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CHAPTER TWO

Waiting for Linda

Carl looked into my eyes and began his story. This is what he told me:

Three years ago Linda decided she wanted to have a holiday house by the sea. She said we could go for weekends when we wanted.

I thought it was a good idea to get away from our busy lives in London. Linda started to look for something and after a few months she found this house in East Anglia, in a village called Little Moreton.

You won’t have heard of it. It’s just a few houses by the beach, a pub and a church. That’s all–

I shall never forget the day we got married. Linda looked beautiful and we were so happy. We thought we had everything! Linda was working for a small company in the south east of London and my job was going well. I had to work long hours and sometimes at the weekends

. But it was well-paid and it was interesting work. Linda didn’t seem to mind and anyway she had lots of friends - the flat was always full of Linda’s friends.

In fact, sometimes I had to say to her: ‘Come on, Linda, let’s just have a quiet night tonight.’

‘You’re so boring, Carl,’ she used to say.

You remember what fun she was, don’t you John? She loved being with people. But with my job I had to get to bed early - I was up at six in the morning and on the way to work by seven.

Anyway, we had a good life. We were never short of money and Linda could buy whatever she wanted. For a couple of years we didn’t go on holiday.

So Linda bought this house and started to go down very weekend to get the place ready, to make it look nice and pretty.

I went there when I could, but I was getting busier and busier at work - they were giving me more and more to do, and it was very difficult to say no!

And with a flat in London and a house by the sea we needed the money as well. Sometimes she went to the house with one of her friends. When she came back she always looked healthy and happy.

It was good for her and it was good for me because I could continue with my work. Or I thought it was good for me.

Anyway, when the house was completely ready, Linda wanted me to go down and see how pretty it was looking.

Unfortunately, there was an important meeting in Paris which I had to go to. For the next few weeks Linda was angry with me.

Then, one evening, she didn’t come home from work. She phoned me to say she was staying with her friend, Melissa. ‘Melissa and I are going to the cinema and you’re always working late–’

It was true. I often came home late from work, and brought work home, too. There wasn’t enough time in the day to do everything. Linda didn’t understand how difficult it was for me at work.

But I didn’t understand how unhappy Linda was. She didn’t come home for the next three nights. She phoned each day to say she and Melissa were doing something different.

I was angry, but what could I do? I wanted her to come back so much.

I decided I had to do something. I had to change. I had to stop working so much and spend more time with Linda.

On the Friday morning I phoned Linda at Melissa’s house. It was Melissa who answered.

‘Hi there, Carl. You want to speak to Linda,’ Melissa said.

‘Yes please, Melissa.’

‘You know you should spend more time with your wife. You always put your job first.’ I hadn’t expected this from Melissa. I didn’t reply. Then she gave the phone to Linda.

‘What is it, Carl? I’m in a hurry. I’m late for work already.’ Her voice sounded flat. I was thinking quickly. What could I say that would make her want to come home?

‘Darling, we have to talk. I’m sorry about not seeing much of you. I promise I’m going to change. Look, what about this weekend?

Let’s go to the house by the sea together.’ I hoped so much she would say yes. She didn’t say anything for a minute.

‘OK Carl. If you want to go there, that’s fine.’ I was so happy she had agreed. But then she said, ‘I’m going to the office party this evening. I’ll meet you at the house.’

I wasn’t very happy that she couldn’t come with me immediately. I wanted to tell her on the drive how much I loved her and show her how sorry I was.

I didn’t know then it was already too late, that it was already over.

‘OK, Linda. That’s fine. Will you come down on the train? I’ll meet you at the station. You could ring me at the pub.’ We didn’t have a phone at the house.

‘Fine. OK. See you then,’ she said. We agreed that she would ring the pub and tell me which train she was taking.

For the first time in months I left work early and drove to Little Moreton. On the way I stopped and bought a bottle of champagne. Linda loved champagne. I prefer a good glass of beer, myself, but this was going to be Linda’s weekend.

I arrived at the house in the afternoon. It was late October and starting to get dark. I parked at the side of the bouse.

The ground around the house was wet and I saw that another car had been there. I didn’t like the idea of someone else using my private parking place.

I unlocked the door and went in. I put my bag upstairs in the bedroom and saw that Linda had left clothes and shoes behind. It was like a real home to her, I thought.

I went down to the kitchen and looked out of the window, from there I could see the sea. It was grey, not the blue sea of summer, and the sky was a dirty white colour.

But we would still enjoy a walk by the sea. I went to put the champagne in the fridge. I saw Linda had forgotten to empty it before she left. That was three weeks ago. There was cheese and eggs and a few other things.

I took out two bottles of milk and started to pour them down the sink. I thought they would smell horrible, but they didn’t.

That was a little strange, but I thought that Linda must have come down one day and left them there.

So I made myself a cup of tea and went and sat on the sofa. The house was the same as before. No phone or television.

I liked that. I preferred to be quiet when we weren’t in London. I looked at my watch. It was half past five. Linda was probably on her way to the office party, I thought.

I picked up a newspaper which had been left on the sofa.

I read it for a few minutes. How strange it was to read old news. There was one story that interested me. A woman’s body, or part of it, had been found in the River Deben near Woodbridge.

She had been dead for a few weeks. The story said that she had a lover and the police were looking for him.

I knew where that river was. I’d been there with Linda after shopping in Woodbridge once.

We had gone down to look at the boats. In my mind I could see the body of that poor woman lying in the river.

I stopped thinking about the story. It was making me feel unhappy. I looked at the date on the newspaper. It was yesterday’s.

That was odd. Perhaps Linda had asked someone to look after the house? That would explain why someone had parked a car next to the house, too.

I would ask her, I thought, and then decided it was time to go to the pub and wait for her to phone.

I put on my jacket and drove to the only pub in Little Moreton. The Ancient Mariner pub was an ugly building standing by itself at one end of the village. It wasn’t good weather.

It was cold and there was a strong east wind. I drove slowly and, as I got closer to the pub, it started to rain.

I went inside and saw a fire and people talking and laughing. I felt better immediately.

For some reason the house and the bad weather made me feel strange. I went to the bar and asked the woman for a small whisky with water.

‘You’re not from round here, are you?’ She smiled and gave me my whisky.

‘Yes. Well, I’ve been here before. My wife and I bought a house here some time ago. She comes down here a lot.

In fact she’s going to phone me here tonight. She’s coming down by train and I’m going to pick her up.’

I see. Well, she hasn’t phoned yet. Which house did you say?’ She seemed interested.

It’s on the main road. On the left as you come into the village,’ I explained.

‘Oh, you mean the Parker’s old place? Of course. Does your wife have fair hair?’

‘Yes she does. Long fair hair. You’ve probably seen her.’

‘Yes, I think have. She doesn’t come in here, though. I’m Mary Banks. This is my pub.’

‘How do you do? I’m Carl Anderson.’

‘I’ll let you know when she phones. Now, are you hungry?’ She gave me the menu and I sat at the bar to be near the phone.

I had dinner and a few drinks. Not many. I was driving. I sat waiting by the phone all night but Linda didn’t ring.

Once, when it was nearly eleven, the phone rang. I jumped up to answer it, but it was a man’s voice asking for Mary. I gave her the phone.

I could hear Mary getting quite angry.

‘No, he’s not here,’ she was saying. ‘He hasn’t been in all night. And I haven’t seen your taxi. You should look after that brother of yours.’

She called out to the people in the pub: ‘Anyone seen mad Tom tonight?’ Nobody had seen him and she said this to the man on the phone.

Five minutes later though, a man came into the pub and began asking if anyone wanted a taxi to the station.

He was a large man with a lot of black hair that fell over his eyes. He was rather dirty with what looked like dried blood on his face.

When he came in most people stopped talking but nobody said they wanted a taxi. Mary went up to him and spoke to him quietly.

‘Your brother’s looking for you. He wants his taxi back. You know you shouldn’t be driving that car.’

The man said nothing, then turned round and left. The pub remained quiet for a minute or two until a man on my right said, ‘I see Bill’s letting his mad brother play taxis again.’

‘It’s not right, Tom driving a taxi,’ said Mary. ‘People are not safe with a man like that.’ Then she stopped. She had seen the look on my face.

What’s the matter, Mr Anderson?’

‘Nothing. It’s nothing,’ I replied. But in my head I saw Linda standing on the platform and mad Tom waiting in his taxi outside.