Only One Phone Call Allowed

                                   ONLY ONE PHONE CALL ALLOWED

Ridley drove me into Northamptonshire. It was the empty heart of England he told me, which is just what they had been looking for. We were heading for Towcester, an attractive enough little one-street town on the A5- not that I was looking for architectural gems or modish coffee houses. Because that wasn’t what an inner South London fella looked for, and beside that I wouldn’t be seeing them anyway.

The place had been a hotel once but had reverted to some kind of normality that no-one would give a second look at. I’d be staying put for several weeks with only a book and a television for company. I wasn’t to use computers, and the simple mobile phone he’d given me was just to ring one number- his. There were no apps on it, no programs at all as I far as I could see. Too dangerous, my sort were getting clever at using the things, and I’d left behind my own people. Maybe forever. No phone calls, not even to my wife. Especially to my wife from what Ridley had been telling me.

No trips down the High Street either. No shops, betting or otherwise, no pubs, none of those modish coffee houses I mentioned, not sure why, not my scene, I guess I was just putting on an attitude. There wasn’t much else to do after all. The only people in my life for the moment would be a couple of women who’d supply me with necessities, food particularly. And Ridley who’d be at the end of that one phone number.

So there we were in a plainish room with a couple of pictures of birds on the wall. It was ensuite but there was no bath where I could have wiled away some of the time. One of the women was there, a plain type who wasn’t going to be much fun either I reckoned. No names were exchanged, hardly necessary I suppose if she was going to be the only person in my life, and the other on her day off.

“Go on then”, Ridley said “Start a conversation”

“What about? I don’t know anything about her”.

“Have you forgotten already?”

I had as it happens. All that Boy Scout sort of stuff. I forgot to mention it to you too.

“King Suppiluliuma had a sense of humour”

“A joke a minute he was”, she replied

Not a joke a second or an hour or anything else or I’d been on the phone to Ridley as soon as I could. If he hadn’t been there with me that is. And honestly, what joker made that one up. Some high-flying graduate entrant I guess.

“He said I’m a Hittie, and the rest of you are shite.”

“Their empire was in old Anatolia”, she replied. She didn’t even smile.

Ridley left and she gave me a few house rules leaving out of course the time I needed to vacate. That was in the hand of the Bailey listings officers. And she never offered me her name.

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She gave me breakfast the first morning but told me I’d be supplied with food from then on. The breakfast room was in fact a kitchen. It had no windows.

“Any preferences, for food?”

“Caviar and chips”.

“Any allergies”

“People who don’t smile. They bring me out in a rash.”

Nothing more happened for a few days. I skipped the Crown Court re-runs on afternoon goggle and settled, in the absence of Sky, to some snooker and one night, a small treat, caught Get Carter on Film 4. Maurice Mickelwhite, love that geezer.

I didn’t bother to get up too early but one morning there was a loud banging on the door. Brigit (as I thought of her) was nowhere to be found. Best to ignore it. But he just went on banging louder. I heard him shout out.

“Parcel for Mrs Gregory”.

I armed my self with a knife from the kitchen (not much good if he had a shooter I know) and carefully approached the front door, I looked through a side window below the piece of stained glass. A postie in uniform. I took a chance. Just exchanging words with somebody would be a relief. So I opened the door.

“Who are you?”

“Just staying here a few days.”

“Friend of hers are you”

“No. But I’ll take the parcel in”

“It’s got to be signed for”

“OK”

So I signed it. M. Micklewhite.

“Funny sort of name”

“Thanks.”

I’d kinda forgotten my fear during that exchange, but when he went I treated myself to a big sigh of relief.

                                               ****************************

Then things began to brighten up. The other woman took over. She was so different. She was younger, looser. I felt at home with her immediately. She seemed to care about me. She was concerned I was shaping up as well as could be expected.

“Want a ciggie?”

“Yeah, Ta.”

She took two out of a packet and lit them both. She handed one to me.

“How long have you got to stay here?”

“Dunno. Depends on the court”

“Ah. One of them.”

I nodded.

“Bugger isn’t it”

“Sure is”

“Hey how about us cooking dinner together tonight?”

I was surprised I can tell you,

“OK thanks. I’m not much of a cook, me”

“Shall we do a ruby?”

That certainly made me feel at home.

She was fun. We had quite a laugh down in that underground kitchen.  She opened a bottle of wine. Red it was. Casillero del Diablo. Seemed appropriate.

She left quite late.

                                               ***************************

She came back the following day, I was so pleased. I couldn’t have taken the other one after her.

“I could do with a pint”

She really had loosened me up.

“Well we could go out for one”

“Is that allowed”

“No of course not. But fuck ‘em.”

Her casual prettiness and her words matched up in a way. Sort of girl-next-door feel to her. It’s good to have a girl as a mate. The life I’d led, and there weren’t half some idiots in it, me included, had drawn me a bit late  to that conclusion.

“OK” I said. “Let’s do it”

                                               ******************************

“I’m entitled to know. I’m his next of kin”

“Your Mum is.”

“She can’t wait for the divorce to go through.”

Ridley nodded.

“Am I some sort of suspect?”

There was a long pause, and slightly uncomfortable it was.

“Look, lad. I’ll give it you straight. I don’t know what went on”

“It’s obvious. They got to him.”

“Did they? Or did he do a bunk?”

“No I don’t think so.”

“We’ve been through this. He wasn’t safe anywhere. He could have pulled a flanker, or maybe somebody got the drop on him.”

“Look. His account ended with that invitation for a pint right.”

“Well OK. Funny set-up. He left some narrative of his time there in a place where his son could find it.”

“He was worried. He wanted to keep me in the loop”

“Maybe it’s in code.

“It’s not in code. It means what it says. And nothing had happened. Not up to then. Now be straight with me. These women he talked about.”

“I can’t go into that. Their identities have to be protected.”

The lad breathed hard. This was all getting to him.

“I need to know about them”

“No”

“My solicitor needs to know about them”

“Maybe, Get him to ring me.”

“You see one possible scenario…”

“I got to go lad. Your brief. OK.”

And Ridley left.

The young man swore and poured himself a big whisky. The television was on with the sound down. There was a picture of a lake. He saw no reason to turn the volume up. If he had he would have heard the following:-

“The woman found at the bottom of Coniston Water on Monday has been identified as Madeleine Gregory from Northamptonshire.”