Good Morning, Midnight

16

It wasn’t me, it was all down to Pal, you’ve got to understand that. I know it sounds like I’m blaming the guy because he can’t answer back, but it’s true. OK, it takes two to tango, but he got me at a bad time and I thought it would be just a one-off and it was just a fill-in anyway until…

But you want this laid out plain and clear. Like a lesson plan. Right?

OK. Here goes.

When I married Helen, I didn’t know Pal. I knew she had a brother, of course, and there’d been this bother between them, but I’d never laid eyes on him.

Then after we got married, things got better between them, something to do with her wanting to sell Moscow House which belonged to all three of them, her sister too who I didn’t know either. Cressida. She’s a bit weird. Tasty but weird.

Anyway.

After a while I met Pal. I quite liked him. A bit of a smoothie, knew his way around, but he came across as the kind of guy you could have a drink with, not the monster I’d been half expecting. Then I ran into him again at the sports centre. He’d been playing squash with Chak, that’s Dr, sorry, Mr Chakravarty, he’s a consultant, you know, one of them doctors who are too high-powered to call themselves doctor. He’s also greased lightning on the squash court, so I knew that if Pal had been playing with him, he had to be pretty hot stuff himself. He was really pleased to see me and we had a drink and when he suggested we might have a game some time, I said why not?

That’s how our regular Wednesday-night games started. It suited us both. Kay, Helen’s stepmother, always dropped by on Wednesday, so it gave me an excuse to leave them to themselves-they’re as thick as thieves, those two.

Then I turned up one Wednesday and I met Pal in the foyer and he said, “Major cock-up, I’m afraid. They’ve got us double-booked with someone else, and they got here first.”

Well, I was pretty disappointed and I suppose it showed. By contrast he seemed laid back about the business. I suggested we might as well have a drink, he said, thanks but no, when he realized what had happened he’d made other arrangements. Then he looked at me, hesitated, and said, “I don’t know if you’d be interested…” “In what?” I said. He said, “It’s just that I need some sort of exercise and there’s this girl I sometimes see, so I gave her a bell…” “A tart, you mean?” I said, a bit taken aback. “I suppose so,” he said. “But she’s something rather special. Rather choosy. But I know she doesn’t mind doubling up if she likes the look of a guy.”

Now I was just curious to start with. OK, and also a bit randy. Helen had gone funny about sex pretty soon after she got pregnant, and it was getting to the point where the result wasn’t worth all the hassle. I’ve always been used to… I mean, it’s been pretty regular with me… well, you get the picture.

So Pal went off to the car park to see if his woman had turned up. Then he came back in and called to me. I went out and she was sitting in the back seat of his car. She looked a bit like an advert for a vampire movie, very pale with long black hair, but she was certainly a looker. She gave me the once-over, then nodded. Pal opened the back door. I said, “Not in the car park, for God’s sake!” thinking that even though we were in the darkest corner, a steamed-up car rocking around on its springs would soon attract attention from some of the young bucks who use the centre. He said, “Don’t be silly,” and he drove us to Moscow House while Dolores-that was her name-and me started to get acquainted in the back.

Well, she really was something else. I was a bit worried at first that Pal might turn out to be AC/DC and set his sights on me too, but thank God he played it straight hetero, and though you can’t do a threesome without there being some contact with the other fellow, there was never anything kinky in it.

So it became a regular thing on Wednesdays. We’d meet in the centre car park, get into Pal’s car, keep our heads down as we reached the Avenue, enjoy ourselves in Moscow House for an hour or so, then back to the car park and home. No harm done to anyone. It kept me happy and indirectly it kept Helen happy, because I didn’t bother her anymore. Or not much. Giving up altogether might have made her suspicious. But I knew once she had the twins and things got back to normal that that was the end of this fling with Dolores.

I never thought it would end like this.

You can imagine what I felt like that night. Or maybe you can’t. I sat in the car park at the centre waiting for Pal. After a while Dolores got into my car. She said something must have happened. She had her mobile with her and tried ringing Pal’s but it was switched off. Then she tried his shop. No answer. I borrowed her mobile and rang Pal’s home and spoke to his wife, who hadn’t heard from him.

Using Dolores’ mobile was stupid, I see that now. I should have gone into the centre and used the payphone there. But I never dreamt that… Oh, shit.

Finally we drove down the Avenue past Moscow House and started to get really worried when we saw a police car turning into the drive. We came back to the car park and split up. After that, well you know what happened after that. I couldn’t believe it, everything just seemed to be falling apart.

These past couple of days, I’ve just been keeping my head down and hoping nothing would come up that would lead you people to me. Does that sound selfish? I suppose it must in view of what happened to Pal, but he’s out of it now, nothing I can do to help him, is there? Honestly, I knew nothing about what he was planning. He gave no hint. The poor bastard must have had a brainstorm or something. Ask Dolores, she’ll tell you the same. We both just thought it was going to be another straightforward Wednesday-night session.

Look, Mr Dalziel, I’m being completely straight with you. Does any of this have to come out? I’ve been falling apart worrying about what it would do to me and Helen if she found out. Please, Mr Dalziel, I’ll do anything you want me to do if only you’ll help me to keep this from Helen.