Chapter 17 - Jane

Tuesday September 16

Gary did not get back to Upper Grumpsfield until the early hours of Tuesday morning, so discussions about what he been able to achieve in North Wales were left till after breakfast.

Cleo got up early to get Charlie ready for school. Charlie was disappointed that her Daddy had not heard all about her first day, but ran to the bus stop happy that he was home. Cleo hoped he would have time to meet his daughter and the Parsnip boys out of school, but she made no promises. Meanwhile Gary seemed to be sleeping the sleep of the dead, so Cleo had breakfast with PeggySue instead.

***

Tuesday was going to be Jane Barker’s day of reckoning. Dorothy had observed her among the hens once or twice, ostensibly feeding them, but presumably also deciding which one was the fattest and most ready to go. Jane would no doubt leave the rooster until a later date, though it woke the neighbourhood at sunrise every morning.

“Can’t you get that rooster to wake us up later, Jane?” Dorothy shouted through the chicken wire.

“No, unless I hit it over the head with a bottle and then it wouldn’t wake anyone up ever again. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Yes please,” said Dorothy, glad that she would get a chance to talk earnestly to Jane without having to knock on her door.

***

“I’m not sure how to put this, Jane,” Dorothy started, when she had drunk her first cup of rather weak tea and eaten a piece of Jane’s rather stale cake.

“Put what, Dorothy?”

“Well, there’s a rumour going round that you are selling the hens without your husband knowing.”

Jane looked extremely guilty.

“You’ve no idea how awful those hens are,” she said.

“Don’t they lay eggs for your breakfast?”

“I don’t like eggs except in cakes,” said Jane.

“But Jim does, doesn’t he?”

“He can’t eat dozens of eggs a day. He said I could sell some.”

“But you give me eggs, Jane. Why didn’t you say that you want to sell them? I’ll be glad to pay for them.”

“Not you, Dorothy. You’re my friend.”

“And that’s why we have to talk,” said Dorothy.

“What about, Dorothy? Knitting patterns? I have a nice new one for winter jumpers.”

“No. Not winter jumpers. Poultry!”

Jane tittered.

“Whoever heard of knitting poultry, Dorothy?”

“Not knitting them. Discussing them,” said Dorothy, exasperated at Jane’s apparent stupidity.

“But I don’t want to talk about the hens. Hens stink. They make a mess. If I don’t watch out, they even roost on my hat stand.”

“So one by one you are eliminating them, aren’t you?”

“Eliminating? What’s that?”

Was Jane being deliberately stupid?

“Kidnapping them, Jane. Getting rid of them.”

Jane was now wide-eyed, but at least she had understood what Dorothy was getting at.

“Why would I do that?”

“You tell me!”

Jane leant forward conspiratorially.

“Well…Don’t tell anyone, especially Jim, but I have been known to pass one on to someone. Trade in. Barter. Not for money. Well, not usually.”

“Dead or alive, Jane? Are you a hen-murderess?”

“Oh no. I chloroform one and put it in a zipped bag when Jim’s asleep.”

Dorothy was horrified. Where did her neighbour get chloroform from? She could not have dreamt how much criminal energy Jane was able to muster. Jane continued describing what she obviously thought was innocent and justified action.

“If I don’t have anyone to sell a hen to, I let it loose on the common. Hens don’t like being in Jim’s zipped sports bag. They lay the law down once they wake up.”

“Neither would I want to be kept imprisoned in a zipped sports  bag,” said Dorothy, keeping a straight face with difficulty. She was hard put to separate the tragedy befalling those creatures from the comic drama Jane was describing.

“Don’t tell Jim, will you? He doesn’t know how the hens get out. He thinks they go for a walk.  He’s putting up another round of chicken wire this week.”

“I think Jim suspects you, Jane.”

It suddenly dawned on Jane Barker that Dorothy was what she called ‘in league’ with the Hartley Agency. She sat up straight.

“Did Mr Barker tell Miss Hartley that?” said Jane, as wrath overcame her.

“What makes you think that, Jane, and calm down.”

Did Jane have a guilty conscience after all?

“Fancy him going to her and not to me,” she said.

“And just fancy if he goes to the police and has them investigating, Jane. They won’t send a friendly neighbour round to warn you of the consequences.”

“What consequences?”

“He could get you charged with theft, Jane.”

“Mr Barker wouldn’t do that, would he?”

“That depends on how you behave in future.”

“But I’ve promised Mrs Spencer down the road a nice fat hen for Sunday, and Betty is the perfect size for a family.”

“Who’s Betty?”

“Mr Barker gives all the hens names,” Jane explained.

“So I suppose the rooster answers to Romeo,” said Dorothy drily.

“How do you know that,” said Jane, genuinely astonished.

“Guesswork, Jane. And you will have to un-promise Mrs Spencer. She can go to the supermarket and get a frozen chicken.”

“But then Betty will stay here scratching at my furniture and doing messes on the carpet when she gets a chance.”

“It’s your choice. Perhaps we should ask your husband what he thinks.”

Dorothy had a pretty good idea what Jim Barker would think of a confirmation that his wife was disposing of the hens and even making money doing so. Selling eggs was OK because the hens didn’t need them anymore, but selling whole hens was a different matter. Mr Barker needed them to lay his breakfast eggs and the rooster needed them because roosters have to rule the roost and if there are no hens, there’s no roost, and soon there would be no rooster, either.

***

“Disposing of the hens is like killing the goose that lays the golden eggs, Jane,” Dorothy tried to explain, but Jane wasn’t good at adages either.

“We don’t keep geese – nasty creatures – and the hens don’t lay golden eggs.”

Exasperated with Jane’s incomprehension, Dorothy made her neighbour promise not to make off with any more hens, finished her now barely lukewarm tea, and left. She would write a report and email it to Cleo ahead of their next meeting. Cleo would hoot with laughter and say Jane was dumber than the hens. Dorothy hoped that Jane would refrain from absconding with any more of the poor creatures, but since she had left her neighbour struggling with the notion of geese and golden eggs, she could not say if her message had got through. She would do some gardening and if Jane came out – which she would because she always did when she saw her neighbour at work – she would ask her how many hens there were now. If Mr Barker later complained that a hen was missing, Dorothy would double check and react accordingly.

For the time being, a round of Beethoven was overdue. Dorothy was soon banging away at the ‘Appassionata’ on her old baby grand and singing along to some of the lower tunes: Dum-di-da…..

***

As usual when Gloria was baby-sitting on weekday mornings, she took PeggySue out for a walk to the nursery school, left her there for an hour or so and did some shopping while the baby chatted in her own inimitable way to the other babies. Cleo thought it was good introduction to the nursery world where PeggySue would gradually spend more time.

At one year of age you have many ways of communication that includes noises, but usually excludes lucid speech. Gloria was quite glad to go shopping and not least to exchange any gossip going. Cleo could use her baby-free time to catch up on some agency work at home or in the office.

But if Gloria thought Cleo would check her emails during hr baby-free hour after Gary moved in with her, she was mistaken. On that Tuesday Gary was still a bit hung-over from a long day , but when he heard Gloria and PeggySue leaving he wasted no time in coaxing Cleo to join him in his warm bed to hear about the events that had kept him in North Wales much longer than he intended.  

“I thought you were tired and planned to sleep all morning,” Cleo said.

“That was before Gloria went out,” said Gary. “You look a bit shivery, Cleo. I hope you are not coming down with anything.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that. The only thing I’m coming down with is the guy in this bed.”

Gary laughed heartily at Cleo’s unintentional pun. He was not actually sure if it really was unintentional. The Americans had some peculiar turns of phrase, but so did the Brits.

Eventually, the lovers decided it would be too much for Gloria to find them there at lunchtime. Gary took an excruciatingly tunelessly sung shower and Cleo dressed and put the coffee on while she decked the dining table for whatever meal came up next.

“So Angie is in the clear,” Gary announced. “She was working for that agency for the first time and had no idea what they were up to.”

“I’m relieved to hear that. Did Frank Wetherby contact you?”

“Yes. That was curious. He said he was now working for you and would help in any way he could. I asked him what he meant, and he said he would have to talk to you first. You would be meeting on Wednesday.”

“Wow! He is discrete.”

“So he wasn’t making it up.”

“No. I’ll get organized and be in Frint-on-Sea from Wednesday to Thursday. He needs a contract. So far we’ve only talked on the phone.”

“OK. So if I drive up tomorrow afternoon after sorting them all out at HQ, we could have dinner together and… What do you plan to do there apart from meeting Wetherby?”

“I think that depends on what you want me to do. I’ll have to go to that brothel again,” said Cleo. “It’s closed for business, I suppose, but some of the hookers live in and they may know something about the sleaze.”

“You don’t really think they’ll tell you anything, do you?”

“I won’t ask directly, but those women will want to get out of the affair as cleanly as possible, so they might volunteer some information. It’s worth a try, Gary, but maybe I should take a plain clothes policewoman with me, to be on the safe side.”

“I’ll go with that, Cleo. I was planning on Thursday being my last trip there, so we can combine our missions. I need to talk to O’Reilly about Brass so that he can be transferred to Middlethumpton without any hitches. I’ll be glad when life gets back to normal.”

Gloria came in with PeggySue.

“Anyone at home?” she called, then stopped short to see Cleo and Gary obviously still having breakfast.

“What’s normal?” Gloria asked, putting PeggySue into her high chair.

“Life,” said Cleo.

“And love,” said Gloria, seeing that Gary was sitting at the table dressed in only his bath towel.

“Yes, Gloria. Your daughter is a wonderful woman. When do you want to move into my flat?”

“Were you serious?” said Gloria.

“You can choose what furniture you need so we can move things round if you decide to take up my offer,” Gary said. “I suppose I’d better get dressed.”

“Wow!” said Gloria when Gary had gone into the bedroom, “I take everything back about Robert being the ideal husband. Gary is a lovely guy!”

Cleo was not sure if that praise was merely thankfulness for having Gary’s flat at her disposal.

The two women saw to PeggySue’s culinary needs, which included warming a jar of carrot and spinach baby food. PeggySue seemed to be spitting out more than she swallowed, but she was enjoying herself. Cleo was not sure if it was a game or a serious dislike of spinach. She tried the concoction and was forced to agree that she would have spat it out, too.

“I’ll give her mashed potatoes and gravy when I’ve done the cooking,” said Cleo, wishing silently that Robert was there to do it.

“We’ll move your stuff at the weekend, if that’s OK with you, Gloria,” said Gary, returning, still wrapped in his bath towel. “I assume you want to take up my offer so put these keys in your handbag now.”

“Sure. It’s a great idea. Thanks a million,” enthused Gloria, looking at Gary with more than just a hint of appreciation. “And Gary, you never need to dress for me. I was young once.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Cleo for taking me on.”

“Dressed and undressed, I suppose you mean,” said Gloria coyly.

Gloria could be quite embarrassing at times.

“Shut up and drink your coffee, Mother,” said Cleo.

“I need some lunch, Cleo. I have to be at the shop by two.”

“So you are still working there, are you?” said Gary.

“Sure. I can’t leave Bobby in the lurch – and I need the money.”

“I should have waited before moving in, shouldn’t I?” said Gary, addressing Gloria. “I have a guilty conscience about that.”

“Young man, if you go on making my daughter happy, you’ve done the right thing. I’ve never seen Cleo look so… well, so over the moon. She’s a different woman!”

“Don’t exaggerate, Mother!”

“I’m not exaggerating. Anyway, Bobby has not been honest with you recently. I heard him make phone-calls I wasn’t supposed to hear.”

“Are you referring to Rita, Mother? If so, I already know. She’s arriving tomorrow evening.”

“I think that’s why the guy moved out, Cleo.”

“No mother, you’re wrong. I more or less told him that I was in love with Gary. That’s when he must have decided to leave.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” said Gloria. “Do you know how long he has been in contact with his first wife?”

“No, but Dorothy hinted that my ex has been playing a double game with me.”

“Can we end this dialogue, Ladies?” said Gary, standing up and holding on to his bath-towel with as much dignity as he could muster. “I don’t want to hear about Rita, but if she will take him on, that will be a load off Cleo’s mind. I came here because Cleo needed me, Gloria, and I’m staying because we love each other and want to be together. We are both absolutely amazed at what has happened between us.”

“Even after two or more years, Gary?” Gloria could not help saying, revealing that she had had her suspicions.

“Yes, Gloria, especially after all that time.”

Cleo went to Gary and put her arms round his waist, letting her kimono open so that they were skin on skin. Cleo hoped her mother had not seen that. PeggySue screeched and banged her spoon on her high chair. Gloria apologised for interfering. The lovers parted and Cleo hastily fastened her kimono.

“Come and join in the big hug, Gloria,” Gary invited, and Gloria joined in, wondering at the way the guy had also changed. If any two people were meant for one another, it was Gary and Cleo.

“I’m happy for you guys,” said Gloria. “You are simply awesome! You have my blessing! Now can I have something to eat?”

After a scratch lunch consisting of anything she could find in the fridge, Gloria announced that she would make sure they had a good supply of meat in future before leaving for the shop.

“See you tomorrow, guys,” she said, and as a parting surprise “I have a date tonight.”

“Who with?” Cleo shouted, but Gloria had already left.

“Ten minutes for a quick nap?” said Gary, wondering if Romano had finally taken the initiative. He had quite obviously been fascinated by Gloria, and she was the right age, too.

“PeggySue comes first,” said Cleo. “I’ll put her to bed. She needs her sleep. Look how her eyelids are drooping.”

“Well, five minutes then.”

The ten minutes did get extended to at least half an hour, but eventually Gary dragged himself to his office at HQ, promising that he would collect the kids from school and be home for tea.

***

Left to her own devices, Cleo simply could not believe that it was possible to be so in harmony with life. There was simply no comparison between him and Robert. Gary was passionate and intense and woke in her something almost uncontrollable, but he felt the same. They led one another on, Cleo supposed. Not that it was a problem and Cleo wanted to share this feeling with the whole world.

Dorothy had signalled to Cleo that it was OK for her just to carry on the way her heart sent her; Edithfriend had had enough emotional quandaries of her own without chewing over Cleo’s, so even after Gary had moved into the cottage it would seem like gloating if Cleo were to tell Edith just a fraction of how she felt about the guy. As for her friend Delilah. Cleo knew she thought Gary was a dish. Delilah now declared openly that she was going to marry Mitch, her assistant and bed-fellow, even if he was ten years younger. Delilah suspected Gary of being a great lover and loyal friend to Cleo. It was unusual to have both in the same person. That’s why she loved Mitch.

***

Once the girls were asleep, Cleo and Gary could relax for a while and listen to the classical symphonies that Cleo could only enjoy on her own when Robert lived at the cottage. Gary theorized that it was not just lack of culture and appropriate education, but the lack of a long enough concentration span that was his problem.

“No, Gary. He just does not like anything that gets him out of his comfort zone.”

“Well, he can stay in it from now om. Gloria will move out at the weekend and he can re-inhabit his bachelor- butcher flat. I wonder if Rita will want to move in?”

“I’m not taking bets on that,” said Cleo.

“How about a bet now, or do I mean a bed?”