by Karen Botha
Mo continues, ‘During the course of these investigations it has come to our attention that you installed CCTV in her house. We would like to take a look at these files please.’
‘Ah, well, you should have said that on the phone, you'd have saved yourself a trip, I don’t have those anymore,’ he gently tails off.
We’re prepared.
‘Are you sure you didn't keep a back up anywhere? The reason we ask is that one of the people who we are looking into is adamant that this footage will show they are innocent. It would substantially help us to clear up the case and lighten the pressure on your brother if we can draw this whole episode to a swift conclusion?’
Mo is good, but Wyndham isn’t giving an inch.
‘I’m sorry, I'm certain I don’t have a back-up. I never made one, there seems to be no reason to keep something when you’re watching it for a real time response.’
‘Why did you install the cameras in the house Wyndham?’ I ask.
‘Because Giles asked me to…’ he shrugs, like this is obvious.
‘And where exactly were they placed?’ Mo continues my questioning.
Wyndham curls his lip, but answers, ‘one in the lounge which covered the kitchen too, one recorded the hall and the staircase, and then their bedroom.’
‘Did these cameras observe entire rooms?’ I can see where Mo is going.
‘Pretty much, a few corners here and there, but nothing significant. I get access to some of the latest technology with my job so they were wide angle.’
He tells us some technical specs about the particular cameras he had chosen. I make notes. Apparently the one in the bedroom had no black spots at all as the space was the perfect shape. This meant that placing one central to the wardrobes that ran the length of the room, in front of the bed managed to catch everything up to the door. The bathroom and the route to it wasn’t covered by the recording paraphernalia. I note this down. It may explain why no-one seems to know why Steph had cracked her skull.
‘And what was the point of having them?’ Mo asks whilst I’m busy making notes.
‘Are you kidding?’
We’re motionless, not letting him draw us.
Eventually he resumes his explanation, shaking his head, ‘The poor woman was on her own for hours at a time and was getting increasingly feeble. She didn’t want home help, said that was for old people. Perfectly understandable if you ask me. So, we installed the cameras to be able to at least check in periodically throughout the day and make sure she was OK.’
‘Who are we?’ Mo checks.
‘Giles had access on his phone so he could check at work, and I had all the back up stuff here and could also log in if needed.’
‘What were you looking for when you logged in?’
He sighs as if we’re stupid. ‘That she hadn’t collapsed anywhere or something like that. Seriously, what’s the big deal?’
‘Well, it seems a lot of effort to go to, installing a system, if it’s still only going to pick up that Steph has had a fall every few hours.’ Mo keeps his tone neutral. Very neutral.
‘It’s not a fail-safe solution, I accept that, but it’s better than nothing. Giles had to work. It’s that simple. They needed the money. This gave him peace of mind he was doing as much as he could for her whilst still delivering on his financial responsibilities. At least he could ensure if something terrible did happen, she wouldn’t be left all day.’
‘Were you alerted when it was time to monitor the footage, surely if Giles became busy at work he wouldn’t be able to let you know?’ I check.
‘Oh it was easy enough to call or text. This wasn’t something he pushed to the back of his mind. And then some days, just to give him a mental break, if I was working from home I'd have the cameras on all day here. It worked.’
‘Did Penelope help with keeping on top of reviewing the footage too?’
‘Nah.’
‘Why not?’ Mo demands.
‘Didn’t seem to be a need. We had it covered.’ He curls the middle of his lips.
‘So Giles was pleased with the system you had, content that it recorded everything as needed and that Steph was safe?’ That’s Mo again.
‘Yeah as far as I'm aware.’
‘But despite that you still don’t have any back up data?’ I growl, shifting in my seat.
‘No, why would I? There was no need to save the footage, it was a live feed.’ He throws us an are-you-really-that-dumb look.
‘Was there another motivation for you to install these cameras and keep your monitoring private from your wife Wyndham?’ I go for the jugular.
‘Ah, now you’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. Seriously, you could twist any shard of good into needless nastiness.’
I exchange a look with Mo and we both stand to make our exit. He’s not giving us a thing. We’ll need to try harder. I head towards the exit first, we may aswell leave now rather than show any more of our hand than necessary. I push the door and time jolts to a sudden stop.
I jump back, heart hammering. Giles is at the other side, listening in.
‘Oh Giles, hello, we heard you were staying here,’ I snarl. ‘Worried you’d miss something?’
‘Hello Paula,’ is his simple response.
‘Wyndham is hiding something,’ says Mo as soon as we get in the privacy of his Mondeo. The parcel shelf squeaks as we pull off interrupting the otherwise silent interior. We both mull over the interview.
‘What do you make of Giles being behind the door?’
‘I’m not sure, this has affected him pretty badly so it could be as simple as him just wanting to understand what we have. It may also be more sinister, but let’s give him the benefit of the doubt, for now.’ He nudges my knee across the gear lever. He’s still on my side.
LUCY
Typical. Hugh is booked in for his regular massage today. ‘Just what I need,’ I think as I sit by the window watching for him to pull onto the brick drive. There’s a flash of light as the bonnet shatters the sun rays. He turns awkwardly around the other parked cars on the street and navigates his vehicle into the available space. Giles’ sports car has been stored in the corner taking up one more spot than my clients are used to. People find it awkward but not for the same reason as I do. For me it’s a constant reminder of how much he’s let me down.
‘Is Giles here?’ Hugh gets out, all smiles.
‘No, he left it there the other day.’ He mustn’t have heard then.
‘Ah OK, I half expected to bump into him.’
‘It’s not likely, we split up.’
‘What?’ He’s visibly stunned and takes a second before he continues his momentum in the direction of the therapy rooms. ‘But you’ve barely got engaged?’ He gasps, screwing up his eyes.
‘Yeah, we did.’ My voice is a whisper.
He heads into the dimly lit treatment room in silence and pulls the pine door closed behind him. When he calls me in once he’s settled on the massage table, neither of us speaks. We both take care of our own thoughts and I work, subdued. After around ten minutes of kneading, he carefully broaches the subject again.
‘I’m sorry for being rude, but what happened?’
‘Ah, it’s a long story, but basically he had an affair when he was with Steph.’ My sentence is one protracted out-breath.
‘Whoa, Giles had an affair whilst married to Steph?’ His body tenses under my touch. He lifts his head off the face rest and exhales.
‘You didn’t know?’
‘Who with? When?’
So I explain. When I’m done, Hugh replies.
‘Well, I guess now they're even.’
Now it’s my turn. ‘What?’
‘Yes, it was ages ago now, remember, I mentioned it before, that drunken fling at college?’
‘Ah yes, I assumed you meant more than that.’ My brain hasn't clicked into gear. It’s not like I’d really forgotten, it’s just my accessible memory jar is full of other stuff today. I manually conduct a sea
rch, remembering that before Hugh met Jennifer, Giles had a deadline on a paper he had to submit. Hugh and Steph attended together and once alcohol was added, they ended up in bed.
Contemplating this now, it’s a bit of a secret to keep from Giles, it was best left in my pot of irrelevancies. I’m jolted back to the realisation that it is indeed immaterial, Giles no longer being part of my life. A sigh escapes my lips before I realise.
Unaware, Hugh continues his litany. ‘But Jen never really believed it was over. Think she suspected that given half a chance I would’ve been back in there. My Jennifer is not a stupid lady.’
‘Did she know what happened?’
‘Yeah, it came out eventually. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of, but we were different people in those days.’ He reaches his head off the bed. ‘Don’t make Giles pay for acting out of character in a terrible situation; that doesn’t define who he is.’
I don’t want to get into this, but I need to justify myself. I formulate my sentence. I need to be as concise as possible whilst maintaining a rational persona.
‘But... when the chips were down and Steph needed him more than she would have ever needed him, Giles found comfort elsewhere. He couldn't really expect that playing a few board games on an evening was enough to constitute being a good partner. Quite frankly, that isn’t what I need nor want from the man I marry.’
‘Did Steph hear about the affair?’ Hugh asks.
‘I don't know, why, what difference does that make?’
‘Well, he didn’t let her down if she was blissfully unaware. I would have thought he was filling the gap Steph left, whilst continuing to maintain all the support she needed. In fact, I bet if you asked, he'd argue he was only able to behave as her crutch because he had an outlet for his hurt, frustrations and loneliness.’
‘But a woman needs a husband she can trust! I don’t care who you are, it’s a fundamental marriage vow?’ I’m starting to get agitated now and find myself pressing harder, working quicker.
‘Trust with what?’
I am confused, ‘In every way?’ I tail off.
‘Steph trusted Giles with herself. Her emotions. Her heart if you like. So, say she was blissfully unaware, then that faith wasn’t broken because her emotions and heart were left intact. Do you understand what I'm saying?’ Hugh asks.
‘Well, I see what you mean, but I don’t necessarily agree, plainly if she had found out she'd have felt betrayed.’
‘Surely. If you find out all sorts of things now that you didn't know, you would indeed endure an emotional response. Of course you would. But at the end of the day, your reality is what you believe and you feel accordingly. If there is no harm caused, how on earth has she been betrayed? She doesn’t experience any hurt, so what has Giles done wrong? All he did was seek solace when the very real needs he'd expected his wife to fill aren't for whatever reason being met. Albeit, Steph had no blame in her neglect of Giles, the situation and therefore his sense of the truth was that he was being disregarded. For this reason, his feelings and indeed needs were directly linked to that precise circumstance, not his true nature, and therefore not how he would behave with you.’
I pause, considering this.
‘So, are you saying it was Steph's fault that Giles had the affair?’ My voice is increasing in volume and pitch.
‘Not her fault exactly, but it’s a case of cause and effect, which does not apply to you and him.’
‘Hmm. I don’t buy it. What happens if I fall sick? Does he suddenly take a free pass to go off as he pleases?’
‘If you get sick, you have this information to assist with dealing with the repercussions as suits you both at that point. If you get sick, you will no doubt be a totally different person to Steph and therefore the effect on Giles will also be different. There are no comparisons to be made.’
‘I don’t agree. I see your points, but really, how could I ever trust a man who takes that escape route when the going gets tough?’
‘Ah, that's for you to figure out, I’m providing you alternative perspectives. He’s not a bad person for having needs, everyone does.’
We fall quiet. I do a bit of elbowing, and dish out at least a small element of punishment for his point of view.
‘Paula also said that he’d been stalking me before he came here for his massage that first time. That is plain weird even before we start with the other stuff.’
‘What do you mean stalking you?’ Hugh lifts his face again, confused.
‘I'm not sure exactly because I threw them both out without giving either one a chance to explain.’
‘Ah, everybody stalks everybody now with social media. I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s probably something and nothing.’
I can't summon the energy to argue with him, I change the subject.
‘Well, your tete-a-tete with Steph certainly explains a lot about why Jennifer isn't her fan.’
‘Ah, I don't actually know a female who liked her, she had all us men on a string if I’m being honest. She plainly had this way about her. I bet you’ll find that Penelope is equally distasteful of Steph for much the same reasons as Jen. Even Virginia wasn’t that keen on her, and that’s saying something, she likes everyone. Problem is though, it pushed her into being more friendly with the men because the women didn’t like her and so then started a vicious circle.’
‘Yeah, I can see that. Did something happen with Wyndham aswell?’ I ask.
‘I’d be willing to bet it did, but I can't be certain. But that makes me think. Listen, if you’re Giles and you take a back seat to any other man in the room as he did with Steph, then your perspective on whether cheating is wrong will be different. You won't treat him that way. Your relationship therefore has a separate set of inferred rules. He's already signed up to those by committing to you. Let's face it, he's done it without hesitation too, you've not even been together long have you?’
So we’re back to me again. I’m glad that Hugh booked this session before Giles and I had our blow up because if not I would be suspecting him of coming with an ulterior motive.
‘OK, OK, I see your point,’ I concede, laughing albeit only slightly, but still for the first time in several days.
‘So you should, he wasn't like that after you had your accident was he.’ It’s not a question, he knows that when I needed him, Giles took sick leave from work and did whatever he could to make me comfortable. I don’t need to answer. Point made. Problem is though, once broken, trust issues are difficult to resolve. This will always nag at the back of my mind.
We carry on his massage in companionable silence, interrupted only by the odd groan of pain. I’m happy for the solace, it allows me head space to mull over Hugh's arguments. I’d never have appraised it like that, but much as I hate to admit it, his points are valid. I’m just not sure I’m ready to accept them.
I walk across the drive with heavy steps and wave him off as he backs away. A pain sears through my chest as I put my key into open my front door, a memory of happier times. Once safely on the other side of my threshold, I crumple into a ball, clutching my knees close. The silence of the house closes in around me.
I need to be busy and another quick check on my phone confirms that I have no work in now for the rest of the day. I text a few friends, but of course as is always the case in these situations, no-one answers. That’s the problem with losing the two closest people in your life at once. Guess this must be how it is when your partner runs off with your best friend. That situation couldn’t be farther from my reality. I smile at the irony.
I pick a book up, but I’m bored by it so I turn on the TV. Nothing on. I wander into the bedroom and drag one of Giles' sweaters out of the wardrobe, inhaling his scent, touching the soft wool against my cheek. I ease the over-sized top over my head and find it strangely comforting even in the heat of summer.
I need to pull myself together. Snap out of this. I purposely replace the pullover back where it sat a few seconds before and wa
lk with conviction into the lounge. I switch on the TV and flick into the films. I struggle between a chick flick, (probably not,) or an action. Action it is then. But I’ve seen them all. I want to call Paula, but I’m not emotionally ready, so I’m stuck in limbo, with only Hugh's comments for company.
GILES
Wyndham and Penelope are out. But my heart is still pounding. I’ve been waiting for this opportunity but I’m petrified of being caught. To be discovered would alienate the last people of importance left in my life.
I tip-toe down the basement stairs. I push my head round the door, carefully double checking Wyndham's office is empty. Once inside, I creep about, trying to maintain silence in spite of being alone. I’m not clear on what I expect to find, but I snoop anyway.
His white cave is sparse. There are no drawers in the glass desk that faces the entrance but I check it over anyhow, just in case.
I’m not sure why I’m here, a feeling. When we were kids, when Wyndham lied, he used a different tone. His words were more clipped, I thought I caught that through the door when he denied having any records from the CCTV.
I head to the white bookcase which displays pictures of him in various settings. Personally I have no idea who anyone is and have never had any interest in finding out - business contacts I suspect. At this moment though, for the first time ever, I do wonder who these people are. Who is it that is so happy to pose with my brother? Why aren’t there any family shots in here? The house is devoid of much family memorabilia at all, actually.
I peer behind the frames, gently placing them back down in the exact same position. There is a silver ornament in the shape of an & which I move, then wipe with my sleeve to remove my finger prints in this almost clinical setting. Still nothing. I start on the books. Nothing. I’m running out of ideas when I lift up a copy of a dictionary. Strange thing for Wyndham to keep in his office, he bases his life around the Internet; has done since the first days it was ever possible. It's different; lighter somehow than it should be. I open it to flick through the pages and that’s it! There are no pages. It’s a fake. A hollow is cut out of the centre and in there lays a solitary key.