Corduroy Mansions Page 0,75

Freddie de la Hay had moved across to the wardrobe at the other end of the room and seated himself in front of it. Then, turning towards William, he gave him an intense stare.

“He’s found something,” said Marcia. “Look.”

William sighed. He did not want Freddie to find something. Life was complicated enough without having to think about Eddie’s possible use of drugs.

“They all do it,” he muttered. “But perhaps he doesn’t inhale …”

Freddie was now scratching at the wardrobe door and whining.

“We can’t ignore him,” Marcia said firmly. “I’m going to have a look.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” muttered William. “It’s Eddie’s wardrobe, you know. We should respect his privacy.”

But Marcia was not listening; she was now at Freddie de la Hay’s side. The dog looked up at her briefly and then glanced over at William, as if to confirm Marcia’s authority. William nodded.

The catch on the wardrobe was stiff and it took Marcia a minute or so to twist it in such a way that the door would open. William came and stood behind her, craning his neck to see what the wardrobe would contain. Chocolate wrappers? A cache of dirty laundry? Or would it, as he feared, contain something considerably worse?

53. Freddie de la Hay Points to Something

WILLIAM AND MARCIA found themselves staring into Eddie’s wardrobe, each noticing something different about the clothes hanging from the rail. In contrast to the rest of Eddie’s room, the inside of the wardrobe was at least a corner of order, with jackets at one end of the rail and trousers, belts and ties at the other. Marcia’s eyes were fixed on a tie: Ghastly, she thought, but just right for Eddie. For his part, William spotted several garments that he recognised but had not seen for a long time, including a suede jacket fringed in the cowboy style. This had been a favourite of the teenage Eddie—his mother had bought it for him for his fourteenth birthday and he had cherished it. And here it was, still loved, perhaps a reminder to Eddie of the mother he had lost, or of his earlier years, when he had been happier. William swallowed and looked away. Eddie had been an affectionate boy, enthusiastic, friendly in a puppyish way; William had been so proud of him, had loved him, and then something had gone wrong. Eddie had changed, had grown surly and distant. At first William had thought that it was the normal teenage change—that mutation which transforms likeable children into odious beings. But the teenage years had passed and the old (young) Eddie had not returned, and it seemed to William that he never would. But should he be throwing him out now—because that was what Marcia had somehow engineered? Was that what a father should do?

“I wonder …,” began William, but he did not finish. Marcia had seized his arm and was pointing down at Freddie de la Hay. The hairs on the back of Freddie’s neck seemed to be standing up and he was pointing with his left paw towards a small pile of sweaters on the floor of the wardrobe.

“He’s seen something,” whispered Marcia. “Look. Freddie’s seen something.”

His heart cold within him, William bent down and felt around under the pile of sweaters. As he did so, Freddie de la Hay growled softly.

“That’s all right, Freddie boy,” William muttered. “I’ll handle this.”

But Freddie de la Hay remained on duty as he had been taught to do at Heathrow Airport, and when William extracted the item that had been concealed under the sweaters, he gave an eager bark and pointed more energetically at the object in William’s hand.

“All right, Freddie,” said William. “You’ve made your point. You can sit down now.”

Freddie immediately sat back and looked up at William, an expression of satisfaction on his face.

William straightened up. He had in his hands a rectangular parcel about twelve inches by eight, wrapped neatly in brown paper and tied about with waxed string.

“A book?” Marcia suggested. “Or …”

William waited for her to make an alternative suggestion, but none came.

“I wonder why Freddie was so interested?” he mused. “This doesn’t look like anything … anything illegal.”

“Then open it,” said Marcia. “Or give it to me. I’ll unwrap it.”

William frowned. “I don’t know,” he said. “This is Eddie’s property. I don’t know whether we should be …”

“Oh, nonsense,” said Marcia. “It’s your flat and you can look at anything you like in your flat.” She reached out and snatched the parcel from William’s hands.

“I really