Stephen waves this away.
‘We don’t play today?’ says Bogdan. Maybe they will watch a film instead? Or just tell stories. Bogdan will cook a paella.
‘Not me, old chap,’ says Stephen. ‘Elizabeth’s the chess player round here.’
‘Elizabeth?’
‘I tried chess a few times,’ says Stephen. ‘Never got the hang of it. You play?’
‘Yes, I play,’ says Bogdan.
‘Any good?’ says Stephen.
‘Depends,’ says Bogdan, determined to stop the tears forming. ‘In chess you’re only really ever as good as the person you play against.’
Stephen nods and looks down at the board. Bogdan wonders what he is seeing.
‘Better man than I,’ says Stephen. ‘Devil’s own job, that game.’
Donna walks back in with two mugs of tea. Stephen beams.
‘That’s the stuff, all right,’ says Stephen. ‘Cup of tea. That’s the stuff.’
85
Ron can see the others returning. But they’re in the distance, and their walk back is uphill. They will be a while yet. Joyce has her arm linked with Mike Waghorn’s.
‘The whole truth?’ says Pauline.
‘I think I’m due that,’ says Ron.
‘I think you are too, Ronnie,’ says Pauline. ‘But I don’t want the others to know. I don’t want Mike to know.’
Ron gives a small shrug. Is this where it all ends? On a clifftop high above a wild sea?
‘It was about half ten,’ Pauline begins, barely able to look Ron in the eye. ‘I was getting ready for bed, believe it or not, early start the next day. There’s a ring on the door. I ignore it, nothing good comes at night unless you’ve ordered it. It rings again, and again, and eventually I’m “bugger this” and I look on the entry camera and there she is.’
‘Bethany Waites?’
‘Bethany Waites. I buzz her up and wait for her to knock. In you come, I say, what’s all this about? I could see something was up, else I’d have just sent her packing. She’s wearing a houndstooth jacket and yellow trousers, looked like she’d just picked them up from a jumble sale. No make-up. She sits, and she says, Pauline, I need a favour, and I say, at ten thirty at night, and she tells me to sit down and listen to a story. I say, should I ring Mike, and she says, you can’t ring Mike, I don’t want him to worry.’
‘What was the story?’
‘Bethany says, you gotta believe this, Pauline, someone’s trying to kill me. I’ve got this story they don’t want coming out, I’ve just had this message, threatening me, and you know me, Ronnie, I’ve heard it all in my time, but I don’t know what to believe. But something in her eyes tells me I’m hearing the truth. Close to the truth at least, so I’m like, what can I do? What’s the favour? If I can help, I’ll help.’
‘And what was the favour?’ asks Ron. He can just hear Joyce’s laugh now, the top notes carrying on the wind.
‘She’s going to meet someone, she says. And she needs to look different. She knows I can’t work miracles, but can I make her up, lend her a wig? Change her appearance just enough to fool someone. She had a picture she showed me, and it didn’t look impossible.’
‘So you said yes?’
‘First off, I tried to talk her out of it. If you’re in trouble, go to the police. Not really my style, as you know, but they have their uses sometimes. She says she can’t go to the police, she just needs this one favour, and the whole thing will be over soon enough. She says trust me, I know what I’m doing, and I’ll pay you too.’