Episode 8 - Tango

On a day overshadowed by grim suspicions of child abuse and bartering, back at the cottage for lunch Cleo spent quite a long time searching for loopholes in her theory about the purported ongoing subversive trading in babies, but even in the chat-rooms she entered online with a false name and giving her age as 15 and her condition as 8 months pregnant, the advice offered was not very helpful. It seemed as though girls in that predicament did not share their worries online.

Gloria had stopped by in her morning break. Cleo’s mother was usually made welcome, but Cleo was far from pleased to see her that day and explained why.

“Maybe you got the wrong network,” she suggested. “They aren’t going to flock to Facebook. That’s where their mothers go.”

“The chat-rooms are as anonymous as you make them,” said Cleo.

“Exactly. And who knows who’s spying!”

“I doubt whether we could find out,” said Cleo.

“So you’ll have to try some face to face sleuthing. What about schools? Some of my teenage line-dancers come from that comprehensive school in Middlethumpton.”

 “That’s a great idea, Mother. A quiet talk with the headmistress of that school might yield something. I expect she has plenty of stories to tell.”

Cleo arranged to meet Mrs Frazer next day after school. She would prefer to come to Cleo’s office, and would be there round about 4:30 p.m.

“Before you ring off, Miss Hartley, do you think Mr Jones could provide me with some rump steaks? I am a regular customer.”

Cleo wondered how Mrs Frazer knew about her relationship with Robert but did not ask.

“Of course. How many? Robert can bring or send them home and I’ll keep them in the fridge for you.”

“Thanks. Six will be fine and Mr Jones can put them on my bill. I’m looking forward to meeting you, Miss Hartley.”

“I’m looking forward meeting you, Mrs Frazer.”

Cleo wondered how big a family Mrs Frazer was feeding.

Gloria heard the last bit of Cleo’s phone-call.

“Mrs Frazer. Isn’t that the teacher who calls in the shop for heaps of stuff?”

“Yes mother. I need to talk to her about those baby boxes, though.”

“You have my blessing, child,” said Gloria. “I expect it’s about the illegal baby-trading, isn’t it?”

“How do you know about that, Mother?”

“Walls talk, Cleo.”

Cleo wondered if her mother knew about the wedding arrangements and wasn’t saying anything because she hadn’t been told officially.

“Since you’ve been working at the shop, it gets more gossip than the newsagent’s. Do you remember who told you about the baby trading, Mother?”

“At least five different people. Neighbours of the Singletons, for instance Hilda Bone, I think her name is, and she looks bony, too. She told me the Singletons are dealing in exotic reptiles, which she compared to baby trading.”

“Wow! She never actually suspected baby-trading though, did she?”

“No, she didn’t. The neighbours have funny visitors and always at night.”

“And Mrs Bone just happens to be watching, I suppose. I expect Gary would also be interested in that information.”

“Are you still having an affair with that cop, Cleo?”

“What makes you think I would do that, Mother?”

“As I said, walls talk. Anyway, I know you are in love with him and he with you, so don’t bother to deny it.”

“Just don’t tell Robert, Mother.”

“He knows. He just wants to own you Cleo and you are going down that road despite that cop’s attempts to stop you.”

“Gary needs me right now. He’s worried about his daughter being in Spain. I don’t think he has finished with his divorce, either.”

“And you are thankful to have a lover who can do it, Cleo."

"Mother!"

"Think I don't know what kind of a lover Robert is?"

"What kind?"

"Boring and uninspired!"

 Cleo was not going to give her mother the satisfaction of agreeing.

“What’s for lunch, Mother?”

Gloria now and again offered to do the cooking.

“I prepared it at home and now it’s going into the oven for an hour. Robert can eat it warmed up later.”

When Gloria had left for the shop, Cleo rang Gary.

“Can I drop in this afternoon?” she said.

“Any time, Cleo. You know that. Any special reason?”

"Not only to see you. There's also news about the Singletons. Gossip really, but remarkable.”

“Has your mother been treating you to some of her stories?”

“Yes, but they aren’t her stories, Gary. I’ll be with you in half an hour.”

“Do you have time for Romano’s?”

“Yes, but I need to be home by six.”

“Then we’d better meet there, but park behind HQ as usual.”

“Sure.”

It didn’t take long for Cleo to repeat Gloria’s words to Gary. Hilda Bone might not be reliable, but on the other hand, there was no smoke without fire, so what she said would have to be taken seriously.

Cleo and Gary drank excellent coffee and Romano served them with ‘sweetmeats’.

“Where did you get that word from, Romano?” Gary asked.

“Dictionary. Amore, amici?”

“Si.”

Romano handed Gary the key to his private apartment. He and Cleo went up the stairs to Romano’s guest-room, threw off their clothes and made love.

“I need you,” said Cleo, as breathless and exhilarated as always from the intensity of their union.

“No more than I need you, Cleo,” Gary said, “Has Gloria being dropping hints about us again?”

“She knows everything and apparently so does Robert.”

“That does not surprise me. More fool him for putting up with it. Before, during and after we have made love, we are both on fire. I expect Gloria noticed even if Robert is in denial. And you now have a guilty conscience, I expect, after more or less seducing me.”

“No and the seduction was mutual.”

“I agree. I can’t say I’d noticed any reticence. In fact, you knock me over with your love-making.”

“It takes two, and I feel free to make love with you as often as possible. Marrying Robert is business.”

“We could be together all the time.”

“We will be one day.”

“I suppose I’ll have wait to until your 'business' is over. I keep wishing Robert would find someone he preferred.”

"He never expressed that wish, Gary. He's happy with things as they are."

"That's medieval. A little woman warming his bed for when the pasha can't get to his concubines. Many women still think that's their place in the world. Their men beat them up and they are loyal."

"There are two obvious flaws in that argument. For a start, Robert does not have concubines."

"He has you, unfortunately, and he's not interested in whether you are happy. You are only a trophy, Cleo. I don’t suppose he even really cares about our affair. He’s glad I do all the work, no doubt."

“Forget that guy for heaven's sake." said Cleo. "Let’s not waste time on him.”

“Your word is my command, Madam!”

***

Cleo and Gary did eventually get to the restaurant, where Romano served them unexpectedly with carbonara, rich with crème and Parma ham and with a little white Cheshire cheese thrown in.

“This is my creation called ‘love pasta’,” Roman explained. “Sheep are almost related to goats, so Cheshire cheese also has a sharp teste and makes great carbonara.”

“Just don’t tell people we inspired you, Romano,” said Gary.

“Ah yes,” said Romano. “Beautiful Cleo is marrying the wrong guy, isn’t she?”

“It won’t last,” said Gary, “and I’m still married, so I can’t prevent Cleo from doing what she thinks she has to do.”

“You could kill him off,” said Romano, drawing a flattened hand through his throat. “Canossa, Gary. You know enough gangsters. Get one to do it for you, or just let me. I have the contacts.”

“I can’t let Gary do that,” said Cleo. “And you should not talk about the criminals   you know, Romano. It would make Gary investigate you.”

“He’s my son. He would not do that,” said Roman.

“Don’t force my hand,” said Gary. “It worries me when you talk about your connections.”

Romano went away shaking his head. What could he do about such a disagreeable situation?

***

When they had eaten the glorious pasta and finished the sauce off by dragging their fingers along the sides of the pasta dishes, Cleo told Gary in a few words about the baby trading gossip according to Gloria, who seemed to be the willing confidante of all the village gossipers.

“You’ll have to get her to tell you,” said Cleo.

“I’ll go to the shop and buy some of those marvellous US beef cuts, Cleo. A word from me and she will no doubt be glad to tell me everything she knows.”

“Just tell her I phoned you about it,” said Cleo. “She suspects us of meeting, but I don’t fall for her repartee.”

“I won’t say anything about us, Cleo.”

“She’ll ask.”

“Then I’d say that if I could have any woman I wanted, I’d choose you.”

“She’ll shed a tear and tell you that you’d make a good son-in-law if she did not already have one.”

“Just remember how bitter you really are about the situation, Cleo.”

“Am I?”

“I just want us to be together and you are trifling with me,” said Gary.

“Don’t make it harder for me, Gary. We may have already made a baby and I need its father.”

“No doubt the perfect son-in-law will babysit.”

“He won’t. He will want me to get an abortion because I am too old.”

“He won’t risk that, Cleo.”

“Such a suggestion would fall on deaf ears,” said Xleo.”I must go home now.”

“Till tomorrow lunchtime then.”

“At the office,“ said Cleo.

“I’ll be there.”

“With information about those baby hatches, please. Robert might see your car.”
***

Early on Friday morning, Dorothy presented herself at the information desk of Social Services very early on Friday morning. She was wearing the hat she described as her ‘sleuthing cloche’, dressed in unfashionable garment rejects straight out of a charity shop, and putting on a convincing act of distress and confusion.

“Are you all right, Mrs?” a young girl at the desk asked.

“I want to see someone in charge,” replied Dorothy, resisting the temptation to tell the girl it was “Miss”. Grandmothers are usually entitled Mrs, after all.

“You’re too early for that.”

“Oh dear. My granddaughter’s having a baby any minute now and she’s going to give it away if I don’t take action.”

“What kind of action, Mrs?”

“Well, if I knew where she was going to take the baby, I could be there first.”

“She’s in a hospital, isn’t she?”

“No. And she doesn’t know that I know what trouble she’s in.”

“But you do know that she doesn’t want to keep the baby.”

“She’s staying with me. I overheard her talking to someone on the phone. I know I shouldn’t have, but it’s just as well I did.”

Dorothy propped herself up against the desk. The girl looked alarmed.

“Shall I get you some water, Mrs?”

“No. I’ll be all right in a minute,” faked Dorothy.

“So you don’t know what she’s going to do with the baby,” the receptionist said.

So far so good. The girl had believed what Dorothy was saying.

“Take it to some kind of baby hut.”

“Hatch, Mrs. You mean hatch.”

“What is a baby hatch?”

“I should not be telling you this. Baby hatches are illegal, and the authorities closed down the one in Middlethumpton. But there’s one on the way to Upper Grumpsfield. I know that for sure.”

Dorothy leant forward.

“Whereabouts?”

“I don’t know, but I know someone who….. No, I can’t tell you anything else.”

“Well, thank you for telling me as much as you did. I’ll find the baby place and I won’t tell anyone we’ve had this little talk.”

“Oh but you must. Visitors are always filmed on video. See? Up there, in the corner?”

“Oh, a camera.”

Dorothy pulled her cloche hat a little further down over her brow.

“So we’d better have a story ready, Mrs.”

“Well, just say I wanted to do some charity work and didn’t know where to ask.”

“That’s a good idea. They’ll believe that. But you’d better go now, before someone wants to know more.”

“Yes, of course, and thank you so much.”

Mission accomplished, Dorothy decided as she walked to the bus stop. And the girl hadn’t even asked for her name. The only security seemed to be the camera. She tried to remember if she had looked straight into it. Would the floppy hat have disguised her enough?