It was after two in the morning when he finally turned the key in the lock of his front door and stepped into the dark chill of his flat. He'd set the storage heaters to come on while he was away but the temperature had obviously plunged over the ten days and he shivered as he switched on the lights and picked up the few letters and mail that lay on the doormat. There was the assorted junk mail that he expected, plus a couple of letters, one of which had his name scrawled across the envelope with no stamp or address, and one official looking envelope labelled as being from Goldbloom and Gulbenkian, names he didn’t recognise. He was exhausted after the plane journey from Athens so he decided not to bother with any of it until the morning.
It had been a trial the whole way back, sat sandwiched between the two women trying to be polite, and putting a veneer over the obvious frisson that had been generated. Finally they had both fallen asleep with their heads resting on both his shoulders and he was trapped for the duration of the flight, even though he wanted to have a pee desperately. His dire need kept him awake the whole time and he barely had enough time to make it to the first toilet when they landed at Gatwick. So it was his turn to fall asleep in the taxi waiting to take them home and it seemed as if he'd only just closed his eyes when he was being prodded awake by Hermione as they reached Stan's driveway in Colerne. He quickly said goodnight to them both as he got out, and the driver pulled his case out from the boot before speeding away into the night towards Corsham. He put an extra blanket on the bed and kept his socks on before climbing in to get warm and fall asleep. He felt like his whole body was still moving even though he was on the ground now and he began to dream he was flying through the air.
He woke up feeling refreshed but saw the time was past eleven and immediately felt guilty for sleeping so long. Funnily enough he was pleased to be alone for a change in his bed. He let out a long, noisy gasp of wind, probably due to the airline food he'd had the day before and it made him laugh to himself. Contrary to what he'd been expecting it was a clear day outside and he got up and showered. It occurred to him he hadn't heard any sign of life yet from Stan as he would normally be woken up by his car starting up. He looked out of the window to see it still standing where it had been the night before. Making himself some tea he turned his attention to the post. He opened the letter with no stamp or address first, and inside there was a single sheet of paper covered with some scrawled handwriting:
Dear Arnold,
I hope you had a wonderful time out there in those foreign parts on that boat.
By the time you read this note I'll be gone.
I've tried to come to terms with what I done to Nancy, but it's been no good.
I tried to carry on and forget all about it like you said, but it still haunts me.
And I don't feel no sense in carrying on, working and everything, with only the garden as reason to live.
Thanks for your kind words of forgiveness and all your friendship, I know you always meant well for me. You are a good man, I truly believe that.
You may want to show this note to the police and tell them what I done. I'll leave it up to you.
May God treat you fairer than he's treated me.
Your friend,
Stan.
Arnold read it through several times hoping he'd misunderstood it. He feared the worst with the car still parked in the driveway and realised he had to go downstairs and try to get into Stan's flat. He remembered a spare key underneath a flowerpot by the back door so he went down and looked to see if it was still there. In one respect he was alarmed when he found it as it meant he was duty bound to go inside. His hand was shaking as he turned the key in the lock and opened the door. The place was musty as if no air had been circulating and there was a strange smell everywhere. He slowly walked through the rooms calling:
‘Stan?...Hello…?’
Then he found him in the bedroom, hanging quite still from the central chandelier. He immediately felt sick and rushed to the bathroom to vomit in the sink. He ran the cold tap and flushed his face in the freezing cold water and felt a little better for it. He sat down in an armchair in the living room, phoned 999 and explained what he'd found. He was told not to touch anything and wait until the police arrived. He put down the receiver and saw he was still holding Stan's note scrunched up in his right hand. He carefully folded it up and put it safely in his dressing gown pocket hoping he wouldn't be searched. He was in a quandary as to who to telephone next. His first thought was Hermione, but she would insist he come over to stay with her and he felt uncomfortable doing that, knowing Lucy was bound to be there as her holidays weren't due to finish until the middle of January. He called Trevor. It was the first time he'd ever phoned him but for some reason he knew his number off by heart. He heard the phone being picked up.
"Hello, Trevor? It's Arnold here."
"Arnold! How the devil are you, old chap? Have you had a good Christmas? What can I do for you?"
He explained what had happened and Trevor immediately offered to put him up.
"Of course. You poor chap. Delighted to be of help. You just sit tight while the police wallahs do their thing. Call me back when they're done and we'll get you over here."
Arnold felt better having spoken with him. He realised how important a familiar voice could be at such a time and was ashamed how he'd dismissed Trevor previously. It became clear a time of crisis can crystallise things and clarify relationships and situations and he started to feel genuine affection for him. The man really was the salt of the earth. He must have been aware of the fact Arnold found him tiresome but nevertheless he'd been there when he'd needed him, which counted a lot in Arnold's book. He was having so many new life experiences, things his religious training hadn't prepared him for. A knowledge of the Bible was all well and good, but as equipment for the pitfalls and unexpected turns one encounters in real life, he began to realise it fell somewhat short.
The police arrived first, with an ambulance following behind, and Arnold took them upstairs to his flat to make a cup of tea. They all sat down in his living room and took a statement:
"So, Mr. Drive, can you tell us exactly how you came to find Mr. Dale?"
"I got back very late last night from a holiday, and went straight to bed.”
“What time would that have been?”
“About 2am.”
"And was his car parked out front when you got in?"
"Yes, it was. I didn't think anything of it as Stan was always coming and going on taxi bookings. There was never any pattern to his movements."
"And what happened this morning?"
"I got up late, at about eleven o'clock, and I was surprised his car was still here."
"And why would that be a surprise?"
"Well, most days he would be off very early in the morning. He had a lot of jobs ferrying people to and from the airports."
"I see. Please carry on."
"As the car was still there I naturally assumed he would be at home, so I went down and knocked on his door to say hello."
"And?"
"There was no answer. Then I started to get a bit worried. And I knew where he kept a spare key, he'd shown me where it was hidden when I first moved in…"
"Go on, please."
"I found the key, opened the front door, and went in."
"And that's when you found Mr. Dale?"
"Yes."
"Did anything in his behaviour previously suggest to you he may try to take his own life?"
"No. I knew he was upset when his wife...she left him a few years ago. He told me he'd been living alone since then."
"And when did she leave?"
"About two years ago, I think."
"Did he tell you where she went?"
Arnold paused and thought for a while.
"No. He told me she was from up North, so he thought she may have gone back there. That's what he told me."
"Apart from her, do you know of any other living relatives?"
"No. He told me there were none. And they had no children."
"I see. Well, thanks for your help, Mr. Drive. It's always regrettable to discover cases like this."
"Yes. I'm sure. Such a waste of precious life."
"Quite. We'll prepare a statement from what you've told us and get it ready for you to check over and sign. Would you be able to come to the station in Chippenham in a couple of days? It'll be ready by then. Here's my card. Thank you, Sir."
As they were preparing to leave Arnold asked if he had permission to stay somewhere else.
"Quite understandable, sir. Have you got somewhere to go?"
He explained he would be going to a friend's house in Corsham and gave them Trevor's number, and that was that.
He heard them leaving, followed shortly afterwards by the ambulance.
He made a fresh pot of tea to keep himself busy and phoned Trevor again, who offered to come over and give him a lift to Corsham. After he'd packed a few extra things in his case from the cruise he sat waiting with his tea. He saw the other letter sitting on the table and decided to open it to take his mind off Stan. Poor Stan. He had no intention of sharing his secret with anyone, of that he was sure. He opened the envelope and took out the folded letter inside:
Dear Mr. Drive
First may I apologise for the delay in getting back to you regarding your dormant account number #00986070059. I am now in a position to inform you of its status.
In 1980 it was received into our office for administration and investment purposes.
As it had been assigned a dormant status no permission would have been sought from the holder of the account.
It was invested in a portfolio associated with the expansion of the internet, and shares were purchased in Microsoft. In 1996 the capital accrued was reinvested in Tullow Oil, an oil exploration company, where the capital is still positioned today. These two investment decisions have led to a substantial increase in the size of the original deposit. Fortunately in this case they were the right decisions to make in a constantly fluctuating and volatile market.
I would appreciate if you would telephone me at your convenience, to discuss how these funds may now be returned to you.
I remain,
Yours faithfully,
Nigel Scott.
Goldbloom & Gulbenkian
0208 943 7238
He put the letter back in its envelope and then heard Trevor's car pulling up in the driveway.