He took a long swallow of whisky. “Have you ever lived in a small country town?”
“Fethering’s not very big.”
“No, it’s virtually a village. But it’s on the sea, which somehow makes it different. Lets in some air. Different in a land-locked little country town like Fedborough.”
“I’m sorry,” said Carole, once again demonstrating her lack of people-skills, “but what on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about gossip. Have you any idea how corrosive gossip can be in a place like this? I’m used to it – or I should be. Soon as Virginia and I moved here, we very quickly got used to the idea that we couldn’t clear our throats without everyone knowing. It was a bit of a shock, because we’d come down from London. You can be anonymous in a city. Forget that down here. Whatever we did in Fedborough, we just fed the local piranhas a bit more of ourselves. I heard about my plans for converting the old boatsheds down by the bridge almost before I’d made the decision to do it.
“And, of course, when all that started to go wrong, the gossips were in seventh heaven. What a lot of new scandal Fiona Lister and her coven had to get their teeth into. And then my marriage crumbled – partly because of all the gossip, let me tell you – and they were even more ecstatic. When Virginia walked out on me, they all thought Christmas and their birthdays had come at the same time.”
Gloomily he emptied his whisky glass. “But all that’ll be as nothing to what’s about to happen now.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jude.
“I’ll be shunned. At the moment they think I’m just an old piss-artist…not very admirable, perhaps, but nice and safe. A cautionary tale to bolster the harpies’ rectitude. ‘There but for the grace of God we will never go’ A mess, but a harmless mess. They won’t think that any more. Nobody’ll want to talk to me.”
“Nonsense,” Carole snapped. “Your friend James Lister has invited us to dinner tomorrow night. And he said it was your birthday, and you’d definitely be there too.”
“Did he? Oh yes, I remember. He managed to persuade the lovely Fiona that I would behave myself.” The bleary eyes looked sceptical. “I wonder if my invitation will still stand tomorrow.”
“What’s happening tomorrow?” asked Jude softly. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He tapped his glass sharply on the counter. “Could you give me another of those, please. Lee? Are you two ladies ready for another?”
“No.”
“No, thank you.”
“It’s a mess,” Roddy Hargreaves went on, “a total bloody mess. Drink gets you into it, and drink’s the only way out of it.” He shuddered. “Imagine what life would be like if you were sober all the time, if you had to face the reality without alcohol blurring the edges a bit. Intolerable.” He took a long pull from his whisky glass. “Oblivion’s the only hope.”
“When you talk about drink getting you into a mess…” Jude began cautiously, “are you talking aboutthe time when your wife left you? You said last week that all that period was a blur.”
He focused on her for a moment of stillness. “You’re a very intelligent woman. You’re exactly right. That is the time I’m talking about. That’s the time I can’t remember anything about. But that’s the time they keep asking me about.”
“They’ being the police?” asked Carole.
He nodded, rubbing a large hand over his purple nose. “Yes. I’m a coward, really. I was brought up to believe in honour and bravery and facing up to things. Whatever questions arose in life, the Jesuits had an answer to them. Just a matter of having faith. Faith and character. That’s the kind of school my parents sent me to. But every time my character was put to the test, it proved unequal to the challenge. Same goes for my faith too, I’m afraid. I just always escaped into this.” He looked down at the glass.
“When did Virginia walk out?” Jude asked softly.
Whatever his vagueness about other details, he knew that instantly. “Three and a half years ago. February it was.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.” He seemed near to tears. “She needn’t have gone. I still loved her. We could have made it work…if only I had been there.”
“Where were you?”
He chuckled bitterly. “Drunk. Oh, geographically I was there, but so far as being actually on hand, I…” The sentence petered out. “Everything had gone wrong with the business. I’d had to sell what was left, just the strip of land on the riverbank and the buildings there. Got less than I’d paid for them, and I never saw back anything for the money I’d spent on dredging and…Anyway, that was collapsing, and there were all kinds of practical things I should have been arranging, but I couldn’t face it. The new owner wanted all my stuff out of the boatsheds, so I paid Bob Bracken – the old bloke I’d bought the business from in the first place – to clear them for me, and I…I just escaped…”
“Where to?”
“France. I just couldn’t face this place. Fedborough.” He spoke the name with undisguised distaste. “I couldn’t stand the thought of all those smug bastards sniggering behind their hands at me, so I just got a lift to Newhaven, caught the first available ferry, and got stuck into the duty-free.”
“How long were you away?”
Roddy Hargreaves let out a sigh of uncertainty. “I don’t know, three days, four days. A real bender. A real escapist’s bender.” His head sagged on to his chest. “And when I came back, Virginia had gone.”
“Leaving a note?” asked Jude.
“Leaving nothing, except a big hole in my life.”
“And she hasn’t contacted you since?”
He shook his head wearily. “Why should she? She’d given me enough chances, I’d rejected all of them. I knew what she was telling me. The message got across all right. Actions, as they say, speak louder than words.”
“Are you telling us,” said Carole in her sensible, practical voice, “that the people in Fedborough are suggesting you had something to do with Virginia’s disappearance?”
Roddy laughed, without humour. “Of course they’re suggesting that. And they’re right. I let her down, I let down my faith too. I was an inadequate husband to Virginia, so she disappeared. I caused it all right.”
“But are people in Fedborough saying more than that – that you actually did away with your wife?”
A silence followed Carole’s question. He looked at her for a long moment, apparently having difficulty understanding. Then, choosing the words carefully, as if speaking a foreign language, he said, “It’s very hard to answer questions about something you genuinely can’t remember. We’re talking about a lost weekend here…rather longer than a weekend, in fact. And all I know is that I went to France, and I was blind drunk for some days, and when I came back, Virginia had gone. Not a cast-iron alibi, is it? Happens to be true, but I’ve got no one who can…” He negotiated the word with great care. “…corroborate that for me. So I’ve neatly set everything up for the Fedborough gossips to have a bloody field day.”
He slammed his empty glass down on the counter in frustration. “Lee! Could you fill this up for me, please?”
The young barman looked awkward and mumbled, “Erm, Janet said we shouldn’t serve you any more…”
“Well, thank you very much.” Some alcoholics would have made this the start of a furious tirade, but Roddy Hargreaves wasn’t that kind of drunk. His anger vanquished by upbringing, he spoke the words of thanks with great courtesy, then stumbled off his stool and swayed like a sailor finding his land-legs. “Fortunately I do have alternative supplies at home, so am not entirely dependent on the Coach and Horses’ service policy to maintain my necessary intake.”
He smiled at the squirming barman, turned and gravely touched his forehead to Carole and Jude. “Excuse me, ladies. I hope you understand I have to leave. A great pleasure talking to you.”