Local Legend Read online

  I frowned, trying to remember the details. “I don’t think so. I can’t remember if I did or not.”

  “It might not be the exact same jacket, then. But if it was so well known, it wouldn’t be difficult to copy.” He thought for a moment. “Still, if it’s not Adi, then it’s someone who looks like him and is dressed like him. Why? What for? That’s the real question, isn’t it?”

  I shrugged. At the back of my mind was a lingering hope that perhaps it really was Adi after all. Adi with a miraculously healed leg. Was it really more far-fetched than an Adi lookalike wearing an Adi jacket sitting in a bar back here in the UK?

  Perhaps.

  “Could it be a sort of Adi Varney fan-club thing? You know, like all those big conventions they have where people dress up as their favourite character?” Sam rubbed his thumbnail against his lips as he thought about it – which is something I often do myself. I was ridiculously pleased to see him copying my idiosyncrasies.

  “AdiCon? I don’t think so! That’s not a football fan sort of thing. Not at The Vale, anyhow. Wearing a shirt with their favourite player’s number on is as far as it goes.”

  “OK. So perhaps it’s something for TV? A documentary or a drama about him?”

  I thought it over. “Better. But then where were the rest of the film crew? And in any case, if there was anything like that in the wind, I’d have heard about it. In fact, I’d probably have been consulted on it.”

  “So what happened to the real Adi, then? I remember something about him going over to the States.”

  “Yes. Just a week or two after his resignation, he turned up in California. Big press conference, talking about a new team that he was building from scratch. ‘California Strike All-Stars’ or something like that. It was going to be huge, not just in the USA, but internationally.”

  “Was it?”

  “No. Never really got off the ground. Oh, there was a lot of excitement for a while. Adi was all over the place, talking up the new team and the new project. He recruited a few players from here and there – Hans Van Hoorn, the Dutch international, José Santos from Brazil by way of Inter Milan – big names, if a bit past their top performance, but he had them parading round in the new kit. It took a while, but he got a team together, played a few exhibition games, looked to be doing OK. Better than OK, perhaps – they took on Real Madrid and beat them at one point! Just a friendly, of course, but it looked like this was really going to happen. And then…”

  “And then?” Sam prompted after a moment.

  “And then nothing. It all went quiet. No more team, no more Adi. Not a whisper.”

  “Until now!”

  “Until now,” I agreed. “Except that it wasn’t Adi, of course.”

  “But who was it, eh? That’s the question…” Sam yawned and stood up. “I’m going to bed. I can’t stay up all night like you tough old guys.” He patted me on the shoulder. “You’ll have to dig around, though, and get to the bottom of it. Can’t leave a story like that alone, can you?”

  “Come off it, Sam. I was the sports hack on the local rag – not an investigative reporter!”

  “Time for a new career, then! G’night, Dad.”

  I stayed up a bit longer, clicking through the photographs, remembering. Sam was right, I realized. I’d have to dig around.

  Sunday morning. Which meant church for me and Sandy. Sam had shown no interest since he’d come back, and we didn’t press him.

  To be honest, I didn’t have a lot of interest that morning. Bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, I slumped in the pew and let readings and prayers and sermon wash over me, while such part of my mind as was functioning was consumed with thoughts of Adi, and what I’d seen in the hotel bar. Without Sandy’s nudging, I might not even have stood up for the hymns.

  Afterwards, there was the usual coffee and biscuits in the church hall. I spotted someone on the other side of the room, and made my way over.

  “Hi, Karen,” I said, and she turned to me with a smile. Dark hair, still worn long, no grey showing, though her face was lined. Warm brown eyes, warm smile. Still a very attractive woman, she’d been stunning on her wedding day, when I’d stood as Adi’s best man. Since then, though, many lines had been graven into her skin.

  “Graham! Didn’t stay too long at the wedding then?”

  For a moment the two weddings – the one yesterday and the one thirty years before – mingled in my mind. Four lives, all full of hope for the future. Two still hoping.

  “I’m long past the all night partying age! How are you doing? And the girls?”

  “Fine, thanks. Sara’s busy with her career, Jaqui’s busy with little Patrick, and Adrienne is somewhere around…” Karen glanced across the room, then shrugged. “Off on youth group business, I expect. How about you and Sandy? And Sam?”

  “We’re fine, thanks.” Formalities over, I hesitated over my next words. Karen tilted her head, with an expectant look.

  “Come on, Graham, cough it up. Not like you to be short of words!”

  “OK. It was just that I was wondering if you’d heard anything from Adi recently.”

  There was no overt reaction, but suddenly Karen went very still. I mentally kicked myself for not finding a more sensitive approach.

  “Sorry.”

  “No. It’s OK, Graham. I – it’s just that, hearing his name even… it brings back things. I brace myself. If you know what I mean.”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “And no, I haven’t. Not recently. Not for a long time. Why – have you?”

  She kept her tone neutral, but there was a look in her eye which suggested that she desperately hoped I had.

  Or perhaps that I hadn’t. I couldn’t be sure which. Either way, I was likely to make things worse, but it was too late to back out now.

  “Not heard from him, no. But I saw somebody yesterday who looked just like him. Couldn’t have been him, though!” I added that hastily as I saw something like hope flicker across her face. “He was walking without a stick. Without a limp, even.”

  “You had a good look at him, then?” There was a sharp edge in her voice. “Did you speak to him?”

  “I saw him through a window. Didn’t get to speak to him, exactly. I waved and shouted, and he looked at me but it was clear he didn’t recognize me. Then he walked away.”

  “But if it was through a window, he might not have seen you properly. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t recognize you?” It was definitely hope in Karen’s face and in her voice, despite all I’d said to avoid arousing it, and I mentally kicked myself again.

  “I think he saw me well enough. Everybody else in there did. They were all wondering who the nutter was!” I tried to wave it off as a joke. But it hurt to see something die a little inside her as she accepted my explanation.

  I was expecting her to ask why I’d bothered to ask her about hearing from Adi, if I was so sure it wasn’t him, and was trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t sound too feeble, but we were joined by a slender red-haired teenager.

  “Hi, Uncle Graham,” she said. I’d always been Uncle Graham to Adi’s girls, just as he’d been Uncle Adi to Sam. “Mum, can we go now?”

  “Hi, Adrienne,” I said.

  “Yes, I suppose so.” Karen fished in her bag, pulled out some car keys. “Go and get in. I’ll be along in a moment.”

  We watched her head off towards the door.

  “She’s really got Adi’s hair colour,” I said.

  “And other things as well. She’s brilliant at sports. The only one of the girls who took after him in that way.”

  “She’s – what? Sixteen now?”

  Karen nodded. “Going on twenty-one! Listen, Graham – I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention this person you saw when she’s around. Or anything about Adi, really. It’s – well, I just don’t want to stir things up. You understand.”

  “Of course. Sorry I mentioned it.”

  She smiled gently. Perhaps a little painfully. “It’s OK. I
know you miss him too. Perhaps more than I do, even, in some ways – you were his friend for ever, weren’t you?”

  “I don’t know. It seemed that way. But…”

  She patted my hand. “People change, Graham. Adi changed. I think it had been coming a long time, but it was a shock when it happened. When it became obvious. Well, I’d better go. See you next Sunday, if not before.”

  “See you, Karen.”

  She turned to go, then turned back again. “About that limp… You know, when Adi first left, when he was still keeping in touch, he said something about getting some special treatment. Something only available over there. Made a joke about how he’d be playing again. I don’t suppose it would be that good, though, even if it ever happened.”

  I watched her leave the room. I’d wanted to ask her about the jacket, if Adi had taken it with him, but under the circumstances I hadn’t dared mention it. To give her even the slightest thread of hope would have been too cruel. I wished I’d realized that sooner.

  After lunch I slipped away into the office and set about searching online for all and any possible treatments for severe leg injuries. I was almost convinced that Adi’s leg would be impossible to repair, even with the most cutting-edge medical technology available – but once again there was that nagging one per cent uncertainty.

  After a couple of hours, Sandra came looking for me.

  “Come on,” she said. “It’s a lovely afternoon: the dog needs a walk, I need some company, and you need some fresh air!”

  I stretched and yawned. “Right. As you usually are. I wasn’t getting anywhere with this anyhow. I’ll get my boots.”

  Half an hour later, out on our favourite walk across the fields and into the woods, Sandra wondered aloud what I’d been doing. My explanation led, inevitably, to my conversation with Karen, and a serious telling-off.

  “You actually said that to Karen? You asked her about Adi! Graham – you…” Sandra fell silent, either because she couldn’t find words to express herself (unlikely) or because the words she was coming up with weren’t the sort that she liked to use.

  “Sorry. I didn’t think it through,” I confessed, humbly.

  “You didn’t think at all! Of all the idiotic, insensitive… and pointless! We’d already agreed that it couldn’t have been Adi you saw. Why bring it up at all? And with Karen, of all people! Have you forgotten how it was for her when he left? Do you really think it was worth raking that up? And suppose Adrienne had overheard?”

  “I know, I know. I just thought that – if there had been any word, any hint of him coming back to the UK…”

  “If there was, Karen would probably have been the last person to find out! Don’t you remember how she learned about that woman he’d met over there? Not from Adi! He was still sending messages about bringing her and the girls over to join him – still keeping her hopes alive – and then there’s pictures on the internet of Adi with his arms round that – person – and her hands all over him!”

  I made to speak again, but she held up a hand. “Don’t say anything more! I don’t want to hear about any more of your speculations!”

  She’d left her wig behind, preferring a sun hat on bright days. Now she tore it off, flung it at me, and strode on ahead, shouting for Brodie to get his nose out of a cowpat and keep up.

  I sighed, watching her scarred head recede into the distance. Once again I’d asked the wrong questions at the wrong time – always a possibility for a reporter – but now I didn’t even have the mediocre excuse of following a story. Just as well I hadn’t mentioned the jacket. It would have been pointless anyway. Even if Adi hadn’t taken it with him, it would have been easy enough to reproduce it.

  Which of course left the question of why anyone would have gone to such lengths to imitate him. I still didn’t have a good answer to that, either.

  Brodie came running back to round me up. I obediently followed on, keeping at a safe distance.

  It wasn’t until we were back home that Sandra was finally talking to me again.

  “So what did you discover on the internet? Could his leg have been repaired?”

  “Nothing conclusive. There’s a lot of information about how to deal with a broken bone or a torn ligament, but Adi had multiple injuries. There’s no website that I could find that dealt with all those things at once. Plenty of people making big claims about acupuncture, or stem cell treatment, or all sorts of other things, but nothing that could be tied down to a definite answer for someone with that amount of damage. Apart from what the doctors said at the time, of course, which was that he was lucky to be able to keep his leg at all.”

  “So, once again, it wasn’t Adi!”

  “Probably not,” I agreed. “But, in that case – who was it?”

  “I’ve no idea. But why did you think Karen would know anything?”

  Obviously, I had no answer to that.

  “Just don’t ask her again, OK?” She touched my cheek. “Look, I know you want to find out for sure and lay this to rest – but don’t involve Karen. She’s been hurt enough.”

  “Right. Of course. But I may ask around a bit in other places. Discreetly.”

  She smiled. “I know you will.” She paused for a moment. “Does Karen know about you and Adi – and David?”

  Somehow, even after all this time, I can’t hear my brother’s name without feeling something. I’m not even sure what it is, any more. Guilt, regret, a space left empty many years ago and never entirely filled.

  But it’s very deep, and I don’t think it shows. Not even to Sandy.

  “I expect she knows what happened. It was no secret, after all. I never talked to her about it though. Perhaps Adi did.”

  “Yes, she probably knows. And if so, she probably understands why Adi’s so important to you. Just don’t forget that you’re not the only person who was close to him.”

  I nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind. Right then – I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?” Nothing like a cup of tea for putting life into perspective, I thought.

  But, even while my hands were going through the familiar routine of filling the kettle and measuring out tea (not teabags, not for someone who wants the proper flavour), I couldn’t help wondering how much Karen did know about the past. Adi might not have told her about David.

  After all, even Sandy didn’t know everything.

  CHAPTER 3

  “The only history that matters is the history you make yourself.”

  Adi Varney, pre-match talk – quoted by several Vale players on different occasions

  I slept in on Monday morning. Since I became semi-retired, I’ve been doing that more and more. It wasn’t that I had nothing to do – there were several freelance projects I had on the go, at various stages of completion – but the deadlines were mostly my own.

  I quite liked it. However, the downside was that Sandy was out and gone by the time I finally wandered downstairs. Sam, however, was still there, eating egg and bacon straight out of the frying pan – a habit his mother had had no success at all in breaking.

  “Morning, Dad. Kettle’s just boiled.”

  “Mng. Thnks.” I started fumbling with cups and teapot. “So where were you yesterday?” I muttered.

  “New job – bar work at Studio Cool. Didn’t get in till about two. Maybe later… hope I didn’t disturb you?”

  I grunted a grumpy negative. What right did he have to be so bright and chirpy when I could barely put one thought in front of another? “What happened to the warehouse job?”

  “Dumped that. Rubbish pay for the hours, and boring as well. This is more fun and I get to sleep in.”

  I poured the tea and sipped at my cup, hoping the caffeine and sugar would kick in quickly. “How many jobs has that been now?”

  Sam shrugged. “Who’s counting?”

  He’d worked his way around the world by doing any job that was going. A few weeks fruit picking, a month as a waiter, a bit of bicycle maintenance, and so on. With his natural charm and abi
lity to turn his hand to almost anything, he’d managed very well. What’s more, he’d acquired an extensive (if informal) education along the way. I was only slightly worried by the fact that he hadn’t changed his lifestyle even though he was now supposedly settled back at home. Another reason why I didn’t think it would last.

  “And,” he continued, “it means that I’m free to come with you.”

  “With me? Where? Doing what?”

  “Wherever you’re going to next, to track down this fake Adi.”

  I finished my tea and gave him a long look. He smiled back and gave me a dose of the same Sam magic that had taken him all over the globe. It worked on me as well, and had done ever since he was a baby.

  Still, I put up a show of resistance. “Who says I’m going to track him down?”

  “Mum does. She said, ‘Keep an eye on your father and don’t let him make a nuisance of himself. Again.’ And she said especially that you weren’t to go near Karen Varney.”

  “I have no intention of talking to Karen again, and I already told your mother that!”

  His grin broadened. “But you are planning to look into this Adi thing.” It wasn’t a question.

  I shrugged. “I thought I might go to some places, talk to a few people.”

  “Ah-ha! What places? What people?”

  “The places I’d expect Adi to go to if he was back, and the people at those places.”

  Sam stood up. “Sounds good to me. When do we start?”

  “When I’ve had some breakfast, and you’ve done the washing-up.” I nodded at his pan.

  “Sure. No problem.” He tossed the pan into the sink and started a tap running. “This is looking like a fun day: I get to watch my old man doing his investigative reporter thing!”

  Part of Sam’s talent is his ability to say the things that people like to hear, and what father doesn’t want to show off his talents to his kids? So I overlooked the “old man”, especially since it happened to be true, and rummaged in the cupboard for cereal.

  “So what’s the first place we try?” he continued, adding washing-up liquid to the water.