Smoke and Mirrors: The next instalment of the riveting Marnie Walker series

by Leo McNeir

  One cliché after another, Marnie thought. “Celia, there’s nothing to forgive.” Oh gawd, there goes another one.

  “Marnie, you’re a star. So, tell me all about it.”

  “It’s rather personal and I’d sooner not –”

  Celia raised a hand. “Absolutely. I do understand. Painful memories, best put aside. Anyway, you’re better now and are you in fact going home today?”

  “When Anne gets back from college this afternoon.”

  “Why don’t I take you? I’ve got the car outside. Unless you’d rather stay here, of course.”

  Marnie looked at the bare walls of the room, the bed where she had lain for five days and nights. She got up and grabbed the carrier bag in which she had stuffed her nightie and toiletries.

  “Thanks, Celia. That would be nice.”

  They stopped at the nurses’ station and explained about the lift home.

  “Thank you for everything, Julie. Is there any paperwork?”

  “I’ll deal with it, Marnie. You take care, now.”

  “I’ll bring the car round to the front.” Celia strode towards the exit, averting her gaze from the patients in the ward. “See you downstairs in five minutes.”

  Nurse Julie watched her walking away.

  “D’you think she looks like Princess –”

  “Everyone says so.”

  “She’s a friend of yours?”

  “More of a client, really.”

  “Marnie, when she arrived, she asked me something strange.”

  “Oh?”

  “She asked if a man had been to visit you. She started to describe him, tall, well-built, dark hair, city suit. I told her you hadn’t had any male visitors apart from your brother-in-law. She seemed happy about that.”

  “Amazing.”

  “She wasn’t talking about your guy, was she, the one in China?”

  “No, her husband. She’s got a thing about that.”

  “And you?”

  “And any woman.”

  “The jealous kind, is she?”

  “Yeah, drives me mad. I think I’ll kill her.”

  Julie looked at Marnie with a serious expression.

  “I’ll lend you a hypodermic.”

  *

  Marnie arrived at the front entrance to find Celia sitting in her open-topped Audi in a parking bay reserved for ambulances. A security guard appeared to be remonstrating with her, while Celia seemed to be assuring him that she was virtually an ambulance or performing that function.

  When Marnie climbed carefully into the car, Celia reversed out, giving the guard a regal wave and a brilliant flash of smile. As soon as they were clear of the entrance she pulled over, pressed a button and the roof rose into place.

  “I put it down so you’d find it easier to get in, Marnie,” she explained.

  “That was thoughtful of you.”

  They drove off.

  “So, you were brought in by ambulance, I gather.”

  “Yes.” Time to change the subject, Marnie thought. “Angela came by a couple of days ago and said she’d been to the Court to visit your father-in-law. How is he?”

  “Not very well, really, but then he’s never had good health. Even as a child he was sickly, what they used to call delicate. It’s amazing he’s lived to such a great age.”

  “I wonder if he’d welcome a visitor some time, or perhaps he’d find that too tiring.”

  “A nice thought, Marnie. I’ll ask him. Father Martin comes to see him every other Saturday. He’s a priest from the cathedral in Northampton. He hears Marcus’s confession – that can’t take long – and they pray together. It’s weird to hear Marcus call him father. He’s only a slip of a boy.”

  Marnie closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest as the car swept down onto the dual carriageway. Celia set cruise control and glanced across at her passenger.

  “Marnie, there’s something I want to say to you. I know I’ve been rather self-centred, all this business about Hugh having an affair with another woman.”

  “That’s okay. Let’s forget about it.”

  “Thank you, Marnie. The thing is, I was feeling so hurt.”

  “Understandable.”

  “Yes. You see, I believe there is such a thing as loyalty. Don’t you agree?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think marriage is sacred, Marnie. It has to be cherished and protected. No-one has the right to damage it.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’m sorry. Here I am going on again. Everything always has to be about me. Me, me, me. I’m sorry not to have been more thoughtful about you, Marnie.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Celia turned off the dual carriageway and took the road for Knightly St John. Arriving at their next turn, Marnie looked up at Knightly Woods and thought back to the evening when Anne saw the lights in the trees. She tried to shut off her mind from thoughts of cremating witches. Suddenly, Celia pulled the car into a sharp u-turn, tyres squealing, turning right on the main road and accelerating hard. Marnie sat upright in her seat.

  “What’s up? Where are we going?”

  “Didn’t you see him?”

  “Who?”

  “Hugh.”

  “You actually saw him?”

  “Not quite, but that was his car. I’m sure it was.”

  “You’re following him?”

  “Yes. And I know just where he’s going.”

  “Couldn’t he be going to a meeting?”

  “Marnie, he’s in London today, or supposed to be.”

  “So?”

  “I hope you don’t mind, just a little detour. It’s not far.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Celia turned onto a small country road and continued at undiminished pace.

  “Hugh always uses the main roads. I’m taking a short cut.”

  “Where to?”

  “It won’t take long, Marnie. I’ll soon have you home.”

  After a mile they arrived at a village that Marnie had never seen before and pulled into a parking area behind the church. Celia tucked the car into a secluded corner, half shrouded by low-hanging branches from a tree.

  “Celia, will you tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s what I said about loyalty, the sanctity of marriage and all that.”

  “But why are we here?”

  “I know Hugh’s being unfaithful, Marnie.”

  “What has this place got to do with it?”

  “Don’t you see? It’s perfect for an assignation.”

  “I don’t understand. How did you know –”

  “Marnie, this is where we used to come when we were having our affair.”

  “You and Hugh?”

  “Yes, of course. Who else?”

  “Presumably he was married at the time?”

  “To his first wife, yes. That’s how it was an affair.” Celia spoke as if she was explaining something to a small child. “This was our place, or one of them.”

  Marnie leaned back and closed her eyes again. Words floated in her mind: loyalty, sanctity, sacred, cherished. She felt her jaw muscles tighten as a smile began spreading across her face. She couldn’t help herself. The laugh began in the back of her throat.

  “Sorry, Celia.” She reached into her bag for a tissue to wipe her eyes. “Sorry about this. It’s just …”

  Celia reached across and put a hand on her arm.

  “It’s lovely to see you smiling, Marnie. I knew if anyone could cheer you up, I could.”

  *

  Back in the office, Marnie made herself a sandwich and a mug of tea. Seating herself at the desk, she was amused and touched to see a neat pile of papers marked for her attention. Significantly, there was no list of jobs to do. Anne had dealt with everything.

  After five minutes waiting in the church car park, Celia had announced that Hugh must have another rendezvous place. Reluctantly, she had driven away and brought Marnie home, declining the offer of refre
shment. Marnie wondered if she had other secret venues to investigate.

  Marnie rang Anne and left a message on the mobile voicemail, telling her she was back at Glebe Farm. Two minutes later, the phone rang, but it was not Anne’s voice on the line.

  “Marnie, it’s Molly Appleton. Celia Devere was in here just now and said she’d brought you home. Are you feeling better now?”

  “Much better, thanks, Molly. Nice of you to ring.”

  “That’s good. Actually, I’m phoning because there’s been a delivery for you. We took it here because there was no-one at Glebe Farm to accept it. I’ll get Richard to drop it down to you.”

  “I could get Anne to collect it on her way home. She’ll be back mid-afternoon.”

  “It’s no trouble, Marnie, and I’m sure you’d want this now.”

  “That’s very mysterious, Molly. What is it?”

  “A surprise. You’ll see.”

  *

  Anne breezed into the office with a huge smile and a hug for Marnie.

  “It’s great to have you back!”

  “The pleasure is all mine, believe me.”

  “I couldn’t believe it when I got your message. I was going to get you some flowers, but I came straight back.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Marnie looked pointedly across the room at Anne’s desk. “Someone saved you the trouble.”

  Anne turned. A huge bouquet of flowers in a vase occupied most of her desk space.

  “Wow! They’re fabulous. From Ralph?”

  “The gift card said simply, Anonymous.”

  “Anonymous?” Anne repeated.

  They looked at the bouquet. It comprised white roses, oriental lilies, gypsophila and chrysanthemums. Everything apart from the leaves was white. It was a monochrome collection. Marnie and Anne exchanged glances.

  “Donovan,” they said in unison.

  Chapter 51

  Invitation

  Autumn set in, bringing with it a run of mellow days, a time for healing and adjustment. Marnie and Ralph spent many hours in each other’s company, drawn even more closely together than before. They realised that they had spent little time talking about having children and now, in the knowledge that there would probably be none, they comforted each other, gradually coming to terms with their situation. Both were determined to ease each other’s pain. Both drew strength from each other’s love.

  Anne, for her part, did all she could to show how much she understood their pain without adding to its intensity. Her warmth and positive approach to every part of their lives had never been so important as in those difficult weeks. Her cheerful nature helped banish the melancholy that might have been.

  The mild weather was ideal for tootles on Sally Ann. Marnie, Ralph and Anne wrapped themselves in warm clothing to enjoy the late sunshine and cruise through an ever-changing landscape of gold and yellow and brown, punctuated by morning mists and hints of frost at the water’s edge with the tang of woodsmoke in the air.

  The golden days gave way to a period of gusting winds that sent clouds of dry leaves from the spinney flying round the courtyard at Glebe Farm. It brought new tenants to cottage number three and more contracts for Walker and Co.

  Life assumed a steady pace of alternating work and rest. Marnie felt her strength gradually returning and was glad to spend those days quietly on designs at the drawing board. Ralph was free of overseas commitments until the spring and applied himself to caring for Marnie and researching for articles and a new book. Anne diligently made up for lost time at college and devoted herself to caring for Marnie and charging ahead with her studies.

  On the surface, life had become humdrum and peaceful. On some evenings they watched the Timeline programmes and caught occasional glimpses of the dig at Glebe Farm. There was no repetition of the Donovan image, though they were all visible in the background in some of the shots.

  Anne was mindful of Donovan’s warning and occasionally had the feeling that someone was watching them. She hoped that Marnie had forgotten the cigarettes episode and was constantly on the watch for any indication of an intruder.

  The builders were working on the construction of the conservatory, and Anne used her refreshment visits to examine the ground for traces of an outsider. On a day when building work was held up waiting for materials, she suggested they might usefully spend some time in cutting down the jungle in the garden. Marnie agreed that was a practical suggestion, not realising that Anne had an ulterior motive. With the weed growth chopped back, there would be less cover for surveillance.

  Anne had sent an e-mail to Donovan to thank him for Marnie’s flowers, and they embarked on an occasional electronic exchange of brief notes. Each weekend she had a phone conversation with Danny, and they spent time together in late October when Danny went home to see her parents and Anne returned to see her own. It was a joyous coming together filled with laughter as Danny recounted her involvement with a series of disastrous boyfriends and Anne chided her friend – the party animal – for spending so little time on her course work.

  The countryside gradually fell asleep as the hours of daylight shortened. Life at Glebe Farm settled into a calm routine, a time of uninterrupted progress at work, quiet relaxation on country walks and the occasional boat trip on milder days. It might have remained that way if the incident with the staples had not intervened.

  *

  It was a Thursday morning in late November when Marnie found her stapler had run out. She hunted in vain for a box of staples before giving up. Knowing that Anne would certainly have some in her desk, she crossed the office and began opening drawers. In the second drawer she had to move a notepad in her search, and a name stared up at her from the top page. Hallgarten.

  For a few seconds Marnie could not place it. The name seemed like an echo from a long time ago. Hallgarten, of course, the one-time friend of that German professor, the woman she had met in Oxford. Marnie blinked and banished thoughts of that day from her mind. But why had Anne written the name on her pad? Marnie picked it up and read the note.

  M not neo-fascist. Hallgarten willing to talk. Fleischer.

  The rest of the note was an address and a phone number. What did it mean? How long ago had this note been written? Why had Anne not shown it to her? It was not hard to guess the answers.

  *

  Anne arrived back from college as the light was fading. She dumped her backpack on the desk and went straight to the kitchen area to put the kettle on, tugging off her gloves, unwinding the long apricot scarf and shedding her blouson jacket.

  “Hi, Marnie. There’ll be a frost tonight. My nose is already going pink.”

  Marnie rang through to Ralph on Thyrsis, and he joined them in the office. When they were sitting comfortably clutching their mugs, Marnie mentioned the Hallgarten note. It took Anne a while to remember. She raised a hand to her mouth with a gasp.

  “The message. Professor Fleischer. I’d forgotten about it. It happened when you were …” Her voice faded.

  “That’s okay, Anne. You certainly had more than enough on your plate. I don’t think I’d have been able to contact Professor Hallgarten back then, even if I’d known she was willing to talk to me.”

  “Even so, I should’ve –”

  “No. It’s fine, really.”

  “What do you want to do about it, Marnie?” Ralph asked.

  “I don’t know. Such a lot has happened since we were wondering about the body in Sarah’s grave, though in a way, nothing has changed. What do you think?”

  “I must admit I’m curious, though I’m not sure if Hallgarten will be able to provide any firm answers to the question of who it was. I wouldn’t want to cause you any more anxiety.”

  Marnie sat in silence for several seconds, and neither Ralph nor Anne wanted to break in on her thoughts. Eventually she looked up.

  “Angela phoned this afternoon. It seems the bishop has finally given approval to reburying Sarah in the churchyard. There are just one or two formalities and it can go ah
ead.”

  “Closure,” Anne said quietly.

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  Ralph sipped his coffee. “Would you like me to phone Professor Hallgarten?”

  Marnie smiled. “You don’t think she’ll take you for a neo-fascist?”

  “Not too much risk of that, I think.”

  “I’ll phone her. As Fleischer contacted her on my behalf, it’s the least I can do. I’ll ring her in the morning.”

  *

  The phone rang twice before Marnie was connected.

  “Ahrweiler, Institut für Sozialforschung, guten Morgen.”

  “Oh, sorry. Do you speak English?”

  The reply was heavily accented.

  “Whom do you wish to speak?”

  “Professor Hallgarten, please.”

  “Your name?”

  “Marnie Walker. I’m phoning from England.”

  “Naturally. One moment.”

  Marnie felt foolish. The complicated rush of German had almost stunned her into silence. She was musing that it would probably have been better if Ralph had phoned after all when a new voice came on the line.

  “Hallgarten.”

  “Good morning. This is Marnie Walker. You told Professor Fleischer that you would be willing to talk to me about the work of your father in the war.”

  “But you did not take up my offer. Why was that?”

  “I was in hospital. I only just received your message.”

  “I see. What do you want to ask me about my father?”

  “It’s difficult on the phone.”

  “I wouldn’t talk to you on the phone. I just wanted to know what you wanted to ask me.”

  “About the agents he ran in Britain, or rather in the part where I live.” The line went quiet. “Hallo?”

  “Yes. Why do you want this information – assuming I can give you anything – what do you want to do with it?”

  “We have found a body in a grave. No-one knows whose it is, but we believe it dates back to wartime.”

  “And?”

  “It was a man. He was somebody’s son or husband or whatever. His family has a right to know what happened to him, to be able to bury him in his own grave.”

  “You are concerned about this man, even though he may have been a traitor to his country?”