I had no idea such a shadowy world of violence and intimidation could exist in my community.
‘You said that first call – have you spoken to him again?’ I asked. ‘I don’t know your husband, but I am sure he is not part of some criminal underworld,’ I added.
‘I’ve had many calls from his solicitor, asking me to speak to Cole. But I really don’t want to. What is there to say? He was caught and filmed watching and betting on two dogs destroying each other in a barn. Why should I speak to him? I have found out a few details though, through Matthew.’
‘Oh?’ I replied.
‘The police got a tip-off from a member of the public that the fight was going to take place. They didn’t know when or where, but knew the names of likely attendees. Why Cole’s name was put forward, I don’t know – guess he must be part of an organised crime syndicate. Goes to show: you can live with someone, but never really know them.’
In my peripheral vision, somebody walked toward the table.
‘Would you like to see the dessert menu?’ the waiter asked brightly.
‘No, no,’ we replied too forcefully in unison and he hurriedly retreated, leaving our empty bowls in front of us.
‘How do you know this?’
‘Know what?’
‘That he was named, and that he is part of a crime gang?’
‘Matthew said his was one of the names put forward along with Elliot Wallace’s. I was introduced to him at the Lombarders’ ladies’ night. Think he is the organiser – sounds like he’s been arrested before, or so Matthew Gorham said. I knew there was something wrong about him when I met him.’
that your husband is fully involved
I sat back silently, not wanting to offer any indication of my knowledge of or involvement in Cerys’ situation.
‘I am grateful that someone went to the police – this had to be stopped,’ she continued, ‘but I now know our every movement was monitored; we were under constant surveillance.’
‘That must have been really hard to deal with. I am really sorry,’ I offered.
‘Why are you sorry? It wasn’t your fault.’
‘I can imagine—’
‘You don’t understand, Eddie, what it feels like knowing you have been watched twenty-four hours a day, but at the time, you had no idea it was actually happening,’ Cerys interrupted sternly.
I was shamed into silence.
‘I am paranoid now. Any contractors that I see parked up, I instantly wonder if they are really what they seem. I crossed the road yesterday to avoid a man cleaning a shop window,’ she said eventually, a semblance of her usual tone restored.
I merely nodded an acknowledgement.
‘They must have seen us leaving the house together, him on his own or me alone; seen us in the garden, inside the house, by the windows, in the bathroom showering and washing. They must have followed on every car journey, every shopping trip and even parking at the airport – they tracked him all the way to and from Amsterdam,’ she said.
She paused, letting me take in the words.
‘Lately, I’ve convinced myself they went through the bins and removed any personal details, and also entered the house, checking and removing correspondence, gaining evidence, though logically, I am quite sure they didn’t. But all of this defies logic, so I decided last week to check his filing cabinet in the study, make sure nothing was missing – I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for, but I discovered a lot.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
Cerys closed her eyes and exhaled audibly. ‘It’s all a lie.’
‘Sorry? What is a lie?’
‘The entire life he built. The shops, the house, the cars, the motor cruiser, the watches, the jewellery – none of them were owned by him, none.’
I wanted to speak, but Cerys continued.
‘Letters hidden in the study showed the level of debt he had accumulated over a considerable period of time, and how repayment plans and loans were in place to cover them. The whole thing is a mess and out of control.’
‘You must be able to get help or advice,’ I said.
‘Who from?’
‘The lenders – which bank is it? We could do this together.’
Cerys stared at me and touched my hand gently. ‘Eddie, there is no bank involved,’ she revealed wearily. ‘The letters are from extremely dubious-sounding companies, registered mostly in Costa Rica; the loans and terms seem complex.’
I felt foolish, really foolish. She smiled, looked at me and squeezed my hands. As I had earlier, Cerys now held my gaze for a moment too long.
‘I’ve a plan, though,’ she revealed.
‘What’s that?’
‘My mother left me a property in her will; I’ve used it for occasional weekends down the years. It’s a small place, a long way from here, on the opposite coast. It’s right on the edge of sand dunes, but has no guarding mountains, just endless sand flats, enormous skies and ever-changing light.’
‘Sounds lovely.’
‘It is – look out of the lounge window and you often find seals lying up near the shoreline. It’s as if they are sunbathing!’
I smiled at the image.
‘I am going to go there,’ Cerys said.
‘Okay.’
‘It’s safe,’ she added quietly.
I reflected on her words and thought again about my involvement in leading her to this current state of mind. It was me, my responsibility; I had informed the police regarding the dog fight. I could have stopped at naming Wallace, but spontaneously – and eagerly, I shamefully admit – I offered her husband’s name too. The pain resulting from my actions was clearly evident on her face as she sat in front of me, but without my involvement, would the true extent of her husband’s financial problems have been revealed to her in time? Would she have had time to act, time to protect herself before businessmen from San Jose came looking to recover their investments in any way they deemed appropriate? It is easy to justify our actions by latching positives to them.
‘When will you go?’ I asked.
‘As soon as I can,’ she replied. ‘I’m packing up at the moment, but not sure what I can or cannot take – I do not know what is paid for,’ she added with a sarcastic smile.
I smiled back. ‘I could help you,’ I said, squeezing her hands in mine.
Cerys looked at me.
‘With the packing,’ I added by way of an explanation.
Cerys didn’t answer me, but rather seemed lost in her own thoughts.
‘That’s really kind, Eddie, when did you have in mind?’ she finally said.
‘Now?’ I said excitedly. ‘Pay the bill and go?’ I suggested with a laugh, drawing the attention of the waiter we had previously banished with my raised arm.
‘Okay!’ she laughed back. ‘I was thinking next week, but now works too!’
The waiter returned quickly with the bill; we were the last diners remaining in the restaurant. I checked the figures and reached for my wallet to pay.
‘We should halve this, Eddie,’ said Cerys.
‘It was my suggestion to go out to eat,’ I replied.
I took out banknotes to pay for the meal, included what I considered to be a reasonable tip and handed it to the waiter. I commented again how good the mussels had been.
‘Always the best after a storm,’ he said. ‘Turmoil seems to intensify the flavour.’
He turned and walked to thet bar area, joining his fellow waiting staff who sensed the shift was finally ending.
‘Thank you,’ said Cerys.
‘What for?’ I probed.
She smiled at me, as our eyes made prolonged contact for a third time.
‘Shall we go?’ I suggested.
Chapter 20
&nb
sp; Eebiss
We drove with the sun heavy in front of us, guiding us, starting its daily search for the western horizon. I knew this road well, but had never had cause to stop; it was always used as a means to arrive somewhere else, an alternative to avoid tractors and slow-moving trucks on the main routes.
Cerys slowed as she approached a high brick wall to our left. She swung the car to face beech gates edged with brushed steel, and when on the driveway, pressed a fob on her key ring to activate the movement of the gates. As we passed through, a slate plaque to the left identified the house, in gold lettering, as EEBISS.
‘Here we are,’ she said, applying the handbrake.
I’d had a vision of Cerys’ home in my mind, but from the outside, this was far beyond what I had imagined. It made self-congratulating self-builders, all smug smiles and bare feet in glossy magazines, appear to the living in the bad side of town.
She opened the oak front door and pushed a code into the alarm box on the wall. With the alarm safely silenced, we moved through the porch, the floor space revealed being vast.
Natural light spilled in through two large glass gables, but the late-autumn warmth could not penetrate into the heart of the open-plan structure; the tiled floor and double-height ceiling proved too challenging for a dying sun and the house was cold.
I was always led to believe that a house had to have many rooms, defined separate compartments designed for a specific purpose. I hadn’t entered a property like this before. The bare white walls stretching to the angled roof and the empty shelving units seemed to expand the area yet further, and my eyes were drawn, as intended, I presumed, to a wood-burning stove positioned as a focal point in the centre of the space. Its brushed steel exterior and flue rising up through the roof mirrored the edging of the beech gates outside. Around it were positioned four cream leather sofas, their backs covered with coloured throws of luxurious-looking wool.
‘Lovely house,’ I stated unnecessarily.
Cerys did not answer.
I followed her to the far end of the house, to the kitchen area. The units were arranged in a horseshoe, surrounding an island that housed a sink and a hob. The units were of a reflective white material with no visible handles, and in contrast, the work surfaces were of black granite.
‘Would you like a drink?’ asked Cerys, pushing one of the units to reveal a refrigerator hidden inside.
‘Sure, what do you have?’
‘Fruit juice, sparkling water, or I can make a hot drink – tea, coffee – if you prefer,’ she replied.
‘Tea would be great.’
‘Earl Grey, masala, green?’ she asked.
Before I could make my choice, Cerys interrupted me.
‘Or we could have this,’ she said, revealing a bottle of chilled Chablis. As I looked on, she fully retrieved the bottle and gently shook it from the neck as way of coaxing my decision from me. ‘Opened it last night, I need a drink to face more packing,’ she confessed.
I nodded in agreement.
‘Glasses in the cupboard next to you, Eddie – just push the front, same as the fridge, it will open.’
I pushed as instructed and found the cavernous space almost completely empty.
‘Last two,’ I stated, retrieving two delicate-stemmed wine glasses.
Cerys poured the liquid, releasing the familiar satisfying glugging sounds as the wine moved from vessel to vessel.
‘I’ve packed all the other glasses away; stored them in the garage. I only need two with just me here; they are one thing I know I definitely bought.’
‘Cheers,’ I stated brightly, raising my glass toward hers.
She responded by clinking my glass with her own.
‘Really good to see you, Eddie,’ she said, before bringing the glass to her lips.
‘You too.’
I sipped at the chilled wine and felt the coldness travel through me.
‘I noticed the walls and shelves are bare – I thought you would have a lot to pack?’ I said.
‘Did all that already; I’ve stored everything – books, painting and sculptures – along with the drinking glasses. There are a number of original pieces he bought out there, but I am not sure if they are valuable, or even owned by him.’
‘You should keep them just in case!’ I laughed.
‘That’s why I moved them out of sight – you never know, they could be my pension!’ Cerys smiled.
‘You’re not going to leave them in the garage, are you?’
‘Course not; I’ve arranged to put it all in storage in two weeks’ time, so I really need to get organised. I haven’t even touched upstairs,’ confessed Cerys.
‘Upstairs?’
Cerys looked at me quizzically.
‘I didn’t think there was an upstairs,’ I explained, pointing at the vaulted ceiling.
‘Did you think I’ve got a hammock up there?’ she said, pointing upwards. ‘Lowered by a clever usage of pulleys?’ she added.
Before I could answer, she had picked up the wine bottle and was heading for the whitewashed wall facing us in the kitchen area.
‘C’mon, I’ll show you.’
I followed, glass in hand.
‘Aren’t we supposed to run at this with a luggage trolley to get through?’ I asked.
Cerys giggled and pushed the wall at a spot known to her, her action releasing a catch that triggered an unseen door to open inwards, revealing another area, at first glance roughly the same size as the one in which we stood.
Beyond the door was a structure of mainly glass, which opened up on a view taking in rolling hills and the mountains on the horizon. Again, it was double-heighted, and this time the glass reached up the apex, forming a glass roof.
Running to the right side of the apex were four heavy oak doors set in a white wall. Between the central doors, the wall was bisected by a white, open-riser staircase jutting straight from the wall, the steps of which appeared to have no apparent source of support, but instead seemed to simply float. The stairs led to a mezzanine level fronted by oak balustrades and a rail.
‘Steam room, gym, home cinema, studyo,’ said Cerys, reading my mind as we passed the first oak door.
‘Thought you were showing me the pulley system for your hammock?’
She smiled but ignored my comment, instead she pointed at the doors in turn, stating, ‘Not used, never used, not used by me, room I never want to enter again.’
I was sure the order of rooms matched her previous explanation, but I could have been mistaken.
‘Not being rude – you have all this natural light in here, but aren’t the rooms a bit dark?’ I suggested. ‘I guess for the cinema, you would want it dark, and the steam room doesn’t really matter,’ I added.
Cerys said nothing, but pushed a switch on the wall, which instantly prompted the ‘white wall’ to change and reveal glass, that allowed natural light to flood the rooms.
‘Wow,’ I said simply, transfixed by the change and equally by the substantially equipped gym.
Cerys stepped onto the staircase in silence. I followed, my mind processing the treadmills and the rowing and weightlifting machines as I ascended the stairs, intrigued as to what would be discovered on the second level.
Reaching the top, the oak rail was lower than I expected, standing waist-height, the wood grain beautiful and invitingly tactile. The mezzanine floor revealed a similar set of oak doors as below.
‘Can I press the magic button, Cerys?’ I asked, feeling like a ten-year-old as I spied a switch in the centre of the white wall.
‘Of course, but it’s not a toy, don’t break it!’ she commanded, a mock sternness in her voice.
I pressed it and felt the same wonder as I had downstairs as the rooms within were exposed.
‘That is one of t
he most amazing things I have ever seen,’ I confessed.
‘I said before to you that I didn’t care for all of this, even less so now that I know it’s built on a lie, but this is one thing that I really appreciate and never tire of.’
I nodded in agreement.
‘Waking up to a darkened room and revealing that framed view with the flick of a switch is truly a privilege and a pleasure, Eddie.’
‘I’ll take your word for it, I believe you,’ I said.
Now exposed, not all the rooms were bedrooms; one was a bathroom, another was a dressing room, and both appeared kitted out to the highest spec available. Judging by the brown cardboard boxes on the floor and the black bin liners and clothes arranged on the bed, one of the bedrooms had evidently seen more packing activity than the others.
‘Where do you want to start?’ I asked, turning to Cerys.
‘In here.’ She gestured toward the bedroom with the packing boxes.
We entered the room and Cerys took my now-empty wine glass from me and placed it with her own on an oak unit.
‘We need a top-up before we start,’ she said, and refilled the glasses. ‘Thanks for doing this, Eddie, you are a good man,’ she added.
With her words guiding the way, I rubber-banded back to that first encounter on the beach and Cerys turning around to address me on the duckboards.
‘It’s fine,’ I volunteered.
As well as a bed and bedside tables, the room held a number of units, cases and a huge wardrobe, all oak and all in pristine condition.
‘We need to clear all the shelves and cupboards. Just put all the clothes in the bin liners, anything else in the boxes – no need to sort,’ she said.
I moved toward the wardrobe and reached for the handles, preparing to reveal the contents inside, while Cerys opened a cupboard. I glance over to her and saw rows of files and boxes piled into the space.
‘Feels strange to rummage through your clothes,’ I confessed with a laugh.
‘Why, worried what you might find? You’re okay, my bondage dresses are downstairs with my whips!’ replied Cerys with a straight face. ‘Anyway,’ she added, now smiling, ‘I do not recall giving the go-ahead for any “rummaging” to occur in the first place.’
Chasing the Sun with Henry Page 29