. — Off the record. As a friend.
— Right, she nods.
— You do have friends, Melanie. People who care about you. . remember that, Harry says, leaking desperation.
— I appreciate your concern, Harry, she says blithely, almost laughing in nervous tension. The incongruity of it burns her, and she knows he isn’t fooled for a second. Melanie isn’t sticking around though; she heads to the car and climbs in. He will need to do the same, or block her in her driveway. Whatever Jim has done, it has been for her and the girls. He’d always said that their protection was the only thing he believed in. But it went further than that. She knows that he also, on a very deep level, believes in vengeance.
Melanie is relieved to see Harry, after taking a lingering look at the car, turn away and get into his own vehicle. — What did the man want, Mommy? Grace asks.
— Nothing, honey, Melanie says, delighted to hear the sound of Harry’s engine starting up, and to watch his car pull away. — Now, I got a big surprise, she announces in the same fake upbeat tone she’d used on Harry. — You guys are gonna stay at Grandma’s for a few days!
The kids see through it in much the same way the sauced-up cop had. — Why? Grace asks.
— I need to go to Scotland to see Daddy. He’s quite sad because his friend is very sick, she explains, starting up the car and edging into the street.
— Daddy! Will you bring him back? Eve asks.
— Of course I will! Daddy said that he had too many presents from Scotland for two special little girls. He needs me to help him carry them.
Grace is unconvinced. — Is Daddy okay?
— Of course he is.
— Are people nice to him in Scotland? Eve asks, with a frown.
— Yes, they are!
Melanie watches Eve scowl in the mirror. Her face, so like her father’s, says: they’d better be nice to my daddy, or else. She calls Jim again, but can still get nothing. Follows it with an imploring text. When she gets the girls down to her mother’s, Melanie tells Jane Francis that she needs her to look after her granddaughters for a few days. She explains she really has to go to the funeral (even though it has passed) in order to support Jim. Jane loves the girls, and is delighted to do this, offering only a half-hearted interrogation in response. Then Melanie heads for LAX to get a flight to London.
When she learns she’s been allocated one of the stand-by seats, Melanie relaxes, feeling in control. However, this soon turns to helpless despair as she sits in a cramped economy class, a fat man almost shoehorned in on her left, a wan, tense-faced woman on her right, and a screaming and sobbing pair of very small children in front of her. Melanie will have eleven hours of this till London. She closes her eyes, tries to blot it all out. Thinks about meeting Jim for the first time, back in the prison. That picture he had painted, The Dance Partner. How far they have come since then, and how it had been his idea that they joined the salsa club together.
25. THE FLAT
Unlike Elspeth’s view of the van, Franco considers, the flat in Marchmont certainly isn’t very Larry. This time he pauses to really take in the large, bright, bay-windowed, second-storey affair; its wooden sealed-and-sanded floors and tasteful furnishings suggest that his old friend hadn’t been involved in the decoration project. — Nice gaff, Franco observes, looking at several framed pictures that give it a homely touch. They are all portraits of the same boy, ranging from a baby to around seven years old. The boy has Larry’s mischievous smile, without the undercurrent of malevolence that Franco assumes might develop with age. Or perhaps not. It’s obvious that there has been some judicious editing, removing all traces of the mother from the shots. That relationship hadn’t ended well, he evaluates.