‘What sort of letter, Marjorie?’ Christine Lambert found herself dropping into a role she had never expected, that of comforter and counsellor to this formidable but now clearly shaken woman.
‘You’ll probably tell me not to be such a fool and to stop over-reacting and go away and get on with my life. Which would be a comfort really.’ Marjorie tried a self-deprecating laugh and found herself disturbingly close to tears.
It was her friend who did the smiling. ‘Perhaps if you told me what was in the letter it would help us both.’
‘Sorry! I’m not usually like this. Well, I’ve had a note threatening me with violence. Threatening to kill me, in fact.’
‘Good heavens! Have you brought it with you?’
‘No. I shredded it and threw it away. I was determined not to take it seriously, so I treated it with contempt.’
‘And now you think you were rather too hasty.’
Marjorie looked as uncomfortable as she felt. ‘I don’t know what I feel, and I’m not used to that. Bloody stupid, I suppose. I just thought I’d like to discuss it with someone. You drew the short straw, I’m afraid.’
‘I shall take that as a compliment. I’m afraid I haven’t met your husband. Does he know about this?’
‘No. We — we haven’t been very close, over the last year. I suppose I thought James would just say that it served me right for getting myself so heavily involved with local affairs. He doesn’t approve of that.’
Christine wanted to tell her that they weren’t old friends, weren’t even close enough to be talking like this. Her only contact with Marjorie was through a committee, and though she’d quickly come to like and respect her, she didn’t want to begin exchanging secrets with her. She said awkwardly, ‘I don’t want to pry into your private life, but shouldn’t you have discussed this with your husband before anyone else?’
Marjorie didn’t answer her directly. She said slowly, ‘I suppose like many people who’ve led a busy public life, I’ve never developed much of a private one. I haven’t got close friends. To tell you the truth, I haven’t in the past felt any great need for them. I didn’t show the thing to James because he wouldn’t have been any use to me.’
Christine suddenly felt very sorry for this woman, who normally exuded confidence and certainty. Twenty years ago, when John and she had been far apart, she had sometimes felt that he too would be no use to her in a personal crisis. It was the children who had drawn them together as the years passed. John had always been good with the girls, had sometimes been able to see things she had not seen for herself. Marjorie Dooks had no children. Christine said, ‘When did this message arrive?’
‘The day before yesterday. I’d been to a council meeting. It was delivered whilst there was no one in the house. James was home from work before I came in. He brought it into the house but it was addressed to me. I opened it on my own and didn’t tell him what was in it.’
‘But didn’t he ask you about it?’
‘No. I think he’s forgotten all about it. He’s very much concerned with his own affairs.’
It was a brisk, bleak summary of the event and of her own and her husband’s reactions. Once she had been asked to deliver facts, she was almost back in her normal efficient mode.
Christine wondered if Marjorie suspected that it might have been her husband who had perpetrated this strange thing. As she did not know her very well and him not at all, she had no idea whether this was altogether too fanciful an idea. She felt herself being drawn further into something she did not wish to be her concern as she said reluctantly, ‘What exactly did this letter say?’
Marjorie smiled wanly. ‘Not much. It was short and melodramatic. It said that I should resign from the literature festival committee unless I wished to be killed. It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it, when you hear it stated baldly like that?’
‘It does. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t like to receive anything like that.’
‘That’s something I had at the back of my mind. You haven’t received anything like this yourself?’
‘No. I expect you’d feel better if I had.’
‘I suppose I would, if I’m honest. It would feel less personal and I would feel in less danger if I felt some lunatic was firing notes off at all and sundry. Sorry about that.’
Christine said firmly, ‘Don’t be. I’m sure anyone would feel like that. The question is, what are we going to do about it?’ It felt very strange that this normally assured and confident woman should be depending now on her for guidance.
Marjorie felt an enormous relief in just having spoken about it, in having confessed her fear and vulnerability to another human being. ‘I shouldn’t have shredded it, should I?’
‘Probably not. But it’s no use our worrying about that now.’
Marjorie found the simple fact that she’d said ‘us’ rather than ‘you’ massively comforting. ‘I expect I was just trying to convince myself that it was a trivial thing, not something serious. What do you think I should do now?’
Christine frowned. ‘I think we’ve got to let the police know about it. It’s probably just a trivial, silly prank, as you thought it was when you shredded the letter, but it should be treated as serious until we know the facts.’
She expected an argument. It was evidence of how shaken her visitor was that she said only, ‘I don’t think you should bother your husband with this. It’s way below his level. And it would expose me to him as a silly woman, who can’t even be sensible enough to retain the evidence.’
‘John isn’t stupid. What he’d see is a competent woman suddenly exposed to an anonymous and alarming threat to her life, to a level of malice she’s never had to contend with before. That’s a frightening situation for anyone.’
‘All the same, I wouldn’t want to be seen to be receiving special treatment. If you think this has to be reported, I’d prefer to go through the proper channels, in that phrase beloved of Civil Service mandarins. I think I should just go into the police station at Oldford and tell them what’s happened. If that means I deal with PC Plod, then so be it.’
‘I’m no expert on police procedures, but I think this would be a CID matter. I take your point that you don’t want special treatment. However, I think you should report it as you suggest without further delay.’
Christine went out to the car with Marjorie. The daffodils were over, and she picked a few dead flower heads off them as her friend reversed out of the drive. Perhaps she hoped the resumption of dull everyday tasks could convince her departing visitor that the abnormal was really quite normal. She decided that she would have a quiet word with John about this tonight, despite Marjorie’s understandable reservations.
She did not know that her decision would be overtaken by other events.
‘I’ve got the stuff you wanted.’ Sam Hilton was surprised how breathy and dramatic he sounded, when he had meant to be businesslike and impersonal. You needed to be more relaxed and in control, when you were selling.
‘I told you not to ring me at work.’
The voice was younger and more nervous on the phone than the man he remembered. That gave Sam confidence. ‘You also told me not to ring you at home. I had to let you know somehow that the goods had arrived.’
‘You could have sent a message to my computer at home. I gave you the e-mail address.’
‘I don’t put things in writing. Rule of the game, Paul.’
‘All right. I’ll meet you at the usual spot. The place where I ordered the stuff. After work tonight. Six fifteen.’
You didn’t let the punters dictate the terms. ‘No. The back room at The White Hart. And make it nine thirty. I don’t care to operate in daylight.’
‘All right. And — and I might be able to take more coke, next time.’
‘Got friends who want the best, have you?’ Sam smiled at the phone, taking his time, relishing the feeling of power this gave him. ‘Good idea to get a little circle organized. Put ten per cent on my price, you can end up getting your own stuff for nothing.’ This was the way you built up a dealer network and increased your sales, but he wasn’t going to tell the young solicitor that. Let him get in deeper, let him do your work for you. ‘I can supply all you need, and you know the quality’s right.’