by Simon Brown
I was aware of a change inside. I did feel more connected and in this state, some of the swirling emotions evaporated. I cycled between listening to Dorothy and Henry, to feeling each step, to focussing on each breath.
As we approached the café, Dorothy suggested Henry sat at a nearby table where he could observe us. We entered the café with Henry waiting outside for a minute. Mr Peterson was already seated at a table to the rear. He got up stiffly to greet us. His handshake was quick, tight and strong. I noticed his hand was wet.
Once all the introductions were made and we had ordered, Mr Peterson leaned forward onto his elbows and outlined the situation.
“As I am sure you can understand, my clients are keen to conclude this matter. Every day the interest on your mortgage means your debt is rising and the building society is keen to gain possession and sell its asset. You can imagine that the society was worried when unable to contact you and hired me to find you. My job is simply to deliver these documents to you.”
He patted the large brown envelope on the table. I nodded. I could feel a tightening in my abdomen at the thought that I was now actually losing my home. A feeling of being overwhelmed washed over me. What would I do with all my things? I saw Henry walk dreamily into the café and take a table close to ours.
“I suggest you take these documents to a solicitor for impartial advice and then arrange to meet Mr Davies. I would also like you to sign that you have received these documents. My clients are keen to work with you through this difficult time. However, failure to engage in any form of dialogue may result in legal action that will include the loss of your home, all the contents and ultimately personal bankruptcy.”
Our teas arrived and my aunt fussed around Mr Peterson, making sure he had everything he needed. She then spoke.
“I must commend you on finding Amanda. I am intrigued on how you found her so quickly.”
Peterson rubbed his knee before turning to my aunt.
“It was fairly simple. I found that Mrs Blake’s mother was originally Mary Hope and her father Alfred Birch, both deceased. I then looked for the next tier of relatives. Mary Hope had a brother, Roger Hope, who had died, but his wife, Dorothy Hope, was still alive.”
“And after that I suppose it was easy to find me.”
“Well, not that easy. There are thirty seven Dorothy Hopes residing in the UK. I had to get access to your date of birth and then find matches. You married in St Mark’s church in Primrose Hill so I made the initial assumption that you stayed in the London area. I was surprised that you lived so close.”
Dorothy pulled her mauve cardigan around her more tightly as though she suddenly felt a chill.
“So in your opinion, it would not be difficult for anyone to find Amanda.”
“If someone knew how to use the resources, no, it would not. But not many people would know where to begin, or how to access all the records.”
“Certainly not a young person who is new to this country,” Dorothy mused.
“He could simply hire someone like myself.”
Dorothy looked up surprised.
“Yes, how stupid of me. I had not considered that. It must be my age. One last thing Mr Peterson. How easy would it be for a detective inspector to find Amanda?”
“In theory, very easy. In practice, there is rarely enough time for this kind of research. Mrs Blake would have to be of great concern to warrant the resources.”
Dorothy turned to me and put her hand on my arm.
“How do you feel about signing Mr Peterson’s receipt for these documents, dear?”
I shrugged, not really knowing how I felt.
“Well, it is simply a statement of fact, Mrs Blake. It does not obligate you to anything.”
I looked at my aunt.
“I would sign it and take the documents to Martin Ledbetter to look at.” After a short pause she added, “Martin has been our family solicitor for, let me see, he first helped us with the purchase of our home in Hampstead. When would that have been?”
I looked up and saw Ruby push her way into the café. I could feel myself tense. I did not want Ruby to impose herself on Dorothy or Mr Peterson. She stood at the counter surveying the cakes. I resolved to sign. After some small talk Mr Peterson excused himself and left. Henry came over and sat at our table. Compared to Peterson, Henry looked as though he was sitting at a school desk. His spidery legs and arms enveloped the table.
“That all seemed very civil. No daggers, poison or raised voices. There I was ready to spring into my Bruce Lee stance,” he made a feeble, mock karate pose with his hands, accidently knocking a jug against the teapot. “And my big moment never arrived.”
I laughed and caught his eye.
“It is, ‘big moment did not arrive,’ Henry.”
Henry laughed and slapped his hand.
“I stand corrected, Mrs H.”
Ruby had sat at a table near the door. I let Dorothy and Henry walk ahead of me and as I passed Ruby I waved and made the hand sign to indicate I would call her.
When we got home, Dorothy phoned Martin Ledbetter and made an appointment for me to see him the next day. My aunt asked Henry if he could escort me to the solicitor’s office.
Dorothy invited Henry to stay for dinner. We ate a large salad with stir-fried vegetables. After Henry left, my aunt went to bed. I stayed up for a while thinking about the events of the day. Seeing Edward was unnerving, I still found him intimidating. In contrast spending time with Henry was fun. He was easy-going, relaxing and comfortable to be around. A feeling of anxiety gnawed at my stomach as I thought about Mr Peterson and the impending loss of my home. I was scared of the unknown and my life was bereft of certainties. There was so little to hold onto.
Henry arrived punctually. He pressed the buzzer keeping his finger on the button so that our quiet apartment was filled with a jarring noise until I could pick up the receiver. I put on a quick disguise and left the flat. Henry walked with me to Rosalyn Hill where Ledbetter, Rose and Crankshaw had their offices. I had to trot along beside him every now and again to keep up with his long legs. Henry made a big play of looking around for potential hit men. We saw a pair of elderly women in the church garden, a small heard of mothers and pushchairs near the school, a young man in a grey hoodie at the bus stop, a large woman with shopping and a group of builders. None looked suspicious.
Once Henry had escorted me to the solicitor’s offices he arranged to meet me in half an hour. I sat in reception for what seemed like a long time until a little, old man with white hair and a stoop came out of his office and beckoned me to enter. My first thought was that he must be past retirement. He wore a dark pinstriped suit with a waistcoat. He looked like a city gent from an old black and white film. His shiny, squirrel like eyes darted between his papers and me.
His hand shook slightly as he held the documents. In his initial opinion I would be obligated to pay back the loans to the building society, even though they were made with a false signature and with false witnesses, as it would be difficult to prove that the society had been negligent. However, there was an element of doubt and this put the society in a difficult position. He suggested writing a letter requesting that no interest be added to the debts from the date that the fraud became known. That in the meantime they make me an appropriate offer, given that I was the victim of fraud. Mr Ledbetter said he would look into whether I needed to arrange for probate.
We then moved on to the issue of Inspector Pride. He recommended writing to the police informing them of my new address and stating that Mr Ledbetter would represent me and that it was my wish that he be present at any further interviews. He suggested writing that I wanted to make a complaint about Pride’s behaviour. I agreed. Martin Ledbetter informed me of his fees and I signed a letter authorising him to represent me.
Henry arrived a few minutes late. He tripped on the reception mat and lost his balance momentarily causing his long arms to flap. I smiled at the thought of him being my bodyguard.
“All sorted?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Good. I have a client in twenty minutes, so do you mind if I take you straight home?”
It had not occurred to me that he would do anything else.
“Henry, do you have a car?”
“Yes, I have an old MG. You know the one with the chrome bumpers. It limps from one MOT to the next, but it is currently working.”
“I was wondering if you could take me to my home one day so I can pick up a few things. I would pay you, of course.”
“Sure. I usually keep Thursday afternoons free for my tai chi, but I can give it a miss.”
In the morning I walked to the café and sent Henry an email. I was feeling playful.
Brave Knight, Please collect your princess from 56 Belsize Park and take her to Tewin in your strapping charger. A
I pressed send and immediately regretted it. Reading it back, I felt immature and silly. Oh fiddlesticks.
A little later the reply came.
Pick you up Thursday at 1 p.m.
CHAPTER 12
I woke feeling some trepidation about visiting my house. I had found a kind of warmth at my aunt’s home and part of me wanted to stay cocooned in the feeling of love and contentment that I enjoyed there. The world of murders, banks, mortgages, police and teaching was something that happened outside. Henry arrived and took me to his small, white car. I felt like I was being led to an unknown fate. I hoped Pride would not be waiting to ambush me and that Edward would be in London.
I was initially ill at ease sitting so close to the road. As Henry accelerated I felt a buzz of vibration through my feet on the floor. The car had a damp smell. Once I became used to the slightly claustrophobic interior it felt quite cosy. The heater took a while to warm up, eventually sending a warming draft of air to my legs.
Henry insisted on giving me a guided tour of the dashboard, explaining every switch and dial. I drifted in and out of his story about finding the car and organising its renovation.
We drove to Tewin under heavy grey clouds. I thought they would burst but somehow the pregnant forms held onto their waters. When we arrived at the house I felt nervous. On the short walk from the car to my front door I looked round several times. I half expected Edward or Pride to ambush us.
I pushed the key into the lock. The idea of a cup of tea flashed through my mind. I heard the draft strip brush across the mat as I leant on the door. Inside my home was cold, damp and uninviting.
“Do you want to come in, Henry?”
“Sure.”
“Do you mind putting on the kettle, whilst I collect my things? There should be some herb teas in the far kitchen cupboard.”
Henry loped along the corridor whilst I climbed the stairs. I found a couple of suitcases and put some of my warmest clothes into them. Then I remembered the idea of flying to Venice and found some dresses and lighter tops. I grabbed my passport, chequebook and file with all our legal documents. I went into the bathroom and scooped up various toiletries into a large wash bag. I noticed black mould growing around the upper lip of the bath and on the shower curtain. There was condensation on the window, mirror and tiles. The bottom of the bath had a yellow stain. The plants on the windowsill had died.
I stood still and felt a tear come to my eye and run down my cheek. This had been the scene of candlelit baths, with Mathew reading poetry to me. We had washed each other in the shower; it used to be full of beautiful smells, warm and clean. Now it was cold, empty and musty. A happy part of my life had died.
“Do you mind if I put some music on?” Henry shouted from downstairs.
“Sure, help yourself.”
I left the bathroom and slid my cases down the stairs. I looked through the living room for any personal items to pack. Henry had unwittingly put on one of Mathew’s favourite tracks, “Unit Seven” by Wes Montgomery. It was a jazz recording that Mathew claimed had some of the most fluid guitar playing he had heard. I started crying again.
“Tea’s ready.”
I walked into the kitchen and almost fell into Henry’s arms. My body collapsed as my emotion deflated. He remained standing awkwardly next to the table, holding me upright. I let my face rest against his chest and put my hands round his back. I felt soft lamb’s wool on my cheek and could detect the faint smell of orange and lemon. He moved his arms to my back and held me. We stayed in our embrace for a while. Then I looked up. I put my hand softly on the back of his head and felt the waves of his long hair. Henry leant down and we kissed. First our lips touched gently and then I pressed a little harder and I let my lips part. I felt his tongue. A feeling of excitement warmed and revitalised me.
“Hello, Amanda. I thought I saw you on the drive.”
I jumped and took a sharp intake of breath. I turned and saw Edward standing in the kitchen doorway. His broad frame filled the opening. With his thick white wool sweater and baggy blue jeans, Edward looked unusually large. His face looked slightly contorted and intense.
“Oh fiddlesticks,” I whispered to myself.
“Is this a bad time? I just wanted to see if you were okay. We have been worried after you disappeared. The door was ajar, I hope I have not blundered in on anything. Bull in a china shop. No point standing on ceremony.” Edward’s voice collapsed to a mumble so I could hardly hear the last few words.
I broke away from Henry and put my hand over my heart as I took a couple of breaths to calm myself.
“No, its fine. I’m sorry, you startled me. This is Henry. He kindly drove me here so I can get some things. Henry this is Edward, our… I mean, my neighbour.”
Henry offered Edward a mug of tea and poured another for himself.
We sat down and Edward tried to make a conversation, asking me questions about where I was living and what I was doing. I could not think of how to answer. I certainly did not want to reveal where I was staying. After an awkward silence, to my horror, Henry answered for me.
“Amanda’s living near me in Belsize Park. She’s staying with her aunt.”
I wanted to scream out, “No!” Instead I sat frozen to the chair.
After a while Edward asked if he could talk to me alone.
“Sure,” Henry replied.
I assumed he meant it was okay with him but he seemed to have answered for me. Henry got up and walked through to the living room, taking his mug with him. I could hear the muffled sounds of Mathew’s Django Reinhardt LP.
“I’m sorry about bursting in on you like that. Is he your new boyfriend?”
I shook my head.
“Amanda, have you thought any more about what I told you? I still feel a longing for you, if anything more so. I know you need help and I want to be there for you. Let me be your knight in shining armour.”
There was a pause whilst neither of us spoke. That last comment shook me. It was too close to the message I sent Henry. I looked at the carpet not knowing how to respond.
“Amanda, please let me look after you. Let me take you away from all this. I know you think it is just some crazy impulse coming from falling out of love with Edwina, but I have been wanting to be your other half for over a year.”
Edward stroked my forearm.
“Edward, I want to ask you something. Can you answer honestly?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Have you been following me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you follow me in Oxford Street?”
“No, of course not.”
“Did you murder Mathew?”
Edward sat up, looking indignant.
“My God, Amanda, who do you think I am? Are you crazy? No, of course I didn’t kill Mathew.”
“Have you sent me any letters?”
“How could I? I don’t know where you live.”
“No, I mean, did you send notes to me here, before I left?”
“If I wanted to tell you something, I would come in person, like now. Can we get back to my question?”
“Edward, I
just don’t share your feelings right now. Sorry, but I am certainly not thinking of romance. What you saw in the kitchen was just a moment of weakness. Coming here was more difficult than I imagined. I hardly know Henry and do not have any romantic feelings for anyone right now.”
“Well, we could meet up in London. At least let’s keep our options open.”
“After you took me out for lunch, I received two threatening letters. Since then I have been suspicious of everyone. I have been very frightened. You must be able to see that after the way you behave in the restaurant, and then receiving those letters, I would be scared of you.”
Edward looked genuinely concerned.
“I am very sorry I was ungracious. I felt sad and reacted badly. Amanda, look at me, can’t you see that I want to be in a loving relationship with you, not hurt you?”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t see anything clearly for now.”
“Why don’t we at least keep in touch by email?”
“Yes, we could do that. I would like to get ready to go now.”
We said goodbye. On the way out I scooped the pile of mail that had been sandwiched behind the open front door into a plastic bag.
We drove off, making a slight detour so I could withdraw money from my bank account. We did not talk much on the drive home. I felt uncomfortable about the kiss.
I thought about Edward. He was slightly older than me, he had a well-paid job as a management consultant, he was quite attractive in a rugged way and apparently in love with me. However, there was no way I would entertain getting involved with him whilst he was still married.
I wondered whether Edward had said anything to Edwina. Then a thought occurred to me that made my stomach tighten and heart race. Perhaps he had and that Edwina was sending me those letters. Could she be disguising them as the work of a child? If so it had worked. She had got me out of my home and away from Edward.