by K. J. Rabane
“Are you unwell?” she asked, and once again, I lied.
“It’s nothing,”
When my heart rate slowed to something approaching normal, I said, “What made her think that?”
“Pardon me?”
“Why did she think Evelyn was having an affair?”
“She overheard her on the telephone one day. The housekeeper had shown Leonora into the house and Evelyn was on her mobile telephone in the garden. The conversation, she unwittingly overheard, left her in no doubt. Apparently, she was telling her husband she was meeting Leonora when in fact she was meeting her lover. She was using her as a decoy; that is the right word?”
I nodded; the muscles in my throat had tightened to the point where speech became impossible. Laura looked at her watch. “I really must go, I have shopping to do before I pick Claudia up from the day centre. Thank you once again for trying to help,” she said. I started to tremble as she stood up and looked down at me through Leo’s eyes.
Chapter 36
Lying on my bed in the Orsinsis’ guesthouse, I watched the pictures on the television set in the corner without seeing them. My mind raced in circles. Evelyn with a lover was something I’d never contemplated, not even for a second. I was so sure of her love, certain she wouldn’t betray me. Laura’s words forced me to think about the possibility and the longer I mulled it over the more probable it became.
But I had to consider her diary entries. Her frequent absences were mention as time spent with L.B. or Leo. I’d assumed they were one in the same person. What if that were not so and Evelyn had been using some sort of code as protection should either Mrs Bates or I happen to chance upon her diary and read it. She must have known I would never stoop to such a thing but I doubted if Mrs Bates could have resisted such temptation.
I wondered what part Leo had played in the subterfuge and concluded that if her sister’s account was to be believed, she was not involved. Why then would she have planted the spiders in the car that night? It just didn’t make any sense. What did make sense was that Evelyn’s death must have been an unfortunate accident. However, it still left the question of the identity of her lover unanswered. My tortured brain wouldn’t allow me to speculate who it could be. It was bad enough I’d discovered that she had been unfaithful to me; the full implication of it registering in waves of melancholy, whilst destroying my memory of her. Evelyn’s image was tarnished and I couldn’t face trying to discover who she had been seeing or why. As for my unspeakable crime, I would never forgive myself; it was something I’d have to live with for the rest of my life. My punishment, worse than any I could envisage, was the knowledge of what I’d done eating away at me, day after tortuous day.
If only Leonora had trusted me enough to tell me about it all. Now everything had turned on its head - I began to doubt her complicity in Lucas’ s death whilst part of me argued it would have made her a wealthy woman and as such would have eased her family’s dire financial situation. It would also explain why she would have found me an attractive proposition in the marriage stakes, as my fortune was increasing and my business thriving.
My fevered mind had almost convinced myself that my explanation of her behaviour was a reasonable one, when I became aware of Josie’s face looking back at me from the television screen. The programme was tuned into Sky News and the reporter was describing how the autumn rainfall during the past twenty-four hours had been more than was usually expected for the whole month of October. The river level was rising and had flooded the properties bordering the river path. The reporter looked windswept and beads of rain stuck to the camera lens through which I saw Josie. She was standing in her back garden dressed in wax jacket and Wellington boots, a headscarf covering her dark hair. Several inches of water covered the lawn and the path near the woods was under water. I sat upright in bed. Beads of sweat trickled down my brow and slid into my eyes. Damp patches prickled under my armpits. I had to return to London immediately.
Glancing at my watch, I saw it was too late to do anything today but first thing in the morning, I would arrange a flight home. Once more I hardly slept and at six o’clock I got out of bed and packed my suitcase.
Afterwards, I scribbled a note to the Orsinis enclosing a cheque, which more than adequately covered the cost of my accommodation and left some notes for their staff on my bedside table. Then I folded the rest of my currency, which was considerable, as I’d been gradually removing it from my account with my credit card, ever since I arrived, and placed them in an envelope. I wrote the name Laura Servini in large letters on the front of the envelope.
It was still early when I left the guesthouse and walked towards the shabby house where Laura lived. Squeezing the envelope and its contents flat, I managed to push it though the post-box attached to the crumbling wall. Before leaving, I looked up at the rusty balcony which was empty now and tried to imagine my Leo sitting there watching the sun going down on the cobbled street below, whilst she desperately tried to keep the family finances in order. My body was struck by a shudder, which affected every part of me. There was no way I could recompense for what I had done; the money was merely a gesture. My head sank low towards my chest, and with sagging shoulders I prepared to carry my burden for eternity, as I walked back to pick up my suitcase from the guesthouse.
Chapter 37
The sun was rising, shedding a clear golden light over the red, tiled rooftops as I made my way down the cobbled incline, through the narrow street towards the car park. It was seven thirty by the time I put my suitcase in the boot and glanced at the map. George and Maria would be awake now. I rang their number on my mobile and waited.
“George, it’s me. I know you’re both early risers otherwise I wouldn’t have rung. I’m leaving San Gimignano today; in fact I’m in the car park now. I wanted to thank you both for welcoming me into your home and to tell you how much I’ve enjoyed your company these past few months.”
“Do you have to leave so early? We would love to see you one last time before you go.” George’s sleepy voice made me smile.
“I know, I’m sorry too, but an emergency at work means I have to beat a hasty retreat,” I lied. “I want you to know I’ll always treasure your painting and the memory of our pleasant days in the sun will keep me warm on dark December days.”
I could hear the smile in his voice, “Farewell, my friend. Maria says God speed you on your journey,” George said, as I finished the call and turned the key in the ignition.
Driving to the airport, I realised I was going to miss George and Maria, friends, who like Josie and Henry made a difference and with a sinking heart knew that events would never allow me to make this trip again. Yesterday, the sight of Josie on television, amongst the devastation left by the weather, made it imperative I make plans before disaster struck.
My beautiful Leonora had resurfaced in San Gimignano in the guise of her sister Laura and I’d been allowed to see her lovely face for one last time. It was much more than I deserved. I dreaded to think how far the river had risen in my absence, fearful that my shameful past would rise up to meet me upon my return.
The airport was relatively quiet, the tourist season being over and luckily I was able to book the short flight to Switzerland without too much trouble. I could have driven but the quicker I completed my transactions there the quicker I could return to the UK.
As the aircraft took off for the short journey to Zurich, I began to formulate my plan in detail. The plan, I’d spent half the night agonising over, after I’d seen the television news report.
When the plane landed, I took a taxi to the business quarter. My intention was to stay in Zurich for as long as it took me to complete stage one, then I’d make arrangements to fly home to London. There was no problem opening a numbered Swiss bank account. The bank official completed the necessary paperwork and I arranged for a large transfer of funds from my UK accounts to take immediate effect. When all the transactions were completed to my satisfaction, I left the bank and went sho
pping.
I bought a large suitcase, some hand luggage and a complete new wardrobe of clothes, which I packed into the large suitcase. I knew there was no option for me now but to leave the UK. and disappear abroad but before that stage of my plan could be put into action, there were a few loose ends I had to tie up first.
As the door to my London flat opened, I drew in a deep breath and thought I could smell the lingering scent of Leo’s perfume. The ghost of her hung around every corner now. I saw her in cafes, doorways and sitting opposite me in the taxi driving me from the airport.
The first thing I did, on entering the sitting room, was to open the top drawer of a rosewood cabinet, which stood against the wall, and removed a small black book. I ran my finger slowly down the index until I found the number of my solicitors then rang and asked for an appointment for the following day. I also made an appointment with my bank manager. Then I rang Thomas Cook and made enquiries about booking a ticket to Rio.
Chapter 38
My appointments for the following day being made, I unpacked the suitcase containing the clothes I’d worn during my trip to Italy. Then I threw the contents into a black bag ready to put out for the rubbish in the morning, with the exception of George’s painting, which I placed at the bottom of the suitcase I’d bought in Zurich. Next, I filled the case with items I would require when I arrived in the heat of a Rio afternoon. The following day, I would visit the chemist’s in Sloane Square, where my repeat prescription was held and collect enough Glyceryl Trinitrate to last until I could visit a doctor in Rio. I felt I had covered most eventualities, and with the exception of a few loose ends, I was making progress.
That night I lay exhausted on my bed and listened to the steady drumming of the rain on the roof until sleep overcame me. But there was no peace to be found in slumber. There never would be again. It was what I deserved and I accepted my punishment without question.
The next day, as planned, I visited my solicitor’s office and waited whilst he drew up a deed of gift. I also instructed him to put into operation the sale of my Mayfair apartment and to forward the funds, less his fee, to an address in Tuscany. Then leaving his office, I crossed the street and, dodging the puddles and the traffic, walked towards my bank.
It was a relatively simple operation to arrange with my bank manager to keep an account open with an automatic transfer to Mrs Bates’s account in Kings Datchet. I’d already allocated the funds necessary to keep such an account in operation for the foreseeable future and so it was just a matter of signing the forms. The manager was a young man who didn’t query my decision to close my accounts, wind up my investments and transfer the funds to a numbered account in Switzerland, and completed the transaction to my satisfaction.
Afterwards, walking through the rain to the chemist’s, I began to think it was going to be fine – I’d covered everything I could think of - Mrs Bates and Laura would be financially secure.
Leaving the pharmacy with enough drugs to see me through the journey, I caught a cab to Thomas Cook’s Head Office and concluded my business.
Later, back in my apartment, I picked up a photograph of Leo in a silver frame and packed it into my case. She would always be with me, haunting my waking hours, and filling my dreams but I was afraid time would dull her features and I owed it to her to remember
Before I left London, I rang Mrs Bates. “I’ll be arriving later today but leaving again tomorrow.” I told her. “There’s something I need to discuss with you. I’d be grateful if we could have a chat later this evening, if you could keep some time free.”
“Time is all I’ve got, sir and it’s yours,” she said, then had second thoughts. “Everything alright, is it?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Right. It will be good to see you again, Mr Hope. I hope you won’t stay away so long next time.”
The taxi driver drove through torrential rain towards River House. The river had burst its banks outside the village of Kings Datchet and the fields, through which Josie and I used to walk the dogs, were completely submerged beneath muddy water. The River Road where Evelyn had met her death was passable, as the council had reinforced the riverbank with sandbags, but I doubted whether they would hold for much longer, if the rain continued. The rooftops of the Bennett house showed through the trees, a grim reminder of the past, and I knew I’d made the right decision to leave.
Mrs Bates opened the front door when she heard the taxi draw up and welcomed me with open arms. “Am I glad to see you, sir.” She took a step back surveying me. I could see she was shocked. “You need some feeding up, if you don’t mind me saying. I can see you’ve not been looking after yourself. I thought as much, so I’ve baked your favourite steak and kidney pie, I expect you can smell it cooking. Tinker will be so pleased to see you,” she chatted on, as I removed my mackintosh and put my suitcase in the cloakroom.
“Left the car in London have you? A wise decision if you ask me, in view of the weather!”
Her answer to her own question seemed to satisfy her without any input from me and so I followed her into the kitchen where Tinker was curled up asleep beside the Aga. He raised his head when he heard our voices, stretched and flopped out of his basket but did not run to me with his tail wagging as he had in the past. Instead he sidled up to Mrs Bates, eyeing me suspiciously until she said, “You silly boy, it’s your master, go on now.”
Tinker was still not convinced and I didn’t think it worthwhile trying to coax him, under the circumstances. I had a brief flashback to the time when I’d first seen him bounding into the hall with Evelyn and felt my throat tighten.
“Mrs Bates, after dinner I would like to have a word with you in my study, before you go to bed. Would nine o’clock suit you?”
“That will be fine. Coronation Street should have finished by then,” she replied.
At five to nine I sat at my desk having collected my personal belongings and packed them in an overnight bag. At nine o’clock exactly, I heard a knock on the study door.
“Come in, sit down, Mrs Bates,” I said looking at her homely figure and suddenly realising I knew very little of her life other than that she had a sister living locally and had made friends with the new owner of the Bennett house. “I have something very serious to tell you and I want you to listen very carefully.” The smile slid from her face and she nervously fingered the neck of her blouse
“I’ll be going away tomorrow and I will not be coming back.” I heard her rapid intake of breath but she remained quiet until I’d finished speaking. “I would like you to stay on here and look after Tinker for me. I can see he’s become very fond of you. I will continue to pay your wages via automatic bank transfer into your account and of course there will be enough money to pay any household bills and expenses.” Her agitation seemed to pass and I was glad I’d come to the decision about her future in the way I had planned. “As for River House, it is yours to do with as you please, Mrs Bates, providing you keep Tinker with you of course - until he dies, that is, then it’s yours, naturally.”
Her fingers flew to her face as she held her hands up to her reddening cheeks. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple,” I explained. “I can no longer live here. You must understand why. I need a new start so I’m going to live abroad for a while. I would like you to have the house and I know Evelyn would have agreed. She loved this house and was very fond of you.” Tears trickled down her cheeks as I handed her a handkerchief, together with an envelope containing the Deed of Gift. “My solicitor will write to you concerning the formalities, later. I will give you his card but you need not worry, everything is in order. I spoke with him earlier today.”
“I don’t know what to say, sir.” She rose from her chair and to my embarrassment hugged me, dampening my tie with her tears.
“It’s my pleasure, Mrs Bates, now if you don’t mind, I have some things to tidy up before tomorrow. Oh and if you could send any clothes etc., to worthy causes, I would be very grat
eful.”
“Don’t you worry, sir I’ll see to it. Do you want Morton Phillips in the morning?” she added as an afterthought when she was closing the study door.
“Yes, thank you. Could you have him call for me in time to meet the ten fifteen train from Kings Datchet, please? I’ll be taking the train to London, which will be a relief to Morton I’m sure, as he hates driving in the city.”
“I will, Mr Hope,” she said, gently closing the door behind her.
I let my gaze slowly wonder around the room for the last time, remembering when Evelyn and I had bought the house. We’d thought it would become a family home with children floating their paper boats downstream on days filled with sunshine and laughter but it was not to be. I’d foolishly believed Leo had stolen my future and replaced it with emptiness and now she lay beneath the sodden earth in the woods at the bottom of my garden. Soon the river level would rise and she with it and I would be in a new country with a new identity far away from River House and my guilt.
Chapter 39
When I awake the next morning and open the bedroom curtains, I see my prediction is correct. The river has encroached as far as the bottom of the woodland and the rain is still falling in a torrent. Branches and debris litter the surface of the water as it creeps up the garden. The journal is finished and ready to be posted to Leonora’s sister.
At breakfast, Mrs Bates is tearful and keeps thanking me for my generosity. When the time comes for me to leave, she throws her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek. “Keep safe and don’t forget us,” she says, wiping her eyes with the end of her apron.
“I will and thank you for looking after me so well all these years.” I reply patting her shoulder and handing her the letter I have written to Alan Henderson and the journal addressed to Laura Servini.