Taffin on Balance Read online

  ‘Time to make a call.’ Ed fishes in his overall pocket for his phone. ‘Someone’s messing with the Boss.’

  ‘I HATE TO BE the bearer of bad news, but I felt I should be the one to tell you.’ Gordon Glennan shifts his weight deliberately to make the floorboards creak. ‘This building isn’t safe, so we have no choice but to close it up pending extensive renovation, which will mean gutting it first.’

  ‘What d’you mean we?’ Debi Royce faces him across the bookshop’s ground floor counter. ‘Who else is involved in this farce? You’ve been wanting to shut us down for ages and now you’ve found a way that sounds official. I’d like to know who we is. It’s pathetic...’

  ‘It’s a local authority matter...’

  ‘You’re an MP – you’re also the owner.’

  ‘Not technically –’ Glennan tries his knowing smile – ‘but I am legally responsible for health and safety where the public is concerned.’

  ‘How do people like you get into power?’ Lorna Moorcroft has stayed out of the conversation so far and now surprises herself. ‘Does this shop mean anything to you? I doubt it. I’ve never seen you browsing the shelves in here, never mind buying a book.’

  ‘I regret this as much as you do...’ Glennan makes a helpless gesture. Unexpected fury on the faces of two middle-aged women has him at a loss.

  ‘Bollocks.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ He is not sure which of these prim ladies said it, but senses it’s time to wrap up the conversation. ‘Let’s not be too downcast. Perhaps the business can find a new home. All I can tell you for certain is that public safety comes first, so the bookshop can’t trade from these premises any longer.’

  Debi Royce comes out from behind the counter and stares him in the face, close up.

  ‘You know what makes me sick? People put their trust in the likes of you. Most of the time you can hide behind your inflated egos and delusions of public service, but now and again you show yourselves for what you really are – greedy, self-serving windbags, with an extra dose of smugness that comes from a privileged education.’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel like that...’

  ‘And while I have your attention, you’re running the StarTrack fiasco, aren’t you? What’s happening there – which way’s it going? You’re not thinking of running high speed rail through Lasherham, I hope. These things had better not be connected.’

  ‘Mrs Royce – Debi...’

  ‘Make that Mrs Royce, you were right first time.’

  ‘Mrs Royce, we’re straying off the subject and I can’t discuss...’

  ‘Don’t smirk at me – you’re killing an irreplaceable facility, putting us out of business and for all I know flattening the whole area as well. You’re going to regret this, Mister Glennan. There are better men than you who know how to look after us everyday, ordinary people. Don’t ask me how I know, but you can bet on it. Now get out.’

  Glennan leaves without a word, having to force his way past Harry Hawkins and two others, who couldn’t have helped overhearing Debi’s tirade.

  TEN

  PIERRE IS READY, in principle, to support any cause he considers worthy of protest, but he is not used to being organized. His sister tries it from time to time, but not with the level of conviction he is experiencing now.

  He has just arrived, as requested, at a house overlooking Lasherham, and introduced himself to the occupant. The house is a barn conversion, the kind of rural hideaway that appeals to people who didn’t grow up in the country, and is clearly work in progress. There is no furniture other than a workbench, a trestle table, a couple of kitchen chairs and two camp beds pushed together. The interior smells of plaster and fresh wood shavings.

  Pierre recognizes the slim, dark lady who let him in as Tessa’s good friend, but has only just connected her with the large, quietly-spoken man who nearly gave him a seizure on the path from Chalkpit Wood.

  Charlotte looks him over. ‘You need to relax. Love.’

  ‘I’m cool, but I’d like to know what’s going on.’

  ‘That’s what my ol’ man’s trying to find out. He’s one of your sister’s clients, you know – big fella with not much to say.’

  ‘I know him. Mister Taffin. My sister reckons he’s the bloke they made a film about some time ago – quite a local celebrity.’

  ‘That’s what they say.’

  ‘What does he want my old camper van for?’

  ‘He wants to tidy it up a bit for a job – and it ain’t your van, love.’

  ‘So what’s this job he wants me to do? “Time to make myself useful”, he said. What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘He probably thinks you’re a bit of a waste of space, love. Your sister thinks so, and she talks to him a lot while she’s torturing his knotted muscles.’

  ‘Well, here I am.’ Pierre makes a wide-arm gesture and props himself against the trestle table, which promptly folds up under his weight.

  Charlotte helps him to his feet, flicking wood shavings from his jacket. Pierre regains his composure.

  ‘Like I said, I’m here, wasting space. What do you want me to do, and whatever it is, why me?’

  ‘My ol’ man reckons you’re about right for an unusual sort of job that’s coming up.’

  ‘So I’m in demand, all of a sudden.’

  ‘The job’s going to mean spending time by yourself, mostly at night, but that’s fine because you’re happy with your own company, aren’t you, and you don’t mind being out at all hours. I talk to your sister as well, you know.’

  ‘Well, that’s tough. I’m not available right now.’ Pierre dusts himself down. ‘It so happens I’ve just taken a life-changing decision to get qualified for something.’

  ‘Oh, what are you going to do?’

  ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

  ‘You’ve taken a life-changing decision but you haven’t worked out what it is yet.’

  ‘I’m thinking it through.’

  ‘That’s alright, love – you’ll have plenty of time to think about it while you’re doing this little job for us. My ol’ man’s a very good employer. He doesn’t expect anybody to work for free.’

  Charlotte stands back and looks him over, then crosses the room and comes back with a heavy rucksack.

  ‘This is for you. It’s full of interesting toys, so settle yourself down and I’ll tell you what you’re going to do with them.’

  ‘That’s if I agree to whatever it is.’

  ‘You will, love. You’ll have the camper van back for this job, too, all done up and running sweetly, so that should cheer you up. Life just goes on getting better and better, doesn’t it?’

  ‘HE SHUT US DOWN.’ Debi Royce moves through the Friday evening crush in the White Lion and accepts Mostyn’s offered bar stool next to Ivy Lewis. ‘That’s Lorna and me on the scrapheap. He wanted to pay us up to the end of the week, cheap scumbag – we had to push him for a month in lieu of notice.’

  ‘Where on Earth did you acquire a word like... scumbag?’ Perry Butt chomps on loose dentures and studies his empty glass.

  ‘I read a lot – and it’s the only repeatable word that comes to mind.’

  ‘You should’ve heard the mouthful she gave him.’ Harry Hawkins signals Meg for refills, accidentally including Butt’s glass. ‘I caught the tail end of it. The little creep couldn’t get out the door fast enough. There’s your classic Member of Parliament, I thought – public servant, my arse. Proud of you, girl.’

  Debi takes a moment to relish the compliment, then turns to Ivy Lewis. ‘I thought we were going to get some help from that mate of yours – Mister Taffin.’

  ‘I told you, he’s retired. Me and Harry went to see him and he turned us down flat.’

  ‘Yes, but he came in the shop after that and said something like, people
with brains never retire. Very – what’s the word? – enigmatic, our Mister Taffin.’

  ‘Maybe he’s away.’ Meg pauses in the act of mopping the bar. ‘We usually see him once or twice a week, but not lately.’

  ‘The garage is all locked up.’ Harry Hawkins tries to catch Meg’s eye a second time. ‘I passed by there today – no sign of anybody. Ashley, where’s that mate of yours disappeared to?’

  Ashley Gunn has just walked in and the question catches him off balance. ‘Who’s disappeared?’

  ‘Your mate Taffin.’

  ‘I don’t know. Ask Mo – he’s right behind me.’

  Mo Taffin is stooping through the doorway and now looks up to see every face in the room turned to him. He has never been comfortable as the center of attention and the idea of making a public pronouncement strikes him dumb. Ashley Gunn rescues him.

  ‘They want to know what’s happened to that brother of yours.’

  ‘Don’t know.’ Mo’s massive, shy shrug.

  ‘That’s right,’ Ashley continues. ‘I’ve seen Charlotte and she doesn’t know either. Looks like the lad’s gone walkabout for a while.’

  ‘He don’t go walkabout.’ Mo’s pumpkin face is clearly troubled. ‘I know when there’s something people ain’t telling me.’

  Ashley Gunn, friend and ally of the Taffin family, says nothing.

  A long moment passes before Ivy Lewis raises a triumphant finger. ‘I’ll bet I know –’ she challenges them all with a look – ‘he’s gone off to figure out some way to deal with Glennan.’

  ‘The heart-warming thing is, you really believe it.’ Perry Butt’s plume of white hair rises like a battle standard. ‘I love you dearly, Ivy. You are indeed Marion to Robin Hood, who is at this very moment holed up in Sherwood Forest devising a plan to rescue us all from oppression, confound the tyrannical Sherriff, save the bookshop and deliver us from the abominable StarTrack, all in one brilliant, courageous stroke. That’s a pink gin please, Meg.’

  ‘You miserable old cynic.’ Ashley Gunn pushes Butt’s empty glass in Meg’s direction. ‘How d’you know Ivy’s not right? Maybe that’s just what he’s up to. Think about it – all he’s got to do is get Glennan dancing to his tune. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s surprised us.’

  ‘THAT’S THE NEW ROUTE, IS IT?’ Janice Glennan leans over her husband’s shoulder.

  Glennan folds up the map he was studying. ‘It’s a viable alternative. We’re looking at it.’

  ‘Oh, come on –’ Janice takes the map from him and flattens it out on his desk – ‘you can’t flash something like that under my nose and expect me not to take an interest.’

  ‘I didn’t flash it under your nose and why would you assume there’s a new route anyway? That sort of information is supposed to be confidential.’

  ‘It won’t be confidential when the work starts, will it?’ She peers hard at the map. ‘Is that black line the new route? Bloody hell, you’re joking – it goes straight through Lasherham.’

  ‘Not through – under.’

  ‘A tunnel?’

  ‘That’s right. This proposal goes underground into the hillside just outside Stoleworth and comes to the surface... here.’ He stabs a finger at a green area.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Don’t worry, it misses the village by about two hundred meters.’

  ‘That’s the field beside the old bookshop.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘I hope you’re going to declare an interest.’

  ‘I’ve already done so. If anything, being involved with the property shows my commitment to the StarTrack project without regard for my own interests.’

  ‘Very noble.’

  ‘If this turns out to be the preferred route, no one can accuse me of Not-In-My-Back-Yard.’

  ‘What a servant of the people you are.’

  ‘A little uxorial support wouldn’t go amiss, Janice. This is the fourth proposed alternative. There’s no guarantee it’ll be the final one.’

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’ Janice Glennan takes another look at the map and straightens up. ‘I’m out tonight, by the way. There’s food in the fridge or you might want to go to The King’s Arms.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Do I ever ask where you’re going?’ She pauses in the doorway. ‘When I do, you can ask me.’

  Gordon Glennan sits at his desk staring at nothing, listening to his wife moving about upstairs, hears drawers and cupboards opening and closing, imagines her at her dressing table, wonders what’s going through her mind while she makes herself ready for whatever her night may hold.

  He is still there an hour later when she closes the front door on her way out.

  THE TOLLGATE BOOKSHOP presents a dark frontage tonight. No lights; no sign of life. Charlotte parks the Jeep on the opposite side of the street, close to the trees.

  In the back seat, Pierre gathers his kit – a bulging rucksack and a second bundle almost twice the size – and opens the door.

  ‘Not yet.’ Charlotte has caught a glimpse of lights in the wing mirror; headlights approaching. ‘I’ll tell you when it’s clear.’

  A Volvo whisks by, close and fast. Charlotte waits until the tail-lights have disappeared.

  ‘Why are people in such a hurry?’ Pierre grumbles. ‘A second later, that car would’ve taken the door off.’

  ‘That’s why I said to wait, love. Now, have you got everything?’

  ‘I have everything: sleeping bag, thermos, toolkit and all the electronic wizardry I’ve spent my life trying to avoid. I could be charged with breaking and entering just for being in possession of this lot, so you’d better hope nobody comes snooping around.’

  ‘No one’s going to come snooping, love. And if they do, you’re here to record birdsong, the dawn chorus, all the nocturnal sounds of nature. You look like the kind of weirdo who’d do that, so don’t fret.’

  ‘Thanks. Now all I’ve got to do is remember what plugs into what and how to turn it all on.’

  ‘You’ll be alright, love. You managed it back at the house.’

  ‘Yeah, that was in daylight, with the instructions. Inanimate objects don’t like me.’

  ‘They love you. Now get going. ‘The camper van’s parked in a secluded corner of the field behind the bookshop. It’s your home for the next few days.’

  Pierre struggles out of the Jeep, hefts his kit and sets off across the road. Charlotte watches him force his way through a gap in the hedge and melt into the shadows behind the bookshop.

  At the same time, a mile away, a speeding Volvo heads into the night. Janice Glennan drives with her window open, relishing the rush of air. Hardly any traffic this evening. She wonders, idly, what the couple in the parked Jeep were up to. It’s always a pleasure to witness other people’s clandestine pleasures, if only briefly.

  ELEVEN

  AT DAWN, lace-black trees cut hard edges on a flint silver sky with a glow beyond, as warm as frost can get. Ed Pentecost has found that a mug of coffee can be made to last from first glimmer to full sunrise. This has become a daily ritual.

  When the first long shadows reach out across the yard to the barn he walks over and hauls the doors open, revealing four partially restored cars under tarpaulins. They have achieved a lot in two weeks.

  The Hudson is next. Rick has dubbed this monster ‘The Whale’ for its curvaceous lines and the fact that it measures just over 17 feet from front to back. They left it uncovered last night ready for an early start this morning.

  Ed runs a hand over the front wing where the paint has faded to a dull moss green. This massive body will call for a marathon clean up job and they can’t think about that until the guts have been restored to running order. Rick’s conclusion last night was that suspension parts were
going to be the problem; they would probably end up making components and rebuilding the whole assembly from scratch.

  Finally they would get to the interior. Ed opens the left hand driver’s door releasing the dust of ages from threadbare cloth upholstery. The huge, bone-white steering wheel presents the Hudson badge at its center, with the chrome horn ring around it. The rear seats are in deep shadow; Ed leans in for a look, then peers more intently and freezes.

  ‘You’re up early, Ed.’ The voice is just above a whisper.

  Ed takes a moment to focus on the dark shape in the back. The rear door creaks open and Taffin steps out, flipping dust from his jacket.

  Ed shrugs. ‘You know me. Crack of dawn, every day.’

  ‘Interesting place, this.’ Taffin wanders among the tarpaulins. ‘They’ve got stuff here I’ve never seen.’

  ‘But no 1938 Cord.’ Ed watches him. ‘We don’t think it was ever here.’

  ‘I agree, that was bait. The question is, who wants me here and why? Who else is around, Ed, apart from the four of you?’

  ‘We’ve only seen McDermott to talk to. There’s a geezer who turns up with him now and again but he keeps his distance – a surveyor, McDermott says. And there’s the old fella who lives in the main house, but he never comes down here.’

  ‘So how do you know about him?’

  ‘Me and Julia had a look around the house when McDermott wasn’t here. Nice fella, very polite – Old School, don’t y’know? Are you going to stick around?’

  ‘I won’t be far away.’

  ‘Fair enough –’ Ed makes no attempt to hide his relief – ‘so who’s minding the shop back home?’

  ‘Muscle Motors is closed for refurbishment. Charlotte will let the specialist press know when we’re back in business.’

  ‘Can’t happen soon enough. Rick wants to string Eric McDermott up from one of them beams. So do the girls.’

  ‘I’m asking you all to be patient a while longer.’ Taffin casts an eye over the exotic collection of cars. ‘One more thing, Ed. Have you seen any paperwork for this lot – logbooks, service sheets, registration?’