As if on cue, Ibrahim walks back into the living room.
‘I’ve been standing in the hallway for 8 minutes and 40 seconds, Ron,’ he says. ‘Waiting for you to finish.’
‘I was chatting with Bob,’ says Ron. ‘About computers.’
‘Yes, quite the chat,’ says Ibrahim. ‘In that entire 8 minutes and 40 seconds, poor Bob said just four things, and I noted them all down for you. He said, and these are direct quotes, “I see” – that was after about a minute and a half. At 3 minutes and 17 seconds he said, “Yes, I understand why you might think that.” At just past the 5-minute mark, you drew breath long enough for him to say, “Well, that’s certainly a view I have heard before,” and, about 90 seconds ago, Bob’s final contribution to the conversation was “Do we know where Ibrahim has got to?”’
‘Yeah, well, he was listening,’ says Ron. ‘People like hearing my opinions; they always have done.’
‘And yet here he sits, looking both bored and frightened.’
Ahh, yes, Ron realizes, that’s the look. Bored and frightened. Ron must admit, and not for the first time, that he can get carried away.
‘Sorry, Bob,’ says Ron. ‘Wear my heart on my sleeve sometimes.’
‘Not at all,’ says Bob. ‘Plenty of food for thought. And I will certainly pass your feedback on to someone at IBM should that opportunity arise.’
‘You will learn fairly quickly, Bob, that you don’t need to be polite with Ron,’ says Ibrahim. ‘It took me around a week to figure that out.’
Bob nods.
‘Also, he is easy to distract. If you ever feel that Ron has gone off at a tangent, which on occasion he does, then a simple “Did you see the match?” or “Did you see the fight?” works as a reset button.’
‘How Chelsea won that one, I’ll never know,’ says Ron, shaking his head. ‘Daylight robbery.’
‘To work, then, gentlemen,’ says Ibrahim.
Bob’s laptop is open on Ibrahim’s desk, and the three men gather round. Ron and Ibrahim had paid Mervyn another little visit yesterday and explained what they thought was going on, man to man. Better that it came from them, had been Ron’s judgement, Mervyn being one of those men who found information harder to take in when that information came from women.
Mervyn had agreed to go cold turkey for a week, and hand his correspondence with Tatiana over to Ron and Ibrahim. The big idea was to lay a trap, to see who was behind the scam and if they could be brought out into the open, after which, in Ron’s view, they should be ‘given a good hiding’ or, in Ibrahim’s view, ‘turned over to the relevant authorities’.
And, of course, Mervyn still feels there is a chance that Tatiana is Tatiana, and that his loneliness might come to an end. Ron understands that. He had spent his Christmas Day with Pauline, and it hadn’t gone entirely smoothly. She’s a smashing bird, really she is, and Ron knows he’s punching above his weight, but Ron had wanted to open presents after breakfast, which is the correct way of doing things, while Pauline wanted to wait until after lunch. They had opened them after lunch, of course, but it wasn’t the same. Ron is no stranger to compromise, far from it, but that’s taking things too far. They are having a little break from each other to allow things to simmer down. Ron is missing her, but is not about to apologize for something when he’s so clearly in the right.
Bob Whittaker had been recruited as a tech expert after his blinding work on New Year’s Eve. They’d all watched the Turkish New Year together, then toddled off to their beds. Ron and Ibrahim had stayed awake, drinking whisky, and seen in the New Year again, three hours later, raising a toast to Joyce and Elizabeth in their absence.
Joyce had warned them that Bob could be shy, and might say no. But Ibrahim had explained the plan to Bob, and Bob, who had seen the same programme as Joyce about ‘romance fraud’, had been only too happy to help. Had jumped at the chance, in fact.
He has just opened Tatiana’s last message to Mervyn. After a brief negotiation it is agreed that Ron can read it out, which Ron is pleased about as he senses that neither Ibrahim nor Bob would do it with the accent, and the accent is surely half the fun. Ron reads.
‘My darling, my prince, my strength – all right, love, Christ – It is just over a week until I see you, until I melt into your arms, until we kiss as lovers – I’m actually going to stop doing the accent now – I hope you are as excited as I. I have one problem, my sweet, kind boy – oh, here we go – My brother is recently in hospital for an accident at his work, he fell from a ladder and it will take perhaps two thousand pounds to pay for his bills – I’ll bet it will – If I cannot pay, I fear I cannot come to see you, as I shall worry with concern for my brother. Darling, what shall I do? – I’ve got a couple of ideas – I cannot ask you for more money, as you have been so generous already. But without the money I fear I shall have to stay and care for my brother. You are always so good with ideas, my Mervyn, perhaps you will know what to do. The thought that I will not see you next week might break my heart. Your ever loving Tatiana.’
‘Poor Mervyn,’ says Ibrahim.
‘So what now?’ asks Bob.
‘Now we reply,’ says Ibrahim, and starts typing. ‘My darling Tatiana, how I long for your touch …’
Much as he loves romantic poetry, Ron decides to call it a night, and leaves Bob and Ibrahim to it. Ib seems fairly happy. Ron still feels guilty that they didn’t play charades at Christmas. But Ibrahim understood the principle of the thing.
As Ron walks through Coopers Chase, a fox scurries across his path. White tips to both of his ears. Ron sees him about a lot, darting in and out of bushes. You know where you are with foxes; they’re not trying to kid you they’re something they’re not.
‘Good luck to you, old son,’ says Ron.
Perhaps Ron won’t have Pauline to worry about for too much longer anyway? Presents after lunch, I ask you. A few other rows too, to be honest. She listens to Radio 2 instead of talkSPORT, made him watch a French film, that sort of thing. Though once you’re used to Radio 2 it’s not bad. And the film was good too, a good murder, even with the subtitles. And, actually, opening presents after lunch was OK, he was just too indignant to appreciate it at the time. Perhaps she is good for him? Though, if she is good for him, and Ron’s jury is still deliberating on that case, then is he good for her? What does Pauline get from him apart from stubbornness? Though he’s only stubborn when he’s right, so that’s not about to change, no way, no sir.
But Ron wishes, he realizes, that she was here.
Ron looks at his phone. No new messages. Well, that tells its own story. She’ll have gone to bed without sending him a goodnight kiss. Should he send her one? He stares at his phone for a while, as if it might somehow have the answer.
In fact, he realizes later, this was probably why he missed the sign that something wasn’t right. Missed the fact that the light in his flat was off, when he always leaves it on.
That was why he walked straight into the trap.
23
Stephen wanders through the living room.
It is late, and he is alone, which doesn’t feel quite normal. Feels off. Hard to tell why.
He knows the sofa, and there is safety in that. It’s his, of that he is certain. Brown, some sort of velvet, the imprint of his backside in a lighter, golden brown. If he knows the sofa, things can’t be too out of kilter. Worse comes to the worst, sit yourself down, wait and see what happens, trust that it will all make sense in the end.