“But how’s this for a coincidence, eh? Kevin and Janet Anderson, they’d purchased their wee place just a month ago, since when a cook they’d taken on had walked out over some petty argument or other. So there they were without a chef, and me, Gavin McCann, I was without mah cook’s whites! But no for long.
“Well, I took the job, got mahsel’ installed in The Lookout—a place as wee and quaint as ye could imagine, sittin’ there on a hill—and cooked mah heart out for the pair; because ‘A’ they paid a decent wage and ‘B’ I really liked them. They treated me right and were like family, the Andersons. She was like a little sister, while he…well, I found Kevin much o’ a muchness as I mahsel’ had been as a young man fifteen years earlier. So I could sort o’ watch over her while yet enjoyin’ a wee dram with him frae time tae time. That was before his drinkin’ got a lot more disruptive; which, lookin’ back on it now, didn’t take all that long. No, not long at all.
“Ye see, the fact is he couldn’t face up tae responsibility o’ any kind. Kevin wasn’t a waster as such—he wasn’t a complete good-for-nothin’, ye understand—but simply immature. And when it came tae takin’ charge, makin’ decisions, well, he just couldn’t. Which put a load o’ weight on poor Janet’s wee shoulders. And him feelin’ useless, which I can only suppose he must have, that fuelled the need which only drink could satisfy. And it’s a fact that many alcoholics drink because they’re unhappy. Kevin was unhappy, I’m certain sure o’ that…not with Janet, but with his own weaknesses.
“Now, I’ve told ye how The Lookout was goin’ downhill. That was partly because it had been up for sale, empty for a year or so, and was in need o’ repairs, some sprucin’ up and a touch o’ paint here and there. And bein’ located inland a mile or so, it wasn’t exactly ye’re typical seafront property. Janet’s plan—and ye’ll note I say her plan, because she was the thinker; aye and the doer, too—was tae refurbish the place in the fall and through the winter, when tourism fell off, and get it ready for the spring and summer seasons, when all the grockles—the holidaymakers—would be back in force. O’ course, with bills and a mercifully small mortgage tae be paid, it was still necessary that The Lookout should tick over and stay in the black through that first winter.
“Anyway, I ken now that I was perhaps a bit insensitive tae what was happenin’ with Kevin; but it was Janet hersel’ brought it tae mah attention. She asked me straight out, but in a verra cordial manner, not tae drink so much with Kevin because it was ‘interferin’’ with business. And I finally saw what she meant.
“Kevin sometimes worked the bar: oh aye, servin’ drinks was one of the few things he was good at. In fact he was verra good at it! For every drink I bought in the bar when I was done with mah work in the kitchen, there’d be another ‘on the house’ frae him. And for every free one Kevin served me, he’d serve another tae himsel’. The bar was scarcely makin’ a penny because he was drinkin’ it up as fast as he took it in!
“But though his eyes might glaze and his speech slur a wee, he was rarely anythin’ other than steady as a rock on his feet. That’s the kind o’ drunk he was, aye. Which I suppose makes his passin’ just a might more peculiar. I mean, it was unlike Kevin tae fall, no matter how much he’d put down his neck…But fall he did. Cracked his skull, broke his back, and even crushed his ribs, though how that last came about is anybody’s guess…!”
When McCann paused to sip at his drink I took the opportunity to get a few questions in. “Kevin’s passing? You mean there was as accident: he got drunk, fell and died? My God! But with all those injuries…that must have been some fall, and from one hell of a height!”
“Ye’d think so, would ye no?” McCann cocked his head on one side enquiringly. “But no, not really. No more than nine or ten feet, actually; or maybe thirteen, if ye include the balcony wall.”
The balcony wall? And then, as certain of the Seaview’s hitherto unexplained curiosities—its mysteries—began slotting themselves uneasily into place, suddenly I saw it coming. But to be absolutely certain:
“And what balcony would that be?” I asked, my own voice and question distant in my ears, as if spoken by some other.
“The one on the corner there,” he answered. “The balcony on room number seven, which Janet lets stand empty now, though for no good reason that I can see. A room’s a room, is it no? If we were all tae shun rooms or houses where kith and kin died, why, there’d be nowhere left for us tae live! I mean, a body has tae die somewhere, does he no?”
To which, for a moment or two, I could find no answer…
He had obviously seen the look on my face and sensed the change in me. And: “Ah hah!” he gasped. “But…ye came in today, did ye no? And ye found the place full tae brimmin’, all except room seven. Well, well! And she actually let ye have it, did she? So then, maybe things are lookin’ up after all. And no before time at that.”
While I now understood something of what had happened here, there were still several vague areas. Since McCann had intimate knowledge of the Andersons, however—since he’d known them and worked for them all those years—it seemed more than likely he would be able to fill in the blank spots.
Unfortunately, before I could get anything more out of him, Janet Anderson herself came into the bar-room, smiling and nodding at myself and her chef as she crossed to the bar where one of the Czech girls was serving. The pair spoke briefly over the bar, before Mrs. Anderson headed back our way and paused to have a word with us, or rather with McCann. But:
“Do excuse me,” she spoke to me first. And then to McCann: “Gavin, I know you’re off-duty and I so dislike disturbing you, but would you mind doing up some sandwiches—say nine or ten rounds—for an evening fishing party? I would have asked you earlier, but they’ve only just spoken to me. And of course you may keep the proceeds.”
McCann was up on his feet at once. “No problem at all, mah bonny,” he said. And to me, as he turned to go: “I’m obliged to ye for ye’re company—” with a knowing wink and a finger to his nose, “—But now ye must excuse me.” With which he was gone…
I too had stood up at Janet Anderson’s approach. Now I offered her a seat and asked if she would like something: a soft drink, perhaps? But she shook her head, saying: “It’s kind of you, but there’s always work: things to be done, problems to solve.” And yet, seeming uncertain of herself and of two minds, she continued to hover there, until finally I felt I had to inquire:
“Is there perhaps, er, something…?”
“Oh, no!” She smiled, her hand on my arm, where I sensed a tremor coming through the sleeve of my light jacket. But in another moment the smile left her face, and taking a deep breath, as if suddenly arriving at a decision, she said, “Please do sit down, Mr. Smith.” And as I seated myself she quickly, nervously continued: “You see, I…well, it’s just that I’ve been wondering about…about your room. Room number seven hasn’t had a paying guest for quite a while, and empty rooms often develop a sort of neglected, even unfriendly atmosphere. I mean, what I’m trying to say is: do you find the room comfortable enough? Have you any complaints? Does the room feel, well, right for you?”
“Why, yes!” I replied. “Everything feels just fine!” Which wasn’t exactly true, and I would have preferred to answer: “Why are you asking me such odd questions, Mrs. Anderson? I mean, what else is there about that room—other than what I already know of your troubles—that so concerns you?” But since I did know at least that much, and since it was obvious that she was close to the edge, I was naturally unwilling to risk pushing her over. And anyway, if anything remained to be discovered, I believed I could probably find out about it later from McCann.