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The Governor’s secretary, Mrs. Beeton, was good as gold when De
“Recent letters have been mentioning someone called Fred. I want to check if he’s someone we should know about.”
This was good enough reason for Mrs. Beeton to seek out and hand over the file on Paul Blaine. De
“Hello, Fred,” De
When Selina’s next letter arrived, De
Started to read.
It gets a bit lonely here with you not around. Denise drops in sometimes to go shopping.
Liar.
I go whole days on end and never set foot out of the house, so I know what it’s like to be banged up!
And De
He started taking evening drives to Bearsden. Sometimes he would park a few streets away and pretend he was a local out for a walk, managing to pass her house a couple of times, maybe pausing to check his watch, tie a shoelace, or answer an imaginary call on his cell phone. If the weather wasn’t great, he would sit in the car, or simply drive around. He got to know her estate, could even recognize one or two of the neighbors. And they, in turn, got to know him; or at least they knew his face. No longer a stranger, and therefore not suspicious. Maybe they reckoned he’d just moved into the area. He got nods and smiles and the occasional bit of chat. And then one evening, as he was driving into her street, he saw the For Sale sign. His first thought was: I could buy it! Buy it and be near her! But then he saw that the sign was firmly planted in Selina’s own driveway. Did Blaine know about this? De
He called again at nine the following morning, explaining that he was interested in the house. “Is the seller after a quick sale, do you think?” he asked.
“How do you mean, sir?”
“I just wondered if the price might be negotiable, say if someone came along with a solid offer.”
“It’s fixed price, sir.”
“That usually means they’re in a hurry to sell.”
“Oh, it’ll sell all right. I’d suggest that you arrange a viewing for this week, if you’re interested.”
“A viewing?” De
“I’ve got a cancellation this evening, if that suits.”
“This evening?”
“Eight o’clock.”
De
“Excellent. And it’s Mr…”
He swallowed hard. “De
“And do you have a contact number, Mr. De
De
“Terrific,” the woman said. “You’ll be shown round by a Mr. Appleby.”
“Appleby?” De
“He works for us,” the woman explained.
“The owner won’t be there, then?” De
“Some owners prefer it that way.”
“All right… that’s fine. Eight o’clock, then.”
“Good-bye, Mr. De
“Thanks for all your help…”
He spent the rest of the day in a daze. In a final effort to clear his head, he went for a walk around the prison-the yard first, and then the halls. Some of the men knew him-he hadn’t always been a censor. Time was, he’d been a lockup, same as the others: working shifts and weekends, having to live with the smells of slopping-out and the kitchens. Some of his colleagues said he was daft for taking the vacant post of censor-it meant no chance of overtime.
“It suits me,” he’d explained at the time. The Governor had agreed. But now De
“How are you today, Mr. Henshall?” he called, and De
“I’m all right. How about you?”
“Not feeling too great actually.” Blaine removed one hand slowly and patted his chest with it. “The old ticker isn’t what it used to be. Mind you, whose is?” Blaine smiled, and De
De
“Selina? Good as gold, she is. You know that… you read everything she gets up to.”
“She doesn’t visit as often as she could.”
“What’s the point? I’d rather she stayed away. This place clings to you-ever noticed when you go home at night, the way the smell’s still in your nostrils? Would you want a woman you love coming to a place like this?” He rested his head back down, staring at the ceiling of his cell. “Selina likes nothing better than sitting at home with her puzzles. Magazines full of them. Crosswords… that’s what she likes.”
“Really?” De
“What-d’you-call-thems… acrobatics?”
“She likes acrobatics?” De
Blaine shook his head. “A word like that. Good as gold, she is, you mark my words.”
“I’ll do that.”
“What about you, Mr. Henshall? Been a while since your wife scarpered-any women in your life?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Blaine chuckled. “I’ve never met a man yet who hasn’t had a soft spot for her,” he called out, as De
De
“Mr. De
“That’s right,” De
“Come in, come in.”