Behaving Badly - Isabel Wolff

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sighed. ‘Let’s go.’ I opened the driver’s door and was hit by a sudden blast of scalding air. Despite the shade from a huge chestnut, the interior was like a bread oven. We’d just have to wait. As I opened the passenger door I glanced at the house, and suddenly saw Jimmy framed in an upstairs window, standing there, looking down. He hovered for a moment, then disappeared. Disconcerted, I put Herman in the back and got in. The car was still hot, but I just wanted to leave. I’d wound down all the windows and was putting on my seatbelt, struggling with the clasp, when I was aware of a sudden shadow across the dashboard.

      ‘Hello, Miranda.’ I looked up at Jimmy. He was blocking out the sun. ‘I thought you were ignoring me,’ he said. He was doing his best to sound composed, but he was slightly breathless. He’d clearly just run down the stairs.

      ‘You thought I was ignoring you?’ I said, with a serenity which surprised me. ‘I had the impression it was the other way round.’

      ‘Oh not at all,’ he replied. ‘But I’ve been very busy, what with so many people to talk to and, well, I just wanted to thank you for helping us out.’

      ‘That’s fine,’ I said coolly. ‘Don’t mention it.’ I looked into his grey eyes, trying to read the expression in them. ‘And of course it’s in a very good cause. I remember how keen you always were on animal issues,’ I added boldly, my heart pounding.

      ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘That’s right.’ He leaned against the neighbouring car and folded his arms. ‘And you, Miranda, you were very enthusiastic yourself,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Quite a fanatic in fact.’

      ‘Oh I wouldn’t say that.’ Now I understood what his agenda was. He was trying to establish my attitude.

      ‘Do you ever think about those days?’ he asked casually. He looked away for a moment, then returned his gaze to me. This was what he really wanted to know.

      ‘Do I ever think about those days?’ I repeated slowly. He was hoping that I’d say, ‘No. Never. Forgotten all about it.’ ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Actually, I do. I’ve been thinking about them quite a lot lately, as it happens.’

      ‘Really? But it was so long ago.’

      ‘That’s true. But at the same time it feels like yesterday in some ways. Doesn’t it to you?’

      ‘No.’ He’d said it firmly, but I saw a flicker of anxiety. ‘But you look just the same, Miranda,’ he said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

      ‘You look quite different—I hardly recognized you.’

      ‘Well,’ he touched his head and grinned. ‘I don’t have quite so much hair. Anyway, I just wanted to say “hi” and well, thanks. So goodbye then, Miranda. It was nice to see you.’ He began walking towards the house.

      ‘Can I ask you a question, Jimmy?’ I called.

      He stiffened slightly. ‘My name’s James,’ he corrected me.

      ‘Is it? Okay, James,’ I tried again. ‘What I want to know is…’ My mouth felt dry as dust. ‘Don’t you ever feel sorry for what you did?’ He stared at me, then blinked a few times. ‘Doesn’t your conscience ever prick you?’

      ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

      ‘Yes you do. There’s no point pretending. There really isn’t. At least, not with me.’

      ‘Oh. Well…’ he put his hands in his pockets then emitted a weary sigh. ‘As I say, it was a long time ago. I really think it’s best…forgotten.’

      ‘I’m afraid I don’t agree.’ We stared at each other for a moment and I noticed him discreetly shift his weight.

      ‘Have you ever…mentioned it?’ he asked quietly. ‘To…anyone?’

      ‘Have I ever mentioned it to anyone?’ I repeated. I decided I’d make him wait for my reply. He ran his right hand through his hair and I noticed a dark, spreading stain beneath his arm. ‘No,’ I said finally. ‘I’ve never told a soul.’ I could almost smell his relief.

      ‘I didn’t think you would have done,’ he went on softly. ‘And of course that really is the best thing all round. I’d forget about it, Miranda. I really would.’

      ‘I’ve always found that hard to do.’

      ‘Well, I would,’ he insisted with benign menace. ‘Otherwise, well, you could land yourself in a lot of trouble. Couldn’t you?’

      I felt my insides coil. ‘Is that a threat?’

      ‘A threat?’ He looked mildly scandalized at the suggestion. ‘Of course not. It’s just…’ he shrugged. ‘Friendly advice. You’ve got a nice TV career as an animal expert after all, and I’m a very busy man; and you see what happened then—’

      ‘No. Not “what happened”,’ I interjected hotly. ‘What you did. To the Whites.’

      He shifted his weight again then looked away. ‘Well, that was as a result of…’ his eyes narrowed as he seemed to grope for the appropriate term, ‘…youthful indiscretion.’

      ‘Is that what you call it?’

      He folded his arms again and then stared at the ground.

      ‘Well…maybe we did…misbehave.’ Misbehave? ‘But we were very fired up with our beliefs, weren’t we?’ he went on smoothly. ‘And we were so young.’

      ‘I certainly was—I was only sixteen. But it’s interesting that you should view it as mere “misbehaviour”.’ I snorted with mirthless laughter. ‘Is that really how you see it?’

      There was silence for a moment.

      ‘We all make mistakes, Miranda.’

      I shook my head. ‘Oh it was much, much more than that.’

      His face suddenly darkened, and the corners of his mouth turned down. ‘Anyway, the old git had it coming to him,’ he muttered.

      ‘Why? ‘He didn’t reply. I stared at him non-comprehendingly. ‘Why? ‘ I repeated. ‘What had he done? I never understood.’

      ‘Oh…plenty of things. Plenty,’ he repeated, his face suddenly flushing. Then he seemed to collect himself. ‘But what a coincidence,’ he said smoothly. ‘Your meeting my wife like that.’

      ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘It was. But I didn’t make the connection immediately as of course you were called “Smith” in those days.’

      ‘Mulholland’s my mother’s maiden name,’ he explained. ‘I changed it when I became a journalist to make it a little more…distinctive. It’s not a crime, is it?’

      ‘No. That’s not a crime,’ I agreed. ‘You must have got a bit of a shock seeing me again.’

      He gave me a tight little smile. ‘I guess I did. But on the other hand it’s a small world, and it did sometimes occur to me that you might pop up. Anyway,’ he glanced towards the house, ‘I mustn’t keep you. And Caroline will be wondering where I am.’ He tapped the top of the car to bring the conversation to an end. ‘Nice to see you again, Miranda. Goodbye.’

      ‘Goodbye, Jimmy,’ I said as I started the engine. His smile vanished.

      ‘James,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s James.’

       Chapter Four

      ‘That’s my answer,’ I said to Herman, as I drove back with the front windows wide open. ‘Not the slightest shred of remorse. He’s just worried

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