The Running Lie

by Jennifer Young

  ‘Should I…’

  ‘No.’ He pulled his jumper over his head. ‘I don’t know if anybody’s out there, but startling bad men is never a good idea.’

  ‘Then it’s isn’t safe for you either.’

  John slid into the holster she’d seen in Berlin. ‘It’s my job. People have spent a lot of money and time training me to do this. I’ll be fine.’ He drew a gun from a drawer.

  ‘Do you always bring a gun to a country weekend?’

  John grinned. ‘Around you, yes.’

  ‘You don’t know the estate.’

  ‘You can’t go like that. If you change, it’s even later and your mother is likely to hear you. I doubt I’ll find anything except some startled wildlife.’

  ‘Then stay here.’ She rubbed her arms. ‘You think someone was watching us?’

  ‘I don’t know. And I don’t like that feeling.’ He pulled on socks. ‘Besides, they still said monitor when I called in this afternoon. I can’t very well ask to arrest her because she’s pissing me off, pardon my language. I need to find something solid. I want this finished.’

  Max watched as he tied his bootlaces. The openness reverted to exactly what he wanted to do. She drew on her robe slowly, and clenched Edward’s letter in the pocket. It was no different than her parents. ‘Very well.’

  John hugged her hard. ‘I promise, I’ll be fine. I love you.’ He brushed his lips gently over hers. ‘You’re the most remarkable woman in the world.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  MAX HOPED TO see John in the breakfast room, alive, undamaged and maybe just looking a little tired. But instead Mother chatted with Mrs Gould and Tommy.

  ‘Is Catherine not joining us?’ Mother asked.

  ‘She rarely has breakfast,’ Tommy said. ‘I wouldn’t expect her.’

  ‘Vivian is simply refusing to come down,’ Mrs Gould said. ‘I told she was making far too much work, expecting trays and such nonsense.’

  Hot words rose to Max’s lips, but her mother smoothly interrupted.

  ‘We’re delighted to accommodate Vivian in any way we can. She’s like family. Could you pass the butter, please?’

  ‘Well, of course. What about Mr Knox?’ Mrs Gould asked. ‘I worried he might snore, but he’s been quiet so far.’

  Max kept her eyes on her eggs, trying not to laugh. Thank God.

  ‘He joined us yesterday,’ Mother said. ‘Maybe he slept in today.’

  How long had he been outside? Had he found anything? She’d knock on his door. Max stared at the surface of her tea. She forced herself to eat slowly and listen to Mrs Gould talking about flowers with her mother. Knowing that Mother disliked Mrs Gould as much as she did helped.

  Her mother launched into an impassioned defence of the Scabrosa rose. She’d drag Henry in for evidence next. Henry wouldn’t skimp words on Mrs Gould. Max tried to imagine the young Nancy Falkland of the photos she’d seen insisting on bringing Henry to England. What had her father thought? And what had Henry thought when she demanded to go back to America after six months?

  ‘Excuse me, please,’ Max said, rising. Mother nodded.

  ‘Max, wait.’ Tommy ran after her. ‘Can I talk to you?’

  ‘I need to…’

  ‘Please. It’s important.’ He reached towards her, but stopped short of touching her arm.

  He had been a good friend, whatever John thought, and however odd his behaviour since his arrival. ‘Well, just a minute.’ She tapped her toe.

  ‘In here,’ he said, steering her into the library.

  Max pushed one of the doors back ajar, just in case. Tommy gestured to a chair, but she remained standing. ‘I only have a moment, really.’

  ‘I’m worried about you.’

  ‘Me? Why?’

  ‘John Knox. I get that he’s good looking and muscular and likes showing it off. But he’s not what you think, Max.’

  ‘There’s no reason for you to be concerned, Tommy.’

  ‘There is. You don’t know him. Do you honestly buy that story about writing under a different name? And he chased Catherine, hard. You don’t need another ass who’s going to cheat on you like…’

  ‘You knew. You bloody knew about Daniel and Catherine.’ Her nails dig into her palms. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed her fists.

  ‘Catherine? God. No, I knew about Betsy Vander and some random girl he went off with three weeks before you ended it. I thought you found out about those. Catherine? Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely positive.’ Wonderful. Betsy was coming to the ball this weekend too.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘But that’s all the more reason to tell you now, before you have the same experience with what’s-his-name. What’s your quality of life going to be, long term?’

  Max wanted to stay still, but she fiddled with the depression a button made in the headrest of the arm chair. ‘Daniel made it quite clear I’m not wife material. And I’m fairly certain I agree with him. What I do with John is…’

  ‘Marry me.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Max could have sworn she smelled cigarette smoke, but maybe it just clung to Tommy. He came closer, until only the seat of the chair separated them. He stroked her bare shoulder. Why had she worn a sundress today?

  ‘I won’t cheat on you, I’ve always admired you, and…’

  ‘You can use my money?’ Max lifted his hand and dropped it onto the chair’s back.

  Tommy turned a dark purple. ‘Max, that’s…’

  Max stepped back two paces. ‘You’ve been a good friend, Tommy. But quite frankly, I couldn’t stomach being related to your sister, and I’m not going to marry someone I don’t love.’

  ‘It worked for your parents.’

  ‘That’s not relevant in the slightest.’ Dad said he loved Mother. But not when he’d fallen in love.

  Tommy threw himself in the chair. ‘You honestly believe in love? Don’t you think Knox has plans for your money?’

  His hair looked stiff with wax, unlike the softness of John’s. ‘That’s none of your business.’

  The door glided open, and John walked in. ‘There you are. Do you want… are you all right?’

  ‘Fine.’ She forced a smile. He was alive. Would she always carry this knot of worry? ‘I was just leaving.’

  ‘Hello, Dinsmore,’ John said. He ground out his cigarette in the ashtray on the desk.

  How long had he been outside listening?

  ‘Knox. Or is it Carter? I find it hard to keep up with your personae, never mind your pursuits.’

  Tommy paced to the bookcase and lifted a book from a shelf that Max knew held Latin texts. She doubted he could read it.

  ‘How is the inventing going, Dinsmore? But you prefer the racetrack now, don’t you?’

  ‘Remind me, is it blondes or brunettes today?’

  ‘Always blondes. Brunettes are a bit too…’

  Tommy hurled the book at him, but John dodged easily. It fell to the floor behind him.

  ‘Tommy, don’t be stupid,’ Max said, running to pick it up. She smoothed the creased pages. ‘This book is over a hundred years old. You can’t just chuck it about.’

  ‘Is that the best you can do?’ John asked.

  Tommy circled John.

  ‘You’re being ridiculous, both of you.’ They ignored her. John grinned, and the hair on Max’s arms prickled. He’d never looked so feral before.

  Tommy lunged towards John, grabbing him in some sort of wrestling hold Max vaguely remembered George doing at school. They grappled, and John’s elbow connected with Tommy’s nose. Tommy yelped, and blood dripped, but Tommy didn’t let go.

  ‘Idiots.’ She didn’t want to get between them, and what could she do? Throw water on them? It’d hit the shelves. She dropped the book onto the armchair and watched. They gripped each other, more of a struggle than a fistfight. ‘Just stop it!’

  ‘Max, are you…’ Charlie stopped in the doorway. ‘Golly.’ He came further into the room. ‘M
y money’s on John.’

  The men crashed into the wall and ricocheted back into a table. Max hoisted Mother’s favourite vase away in time and dumped it in Charlie’s hands. Catherine appeared beside Charlie. Why did the library have to have double doors?

  ‘Really, Max, such devotion. It’s not every girl who has men fighting over her.’

  Tommy freed an arm and drove his fist into John’s stomach. John slammed Tommy into a bookcase. Tommy’s grip loosened, and then he collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air.

  John tossed his handkerchief towards Tommy. ‘Sorry about the nose.’

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ Mother took the vase from Charlie and put it back on the table. ‘Thank you, Charlie.’

  ‘It was Max, actually,’ said Charlie.

  ‘I’m well aware of that.’

  Max didn’t want to turn, but everyone seemed to stand in the doorway. Harris walked away rapidly.

  ‘I am disappointed,’ Mother said. ‘Fisticuffs in the library! I expected better of our guests.’

  ‘My apologies, ma’am.’ John stood ramrod straight, although he shoved his hair off his forehead.

  ‘I’m sorry too.’ Tommy pressed his own handkerchief to his nose. John’s fell to the floor.

  ‘Jealousy does…’ Catherine said.

  ‘That’s enough.’ Mother barely glanced at the door. ‘Tommy, I think you and Catherine should leave after the ball on Friday.’

  ‘What about him?’ Tommy asked.

  ‘None of your concern. Now everyone, go back to what you were doing.’

  People dispersed. Mother took Max’s hand.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Max nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Do you want to stay or come with me?’

  ‘I’ll stay.’ John wouldn’t meet her eyes. ‘I’m fine, really.’ She squeezed her mother’s fingers. ‘You’re amazing.’

  Tommy didn’t move as Mother’s heels clicked away. Max remained standing. She heard new footfalls. God, if Catherine came back…

  ‘It looks like we missed a party,’ Victor said. He and Emma stood in the doorway, and Max couldn’t choose between running to them or screaming. ‘You need help with that nose, mate?’

  Tommy rose from the floor and pushed past the Westfields.

  ‘What the hell are you doing, John?’ Victor asked. ‘He’s half your size.’

  John bent to retrieve his handkerchief and sat down wearily. He dabbed at Tommy’s blood on his shirt sleeve. ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘Cold water,’ Victor said. ‘Were you fighting for fair Max’s hand? He’s just the type of wispy posho Max usually doesn’t go for.’

  John had to know how to get blood out of clothes. Maybe that’d be another wifely task for her, along with extracting smears of red lipstick from his collars. His hair had fallen over his forehead again.

  Emma touched Victor’s back. ‘This might not be the time, darling.’

  Rose appeared in the doorway, with a tea tray. ‘Mr Harris thought you might want tea, miss.’ She placed the tray near John. ‘I’ll bring some cold water, sir. Or if you leave it in your room, Lucy can clean it right up.’

  ‘Thank you.’ John pushed his hair back again. Rose quivered visibly.

  ‘Are the footmen still ill, Rose?’ Max asked.

  ‘Yes, miss. It’s making ever so much more work for us.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Max didn’t move as Rose left the room. John lifted the teapot. ‘How does everybody take it?’

  Victor and Emma both asked for milk as they sat. John looked at Max. She closed her eyes.

  ‘Just milk? Like your coffee?’

  ‘Black for her,’ Emma said.

  John poured and held the cup out to her. She stared at the smear of Tommy’s blood on his sleeve.

  ‘I was coming to ask if you wanted to go to town,’ he said. ‘After tea, do you…’

  ‘You’ve got to be joking.’ She walked to the door.

  ‘Max, hang on,’ John said, but she kept going. Once in the hallway, she stopped. She didn’t want to go hide in her room like a petulant child. But where else could she go and avoid the Dinsmores, Mrs Gould and John? She headed towards the back door. At least Mrs Gould wouldn’t go outside.

  Emma’s light tread and a faint rattle followed her. ‘I brought your tea.’

  Max stopped and Emma caught up with her.

  ‘I suggested John might want to give you some time.’

  Max nodded. She didn’t know if she wanted to punch something—preferably a wall or even John—or weep. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she whispered.

  ‘Where can we go to talk?’ Emma asked. ‘Unless you want to be alone?’

  Catherine came down the stairs above them. ‘Well, well Max. Did your swain have to hurt Tommy so badly? His nose might be broken.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Max said. ‘It was barely bleeding.’

  ‘We may press charges.’

  ‘When Tommy started it?’

  ‘He’s the one who sustained an injury.’

  ‘Maybe you and Tommy should go now then. I’ll drive you to the station, if you like.’ Max held her gaze, although her skin crawled at the idea of being in such proximity to Catherine.

  Catherine nodded at the teacups in Emma’s hands. ‘Don’t you get tired of playing lady in waiting? Mrs Westfield, wasn’t it?’

  ‘What an excellent memory you have,’ Emma said.

  ‘Yes, I remember when John’s name was James and he wanted to kiss me, not get into brawls over Max here. Was your father very angry you ran to the hospital, Max? Quite the journey crisscrossing Berlin in taxis—hotel, hospital, hotel.’

  The hospital. How would Catherine know their movements that night? She and John had remained at the ball.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, Catherine, my tea is getting cold.’ Max took a cup from Emma, the wrong one, she realised as she pivoted and headed back to the library.

  ‘Aren’t you angry at John?’ Emma whispered.

  Tea sloshed into the saucer.

  Max opened the door. John immediately stood, although Victor stayed sprawled in his chair.

  ‘Max, I’m…’

  ‘Don’t.’ She held up a hand. ‘Listen. How long did you stay at the ball?’

  ‘Another hour.’ John didn’t sit down.

  ‘And where did you go afterwards?’

  ‘Max, don’t be stupid.’ Victor said. ‘Why in God’s…’

  ‘I drove her home, had a drink, and dropped the car by my place. Then I went on to your hotel. Why?’

  ‘How long did that take? Before you left her?’

  ‘Fifty minutes. Fifty-two, if I remember correctly.’

  ‘How could she know that we went to the hotel, the hospital and then the hotel? Did you?’ Max refused to relive the gut-churning taxi rides across Berlin.

  ‘No,’ John said.

  ‘Can I ask, what the hell is she doing here?’ Emma asked.

  ‘My mother invited her. Could Catherine have had us followed, so she knew about you coming to my room too?’

  John nodded. ‘She must have.’

  Victor sat up straight. ‘Damn. I should have noticed.’

  ‘You weren’t expecting it,’ John said. ‘It’s the first slip she’s made since she’s been here.’

  ‘Couldn’t she have guessed you would go to the hospital?’ Emma said. ‘It was your father.’

  ‘But why would she know our exact journey?’ Max asked. She lifted her tea cup, but Emma swapped it before she drank.

  ‘Remind me again what it is we think they’re doing?’ Victor asked.

  ‘John won’t tell me. His job is quite important, you see.’ The cup was lukewarm against her hand, so she put it on the table.

  John’s jaw tightened. ‘Is the telephone working?’

  ‘Not when we tried to ring on the way down.’ Emma felt the side of the teapot. ‘Have you both finished?’ She dumped the dregs of John and Victor’s tea into their c
ups and poured fresh into the now empty cups. She handed John’s cup to Max. ‘Sit down, Max. Have some tea. You’re a bit pale.’

  ‘Well, when idiots will fight over her…’ Victor said.

  ‘It wasn’t about me. It was about Catherine.’ She lifted the book from the arm chair and sat down. No milk lightened the surface of her tea. John must have his tea black too.

  ‘Is it damaged?’ John asked.

  ‘Not badly.’

  ‘I should have caught it. Sorry.’ He stopped near the chair. ‘I am sorry, honey.’

  Max nodded. ‘I’m sure you are.’ She looked up at him. ‘Are you hurt at all?’

  John shook his head.

  ‘From that lightweight? I’m amazed it lasted as long as it did. You must have been toying with him,’ Victor said.

  Just a flicker of a smile crossed John’s face, and she gritted her teeth.

  ‘I’m going to town,’ John said, his face now perfectly smooth. ‘I need to make a phone call. Can I borrow a car?’

  ‘I’ll drive you,’ Victor said. He jumped up. ‘Coming, girls?’

  ‘I’ll go if Max will.’ Emma stood.

  Max nodded. ‘I’ll check on our phone being mended. Give me a minute though. I need to find my mother.’

  The tea sloshed uncomfortably in her stomach as she climbed the stairs to her parents’ room. No one there. She tried the morning room and the drawing room, and then she headed downstairs. She paused outside of Harris’s office.

  ‘I am certainly not accusing you, Lucy. But we need to discover…’

  ‘Harris, is everything all right?’

  Lucy jumped. ‘I didn’t take anything, Miss Max.’

  ‘Lucy, no one is accusing you,’ said Harris. ‘I was trying to ask you keep an eye on the guests. Some things have gone missing, Miss Max. Nothing of particular value, but there is some food missing.’ His mouth formed a small smile. ‘Beyond what Mr Charlie takes, which we account for. Some blankets, a few pocketable items of relatively low value.’

  ‘Has it ever happened before?’ Was it a tramp? ‘Some things in my room had been moved, but I thought maybe you were just tidying.’ Or that Catherine was trying to scare her.

  ‘No, ma’am. I haven’t done anything differently.’