by Linda Taylor
‘Anyway, I hope to hear more. I’ll let you know, cuz. What will we do when life returns to normality eh? The pub will seem pretty flat after all this. And I have already had my instructions from the men in suits about some things’’ not being in the public interest’’ and how I need to keep stoom!’
‘Keep stoom now then Peter and help me finish off this cake!’
He laughed at this and happily fetched a plate.
Daniel and I decided to take a short break away. I didn’t feel up to flying and so we found a small hotel near Bournemouth. The weather was glorious and we sat on the beach, not in our bathing costumes but still enjoying the sunshine.
The hotel food was good and we took a bottle of champagne to our room that first night.
I was careful not to have more than a glass but Daniel was in a good mood and more relaxed than I have seen him before. In fact he seemed a little tipsy.
He sat on the bed, holding his champagne glass aloft.
‘To the future!’
I clinked what was left of my one glass with his.
‘Not only have I found the love of my life, but today Robson goes to ground!’
‘What…’
‘All the results of his death have been recorded and he will be buried today. May the devil take him!’
‘You must have hated him so much…’ I began.
‘Hate? I never knew I could hate so strongly, Louisa. That man had been my father’s confidante for years, oiled his way into his affections and then he turns out a Jekyll and Hyde character.’
‘I sensed something was wrong with him from the first time I met him.’ I said and this was true.’ I don’t know about my Aunt. She may of course have recognised him or had some kind of flashback. She never confided anything to me if she did. Or maybe it was such a subtle thing she couldn’t put a finger on what it was about him. She had had a life time of tranquillisers and anti-depressants.’
Daniel nodded and continued,’ when I started working for the department and they realised I knew Robson, they approached me and together we unearthed more of his background and aliases. I had to keep up this charade of still considering him a family friend, never showing any suspicions about his involvement with my father’s death. Never mentioning my own thoughts on the ‘‘suicide.’’ It made me tetchy and moody at times, trying to keep all that inside. He put it down to my Italian blood, thank goodness! And I let him keep thinking so. After all, he hadn’t seen that much of me up until then. I didn’t dare take a drink or loosen my tongue of course.’
‘I understand now. So what was he really like?’
‘Robson was a loner most of the time. He liked to be in control. There was some charisma there and most women felt drawn to that seemingly even- temper and politeness. But he was the cruellest of people beneath all that veneer. Loathed cats. Frightened of them in point of fact. I found that out, slowly, along with other useful quirks of his personality. But don’t let us talk any more of him.
‘Just one more question please. Do you think my Aunt was a target on that coach? Do you think she recognised Robson or vice versa?’
‘We have no way of knowing for sure, but I saw them in the hotel lobby. I’m not sure where you were. He looked rather smug as she walked away. It was the briefest encounter but some kind of exchange happened. We can never know now Louisa but, rest assured, your Aunt died of natural causes.
‘Your cousin, Peter, now, he’s a good man. He was approached to join the team.’
‘I didn’t know! The monkey, he never breathed a word to me!’ I was genuinely surprised at this and also rather pleased for Peter.
‘He’s been a good friend to us both. And giving us Marston Place, which was another great lead. The team found a cellar there that was used to make up some of the chemicals. Forensics will soon find out more and maybe be able to counteract some of the newer drugs coming on the scene. They get worse, you know.’
He paused here and then put down his empty glass. I lay back next to him, tired but happy.
‘Marston Place? Tell me, how did you find it, Louisa?’
His words stun me like a bullet to the chest. I sat up and looked straight at him astounded.
‘Peter didn’t get that name from me, now did he? It came from you. You won’t be able to deny your skills for ever, you know.’
For probably the first time in my life, I was speechless. How did he know so much?
He didn’t press me further and we turned on the television to watch some comedy duo until, both too sleepy for sex, we tucked ourselves into bed.
I sat bolt upright in bed at 2am, wide awake. My lady, my angel perhaps, was standing at the end of our bed and smiling. I felt Daniel raise his body and sit up beside me.
‘Can you see her then?’ he softly asked of me.
‘Yes. She’s smiling and she seems clearer than ever.’ She melted like a mist and I lay back down.
Daniel sat upright for a few more minutes and then he enfolded me in his arms and we two slept again.
The next morning, as he was showering, I opened my purse and took out the locket to look once again at the portrait; my ‘visitor’ in the early morning light had changed. She was not the distant Victorian figure I had always seen her as before, since childhood. She was the figure in the locket. What an imagination I had, I decided. And what of Daniel? How could he know what I had imagined ? Were we so entwined? I found myself crying now and I was angry too because this was our time together, or one long break away. We should be happy now, not feeling this sad.
Daniel stood in the doorway of the shower room and our suite. He had a white towel wrapped around his waist. He came over to me, dripping water still from the shower.
‘Where did you find it?’ he said, taking the locket from my hand and lifting it to his lips, I watched in amazement as he kissed the image within it.
‘Meet my beloved, my Mamma!’ he said.
‘No! No!’ I pulled myself away from him in disbelief. This couldn’t be. This was too spooky, too fearful.
He clasped me tightly.
‘Don’t be so afraid. She is only here to protect us and guide us.
You don’t think I would lie about something so special to me, surely?’
‘Of course not, Daniel’ I sobbed. ‘But it scares me. It scares me so.’
‘I know. Listen to me, Louisa. No one is going to make you do anything you aren’t able or ready to do. Trust me, I know.
We can both see her and that is because she is pleased we have found each other. We are meant to be.’
I knew this to be true. I had even thought it.
‘I don’t want to be like this. I want to be normal. Sorry, that sounds so awful…’
‘It’s okay,’ he interrupted me,’ if you are not ready, then you are not ready. What other dreams have you had, can you tell me something of them? I know you have had them. I know you still do.’
‘Stop it!’ I demanded.’ I want none of this!’ I shuffled my body off the bed and turned my back to him. I was shaking with anger, with frustration, with fear. I would be normal. I would not allow the dreams to take over my life.
He didn’t mention any of this again. We managed to take up our simple enjoyment of the break and our own company again and came home refreshed and rested despite it. We had each other and that was the most important thing of all.
Daniel was up early that morning, as he had to meet the team.
He didn’t tell me what the days ahead of him entailed unless I specifically asked.
I had dreamt of the woman, who I now knew to be his Mother. She had sat again at the table, drawing on a map. I looked over her shoulder. I read Marston Place.
I had no control over what came next. The question slipped through my lips with no control from me.
‘Are you going with the team today to Marston Place?’
He turned, concern written on his face and made no reply, awaiting me.
‘I think I need to come with you!’ I said.
He
merely nodded and fetched my coat.
We drove for an hour and more and Daniel took out his mobile phone to follow some map instructions.
Driving along under an avenue of trees, I could see police vans and a police car ahead of us. Daniel got out and I slowly followed behind. I saw him shaking hands with Tate who at first hadn’t noticed me walking towards them.
‘Oh, hello there!’ he said surprised. His eyes lowered to my bulging raincoat and he smiled back at me. ‘How long now?’
‘A few more months. February.’ I replied, trying to sound relaxed about it.
Daniel took my hand and Tate waved back at me as we moved away and left him to join his men.
‘What is it, Louisa? What are you getting?’ he lowered his voice and we walked towards the trees and the lakeside.
I turned and looked at the manor house. It had been boarded up and was covered in Virginia creeper and ivy.
‘I don’t know. I just wanted to see it, I guess. Is that okay? Will the team mind?’
‘Not if I want it.’ He replied, looking intently at me.
I took his hand then and we walked back toward the front porch of the house with its Palladian columns.
‘It must have been a lovely place, once.’ commented Daniel.
I wandered over to a tall beech tree and stood idly beneath it.
Then I felt it. The baby kicked and I bent double.
Daniel was there at my side in a flash.
‘Are you okay?’
‘The baby. It kicked me so hard, that’s all.’ I took a deep breath and clasping his arm tightly I told him-’ dig under this tree. This very tree.’
He leant down to me then and in a quiet voice, asked me-’ are you sure, Louisa? I shall say it was mine. My reputation is at stake here!’ he smiled. I nodded in the affirmative.
Two days later, having dug all around the tree as instructed by Daniel, they found a child’s bones buried beneath the hanging branches of that beech tree.
Yes, it was Jacques. The DNA matched Daniel’s family and forensics determined that death was by chemicals as yet un-researched.
Daniel said he was so relieved. He could bury his young brother and let him finally rest in peace.
Some weeks later, we both attended a short service and his brother Jacques was laid next to the ashes of their late father.
I didn’t dream again or see any figure, female or otherwise, until sometime later.
The following February, Daniel watched our son being born. It was an easy labour for a first child and we were overjoyed. Peter had promised to be one god father and Tate to be the other. Daniel’s unusual work continued and he would often be away for days on end, travelling abroad when necessary.
As I held our son in my arms, and nursed him through that first year of life, little did I know, despite all that I had been chosen to know, that life was yet to deal me the biggest blow of all to any happiness.
As Daniel drove home to me, his wife to be that same year, and to his baby son, he was killed. A car was driving on the wrong side of the motorway and hit him head on. Both drivers died instantly.
Five years have passed since that dreadful day.
I recall how I awoke that morning feeling laden, heavy, as if I had had no sleep when in fact I had slept well and without remembering any dreams. But I had felt nothing more.
Mr Tate telephoned that morning and sounded strangely distant but needing to come and see me. I still had no inkling that anything had happened. So what use were dreams and premonitions anyway? Although would pre-knowledge of the event have made any difference?
My mother and father came and took young Jacob Peter away to their place. I let him go with them. I was in a trancelike state with unexpressed grief.
Gina, my ex-colleague, proved a true friend. She came and stayed with me for the first three days. She said little but made me tea and cooked me toast, encouraging me to eat even if so little.
Peter came to see me and it was then the flood gates burst. I felt safe with him. Safe enough to let my feelings through. He arranged everything. We buried Daniel beside the remains of his tragic brother Jacques and his father’s ashes. I wondered if he would have wished for them all to go home to Genoa but he had never spoken of it. He had made a will and despite our never having wed, he had left me that house in Cromer. After Robson had died he had bought it outright and it was to be my wedding gift. I could not go there after all the associations it held. How could he have thought I would want to? Maybe he thought along the lines of our making it our own. I shall never know. I sold it and got a good price to put in a trust fund for young Jacob.
Peter went home to his daughter and grandson and the now thriving pub business but pressed on me that I must keep in touch.
Now those cold chills come over me, creeping, and then demanding, now fast and furious. I watch a news programme and see someone in tears about the death of his wife. But I know pretence when I see it. I know he is the true killer. They arrest the wrong person. They discover it was the husband after all. I could have told them. I could have informed them where to find the scarf she was strangled with. But I don’t.
I walk down the road and brush against a man in a grey mackintosh, purely by chance. I look back at his retreating figure and I know. He has a short goatee beard, grey temples, thick dark hair swept back off a broad forehead. I see his eyes and they are quietly screaming. He is eaten up with jealousy. He has knifed his male lover because he knows he is leaving him for another.
I see the local paper. A man has been found knifed, his body left on the beach, under the prom. I know who he is. I know who killed him, how and why. They haven’t caught him yet. Maybe they will.
I don’t dream now and I never sense my darling Daniel. Why can I not dream of him or make some kind of contact? Why must it be like this?
I shall go mad. I shall end up in a mental ward like my Aunt.
Time passes slowly and then it seems to speed along. I am feeling so much better. Jacob is back with me and Peter has come to stay.
Peter is taking Jacob to the park to play ball. He starts nursery school soon.
Last night, Jacob came into my bed because of the storm. He doesn’t like storms despite my explaining them. I woke up and there she was. She was standing at the end of the bed and I knew her. She smiled and gesticulated towards my child, lying softly breathing beside me; she was his grand-mama, after all. Her figure grew fainter, her chiffon gown billowed behind her, as I listened to the soft hum of that tune again:
Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques,
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?
Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!
Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don.
I am not frightened. Not now. Our angel has come back and she means us no harm. Tomorrow I shall show Jacob my musical box and tell him that his Daddy gave it to me and how precious it is. He shall have it one day for his future love.
Jacob just woke up and sat upright beside me in the bed. He pointed towards the bottom of the bed.
‘What is it, darling?’ I asked him.
‘It’s my friend, Mummy! My Lady,’ he answered and giggled, just like he does when we play our tickling game.
I cuddled back down under the duvet with him.
It would be alright.
Tomorrow, when Peter takes Jacob to play ball, I shall ring Mr Tate. I am more than ready now to go and see him. For what other choice do I have?
THE END