Wearing Purple

Chapter 43

‘Sandy Schlitz?’ said Everett, still stunned by my story. I had called him straight away from the airport in St Louis. ‘Sonny Leonard’s married Sandy?’

‘That’s right. We talked to her, and she confirmed that all those calls were to her, or at least that he made that number of calls to her at the CWI office.’

‘In that case, Sonny’s telling the truth,’ he said. ‘I know Sandy from my Triple W days. She always struck me as slightly dumb, but she’s a good girl, and honest too.

‘That’s good work, you two.’ He grunted. ‘Even if it’s not what I wanted to hear. Because you know what it means.’

‘Oh yes,’ I said. ‘It means that you’ve still got a problem.’

Since we didn’t fancy a sightseeing tour of the St Louis soap factory, Prim and I caught the first flight back to Chicago. We were faced with another night in the Windy City, so we made the best of it, with a quick visit to the Adler Planetarium and the Shedd Aquarium in Grant Park, before dinner in a very good Italian restaurant in the heart of the Loop, listening to the rattle of the elevated trains as we ate.

‘You’re still homesick in spite of all this around us, aren’t you?’ Prim said as I said goodbye to my Minestrone starter.

‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘I think I take this with me everywhere I go.’

‘For how long?’

‘All my life, I reckon. It may not show as much but it’ll always be there. Sorry, Prim; I’m lousy company.’

She smiled. ‘But I know you, so that makes it all right. I’d much rather you were like this, than pretending to be the old Oz. All wounds take time to heal: those as bad as yours may take a long time. But I like the man you are now just as much as I liked the old one.’

‘Listen.’ I paused to sip my wine. ‘Once you’ve touched base with your folks, what are you going to do?’

‘Go back to Spain, I suppose, go back to work. For a while at least.’

‘Promise me one thing then. Don’t head off into another war zone without telling me. No one has so many friends that they can afford to lose touch with even one.’

‘I promise.’ She reached over and squeezed my hand. I couldn’t help it, I recoiled; I pulled it back, very slightly, but she couldn’t mistake it. ‘Sorry,’ she said.

God, was I a mess. Feeling guilty, I took both of her hands and squeezed them hard. ‘No, I’m sorry; there I was going on about friendship, too. It’s just that. . How do I put it?. . there are lots of bridges I’ll have to cross, but in my own time.’

We said our goodbyes at O’Hare Airport next morning. Prim’s flight to Glasgow was due off just before mine, so we sat together in International Departures until it was called, then I walked her to the gate. I thought about kissing her goodbye; just a friendly peck on the cheek, but I couldn’t. Too soon, Oz, too soon; maybe never. So I smiled, ruffled her hair, and said, ‘Give me a call from Auchterarder. Say hello to your folks for me.’

My body clock was totally confused, so I tried to keep it ticking all the way back to Manchester, to get it on an even keel, but once or twice I dozed off. The second time. . at least I think it was. . I had the grey dream again, only this time Jan was in our living room standing by our partners’ desk.

I snapped awake, with a very clear picture in my head. It was of Jan, just before I left for Barcelona, the last time I saw her alive. It was still early morning, but she had been working on some papers at the desk, as she had through most of the previous evening. They were strewn all over it. And at the same time, her eyes were shining — the way they always did when she achieved some personal triumph. She had looked so good, I had felt incredibly horny, and had had to force myself towards the door.

As I sat on the plane, coming back to reality, I thought about that moment and wondered just what the hell had happened to those papers.