I smiled. My brief encounter with Dai Harries flashed back into my mind. A short, stumpy little man with wispy gray hair and a persistent twitch. I recalled his bulbous, reddish-purple nose. Now I knew the probable reason for it. “But is that it? Nobody has reported anything else happening with the tree?”
“Oh yes, plenty of tales of similar things happening at various times of the year. One woman swore she’d seen the tree dancing. I mean, really!”
“I suppose that’s the local equivalent of the stories about the standing stones in Oxfordshire. The ones they call the Rollright Stones are supposed to dance at some time of the year. Halloween I think.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of that.” Shona broke eye contact and seemed to be looking at something behind me. I almost turned to see what had grabbed her attention, but she spoke again.
“Anyway, enough of all that nonsense, I’ve come to ask if you’ll do our local Am Dram Society a massive favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you like theater at all?”
“I don’t go very often, but I do enjoy a good play.” My mind traveled back to enjoyable nights out with Neil. We had supported our local Amateur Dramatic Societies and had also enjoyed going into the city to watch the latest musical, comedy or drama. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat in the stalls, eyes riveted on the stage.
“We’ve recently lost our rehearsal room. We were using the Baptist church hall at the top of the town, but the building is being demolished. It wasn’t really suitable anyway. Terribly damp and cold in the winter.”
“How can I help?”
“Well I was wondering…we were wondering…would you have any room for us to rehearse here? We’re amateurs, but we do work hard and take it all very seriously. We’d be no trouble.”
It might be fun. And I certainly had the space. “Why not? How many of you are there?”
“Usually between four, and ten or eleven, depending on the play of course. There’s the director, prompt and props people, so no more than, say, fifteen.”
“No problem. You could use rooms on the second floor. They’re mostly empty, so you can have free rein to set up whatever you want in terms of scenery and props. There’s a radiator on the landing, but you’ll probably need more heating in the colder months. I’ll get hold of some portable heaters. As long as you tell me when your rehearsal schedule is, I can switch them on and make sure the room’s nice and warm for you. What sort of plays do you put on?”
“Oh, comedies, mysteries. We did Neil Simon’s Plaza Suite last year. And Noises Off. Do you know it?”
I recalled a warm spring evening. Neil and I laughing as we emerged from the local cinema, arm in arm. Good times—before she ruined it all. An inward, silent sigh dampened my mood, but Shona was waiting for an answer and staring at me in a way that made me uncomfortable, as if she could see into my mind and read my dark thoughts. “I’ve seen the film,” I said, and the discomforting gaze morphed into a smile and a nod.
“The play’s much better. I think it missed something in the translation to the big screen. We had to put on an extra performance of our production. It was so popular.”
“Where do you perform?”
“At the Little Theatre in Rokesby Green, about four miles away. Our next production’s an Agatha Christie. The Murder at the Vicarage. As I live in the old vicarage, they all thought it’d be quite a hoot if I played the vicar’s wife—Griselda Clement. How could I refuse?” She laughed. “We had a read-through at my house last Tuesday, but there isn’t enough room there to set up a stage—even an imaginary one—and no one has anything larger.”
I sat back in my chair. The more I thought about this idea, the more I liked it. I’d never had the confidence myself to tread the boards but the thought of having a bunch of my neighbors trooping in and out agreed with me. Besides, it was about time I started meeting people and making friends. With my shyness, I never found that easy, but I did have my fallback coping mechanism to help me. It had been a long time since I’d needed her.
“I assume you have an interval while you’re rehearsing? I could make tea and coffee. Biscuits maybe?”
“Oh, we couldn’t impose on you for that, and I’m afraid we can’t afford to pay much rent either. These productions are a lot of fun, and a lot of hard work too, but they barely cover their costs, even though we usually have very good houses. It’s the rent of the Little Theatre, you see.”
“I’m not charging you. It’ll be a pleasure. And, besides, you’ve solved the problem of what to do with the second floor.”
Shona stared at me, her mouth slightly open. “Oh, that is so generous of you, Maddie. The society will be thrilled. Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure.” I didn’t tell her I was already planning to bake a lemon drizzle cake. Neil’s favorite. I hadn’t made it since he left. Come to think of it, I hadn’t baked anything since we split up. Memories of fresh bread, roasting meat, and biscuits hot from the oven floated back. I had spent hours in the kitchen when we were married; when I was happy in my ignorance of Neil’s infidelity. Afterwards, I no longer had the heart for it.
The house felt empty when Shona went home. Perhaps I should think about hiring a live-in housekeeper. At least then, at night, when the lights were off, timbers creaked, and the shadows lengthened, I wouldn’t be alone. But what would she do all day? When I’d worked in the bookshop, I’d been too busy to bother with any real hobbies, other than reading and following my favorite soaps on TV. But now? Maybe it wasn’t a housekeeper I needed at all. A companion. I shuddered at the thought. Companions were for old, lonely, sad spinsters. I was none of those.
As I settled down in front of the television, I looked forward to the theater group’s rehearsal nights. Maybe it would also stop my stupid fears of the upper floors.
I was watching some inane sitcom on TV when the doorbell sounded. I glanced at the clock. Eight thirty. I wasn’t expecting anyone, but I was quickly learning that, in a place like Priory St. Michael, that didn’t really count for anything. People had a habit of turning up, unannounced and uninvited. They’d probably even tried the door handle first to see if it was open. If it had been, they would have wandered in and thought nothing of it. But I’d spent too long living in a city to be so trusting of my fellow residents.
I opened the door and stared at the familiar, but unusually disheveled figure on the doorstep. His shirt was creased, his graying hair had grown long over his collar and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. When he spoke, he seemed to struggle to raise the hint of a smile, and his feeble effort stopped at the corners of his mouth. His eyes had lost their former sparkle and he seemed to have aged a decade, not a mere three years.
“Hello, Maddie. Long time, no see.”
“Neil. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, come on, aren’t you going to let me in? Aren’t you the least bit curious as to why I’ve come all this way?”
He took a step forward and I barred his way. “You can say anything you want to say to me on the doorstep, and then you can leave. I told you last time. I never want to see or hear from you ever again.”
His expression changed and he wore that hang-dog puppy look that used to work with me years ago. Waves of anger were about to breach the flood barriers in my mind. “And you can cut that out as well.”
Predictably, he turned on the wide-eyed innocence that generally preceded a lie. “Cut what out?”
I sighed and folded my arms. “What do you want, Neil?”
“I want to talk to you. That’s all. I have something to tell you that I can’t say over the phone. I promise I won’t outstay my welcome.”
“You already have.”
Were those actually tears in his eyes? I didn’t expect that.
“Maddie, I really need to talk to you. It’s important. Do you honestly think I’d put myself thro
ugh this if it wasn’t? I knew what reaction I’d get coming here after what I did to you.”
The nerve of the man! “You betrayed me. Liz was my best friend. At least, I thought she was. No one could be anyone’s best friend and do what she did, for ten years.”
“I know. I know. You have every right to hate me. Us. But please, Maddie, give me ten minutes and I’ll be gone.”
I hesitated. He did seem genuine. But he had always been a consummate liar. The problem was I hadn’t realized that for the first seventeen years of our marriage.
Oh, what the hell? We’d both moved on. I’d achieved the ultimate revenge after all. I had all this. I could give him ten minutes of my life. For old times’ sake. I stepped back and let him in.
“Thank you, Maddie. I appreciate this. I can’t tell you how much.”
I showed him into the living room and went over to the drinks cabinet where I selected a bottle of brandy and two glasses. I unscrewed the bottle and poured two generous measures.
Neil sat down on the settee. He patted the cushion next to him. “I remember this suite from our old house.”
“It’s about the only thing I brought. You had the rest of the good stuff.”
“Only half, Maddie. As we agreed.”
“Yes, but I don’t remember agreeing to you coming into the house when I wasn’t there and cherry picking all the best furniture. No doubt with a little help from Liz. I came home from work to find the place ransacked. I thought at first I’d had burglars. Then I found your note. Cryptic, wasn’t it? ‘Sorry to have missed you. Regards, Neil.’ You knew bloody well which days I worked. You knew the telephone number. You could have called and made an appointment, but if you’d done that, Liz wouldn’t have had the pick of the place, would she? That wouldn’t have suited her at all. I noticed all the things of mine she had admired over the years somehow managed to make their way into your new flat. I saw them all in those cheesy photos of the pair of you that you kept putting up on Facebook for all the world to see. How is the dear girl anyway?” I took a gulp of brandy, refilled my glass and handed the other to my ex-husband. I knew my sarcasm wouldn’t be wasted on him.
He took the glass without a word and drained it in one. “Any more where that came from?”
That took me aback. “You don’t usually drink when you drive, and I assume you didn’t walk all the way from Chester.”
He didn’t respond. I didn’t refill his glass and sat down on my usual chair.
He took a deep breath. “Liz and I split up six months ago.” He was certainly full of surprises this evening. “I guess the relationship had run its course. We were arguing all the time and she found someone else…” His voice tailed off. “It was an amicable split.”
I didn’t ask how much of my furniture she now possessed. “So where are you living then? Still in the same place?”
He shook his head. “I moved. She’s buying me out and I’m renting a small flat near where we used to live. Gladstone Street. Do you remember it?”
A vague memory of a collection of streets all named after prime ministers, from Walpole to Baldwin, sprang to mind. Row upon row of small pre-war terraced houses. His place must be quite tiny. At least I’d been able to afford to rent an apartment in a decent part of the city after our house had been sold and we’d split the proceeds. A ripple of sympathy trickled into my brain, only to be stopped in its flow by recollections of lies, deceit, and a harsh divorce settlement that left him winning as much as it consigned me to the loser’s bin. I remembered the look of triumph on Liz’s face. She had come away with everything she wanted. Not only my property, but my husband as well. It was so predictable, I supposed.
I sipped my second drink, while Neil kept clenching and unclenching his hands. He looked so wretched, I almost relented and poured him another. But no way would I be responsible for him driving over the limit. As it was, he would probably have to stay at least an hour to wear off the effects of the first one. Damn my stupidity. Was he angling to spend the night? Probably. Well, tough shit.
I stood up. “I’ll make you a coffee.” I left the room before he could protest.
When I returned, he had recovered his composure, at least a little, and was examining one of the few pieces of Aunt Charlotte’s porcelain that hadn’t been consigned to a box upstairs. A pretty and valuable little bottle.
He replaced it carefully on the mantelpiece. I cringed and wished I’d put it away. But I didn’t know he was coming, did I?
“It’s eighteenth century Chinese,” I said. “A handmade Fausone snuff bottle.”
He whistled. “Must be worth a few quid. What do these go for now? Five, ten thousand pounds in such good condition?”
My heart jumped. From someone else that might have been a casual remark, but from Neil… I knew him too well. “You know, you had me almost feeling sorry for you,” I said, handing him his coffee and concentrating hard on preventing my hand from shaking. My anger had reached boiling point, but no way would I allow myself to lose control. Not tonight. There had been too many screaming matches in the past, and I never won any of them. “You haven’t changed. You still know the cost of everything and the value of nothing.”
He looked as if I’d slapped him. “No, you’re wrong, Maddie. I was only making conversation. I came here to apologize. For everything. That affair with Liz. It was stupid, wrong. A silly affair that got out of hand.”
“For ten years? Ten years when I believed every word you told me. My God, you and Liz must have had a lot of laughs at my expense. Stupid, gullible Maddie who’ll believe anything… I loved you, Neil. Have you any idea what that’s really like? I truly loved you.” Tears pricked my eyes. No, he mustn’t see me cry. I forced them into retreat. “Now I don’t believe I’ll trust anyone ever again. That’s one of the beauties of living here; I don’t have to see anyone if I don’t want to.” As long as I keep my door locked and don’t answer the bell, I didn’t add.
Neil said nothing for a minute or two. He passed his hand over his face, inhaled deeply and leaned forward. “Is there really no way back for us, Maddie?”
Such arrogance! “What? Do you seriously believe for one moment that I’d take you back after all that’s happened?”
“I realize now, I was stupid.”
My mouth had gone dry. Every ounce of my will was focused on keeping my voice steady. “Yes. You were stupid. Very. But, contrary to what you may have thought then, I’m not. I was only stupid in one way. Loving and trusting you. Well, not anymore. I’ve put all that behind me. I assume this newfound awakening of yours has plenty to do with my inheritance? Of which, I may add, you are not entitled to one penny.”
His face took on a pained expression. “Oh, Maddie, how could you think that? No, no of course it’s nothing to do with your money. I want to come back to you. I still love you. I never really loved Liz. It was the excitement…” I could tell from his horrified expression that he knew he shouldn’t have said that.
“Well you can go and find some other cheating woman to get your kicks with, because you’re not coming here.” I didn’t know how much longer I could stop myself from letting fly at him. I stood up. “I think it’s time you left.”
I picked up his half-full coffee mug and empty brandy glass. “Time to go, Neil. I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but it hasn’t. Don’t bother to come back.”
He looked ashen. I could read his expression so clearly because I’d seen it before. He really had believed I would fall for his sob story and his phony contrition. His arrogance knew no bounds. How could I ever have doted on this man for so many years? Why had I never seen him for what he was—a money-obsessed womanizer?
I remained at the living room door. He must have seen I wouldn’t back down, so he stood.
“Very well. I can see your mind’s made up. I can’t say how sorry I am. If you ever change your mind, I still have the same
mobile number.”
“I don’t.”
He nodded. “Can I first use your bathroom? It’s an hour’s drive back to Chester.”
I pointed to the downstairs toilet and went into the kitchen.
I was rinsing his glass when I heard him shriek. I dropped it and it shattered in the sink.
Out in the hall, Neil was screaming and clutching his hair. If this was a new ruse, it was a pretty effective one.
I shook his arm. “What the hell are you playing at?”
His eyes were round, wide. “Something…there’s something in that room…I saw it…I felt it…” He sank to his knees. “Oh, my God. What the hell was that?”
I pulled the toilet door wide open.
“No. Don’t go in there, Maddie. Please.”
I looked around at the tiny, white bathroom, with its toilet. Seat up, of course, as always when Neil was around. The faucets still ran in the small wash hand basin. I turned them off. They squeaked from lack of use. The overhead light illuminated my face in the mirror and the angry glint in my eyes. In a reflex action, I pushed a wayward lock of hair behind my ear and turned back into the hall.
“Nice try, but there’s nothing here. Goodbye.”
The Devil's Serenade Page 5