Goes Around Comes Around

By Donal Greaves

Paul Maron, in danger of losing his wife to Robert Morton finds the latter has made an arrangement to get rid of Paul and take his wife for himself and all which goes with her. A nefarious poacher happens to witness a nights activities of the two men and this is made aware of to the Police after Morton dies in the trap he had set for Paul.
There is a trial and Paul is exonerated at his trial by photographs taken by a foreign visitor on holiday in the area.
The story covers all the various activities of the characters and the denouement describes the results of those actions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477238073

Donal Greaves

An aircraft engineer i served for twelve years in the Fleet Air Arm. Afterwards as a general mechanical engineer and for many years as a draughtsman designing power take off systems for large transport vehicles engines and parts for racing motor cycles. I retired at age 73 and decided to try and write a novel. I did write three.

Book preview

black.jpg CHAPTER 1

Maron swore, a slight expletive and something he didn’t do often, usually when slightly annoyed, believing to do so showed a lack of self control, maybe even a restricted vocabulary, but was also aware that a stronger example might on occasion be needed. He turned the key again and the starter spun the engine but it refused to fire, just the starter whirring in protest. He knew little about the machinery under the bonnet, except that to keep operating the starter was asking for a flat battery. He swore again, this time a stronger oath and climbed out, slamming the door in his annoyance. The rain hit his face and trickled down his neck. He hurriedly turned up the collar of his inadequate short coat and locked the car door, fumbling for his keys and taking longer than he normally would have done. He shuddered as the unaccustomed wetness soaked into his collar, not improving his temper. What did they call it? Sod’s Law? The car had run perfectly that morning when the weather was dry, but come a drop of rain and the thing packed up; he swore again, obviously getting more annoyed.

He remembered a kiosk he had seen round the bend back up the road and set off to walk the couple of hundred yards or so to reach it, hoping with little conviction that it had not been vandalised. Wouldn’t he just know it; it was working all right but was occupied by a young girl, probably phoning her boy friend, he thought dismally and he could feel the wetness of the legs of his trousers against his limbs.

He decided he wasn’t having much luck. He searched in his pocket for the loose change he would need to make the call and was rapidly coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t going to be his day. He thought of Harriet, she would be putting the kettle on back at the shop for her morning coffee and here was he, out in the rain. If this young kid didn’t hurry up he would be soaked. He was about to knock on the glass of the door when she hung up the receiver and came out with a moue at his look of impatience and ran off up the road with her head protected from the rain by some form of hood. Muttering to himself he pulled the kiosk door wider open to aid his admittance, pulled it to behind him to keep out the rain and after taking out a handkerchief to dry his hands, put in the required number of coins, fished out of his damp trouser pocket, dialled the number of the shop, envying Harriet her cup of hot coffee.

When his assistant answered Paul explained his predicament and arranged with her that she should go in his place to the furniture sale, calling at the kiosk for him and taking him back to his own car to get the sale catalogue. While he waited he hoped that no-one would want him to go outside the kiosk into the rain again while they made a call. When she arrived to pick him up they drove to where he had left his car and he showed her the marked off items in the catalogue, those in which he was interested. Having sorted out that side of his affairs and Harriet having left on her duty and having already made the call to the local garage explaining his problem with the car to them and receiving an affirmation they would be round as soon as they could, he relaxed a little, trying to ignore the wet trousers clinging to his legs. While he waited, he mused on his difficulty; he knew he could trust Harriet with his business affairs and had done so on several occasions; she always came up trumps for him. He realized he had a jewel in Harriet and for his part treated her like one.

After Harriet had left having taken the catalogue from him he remained in his car out of the rain waiting for the breakdown truck to arrive. While he waited he occasionally, temporarily, switched on the windscreen wipers so that he could see the road and he meditated on the vagaries of the English climate. He had at least been fortunate when he was waiting in the kiosk for Harriet to arrive, no one had come along demanding entry, making him get out into the rain again.

After what seemed an age the towing vehicle appeared round the corner with the mechanic at the wheel and Paul gave a sigh of relief. The driver apologised for the delay; he’d been across the other side of the town on another job. Paul didn’t complain; he was only glad to see some action at last. The driver hooked up Paul’s car and they got into the cab of the towing vehicle, Paul relaxing now that things were happening and wondering how Harriet was getting on.

They eventually arrived at the garage and after the mechanic had made an examination of the car engine’s problem, he informed Paul he would have to obtain a new part from the main agent as he had none in stock. Paul sighed; he had not expected anything different, not that day. He took advantage of the garage phone to call for a taxicab and once again stood around in the garage, waiting, his trousers didn’t seem to have dried much though the rain had decreased to a slight drizzle.

This time the delay wasn’t so great and in quite a short time the taxi arrived to take him home to get changed. When they arrived he instructed the driver of the cab to drop him at the end of the road as he knew that anyone unfamiliar with the cul-de-sac where he lived would have some difficulty turning a car around in the confined space there as several cars were usually parked in the Close. Fortunately the rain had completely ceased and he walked along the short path to his house hoping that his wife Janine might still be at home to share that drink with him he had been thinking about for the last hour and a half and thankfully be able to get a change of clothing.

With some surprise he saw Robert’s car in the driveway; he couldn’t think what he could possibly want there at that time of the day, Janine was usually out, shopping or something. Perhaps Robert had rung her and she had waited for him to arrive. Paul wondered what could be so urgent that it could not have waited for a more appropriate time, after all he thought, Robert had his work at the reservoir and Paul wondered why he wasn’t at it, as latterly the man seemed to Paul to be taking quite a lot of time away from his duties. This he could tell by the number of times Robert visited them or phoned on one pretext or another, Paul himself spending some of his time on his business at his home and perhaps needing to make a phone call, he would find that Janine, his wife was already answering it, the caller being Robert supposedly making enquiries about his daughter, Phillipa who was at the same school as his own daughter, Kathy, or with some other excuse for the call. To Paul this behaviour of Robert was becoming an annoyance, though Janine didn’t seem to mind and in fact seemed to always be able to make an excuse for it.

Paul had never felt a companionly affection for Robert, at least, not the same feeling that Robert professed to have for him. He had been genuinely sorry for Robert and his daughter Phillippa when Joan, Robert’s wife had died. She had been admitted to Janine’s medical ward and she as ward Sister realized a rapport had developed between them, the fact that Phillippa’s school was the same as Kathy’s, was a factor which helped them to cement their friendship. He, Paul on the other hand, thought that Robert was a little too free with his eye. Robert had never tried to hide his admiration for the ladies from Paul on the odd occasion when they had been out together for a drink, usually at Janine’s belief that Robert needed Paul’s company to try and ease his distress at his wife’s illness, she would say. Because Joan was lying very ill in the hospital, this sort of behaviour went against the grain as far as Paul was concerned and he had tried at times to indicate his feelings on the subject to Janine, but she always seemed to find an excuse for Robert’s conduct. Also he tried his best not to have to accompany Robert too often on such outings, he felt more inclined to keep him on a long leash, usually being able to find an excuse not to have to be in his company.

She, Janine, did not seem to find any wrong in Robert, excusing his manner as a way of keeping up his spirits during Joan’s illness. All the same, it wasn’t Paul’s idea of the sort of conduct one would expect from someone whose wife was not believed to be able to recover from the disease which was deemed to be now in its final stages.

In his own mind, Paul knew that part of his disapproval of Robert’s behaviour lay in the knowledge that the man often ran his wandering eye over Janine’s trim form; she for her part apparently oblivious to his attentions, or so Paul thought. Janine was a striking dark beauty and Paul could never quite believe his luck that she had allowed him to woo her, never mind accept his proposal of marriage. He had whipped her off to the church before she changed her mind. He had never felt jealous of other men before, accepting their obvious envy with some pride in his own achievement of capturing her for himself. However, he thought Robert was different, the man’s attitude to other women, in a way, putting him on his guard.

After Joan’s death, Robert appeared to spend more time at Paul and Janine’s house than Paul liked or thought there was need for, the excuse as has been said, often being Phillippa’s friendship with Kathy. She provided the link with Paul’s family that Janine thought Robert needed and in Paul’s mind, Robert milked it for all it was worth, much to Paul’s chagrin. Here again he thought it odd that Robert should be at his home.

Robert’s car was parked close to the house wall and Paul walked past it on the other side, brushing his still damp trousers against the wet potted shrubs on the stone bench there. As he came alongside the hall window he momentarily stopped in his tracks, he had unconsciously glanced in and could see Janine and Robert there. Almost as if he was the guilty party he hurried on and into the garage, squeezing past Janine’s car and on to the bench at the far end. His heart hammered in his chest, the unexpected sight had hit him like a blow and he wanted time to gather his wits.

Perhaps he had made a mistake, but no, it was true right enough, Janine and Robert in an intimate embrace in the hall, seeming to be not just a friendly greeting, but more like the embrace of lovers. His spirits sank, he was at a loss; what could he do? Go in and confront them? No! He couldn’t do that, he was too shocked and embarrassed, as though he must not let them know they had been seen by him. He waited there, confused and hurt, his mind in a whirl trying to collect his thoughts and wondering how it could have occurred and what the devil he could do about it, how long had Robert been there that day and how long had that sort of thing been going on?

He admitted to himself now that he’d had vague suspicions but had put it down to his occasional feelings of jealousy where Robert was concerned, never really thinking it could possibly get to this stage. Again he wondered how long it had been going on. How long had they been behaving in this fashion? What could he do about it? How could Janine do this to him? Was she about to cast him aside after all the years they had been together? Again, what the devil could he do about it? The questions flashed through his brain in rapid succession and he was unable to answer any of them.

He heard the door at the side of the house open and he moved further round between the bench and the car. He realized he was acting as though he was at fault, but could not do any other. He could not let them know he had seen them, not yet. He heard Robert’s car door slam and the engine burst into life and the car move away down the drive. He peered cautiously around his wife’s car and saw her wave after Robert, turn and walk back into the house. He slumped back, leaning on to the bench, his strength seemed to have gone, his pulse racing; he was devastated.Feelings he hadn’t realised he had becoming apparent, upsurging in his mind.

When eventually he recovered his equanimity, he sidled out of the garage giving the impression he had only just arrived as he opened the back door and went in. He said nothing to Janine except his normal greeting and explanation about the trouble he had had with his car.She didn’t give the impression that she had just parted from Robert and in fact, didn’t mention that he had been there. After all they had been to each other, Paul couldn’t believe that she could behave so naturally, as if nothing of any import could have just occurred. Perhaps he was wrong and Robert had just arrived before him and it was just Janine’s normal friendly greeting.

The next few days were agony for Paul, unsure at what he had seen, deciding not to question Janine about the incident and coming to no firm conclusion about it himself, his pretence of normality was becoming a great strain on him. Janine had made no indication of her discontent with their life, though at times she did seem far away in her thoughts. But, he now noticed things he hadn’t before, in his sublime ignorance of what was apparently happening to their marriage. He was unhappy at the realization that he himself was in a great measure to blame and wasn’t sure what he could do or say to restore things to a semblance of what they had been. How could he change their marriage to its former state now? Was it too late? Dare he come straight out with it and tell what he had seen and demand an explanation? No! He didn’t feel he could do that. To do so would be an ultimatum and probably an end to their relationship. He didn’t want that; there must be a better way to sort the problem out. He must bide his time and come up with the answer himself.

He did his best to continue acting as he had before he became aware of what seemed to have happened to their marriage, both at home and at work. His assistant Harriet noticed the change in him but could not determine the reason and she was too polite and reticent to enquire what the nature of his problem was. A staid, middle aged lady, whose husband had died when she was young and had never remarried. She had no children of her own to make their demands on her and instead had turned to antiques, her interest in the subject growing and developing until she became very well versed in it to Paul’s appreciation.

Her knowledge now, was quite wide and embracing, from clocks to paintings; from jewellery to furniture. She was a boon to Paul who cherished her. She, in turn, loved him like a son and often softened the blows and bruises of business life for him. His present unusual attitude and quiet manner worried her and she knew he was putting on a pretence of normality for her and the customers, but she knew there was definitely something very wrong and wondered if there was something she could do without embarrassing him. She would wait and see.

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black.jpg CHAPTER 2

George Grundy wiped his lips with the back of his hand. ‘That went down well’ he thought and caressed the half empty pint beer glass as though by so doing, it would miraculously refill. Sid, the landlord of the establishment wandered back to him after satisfying another customer’s thirst with a bottle of light ale.

‘Well then George, wot’s t’likelihood o’ gerrin’ another fish or two?’ He absent-mindedly wiped the wetness on the bar counter around George’s pot as he put the whispered question.

‘Oh aye! There’ll be more on ’em termorrer, but ’ave got ter watch mesel’, there’s bin a bit more cummin’ an’ goin’ like up at near t’best spot fer gerrin’ ’em’. George also spoke softly, one never knew who might have an ear cocked, looking for a bit of gossip and perhaps being able to take advantage of it.

Sid digested this bit of news, then; ‘Oh ah see, trouble wi’ t’bailiff agen then eh?

‘Aye, yer cud say that an’ all. They’v’ gorra new man on’t job. He’s o’er keen like; I ‘as ter watch mesen ’ntil I find art wot ‘is strengths are.’

‘Well, George, do thee best anyroad.’ Sid looked up as the door to the street opened. ‘’ere’s Charlie I’d best see ter ’im’.

The arrangement made, the farrier come poacher, George Grundy, drank the rest of the beer and said his ‘good night’ to the few customers left in the barroom and to Sid; making his way out of the door of ‘The Ostler And Nag’. Nell would be waiting with his supper ready; she was very precise with meal times and George risked her displeasure if he was to delay his arrival to the point where she had to put his meal in the oven to keep it warm. He walked home through the darkness at his usual deceptive gait which would have left another man having to exert himself to keep up the pace with him.

At the sound of the lifting of the latch on the back door, Nell glanced at the Grandmother clock to check George’s punctuality, ready to air any grievance she might have excuse to show at George’s entry. Sadly she had to admit to herself that this time George was not late. He pushed the kitchen door open a little; enough to glance in and check there were no visitors. Satisfied, he pushed the door wide open, went in and took his usual seat at the table after placing Nell’s bottle of ‘Iron Brew’ on it beside Nell’s place. He said nothing as he picked up his knife and fork, ready to attack Nell’s offering. Neither of them believed that words on such an occasion as a meal time were necessary.

She turned and went to the fire with its large, black iron pot hanging from a hook over the grate and with a generously deep, plain earthenware bowl in one hand, ladled some of the steaming contents into it from the pot with the other. The lovely odour of the vegetables and gravy filled the room and George relaxed as he sniffed the air, revelling in the atmosphere and helping himself to a thick slice of Nell’s home baked bread; knowing also, that into the bowl would be deposited a succulent piece of the rabbit pie he could smell, roasting in the oven.

Nell retrieved the pie using an old towel to protect her fingers from the heat of the dish and placed it on the bare, scrubbed top of the wooden table. Coasters were not used in the Grundy household. ‘Like ornaments’ Nell would say, ‘they on’y ‘arbour muck an’ dust’. George broke the slice of bread into two pieces ready for the attack of the coming offering.

She divided the pie while still in the dish into four pieces. That would provide a piece each for the present meal and the other two for the next time they had stew. As the pastry was parted, more steam inside escaped, stimulating further George’s appetite for his supper and he tucked his legs back under the cross stave of the chair as he helped himself to the generous dish full.

Having served her own and George’s meal, Nell sat down. Now was the time she thought, to propose to her husband what she had decided they needed to do. She gave him time to swallow a few forkfuls of the pie, then; ‘listen George, ah want yer ter tell me wot yer think’.

George cast a glance at her, his mouth full of rabbit meat. He chewed a little slower. ‘Oh aye’ he managed to mutter, noncommittally, wondering what was coming next; they didn’t usually discuss things while eating, they normally finished their meal first before any words of note were uttered.

‘Yeh!’ said Nell and swallowed. ‘Yer know; wot we were talkin’ abart t’other day. Abart our Bert’s grave. It’s time we ‘ad t’’eadstone done, proper like’.

George carried on eating for a minute and Nell said again. ‘Well, wot d’yer think?’ She looked earnestly at him. She knew it was no use to try and hurry him; he would digest what she had proposed and then give an answer to her question.

‘Wot’s got yer orl ’et up abart lad’s grave?’ George asked, ‘it’s bin a long time gone ter think nar abart puttin’ a ‘eadstone on it!’

‘Well,’ Nell protested, ‘ah think it should ‘a’ bin done long since. It dunna seem rait fer ‘im t’ be lyin’ there wi’ nub’dy knowin’ who or wot’s lyin’ there, do it?’.

‘Them’s that matter knows who ’tis’ George said, ‘but if that’s wot yer want, then we’ll ‘a’ ter find t’money ter gerrit’. He had capitulated; all this talk was interfering with his enjoyment of his meal.

‘I’ve thowt abart that’ Nell said, having brightened at his swift compliance with little argument,’we’ll sell t’owd clock o’ me mam’s!’

George gulped. This was something he would never have imagined Nell would do, she selling the clock left to her by her Mother. He was by no means well situated financially, but his trade as the local farrier was supplemented on occasion by his poaching, which sometimes allowed his being able to afford Nell with a bit of extra housekeeping money. But this, to sell something which she revered, indicated to him, her determination to carry out her plan.

He looked at her, her eyes shining in her realization that George had not immediately stamped on the idea and therefore, by experience, knew that he had no objections. George ate another mouthful. ‘Get thee snap darn thee’ he said, there’s no need ter let good grub g’ ter waste’.

Nell smiled to herself. She knew also that when George gave her a compliment, back handed or not, he must be in a good mood. So, they would take the clock the following morning to that chap’s antique shop in the town. She’d heard from her acquaintance, Millicent Hassop, that he was an honest fellow. There would, perhaps, even be enough cash left over after seeing to her late son’s headstone, to buy that coat she’d cast her eye over a time or two lately. Yes! George was a good man. He didn’t know that as a treat there was a newly baked cake in the larder. It was a wonder he hadn’t smelt it when he’d come in past the larder door, he was usually quite keen on the smell of baking as well as rabbit pie and would normally remark on it. When things were going your way, you had to reward those persons responsible for it happening.

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black.jpg CHAPTER 3

Janine didn’t often visit the shop, not having too great an interest in Paul’s business dealings, antiques were somewhat foreign to her interests; her work was of a vastly different kind. Her nursing career had however, been temporarily interrupted after Joan’s death, she felt she needed time to get over it. For some reason she could not understand, she had lost interest in caring for the sick after the loss of her friend; an interest she had never dreamed she could lose. Perhaps she would return to it one day, but not yet, not while Joan’s death lay in the forefront of her mind. For now it would have to be put on one side while she came to terms with the loss of her friend. She knew of course that bereavement, especially of a close friend as she knew her friendship with Joan had been, could bring to the fore strong feelings of distress and possible depression and was therefore wary of allowing the occurrence to occur.

Janine had a sister in America, a woman of stronger personality than herself; sister that she was, she wasn’t the friend she felt that Joan had been. She could not have given an explanation of her deep feelings for Joan, a woman who in her sickness needed love and care, who had come to her in pain and who needed also, an understanding of her condition which had not been shown by her husband.

Paul’s wife of course, was unaware of Robert’s shortcomings and Joan, friend that she became,