Jane, plainly
PROLOGUE
Dearest Jane,
I will begin by apologising profusely for what is, after all, an inexcusable invasion of your privacy. Ferreting out your address on the online directory and sending you an entirely unsolicited letter is rather invasive and I admit to it freely.
But you see, I have been prey to a very maddening feeling since I got out of your car last Friday. It is maddening because it involves uncertainty. Whenever I am in such an uncertain position, my preference is invariably to move to certainty, whether that certainty is positive or negative.
This is my uncertainty. I feel that by getting out of your car without saying anything besides 'thank you' and 'goodbye', I had not said nearly enough. Perhaps I should have said, 'That bottle of white wine I mentioned I was opening tonight . . . would you like to share it?' Or 'what have you got planned for tonight?' Anything would have been better than just 'thank you' and 'goodbye'.
But I wasn't to that point yet, or I was too distracted by other thoughts, or just too rushed in a short car ride to do things smoothly.
Not that this is smooth, but it is clear. At least I hope so. I would like so much to see you again, to share that white wine and maybe more. And as we are not sure to cross paths again soon, I am sending this letter to try to bridge that space.
Of course, I am hoping that you will send the answer 'Yes, please, I would like to see you.' But I know that you may not feel the same, and so the letter form is a chance for you to keep me at a distance. If this offer strikes no chord in you, then simply do not answer it. I will find that a certainty of its own.
Either way, do not doubt that I was (am) sincere.
Much love and tenderness,
Mercy
Jane felt a numb panic as she understood the essence of the letter. What had I done to lead her on? How had I made such a mistake? She could remember nothing. But she was sure that somehow this was her fault.
She was careful to destroy the letter so that Callum could not find it. She was certainly not going to talk about it to anyone, just in case she made them think the wrong thing. And she was of course not going to answer it at all.
But she could not help having it in her mind, especially on returning to work the next day. The young girl who had taken Mercy's place in that temp job was sitting at the available desk already when Jane arrived. Jane had always found her a little quiet compared to Mercy, who had always been ready with a quip, a piece of what used to be called "wit", or an unusual turn to a comment or action. Today Jane found it quite a relief to have this silent, efficient temp. Well, fairly efficient.
Jane could not escape admitting that Mercy had been the most effective of the string of temps that her Council office had been recruiting. She was a bit older than most of them, though, and had already had solid work experience, which could explain the difference. Mercy had mentioned that she had left her last job because she had to leave London behind; she had moved north to try her chances and was willing to temp until the right job came. Perhaps she had found that permanent post in another Council service very suitable.
Jane tried to push away the discomfort that she suddenly felt at realising how little Mercy had in fact said about herself.
I
The office was closing up a bit early, as the Lord Mayor was giving his yearly Holiday Aperitif at the Town Hall that evening. The colleagues had decided to meet at the German Market before going on to the hall, so as to have a meeting point away from the crowd of city employees coming in from all the different services and to visit an attraction that they had less of a chance to see than those working in the more centrally-located offices. Most of the colleagues were going without their various partners, as some thing or another had detained them. Callum had been obliged to go to London; his business often asked him to travel at short notice. Jane suddenly realised as she looked for colleagues among the stalls at the market that Callum had never yet come to one of these Aperitifs, Cocktail Hours, or other names that the successive Lord Mayors gave to their end-of-year do's. In fact, he never made any of the events that were opened up to employees' invited guests. Jane wondered at this without feeling overly concerned; she admitted that she was usually silently relieved when Callum would refuse or cancel his participation. Somehow she did not want to bring him with her to these public celebrations.
Not that she was ashamed of Callum. He was tall - almost a prerequisite, since Jane herself was 5'9" - and still slim in his approaching middle age, greying slightly more rapidly than her, but graciously. He was amiable without exuberance, fitting in well with new groups of people and rarely if ever intent on putting himself forward in them. But Jane somehow felt that people may begin to ask about their couple, and she disliked such prying, as she considered it. Others would probably call it curiosity or friendliness, but she still didn't like it. She was not ashamed, she had nothing to hide in their life, but she would refuse to tell what her favourite colour was if she felt it was irrelevant for someone to ask.
No, she was not ashamed. So what if we're not the cinema couple, and if we live well together without having to be together so obsessively? If it suits us both, why not?
These thoughts were interrupted as she spotted Jenny and Stuart near the handicrafts stall.
* * * *
The Hall was designed in an interesting way, with an open, oval-shaped central area circled completely by a balcony walk. Along the wall behind the balcony railing were rooms, some of them left open to the openness of that upper space, some of them walled off as offices. It was from that upper area that the Lord Mayor would usually give a short welcoming speech, and after that many of the guests would walk along it in order to see and be seen. The various tables of hors d'oeuvres and wine bars were along the walls underneath the balcony, with spaces between the tables so that people could move off into the smaller rooms that also radiated off on the ground level, usually larger than their upper neighbours and often leading into one another or into farther-off rooms. The four doors leading into the hall had wide foyers and stairs, and had been fitted with inner doors to keep the cold from billowing into the main room.
As Janita came in, she was surprised to be greeted with the words "at last, I've found you again!" She turned to her left and saw Mercy smiling at her, champagne glass in hand.
"Hallo, Mercy, it's good to see you again. Y'all right?"
"Doing well enough, thank you. And you?"
"Not too bad. Still waiting for that PA job, though."
"Well, we all know the celerity and alacrity of the public service."
"You haven't much to complain about on that score, I hear."
"No, that's true, but that was the luck of the draw. The Council came up with a job that fit me like a glove and hired me before they realised it."
"Well, I guess they do now, with the awards you've got for the service."
"Yes, somehow I'm allowed to exercise my celerity and alacrity in spite of working in a council post. Is your service showing en masse tonight?"
"We're expecting quite a few, yes."
* * * *
Jenny, Stuart and Jane found Peg and Ian on the way through the market, and the five of them entered the hall together. Jane was mentioning a minor office matter to Jenny - she somehow never could find matter for conversation with her colleagues - when suddenly she heard her name called loudly and roughly.
"Jane!"
She turned towards the sound, which had come from nearer the centre of the hall, and first saw people rushing to one side or the other. Then she saw a young blond man who seemed to be standing there where the sound had originated. He was lowering at her. Interposed between his stare and hers was a pistol held in two hands.
The emptiness widened around him. No one in the crowd dared intervene. Both Jenny and Jane stood stock still.
"Okay, you bitch. I've got you at last. You can't keep refusing when you're dead."
Mercy and Janita were to the man's left. Mercy gave her glass to Janita and said, quietly and quickly, "Get these people away from this part of the room." She then went quietly up to the gunman, who was still spitting invectives at Jane and oblivious to the movements of any other guests.
Mercy tapped him on the shoulder, and he started and swivelled. He tried to turn the gun on her, but she was too close to him.
"It's not your lookout."
"Whether it is or not, it's a dilemma. If you try and shoot Jane, I'll have you. If you try and shoot me, Jane will come at you. You do know she's a black belt, don't you?"
He hesitated between keeping Jane in his sights and getting rid of this intruder. Then he tried to back away from Mercy; she took him firmly but not roughly by the opening of his leather jacket.
"Just get back, will you?"
"No. That is not the point. You are supposed to be seeking a solution. Although I doubt there is one."
He tried to bring the pistol round to point it at Mercy's head, but had to raise the barrel because of her closeness. Mercy wrapped her fingers round the barrel and tipped it vertically.
"Gerroff me gun!"
"No, I think that you should let it go."
"Gerroff!"
"I really feel that you should let go."
"Gimme it back!"
He made a gesture as if to free one hand to strike her, but Mercy was quicker. With two abrupt risings of her knee, she brought him to pull the trigger and sink to his knees. The shot dislodged some plaster.
"I told you it was better for you to let go." Mercy took the pistol from his now nerveless hand and slid it across the floor to the nearest lookers-on, then laid the gunman on his stomach and sat on him to keep him from trying to rise. "Is someone going to come help hold this bugger still, or do I have to do everything myself?" Finally, there was movement in the crowd, and some of the men came forward to hold down the somewhat shuddering form. Others were on their mobile phones calling for assistance, all at the same time. Still others came forward to try and find words to congratulate, or even to express their unbelief at the whole incident. Mercy got free of them long enough to see Jenny and Ian raising Jane from the floor and guiding her into a side room.
Mercy stayed in the main room until the police arrived and gave them her version of the events. Then she went to see where Jane was. She found her two rooms off, sitting with her head between her knees and her hands tightly clasped behind her head. Jenny and Ian were sitting on either side of her, but Jenny made a gesture to Ian as soon as Mercy came in and they rose and walked forward. As they passed Mercy Jenny made several gestures to her which seemed to say, "go on, we'll leave you two to talk it out, we're amazed, we can't begin to put it in words, go to her". Then they were gone.
Jane had been far away in her confused thoughts, but then noticed that the pair of legs on her right was gone and that the pair on her left had changed from grey to purple. She sat up cautiously and saw Mercy looking calm but concerned next to her, sitting with one arm along the back of her chair, then gave one small choking sob and loosely put one arm around her.
Mercy let her remain that way, tense and shivering, until she seemed to relax a little. Then she opened the conversation.
"My, don't you have an admirer."
Jane started, sat up and looked at her. "But I don't even know him. I don't know who he is."
"Well, you must have made some impression somehow, somewhere."
"I honestly don't know."
"No matter. The police will find that out. Are you feeling better?"
"I don't know how I feel. I still can't believe you did that."
"What I can't believe is that Western society has become such a herd of cattle that one man with a gun can hold off an entire roomful without even taking notice of them. Any one person can stop a gunman if he confuses him, and several can stop him if they gang up. But what do they do? They all stand round terrified. Afraid of the slightest little hurt."
"You're not hurt, though?"
"I have one ear that will probably keep ringing the changes until the real ones come, but that should clear up. It reminds me of a firecracker that someone threw at me one Guy Fawkes Night. Multiplied, but the same idea."
"You still shouldn't have done it."
"So I guess you should have been shot, then? I don't like that idea at all." After a pause, she said, "I certainly would have preferred a different way of saying hello to you tonight."
After a pause on her side, Jane replied, "I hadn't thought that you would be here tonight, but I should have. I wouldn't have come if I had remembered."
"Which would have given everyone the usual banal year-end event to forget. But I wish you didn't feel such a need to avoid me. I must have shown by now how harmless I am. It's been three months since I sent that letter."
Jane gave no answer to that, but her lowered face reddened.
"But we can leave that aside for now. Do you feel stable enough to get home, or would you rather someone drove you?"
"I don't know. I'm almost afraid to go home. I'm not sure I want to be alone all night."
"Well, unless you have a legion of such admirers, tonight will probably be your safest night. But if you didn't go home, where would you go?"
"No idea. I guess I will do. I'll just watch late-night television until I feel like I could sleep."
"Alright. But let me leave you my phone number. You can call me if you need moral support."
Another pause ensued while Mercy wrote the number on a cocktail napkin. Then Jane said, "I'm sorry. I haven't even really thanked you."
"But you have, in a way. You didn't run away screaming when I sat down."
Jane reddened again. "I'm sorry. You were brilliant."
Mercy shook her head. "Clear-headed."
After a moment, Jane felt that she could stand and walk steadily enough. Mercy stayed with her until they came to the doorway, where Jenny and Ian were still waiting, then left her in their solicitous care.
II
A few days later, Mercy arrived home with the groceries, the newspaper and a high fury. She was even a bit less caressing than usual when Pearl ran up to her and rubbed against her shin. I can't believe they let him go. What the deuce do they think is going to happen? Do they want a murder?
She was halfway through the article about "the gunman of the Lord Mayor's Aperitif, who has not been named by the police" (and they're protecting him!) when her phone rang. It was Jane.
"I really don't understand this at all. None of it. How could they let him go, especially after what he said?"
"What who said?"
"That nutter. Haven't you seen the papers?"
"Yes, I bought one, but I haven't got all the way through it yet. What did he say?"
Jane paused, then said, "He claimed . . . he claimed he did it for Callum. That he's Callum's lover, and he was doing it so I'd let Callum go."
"Sorry, Jane, who's Callum?"
"My husband."
Mercy was struck dumb for a moment. Then she choked back the tinges of jealousy.
"What does Callum say about that?"
After another pause, Jane said, "I don't know. He hasn't called me since he left for London. I haven't heard from him at all."
"Is that normal for him?"
"Well, we don't usually bother to keep in touch while he's away on business. But he usually knows how long he'll be away. He didn't say it would be this long."
"Have you called his boss?"
"N-no. I didn't want to bother him."
"But at least he hasn't called to look for Callum. So he must see the absence as normal."
"But I wish Callum would call, or come back now. I really don't like being home alone while that loony is out."
"Doesn't he have a cell phone?"
"He left it here by mistake."
"Do you have anyone else who could stay with you, or anyone you could stay with?"
"My family's all in Somerset, and I don't like asking friends or colleagues, I don't want to be a bother."
"Jane, why is it a bother to feel protected? Anybody would understand that you feel uncomfortable." Mercy stopped herself short of saying, especially since, if the guy does know Callum, he might know your house.
"I think I should come over. It's better that you have a little company, and someone to talk this through with. Is that alright?"
After a hesitation, Jane said, "Maybe you should."
* * * *
Mercy found her way to Jane's in spite of the impossible bus system, and knocked and called out to let her know who it was. Jane opened the door just enough to let Mercy through, then closed it again quickly.
Mercy did not like what she saw. Jane was looking nervous, which was understandable, but her eyes had a strange expression in them. The look was not only haunted, but somehow culpable.
They went into the large, open kitchen, and Mercy sat down at the table while Jane made tea. Once Jane had sat down next to her, Mercy began with her usual direct, no-beating-about-the-bush style.
"Do you believe this about Callum?"
"I don't know."
"Is there anything that could make you think it was true - something in his behaviour, a scent on his clothes, this kind of absence?"
"A scent on his clothes? Ugh." Jane shuddered.
"I was thinking of after-shave, Jane."
Jane reddened. "Sorry."
"Anyway, I'm looking for anything that would seem to point to it. Mind, I'm not saying it's true. I know how gay people can make things up. Sometimes they are so wishful in their thinking that they make realities out of their fantasies."
"I don't think I want to know about what gay people do."
Mercy paused, then said, "I know you don't, but if it helps sort all this out, isn't it better to think it through?"
Jane made a gesture of despair.
"What's there to 'think'? It's all my fault, it's as simple as that."
Mercy was not quite sure she wanted the talk to go down that road. "How do you reckon that?"
"I'm . . . not the model wife," Jane said, staring into her teacup.
Mercy sighed, glancing around the spotless kitchen. "Jane, a man doesn't turn to men because he's got a complaint about his wife. He gets a mistress, 'the other woman'. So even if what you say is true, which I doubt, it doesn't explain the situation."
"No, but Callum could," Jane replied agitatedly. She had never felt so much the need to cling to him.
They both jumped as they heard a key turn in the front door. Jane felt anticipatory relief, expecting to see Callum, and turned round to see. Mercy suddenly felt out of place.
The front door opened abruptly; the blond stepped in, closed the door and locked it from the inside.
Mercy was instantly on her feet. Jane started but did not have the time to get up before he was in the kitchen. He had no gun this time, but a knife.
"Why do you keep supposing that you can go round . . ." said Mercy, moving towards him.
"No!" Jane shouted, panic-stricken, and gripped Mercy's arm to keep her from going too close to him.
"Look, I've said what I want, to her and to the police. Now it's her turn to say what I want."
"But what?" asked Mercy.
"She's got to divorce Callum."
"Jane," Mercy asked cautiously, "has Callum asked for a divorce?"
"No," said Jane, her voice muffled by Mercy's sleeve.
"He told me he did," responded the aggressive young blond suspiciously.
"If you've been hounding him about it, he would have said yes just to get you off his back." Mercy felt Jane cringe at the expression.
"I'm not havin' you makin' your comments about our relationship."
"But aren't you making yours about theirs, and pretty noisy ones too?"
"I'm in this situation. How're you in it besides bein' a bossy bitch?"
"Never mind that for the moment. Do you think that Jane will give up Callum now that you've made such a spectacle of her and the whole question?"
"If you remember, I'm not givin'er the choice. That's what I'm after now." He lifted the knife.
Mercy felt a need to buy time.
"Could you at least put us in the picture a little more? How long have you and Callum been together?"
"We've never been 'together', that's the point. If you mean when we met, it was in the summer. In Blackpool."
"Callum in Blackpool!" Jane murmured.
"It's 'cause of him that I left Blackpool, left me job, kick round here since then. He's said he'd set us up, we can work together at our own business. Only he can't do that while she's wid 'im," he continued, gesturing casually with the knife.
"But do you realise that you almost guaranteed that you wouldn't be wid 'im? If they'd kept you in prison, your dream life with Callum would have been ended. But . . ." A sudden idea came to Mercy. "But don't you see how this could work out, if you approach it differently, now? You get Callum . . . and I get her."
Mercy gripped Jane's shoulder with her free hand, praying inwardly: please, Jane, follow my lead, let me try this ploy.
"Wot's been stoppin' you?" the blond asked, dubious.
"Nothing's been stopping me any more than you. But, obviously, the marriage . . . "
"But if the marriage is a sham . . ."
"If it's a sham, it's because they felt they had to live that way. If they've been afraid of what others would think, you're making them panic ten times more with your blabbing it out to everyone. If you had done it all more quietly we'd have less of a problem now."
Mercy could feel a slight relaxation of Jane's grip. She was following the ploy.
"I don't think you're together."
"What am I doing here, then?"
"You're just a friend."
"But I was with her at the do."
"You came in separately."
"We planned to meet there."
He hesitated, then said, "This is all puff."
"Why would it be puff? And what is it you want, proof of our relationship or her divorce from Callum?"
"Give her a kiss then."
"I'm not going to kiss Jane just because - "
"Yes!" Jane exclaimed, and looked up.
Mercy looked down at Jane, who was wild-eyed but steady.
"Would it make you feel better?" Mercy asked gently.
"It would, yes."
Mercy tried, as she knelt down, to show Jane that she understood, and would not make it more difficult than it would be. She had already acted in plays before, and knew how to give stage kisses, but wondered if Jane would know about or understand the technique. She saw that the aggressor was not moving, so she was able to place herself so that the back of Jane's head was turned towards him. When she was on her knees, her face was hidden for a moment, and she gave one hard look at Jane, who gave a slight nod back. She was ready. Mercy forced herself to close her eyes - she wanted terribly to keep her gaze on the blond, but was afraid that he would find that incongruous - and, holding Jane's head between her hands, placed her mouth against Jane's. Jane put her hands on Mercy's arms, and seemed to accept the gesture calmly.
"Awright, awright. Stop before the place starts stinking of fish," the blond grumbled.
Mercy stopped and looked round Jane and up at him. "Suppose we don't want to stop?"
"I'm not interested in your snogging. I want a solution to my problem, and that's not it."
"No, that's true." Mercy stood up, leaving one of her hands in one of Jane's. "But obviously, to have the solution you need to have the key player here, don't you? After all, if Callum were here, we could talk it all through."
The young man suddenly seemed hesitant.
"Yeah, well, that's why I come out here. Where've you chased him off to?"
"We haven't chased him off. He left before you started this thing, and for all we know it's because you've made the news with it that he hasn't come back. He probably wants to avoid the publicity."
The blond suddenly looked angrily surprised.
"What do you mean, left? He's not here?"
"No, I just told you, he's been away since before this started."
"Where is he then?"
"You're supposedly so together that you'll kill to have him, and you don't know?"
The blond gave no answer. He was clearly thinking about this information, and getting more angry as he thought.
"When'd he go?"
"Thursday," Jane answered without turning to him.
"And where?"
"London," Jane responded.
"At least, that's what he said," added Mercy.
The blond suddenly ran to the door, unlocked it in one quick gesture and disappeared.
Too late Mercy realised their mistake. She shook Jane, who had let her head down onto the table, and said, "Quick! We have to stop him! He's probably on his way to kill Callum!"
"Callum!" Jane shot up abruptly and turned to run out of the house. Mercy grabbed her by the arms and held her back.
"Jane, you can't go running after the man. You don't know which way he's gone, and if he spots you before you do him, he'll get you instead."
"Tell me what to do," Jane spluttered.
"Call the police, first. He's probably heading for the train station. Then we may want to leave here, since he knows the way here. Would you be comfortable coming to my place? There's a spare bedroom, if you end up staying."
Two policemen came and took all of the information that the two women could give out. They dismissed their complaints about the man's release by saying, "It wasn't us." They agreed that Jane should leave and took down Mercy's telephone number. Then Jane packed a few things and they left, still taking the bus in case the blond could recognise Jane's car.
III
When they arrived Pearl slunk wide-eyed behind her favourite sofa, as she always did when unknown people came into the house. It was past teatime, so Mercy offered a light meal of toasties and salad. Neither of the women felt hungry, but both recognised the necessity to try and eat something. They spoke little during the meal, taken on the dining table in the lounge.
Afterwards, they sat at table a little longer with their coffee. Jane said hesitatingly, "I've been wanting to ask you a question."
Mercy hesitated, then said, "What you had done to 'mislead' me?"
"Well, no . . . although I had wondered when I got your letter."
Mercy smiled slightly. "I've had that question before, and I'm always surprised at it. As if being oneself were not enough to attract someone."
"It was about how you knew I was a black belt."
"Oh, that? What I said to that vermin at the Aperitif? I didn't; that was something of a bluff. But I remember you mentioning your work with children learning Aikido, and I thought you must have some kind of dan."
"Yeah, I do. But when did I mention that?"
"One day, when a rather good-sized group of us were sitting in the lunch room."
"And I was talking about that?"
"No. You never did, though. It was Anna who was asking questions, and you were giving those short, shy answers that you gave whenever you were made to talk about yourself."
"But you remembered it."
"Oh, yes. And the short, shy answering technique. And you seem like someone who must do a good bit of sport. You look quite fit."
"I've always liked sport." After a pause, Jane added, "My mother's grief."
"Grief?"
"Always upset she didn't have a more 'girlish' girl. Always arguments when I went out to play lacrosse."
"Hoydenish, were you?"
"Not much, but just the sport. And not liking frilly dresses. No point in them."
"Why no point?"
"I was well-named. Plain Jane."
"But you're not plain. You're quite striking. You define the term 'fine, strapping woman' perfectly."
Jane reddened and looked away.
"I'm sorry," Mercy said sincerely. "That came out a little more enthusiastically than you would like." Mercy leaned her elbows on the table. "Jane, I'm sorry if this bothers you, but it's important that I say it, I think. You are safe here. With me, I mean. I would never do anything that you didn't want me to. I hate that kind of behaviour. There is no pleasure in that, let alone joy. Your feelings are far too important."
"My feelings!" Jane replied, biting the word.
"But they are, please believe me."
"That's a laugh!" The culpability that Mercy had seen before in Jane's face had crept back in.
"Don't you believe me?"
Jane burst out, "Don't I know what a joke it is? What a joke everything is? Callum caring so little about my feelings he hasn't even called, you caring so much you need to make promises, and me not . . . not wanting to know what they are!"
Jane put her head down on her arms and sobbed.
"What do you mean?" Mercy asked quietly.
Between breaths, Jane gasped out, "I'm saying . . . that I married Callum . . . to hide my feelings."
"Your feelings?"
"For women."
Mercy had to fight back the joy in order to concentrate on helping Jane. She leaned closer to her, trying to find soothing, encouraging, neutral words; suddenly Jane hooked her arm around Mercy's neck, and Mercy had to lift herself half off her chair to meet the gesture without discomfort to her cervicals. She hovered a moment, in a sitting position without a chair under her, waiting for Jane's quiet sobs to calm down.
After a moment, Jane raised her head and brought both hands to her face, pressing the heels against her eyes. Mercy pulled her chair closer and sat back down.
"You prefer women?"
Jane nodded.
"But you've never actually done anything?"
Jane shook her head.
"Never dared to, or never felt like it?"
"Both, most of the time," Jane responded after a pause, then wiped her face with her hands. "Been married twenty years so that I could forget about that, except things didn't work with Callum. Stayed married because he seemed not to mind. And now all this changes everything." She blew her nose. "It's like what you were saying to that bloke at my place, I think. I think we're married to each other because we're both scared, and we're scared because we're both . . . gay."
"And 'all this' has made you face that. It may explain the blond. And why Callum hasn't called."
"He could have bloody well told me he was seeing someone, at least," Jane rapped out.
"But, like you said, he was scared."
"But not too scared to go looking for boys."
"Too scared to admit it." Mercy paused and said, "Like you, but in a different way."
Jane laid her forehead back on her hands and heaved a sigh. "I don't know what to do," she said in a half-whisper.
"For now, come over to the sofa. You'll be more comfortable than on these wooden chairs, and you can lean back and breathe a little." She brought Jane over to a second sofa, different from the one that Pearl was hiding behind, in the hope of giving the cat some peace of mind.
Jane leaned her elbow on the arm of the sofa and pressed her knuckles against her lips. She began to feel more clear-headed. "I really wish Callum were here. We really need to talk."
"What do you think you'd say to each other?"
"I'd get an apology out of him, that's for sure." Jane paused a moment. "Then a divorce, I reckon." She was silent again. "Then he could go off with his bloke where he likes."
"And . . . what would you do?"
"Move house. Explain to my family. Then . . . I don't know." She suddenly turned to Mercy. "What do you think?"
"I think you know what I think."
"That I should . . . 'be myself', as they say?" Jane looked down.
"Yes."
"Do I know who that is?"
"Not yet, but I'm sure you'll find out."
"I . . . I think I'd need . . . a little help with that. A lot of help, even." She turned frightened by insistent eyes on Mercy.
"Of course, any help I can give," Mercy replied readily.
"Lots of help."
"Whatever you need."
"You."
"Yes, I'll help."
"No. You."
Mercy visibly started as she realised what Jane meant.
"Jane, are you sure of this? Don't you want to give yourself some time?"
"I'm sure I need someone. Maybe not for . . . much at first, but for . . . holding me together. For holding me," she concluded, more firmly.
Mercy paused, then said, "OK. I'll hold you, if you like."
Jane nodded. Mercy slipped an arm around her shoulders, and Jane slid down to put her head on Mercy's shoulder.
"Is this alright?" Mercy whispered.
Jane nodded again, then gave out a nervous laugh. "You know, you don't kiss all that well."
"I haven't yet given you a real kiss."
"Ah. . . . Show me . . ."
This time, it was a real kiss, and Mercy tenderly put all her feeling into it.
Jane pulled her head back, trying to catch her breath. "You don't use your tongue?"
"I consider that a high art, and most people are very inept at it. So I start out without it at first."
"Oh. Show me what you mean?"
Before Mercy could respond, there was a knock at the door. Both women jumped.
"Who's there?" Mercy asked.
"Police. Come to see how you're farin'"
Mercy was immediately suspicious. The police had said that they would call if they had news. She put her finger to her lips, got up quietly and waved Jane over into the stairway. Then she stood next to the door and leaned forward in front of it.
"Could you slip your ID card through the letter slot, please?"
There was a pause, then the slot clinked, and a pistol barrel came through. Two shots were fired. Mercy gave a groan and thumped down as loudly as she could onto the floor. The women heard footsteps running away.
Mercy got up and went straight to her telephone. Jane came down the stairs and slumped onto the sofa.
* * * *
The police arrived some time afterwards and asked the women about anything that they had been able to see. Then they gave their information.
"We've been in touch with our colleagues who were looking for the culprit. They've been searching at the train station, but he hasn't been there. Now we know why. I don't know how he found you two; he must be good at sneaking round. We'll have to take you into safe custody until we find him. We have a safe house in another part of the town. We'll find a way of getting you there without him tracking us. You'd better pack some things."
"Jane's done that already, and she hasn't had a chance to unpack yet. We were eating and talking. I'll go and get some things for myself. But what do I do about my cat?"
Mercy turned to the sofa, then froze. The bullets had left holes in the cushions. Out from under the sofa a dark stain was creeping.
Wide-eyed, Mercy moved to the sofa and pulled it away from the wall. Pearl lay stretched on her side, eyes and mouth wide open, paws stretched away from her. A bullet wound in her side had stopped bleeding, and the blood that had flowed had slowly seeped along the carpet.
Mercy stood riveted and speechless. After a moment of hesitation, the policemen began to act.
"Here, let me take that out of your sight, you don't want to see that. And I'm sorry, but since we need the bullet, we'll need to take the cat with us."
The other officer joined in. "Do you have any kitchen roll, carpet cleaner?"
Mercy looked numbly at them. "Under the kitchen sink," she murmured.
While the officers dealt with the situation, one taking the cat to the car and the other cleaning the carpet, Jane led Mercy over to the other sofa and sat her down, turning her away from the sight of the blood, then sat next to her. Mercy submitted limply. Jane took both her hands and tried to look in her eyes, which were wandering but without focusing on anything. After a moment, Jane said, "I'm so sorry, Mercy. She seemed a sweet cat."
Mercy did not answer.
"But since we have to go, let's go do your packing, and we can talk about this once we're at the safe house."
Mercy nodded, and they stood up and went upstairs. In the bedroom, Mercy sat down on the bed and mutely showed Jane where her bags were and what to put in them, as Jane asked questions and searched in the drawers and the wardrobe. When Jane had finished, she sat down next to Mercy, who whispered, "I'll kill him."
"Mercy, isn't there enough of an idea of killing already?"
"My cat."
"Wait until we get to the house, and we'll talk. Can you do that?"
Mercy looked directly at her for the first time since discovering Pearl. Jane then understood the grief that she was feeling. Mercy gave a curt nod and stood up.
When they went downstairs, they found a team of experts finishing their examination of the room. They had taken samples of the gunpowder sprays on the door and dusted it for fingerprints, and had found the other bullet embedded in the sofa cushion.
The officer who had taken Pearl came up to Mercy. "We're ready to take you now, please come quickly."
As Jane moved to go with Mercy, the officer said, "Sorry, but we're taking you separately. There's more security that way."
Jane began a spirited protest, but the officer who had cleaned the carpet said, "There's not time to talk, we need to get you out of here quickly." Mercy waved to Jane to show her that they were right, gave her keys to the officer who was staying with Jane, grabbed her coat from the chair and went out the door with the first officer.
IV
Jane stayed in the house about a quarter of an hour after Mercy had gone. She spent that time sitting tensely on the intact sofa. For part of the time she attempted to acquire a clear head about her situation, but for the rest of it she could only think of one fact. She had just admitted to something immeasurably huge.
She suddenly imagined the blond outside the house, peeking through the blinds or even somehow simply knowing that Jane had just kissed Mercy. The thought put her in a terrible state of panic; his knowing seemed to be the most horrible thing of all.
She also began to look askance at the police officer, who sat at the table. What did he know? What did he suspect? She felt sure that he was managing adeptly to hide his imaginings. She dared not meet his eye, but could not stop observing him for signs of smugness, titillation or disgust.
At the end of the quarter-hour a car pulled up at the house. There was a knock at the door; the officer stepped up to it and asked for identification. The murmured response apparently satisfied him; he turned to Jane and said, "Let's go, then." Jane put on her coat, picked up her bag and followed him. She found on the doorstep an ununiformed woman with her back turned to the door, looking in both directions along the row of terraced houses. The woman said, "Quickly, please," and they both went down the steps and through the area to the car. The woman opened the back door and said, as Jane moved past her, "Lie down on the seat. We don't want you visible."
Jane tossed her bag on the floor and curled up on her side on the seat. The woman closed the door, took her place and waved to the officer before rolling slowly away from the kerb.
The drive seemed long to Jane, and in her unanchored position she could feel several turnings. At one moment, she could tell by the bright lights and the startings and stoppings of the car that they were somewhere in the centre. Her concern with these sensations blocked for a time her thoughts on what had happened at Mercy's. Finally the car came to a stop and the driver said, "Lie still for a moment."
She opened her door and stepped out, and Jane felt the chill outdoor air enter the car. After a moment the door at her head opened and the woman said, "All clear." Jane grabbed her bag, sat up and got out. The driver quickly escorted her up the path and through the already open door.
Jane felt disconcerted at first as she glanced into the lounge and saw an elderly couple sitting there. They looked so comfortably at home, in front of the television, with the Christmas lights on and the curtains open. Jane had an instant's image of private citizens hiding Jews from Nazis or slaves from slave-holders. They did not look up at her.
The driver came past Jane and said, "Officers Parkin and Craig are retired, and work as a blind in this particular house. It keeps suspicion down. Come this way, please." She led the way up the stairs and down the short corridor to a door on the right. She opened it, then stepped aside to let Jane in.
A figure was lying curled up on the bed, her back to the door. Jane immediately recognised the dark, bobbed hair of Mercy. The door was closed behind her, and footsteps returned up the corridor.
Jane took a quick look at the room. It was simple but comfortable, resembling a room in a rural B&B. The bed on which Mercy was lying was double, and there was a night table on each side, each with a lamp, and two dressers against the walls. The wall on the other side of the bed had two curtained windows.
Jane set her bag down, took off her coat and threw it on top of the bag. Then she looked again at Mercy and hesitated.
Mercy had not moved. Her position remained as tightly foetal as when Jane had entered. Jane wondered if she was sleeping, but after a moment of listening she changed her mind. She could not detect the breathing of sleeping. Suddenly Jane felt a bit alarmed; she could truly detect no breathing at all. She sat down on the bed and laid her hand on Mercy's shoulder. Mercy started slightly, then slowly turned onto her back. Jane sensed then that Mercy was so tense that she was practically in apnoea. Her face looked blank and her eyes stared unblinkingly at Jane's.
"Still sad about your cat, aren't ya?" Jane ventured.
Suddenly Mercy coughed out a sob and snapped into a curl round Jane, her fists clasped to her chest and her head in Jane's lap. Jane put an arm round her and waited for her crying to calm down.
As she waited, Jane wondered and thought. This Mercy was amazingly different from the one whom she had seen at the Aperitif, and even from the one whom she had seen at her home. The strength and solidity seemed to be gone. Don't be stupid, people don't change that much in a few hours. And Mercy's not an actress. She's just rocked.
Jane recognised that that was the explanation. Mercy was a strong, solid-nerved woman, but even the strongest would feel vulnerable when shots were fired in her own home. Especially when they hit a loved one, even a four-footed one. Jane saw the depth of affection in that hurt. She suddenly thought of the parallel. Has Mercy that much affection for me as well?
A different thought replaced this one. Jane remembered the moments in the Town Hall and in her home, and saw how much she owed Mercy for saving her from the blond and helping her to stay in some control. She felt that now was definitely an occasion to return to Mercy the same gestures of strength.
But how?
Jane remembered the conversation at Mercy's about her black belt. Mercy was right, people usually did - and could - get Jane to talk if they asked her enough questions, and the right ones. I know how they do that. So can't I do it too?
Mercy had become calmer. Jane said, "Here, Mercy, shift over, I'll lie down by you." Jane stood up and turned on the lamp that was on the night table on that side of the bed. Mercy saw the gesture and repeated it for the lamp on the other table. Jane turned off the ceiling light, lay down next to Mercy, who now lay on her back, and found a few first questions to ask.
They spent the night talking and occasionally dozing when sleep overtook them. Jane coaxed from Mercy stories of her life in London, her hobbies, her favourite films, anything that would keep her talking and stop her thinking about and feeling the strange events of the past few days. Jane even joined in, recounting her love of horticulture, or her worst martial arts pratfalls. It was when she made Mercy laugh with these that she saw that they were both emerging from the tension.
They did finally sleep, sinking into slumber a while before sunrise and continuing calmly until mid-morning. They slipped down to the kitchen for cereal, brought up some sandwiches and tea and spent the rest of the day sitting on the bed, face to face, talking about the here and now and trying to find their way through the tangle of those past days. That, however, was only moderately possible.
"However we look at it, nothing can come clear until we are out of this house and until we have found Callum," Mercy concluded. Jane found that she was slowly becoming more of the strong person that she had seen before. "And I suppose all that depends on the police. I wonder how long they'll take. You know, they should hire that blond. He's obviously got better tracking techniques than the officers."
Jan shuddered. "Yeah, well I hope they're not that good. I'd like us to be safe here for a while."
"So would I. Jane," Mercy added, looking soberly at her, "thanks for the help last night."
"It was my turn," Jane said quietly.
"And I'm sorry I talked about killing that boy. I was upset about Pearl."
"Well, it's a shock to get shot at." Jane suddenly felt numb. "And when I think that it was meant for us!"
"Let's not," Mercy responded, shuddering.
"Yeah. But what will we do? Right now, I mean."
"Telly, perhaps, to keep that out of our minds. And one hug for comfort?"
Jane and Mercy spent two more days, Christmas and Boxing Day, at the safe house. They were the only ones there, besides the two officers, and were relieved not to have others in the house. They continued to share the same room and sleep in the same bed, but neither had the wish to take things any farther. Jane was slowly coming to terms with her avowal to Mercy, and Mercy was feeling that she had somehow jinxed both of them through her letter. They talked about the blond and about Callum, about their personal tastes and histories, but did not touch on the sensitive subject of emotions and ties.
Then the police came round to tell the women that the blond had been found and arrested. Jane and Mercy were cleared to go home.
Mercy felt more sad than relieved to be packing. She said to Jane, "With all our concern about Callum and the blond, we never talked about what we were going to do afterward."
Jane was feeling a bit adrift since the news of their release. She stopped packing and turned to Mercy.
"I know. And I don't think we can answer that right now. I'm . . . still not sure where I'm going with all this." After a pause, she added, "I suppose you think I'm impossible, or a tease, or something, after what I said and did at your place."
"No. I think you've been even more shocked by this whole situation than I have. And I know your reaction at my place was out of shock. I was being a bit unethical, perhaps, in taking advantage of it."
Jan shook her head. "I did mean what I was saying, at that moment. I guess that, now, I'm thinking more of what you said, of giving myself some time. I also think that you were right about me being myself. I want to do that, but I think I need to work it all out inside me first."
"Of course you do," Mercy replied sincerely.
"Yeah. So, would it be alright if I saw you, you know, just as friends or something, until I can work this out? It would really help, I think."
"Sounds fine." Mercy closed her bag. "So, what if we each went home and found out what kind of chaos we've left behind? I wonder if the police explained things to our families. If not, they're sure to be wondering where we were during the holiday. Then you can call me when that's settled, and we can decide what you want to do. I'm open to what you suggest."
"Yeah. Let's do that. Especially as the first thing I'll need to do is find out where Callum is."
"Do you think he's back by now?"
"If he was, wouldn't the police know it?"
"I suppose . . . which means that you may also have a missing person to deal with. Crikey, I feel with you on that one."
"Thanks." Jane resumed packing. "I also really do need to call my family, and Callum's. And find a way of explaining at least part of all this. I'm going to have to do all that before I see you." Jane finished packing, closed her bag and added, "All the same, it's going to feel weird being alone in that house, and not having you around, like you've been for the past couple of days."
"It'll feel odd to me not to have you there as well. Plus Pearl."
"Will you be alright?" Jane asked as she sat down on the bed.
"I'll have to be," Mercy responded with a sigh. "I must have some things to settle as well, and I should start getting used to the catless house right away, otherwise it'll just be harder." She paused, then added, "You know, I think I've always found it easier to live without relationships than without a cat. But I've never gone without both before."
"You're sure you'll be alright?"
"I'll consider it a new experience." And Mercy gave Jane a small smile.
V
The women spent a week in their separate worlds, piecing things back together. Mercy tried to throw herself into the gay nightlife on New Year's Eve, but found it as shallow and hollow as ever. The one positive element of it was that, as an able and energetic dancer, Mercy could tire herself out on the dance floors for the whole of the night. The exercise did her good, if the cigarette smoke, alcohol and propositions did not.
Jane went down to Somerset for the New Year, as soon as she had set in motion the police hunt for the missing Callum. She tried to explain Callum's absence in vague, evasive terms, but her mother was familiar with Jane's ways, and as usual did not let her off the hook. Jane finally explained about the blond and the safe house, feeling guilty all the same about revealing Callum's role in the story. She mentioned nothing about her own feelings, however.
Once she was back from Somerset, Jane called Mercy and they decided to have dinner together. Neither of them wanted to go to a restaurant because of the probable intimacy of their conversation, and Mercy admitted to having little culinary capacity beyond toasties and salad, so Jane suggested they eat at her place and proposed to come by and pick Mercy up at her home after work.
As she came round the corner, Jane saw that the door to the house was open and felt alarmed. Is this starting all over again? She drove past and stopped her car in the next street. She walked back to the house and stood for a moment at the steps, then stole up them. The lounge was uninhabited. She was about to call out when she heard Mercy's voice speak in a strangely flat, calm tone: "Go ahead then. Shoot. But how does it help you?" It came from upstairs. Jane went numb for a moment, then moved to the staircase as she heard a mutter which seemed to respond to Mercy's question.
As Jane silently mounted the stairs, she saw two heads appearing over the top step. One was Mercy's. The other was blond.
Jane stood still. Mercy was standing still as well, turned toward Jane, in the doorway to the bedroom, with her hands held slightly away from her sides. The blond was standing in the small corridor, in front of the bathroom door. He had his back turned to Jane, so she could not see the his hands, but something about the way he held his body and Mercy's lowered gaze confirmed that he had a gun.
He was saying, "So you're the only ones round who could connect me to that."
A quick memory of the Aperitif flashed in Jane's mind. She walked quietly up behind him, then came round to place herself between him and Mercy.
The blond sneered. He seemed quite unsurprised. "Oh, yer there, then. Good. Wot yer plannin' to do now?"
Jane said, "Just this." She joined her hands and spun on one foot, knocking the gun away from her with the beginning of the turn and socking him in the jaw with the end of it. He slammed against the door, then fell in a heap.
Jane stood dazed. She had never made real use of her martial arts training before. The efficacy of it surprised her. Then she took the gun from his relaxed fingers and pushed it away from him.
Mercy took a moment to find her breath, then said, "Remind me never to make you cross." She sat down on a comfy chair to control her shaking.
The police were on the scene with the most rapidity that they had ever shown through the entire history of this problem. The blond had not even had the time to come to. He shook his head groggily as they handcuffed him. As two of them lifted him from the floor and began taking him down the stairs, the third explained that the person whom they had arrested was the wrong one and offered the authority's apologies.
Mercy bellowed, "A lot of good your apologies would have done us with bullets in us, you git!"
Jane put a hand on Mercy's shoulder to calm her down, but said, "How are your going to guarantee that this won't happen in the future?"
"We don't need to guarantee you anything, we've got the right man now," the officer responded.
"I'm not thinking about us, I'm thinking of all the other gun crimes that happen in this city. If you can't come up with a better answer than the one you just gave, you need suing, I think."
The officer went down the staircase, disgruntled. Mercy followed to let him out and lock the door behind him. Jane sat down on the bed to wait for her. When Mercy came back up, she pulled Jane into a close hug as she sat down next to her. Jane could feel her still trembling a little.
"You were brilliant," Mercy breathed.
"You kept cool, too" Jane said.
"I kept reminding myself of what I've always said about Western society," Mercy responded. "I felt I couldn't let myself down, or I'd be just like them. But I can't tell you how proud I was of you when you knocked him down. You were the cool one, then."
"Are you alright? You're shaking a little."
"I think so. I think it's more adrenaline than anything else at the moment. I'll have to find something to do with it, maybe."
"A run around the block?"
"A screaming fit?"
"Or maybe just food and wine."
"I think that's a good idea."
When they had done with the toasties and salad, they filled their glasses from the last of the wine and sat down together on the sofa.
"Wasn't this where the whole safe house thing started?" Jane asked.
"Not only that." And Mercy stopped and looked away.
"Go on," Jane encouraged her.
Mercy looked at Jane again. "We're back to where I started the letter," Mercy replied. "I wrote it after imagining you in that very position, with that glass in your hand."
"Oh."
Mercy took a swallow of wine, feeling a need to keep herself under control. Don't rush things, idiot.
"Well, that's appropriate then," Jane continued.
"Why?" Mercy asked, shaking herself out of her abstraction.
"It's where you gave me your first real kiss, too," Jane said, and took a swallow of wine.
"Yeah." Mercy felt the memory of it tugging at her.
Jane paused a moment, then said, "You were saying something about fine art, then." She placed her glass on the coffee table.
"I was, yes."
"And you were supposed to show me what you meant."
"Yes."
"Well?"
"Well . . ."
EPILOGUE
Jane sent the kids off to change after their bow, then smiled at Mercy as she came into the room, stocking-footed. She also bowed to Jane when they were face to face. Jane, still smiling, bowed in return.
"How was London?" Mercy asked.
"About how you would think," Jane answered as they walked to the wall to get Jane's bag. "I don't ever want to have to do that again."
"I don't think I could do it," Mercy answered. "I'm terribly squeamish about that kind of thing."
"I expected to be," Jane said. "He'd been in the King George V Reservoir for a month. He did look gruesome. But somehow, I think, knowing that we finally had an answer to that question helped me through it."
"Do they know how he got there?" Mercy asked, repressing a shudder, as they walked to the door.
"They won't know yet, they couldn't start the investigation before knowing for sure it was him. Plus, of course, they needed photos of him before they could start, his face was beyond recognition. They think that, with the photos, Callum is a recognisable enough person to find some kind of trace."
"You'll be happy when they find the people responsible?" Mercy asked.
"If there are people responsible. They're not ruling out suicide. But I don't know. I'm not happy with what 'they' did, or with what happened, for Callum's sake, but apart from that . . . I think I just feel like it was all something distant. I feel . . . unhooked from it."
"Unhooked, but not unhinged, I hope?" Mercy asked with a glint of humour in her eye, as they both put their shoes on.
"Have to be to be hangin' about with you, wouldn't I?" Jane asked, with a half-smile.
They began to walk out of the building.
"Do I want to know how you recognised him?"
"Well, I could just let your fetid imagination run wild on that. But it was simple. He had a mole on his throat, just near the Adam's apple."
Mercy gave a slightly guilty laugh for her imaginings.
"But you do feel it's done now?"
"I do." Jane stopped and unlocked the car, then looked earnestly at Mercy. "So I feel we can start for real."
"Great. I'd love for us to start with a weekend walk. Just you and me and nature, cleaning the whole thing for us."
Jane opened the boot and threw her bag in it. "Frankly, Mercy, I'd really rather we stayed home this weekend." She closed the boot and turned to Mercy. "I think these will be the first days when I can feel I'm with you. And in our home, which still hasn't stopped feeling new and strange to me. So could we just stay in this time? I'll go for toasties and salad as long as you want to make them."
Mercy said nothing, but smiled and hugged Jane. That was how Jane knew that it was settled for this weekend.
Jennifer says: I found this story fairly rough around the edges. There is a lot of action that isn't believable, especially those parts having to do with guns and police procedure. You need to work harder to create sparks between Mercy and Jane, as well. It isn't enough to tell us that they're falling for each other; you need to show us that they are and give us a reason to believe in it.
Plot 16
Characters 17
Mechanics 18
Enjoyment 17
TOTAL: 68
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