8
Quiet at the Back
The summer months wore on, the heat relentless, as if there were some kind of heavenly furnace being stoked up to bursting point. The atmosphere inside the Empire became decidedly oppressive, but it wasn’t only the heat that affected Vince Moody.
When he was called to Martin Caldwell’s office he was surprised to see that another desk had somehow been squeezed into the cramped space and Monica the cleaner was sat at it like she owned the place. An Adler typewriter sat unused in front of her. She had a cigarette perched between her pursed lips and she exhaled a large blue cloud of smoke towards him, her mouth twisting into a barely disguised contemptuous leer.
‘Monica is my new secretary,’ Caldwell felt he had to explain. ‘Someone to answer my phone, do things for me.’
‘Mrs Kimble…’ Vince began.
‘She’s no longer with us,’ said Caldwell. ‘She’d worked beyond retirement age anyway.’
Vince thought he looked troubled, like the last thing he needed was another body cluttering up his office, but he guessed Monica had other ideas. She sat like a smug cuckoo waiting to be fed.
‘I can make sure you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing now,’ she said. ‘Keep a close eye on things for Mr Caldwell.’
Vince met young Edith as he left Caldwell’s office; or rather she met him.
‘There you are, Vince,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Have you been avoiding me?’
‘Yes,’ he said abruptly.
‘Why?’
‘Because of your big mouth, that’s why,’ he said, but of course he immediately felt he had been too harsh and began to beat himself up over it.
‘I’m ever so sorry,’ she said, her head bowing. She appeared genuinely upset. ‘It sort of slipped out, about you and the witch.’
‘She’s not a witch!’ he defended. ‘Did you have to let it out to Monica, of all people?’
‘It seemed harmless at the time. A bit of a laugh,’ she said sullenly.
‘Monica is far from harmless,’ he said, leaving her standing there in the corridor. This was not going to be a good day, he could tell. He would be glad to shut himself away in his projection booth.
‘Can we still be friends, Vince?’ she asked plaintively. ‘I promise to keep my big mouth shut in future.’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Friends only bring trouble.’
She tottered down the corridor after him. ‘I promise I won’t be trouble ever again. Cross my heart and hope to die.’
‘Don’t promise that, stupid,’ he said, turning back to her. She came up short in front of him, nearly colliding. ‘You’ll make it happen.’
‘So we can still be friends?’
‘Maybe,’ he said in the best non-committal tone he could dredge up, and left her to go out into the yard. He had to deposit a few cans of film in the store ready for collection and was carrying the first lot out, fumbling for keys to the padlock, when someone came to his side.
‘Is Martin Caldwell in?’
He was a tall, handsome man who carried himself like he knew he was good looking. Neat blonde hair, smart clothes. A refined voice, not from around these parts, he thought. Vince had been told by Caldwell never to say he was in until he was clear who was asking to see him.
‘Dunno,’ said Vince. ‘I can find out for you. If he is, who shall I say wants to see him?’
‘Tell him it’s a friend from way back when. Tell him Katherine sends her love. He’ll know who it is. I need to speak to him.’
Vince did as he was told. He knocked loudly at Caldwell’s door, wary of bursting in on anything he shouldn’t. Monica was sitting at her desk thumbing through a copy of Film Review. She glanced up and eyed Vince like a cat watches a bird at a feeding table.
‘Mr Caldwell, there’s a man in the yard asking to see you. He says he’s a friend from way back when and Katherine sends her love. Said you’d know who he was.’
At this, Caldwell jumped up, almost knocking over his lunchtime flask of oxtail soup. He went round to Vince, grabbed him by the arm and took him outside into the corridor, closing the door on Monica. He whispered into Vince’s ear. ‘Did he tell you his name?’
‘No, Mr Caldwell.’
‘Describe him to me.’ His face went ashen as Vince related the details. ‘So where is he now?’
‘Waiting in the yard still, by the door.’
‘I’m not here,’ he said. ‘You go down and tell him I’m away somewhere.’
‘Where somewhere?’
‘I don’t know, Vince! Use your initiative. Tell him I’m doing some kind of staff training. In Birmingham, somewhere far away.’
‘What sort of staff training?’
‘Vince!’ he said, putting a hand to his forehead. ‘What does it f*cking matter? Just tell him. Tell him I’ll be gone for a few days.’
‘Your car’s in the yard.’
‘Bugger!’ he said, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘Well he doesn’t know I drive an MG.’ He gave Vince the car keys. ‘Here, tell him what I said and then go sit in my car, pretend it’s yours.’
‘I can’t drive, Mr Caldwell.’
‘Like that matters! Just do it, will you?’
Vince shrugged his acknowledgement. ‘Are you afraid of him?’
‘Afraid? No, of course I’m not afraid. I’m just not ready to speak to him yet. And if he ever comes around here again you tell him I’m not in. For now, all you need to do is go out there, tell him I’m otherwise disposed and sit in my bloody car. How difficult can that be?’
Vince went back outside. The man was leaning near the rear door. ‘So where is he?’ he asked.
‘Mr Caldwell isn’t in. He’s gone away to attend a staff training course in Birmingham. It’s far away.’
‘Yeah, right. When is he coming back?’ he growled.
‘He didn’t say. None of my business really.’ He took the car keys out of his pocket. ‘Sorry, I have to go to my MG now.’ He walked over to the car, feeling the man’s stare hot on his back. He unlocked the door and almost fell into the car’s low seat. He watched the man out of the corner of his eye as he ambled over to him.
He knocked on the window for Vince to wind it down. ‘When you see him, tell him I’ll be back soon and I’ll ram his bloody training course up his backside if he isn’t in to see me. That clear?’ Vince nodded that it was very clear indeed. The man floated away like an angry black cloud looking for a place to rain on.
Vince sat in the car for a further ten minutes, unsure what he should do next. The heat inside the car became unbearable, the smell of hot leather and plastic strangely comforting. Eventually, Caldwell poked his head around the door to the yard and seeing that the coast was clear went to the MG.
‘He’s gone?’
‘He says he’ll be back though, Mr Caldwell.’
‘Bastard!’ he snapped. ‘OK, Vince, get out now; I don’t want your body odour stinking up my car. Don’t you ever use deodorant?’ He snatched the keys from Vince’s hand and locked the door. ‘Remember what I said. If he ever comes here again, I’m not in.’
He nodded, hung back as Caldwell stomped to the Empire’s rear door. Vince raised his arm, sniffed under it. That comment wasn’t fair. He didn’t smell. He used Imperial Leather every day and that soap wasn’t exactly your cheap stuff from the market.
Later that evening, Vince thought he’d go down into the auditorium to look for Laura. Edith, Ice-cream tray strapped in front of her, stepped up to him as soon as she saw him, blocking his way.
‘Hello, Vince,’ she chirped brightly, but with a slight tremor of concern in her voice.
‘Hello, Edith. Can I get past, please?’
‘You don’t want to go there tonight,’ she said.
‘Yes I do,’ he countered, but she stood her ground. ‘What is it with you tonight, Edith? You’re not giving me orders too, are you? Only I’ve got far too many people doing that already and I don’t need any more.’
He pushed by her and was brought up short by what he saw. Laura was indeed sitting on the back row as usual, but this time there was a man sitting with her. And he had his arm snaked around her shoulder. They looked like they were very friendly. Too friendly for his liking. What made it seem worse was that the man sat with her was the very same who had come into the yard looking for Caldwell earlier in the day, the one his manager appeared to be afraid of.
‘I did tell you not to go,’ said Edith, coming to his shoulder, ‘but you didn’t listen to me.’ She whispered in his ear. ‘I don’t suppose it’s her brother,’ she said.
Distraught, Vince turned away. ‘Of course it’s not her brother, stupid! Stick to selling your Ice-creams like I’ve told you.’ He barged through the heavy swing-doors out of the auditorium and someone hissed loudly for there to be quiet at the back.
* * * *