The Judgement of Strangers

by Taylor, Andrew

  ‘Of course we can turn it down,’ Toby said, smiling at Audrey.

  He walked over to the record player, but it was too late. Audrey had wheeled round on Vanessa. At that moment Toby turned the volume down. He must have turned the knob too far because suddenly there was no music at all.

  ‘I’ve had enough of you,’ Audrey shrieked in the sudden silence. ‘You’re quite intolerable. Why do you have to interfere? You don’t belong here.’

  She flung a startled glance round the room, at the blank faces staring at hers. She gave a high, wordless cry and stumbled through the nearest French window on to the terrace. Simultaneously, Toby turned up the music. Audrey ran across the flags, down the steps and on to the lawn. A moment later she vanished among the bushes of the shrubbery between the lawn and the drive.

  I had begun to follow her. I reached the French window. Vanessa came up behind me and laid a restraining hand on my arm.

  ‘Better leave her,’ she said. ‘It’ll be kinder in the long run.’

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Of course.’ She smiled, cool and faintly amused.

  James abandoned his Asian beauty and came over to the two of us. He looked from one to the other of us.

  ‘Flew off the handle, eh?’

  ‘You heard what happened,’ Vanessa said, though James could not possibly have heard what she had said to spark off Audrey’s outburst.

  He shrugged. ‘Time of life. Takes some people harder than others. How are your glasses? You can’t go round with half-empty glasses. This is a party.’

  The buzz of conversation resumed.

  ‘I feel responsible,’ Toby said, every inch the concerned host.

  ‘There’s nothing you could have done,’ James pointed out. ‘Best forget about it. Kindest thing all round. Don’t let it spoil the party.’

  Toby turned to Vanessa. ‘Are you ready for the secret?’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘It was in the old stables. I found it when I was digging out that tent, but I didn’t have a proper look till this evening.’

  In her eagerness, Vanessa laid a hand on his arm. ‘Yes, but what is it? It had better be good after all this build-up.’

  He stared at her, obviously wondering whether to prolong the tease. ‘All right. It’s a box – a dusty old pine box full of dusty old books. Three or four dozen of them. I’ve not been through them, but most of them look like theology. And the ones I did look at had “F. St. J. Youlgreave” on the flyleaf. I’ve moved them into the office.’

  As he was talking, he and Vanessa were edging towards the door to the hall. They did not ask me to accompany them and I did not want to go. As soon as they had left the room, I strolled over to the fireplace. Joanna looked up at me. The music cocooned us in a bubble of privacy.

  ‘Look,’ she said; I half heard her and half saw her lips move. Her eyes showed me where to look – behind me, towards the terrace.

  I was just in time to see Rosemary turning away. As I watched, she stepped down to the lawn and rejoined the youths she had been with at the pool.

  ‘She’s in a state,’ Joanna said. Then only her lips moved without any accompanying sound: ‘I love you.’

  ‘Come outside?’ I mouthed back.

  She nodded, picked up her glass from the mantelpiece and led the way on to the terrace. It was noticeably darker and cooler than it had been even a few minutes before. We walked down the steps, away from the dancers and the drinkers. There was no sign of Rosemary or her escorts.

  ‘I missed you. Why weren’t you at the fete?’

  ‘Because I wouldn’t have had a chance to be with you. What happened when you tried to phone?’

  ‘Vanessa came into the study.’

  ‘I want to be alone with you. I have to be.’

  We met Doris and Ted Potter at that moment. I heard myself congratulating them on their contribution to the fete and telling them how much money we had made this year – a record. I even asked about Beauty and Beast. And then, as if in a dream, they were no longer there; and Joanna and I were alone on the edge of the lawn.

  ‘There’re too many people,’ she whispered, turning so she could see if anyone was coming towards us. ‘They’re all over the place. Some of the younger ones aren’t going to go for hours and hours. Not until the booze runs out. And Toby’s really gone to town on that.’ She looked at me over the brim of her glass. ‘He’s trying to make everyone like him. Have you noticed?’

  I shrugged. At that moment I was not particularly interested in Toby.

  ‘He wants to get the locals on his side for the hotel scheme, you see.’ She reverted abruptly to what we’d been talking about before. ‘It’s too dangerous outside. I thought it would be easy, once it began to get dark, but people are everywhere.’

  ‘Then what can we do?’

  ‘Go inside the house. Up to my room.’

  ‘But – but what if someone comes?’

  ‘We can lock the door.’ She waved her free hand around the garden. ‘We can’t lock the door here. It’s such a big place that no one will think it odd if they can’t find us.’

  I ached to touch her. We had so few choices. It took me only a moment to convince myself that if we wanted to be alone, then her room was the safest place.

  She knew me well enough to take my agreement for granted. ‘We’d better go there separately. You remember the way?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I’ll go first,’ she said. ‘You can follow in a couple of minutes. Use the main stairs. Toby’s put a sign to the lavatory on the landing. Everyone will assume you’re going up there.’

  She smiled up at me and mouthed the words I love you. Then she slipped away across the grass. She was wearing a short dress which buttoned up the front; it was made of a soft material the colour of claret. On the terrace, she paused for a moment to say something to the man in the leather jacket who had been dancing with Mary Vintner. I heard her laugh. Then she disappeared into the house. I felt sick with desire, sick with shame.

  Drink in hand, I walked slowly down to the swimming pool.

  ‘Uncle David?’

  Startled, I looked up. Two small white faces loomed against the dark red foliage of the copper beech. Michael and Brian were ten feet above my head.

  ‘It’s a great climbing tree once you get up to the first main branch.’

  ‘I’m sure it is.’ I wanted to add, Do be careful, but managed to restrain myself.

  He grinned down at me. ‘We can see everyone. But they can’t see us.’

  ‘Let’s hope they all behave themselves, then. See you later.’

  I walked round the swimming pool, arriving in time to see another fully clothed youth falling into the water accidentally on purpose. I looked down at my glass and saw to my surprise that it was empty. Surely I need not wait any longer? I sauntered back to the house.

  ‘Have a refill,’ James called as I went inside.

  I allowed him to give me one, because it was the simplest thing to do. I drifted across the room, smiling at faces I knew, and slipped out into the hallway. To my relief, there was no sign of Rosemary, Audrey or – most importantly of all – Vanessa. I walked down the corridor to the main hall at the front of the house.

  No one had turned on the lights. The office door was closed, but there was a line of light between the bottom of the door and the threshold. I assumed that Vanessa and Toby were still inside, still examining the books which might have belonged to Francis Youlgreave. Suspicion stirred – was I not a conspirator myself? Surely they had been in there a very long time? I glanced at my watch. It seemed hours since Toby and Vanessa had left, but in fact it was no more than ten or fifteen minutes. I pushed the pair of them out of my mind.

  As I went up the stairs, I glanced upwards through the gloom towards the great lantern skylight on the roof. This was a monochrome world, a place of shadows.

  I reached the landing. A few yards away from me, a lavatory flushed. Simultaneously I noticed the light under a
door on my left.

  Abandoning dignity, I scuttled along the landing. A large cupboard, stretching from floor to ceiling, stood against the wall of the corridor. I ducked beside it and pressed my back against the wall so the bulk of the cupboard was between me and the lavatory door and the head of the stairs.

  A bolt shot back. There were footsteps on the bare boards, footsteps clattering down the stairs. I waited until all was silent and then continued along the corridor.

  The door to the room beneath Joanna’s was ajar. Despite the gathering dusk, it was lighter here than on the landing. One of the windows faced west and part of the sky was dark with rain clouds. For a moment, I hesitated. I thought I heard a faint rhythmic rustle, like the beating of distant wings.

  Francis Youlgreave’s angel?

  There was a pattering sound in the fireplace. I went over to it and peered down at the flecks of soot which had fallen into the grate. Nothing to worry about. Just the wind in the chimney.

  I crossed the room to the spiral staircase, whose door was also ajar. I went up the uncarpeted stairs as quietly as I could manage. It was suddenly much darker again, because the only light in this enclosed space came from the tiny arrow slits set low in the walls. Joanna’s door was shut. Beyond it, the stairs carried on upwards through the darkness to Francis Youlgreave’s room. I tapped on her door.

  What if she isn’t here?

  I barely had time to formulate the thought before the handle turned. Joanna smiled up at me. She held the door open and I slipped inside. I turned to see her closing the door and turning the key in the lock. She faced me and leant back against the door. I saw that she was shivering.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I thought you wouldn’t come.’

  I put my arms around her. It was very quiet. One of the windows was open and I could hear the faint sound of music, of chinking glasses and laughter; but the sounds were so far away that they emphasized the silence rather than broke it. The big room was much as I had seen it before – the mattress on the carpet, an island on a sea of bare boards – except that it was tidier.

  Gradually Joanna stopped trembling. Her fingers ran down my spine, up and down, up and down, as though she were playing a musical instrument. Then she stirred, pulled herself a little away from me and smiled. Slowly she undid the buttons of her dress and let it drop to the floor. She stepped out of it and took my hand.

  ‘Toby –’ I began.

  She put her finger to my lips. ‘Not now. Just you. Just me.’

  I drew her towards me. We kissed. I ran my fingertips over her breasts. She pulled at the knot of my tie. When we were both naked, I led her to the mattress.

  Gradually the light ebbed from the room. Detail seeped away. The four windows became round-headed oblongs in varying shades of grey. At times, it seemed to me that the tower was rocking gently. I heard the wind moaning, almost obscuring the faint sound of beating wings. Into my mind slipped an incongruous image of Francis Youlgreave’s angel carrying him up to heaven.

  Afterwards we lay in a warm huddle of naked limbs under a single sheet. Now I have done the unforgivable, I thought; and joy welled like a fountain inside me. Joanna nestled against me, her hand slowly stroking my chest. I could hardly breathe for happiness.

  ‘I want it all over again,’ she whispered, so quietly I could barely hear; her breath teased the hairs of my chest.

  ‘And again,’ I said.

  ‘And again.’

  It wasn’t funny but we laughed. Vanessa and I had never laughed after making love. Joanna reached over me for cigarettes and lighter. Still entwined, we struggled into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. She pushed a cigarette in my mouth and lit it.

  ‘Do you think they’re missing us?’ she asked.

  ‘Probably. It doesn’t matter.’

  She twitched. ‘It might if Toby notices.’

  ‘Forget Toby.’

  Joanna drew on her cigarette and her features acquired an infernal glow. ‘We should go downstairs.’ But she did not move.

  I touched her cheek. ‘Why do you stay with him? Why are you afraid of him?’

  She said nothing. Her face was a pale oval in the gloom. I heard her breathing, rapid and irregular.

  ‘Is it true that this house is yours?’ I persisted, my voice becoming harsh because I was anxious. ‘Did you tell me the truth?’

  Joanna sucked in her breath. ‘I’ve never lied to you. Not really … I never will. We must go.’ She made a half-hearted attempt to scramble off the mattress, but our bodies were too entangled for her to be able to move without my cooperation. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not worth it, you know.’

  ‘You’re worth everything. I love you.’

  ‘Really?’ She stubbed out her cigarette, her head bowed over the ashtray. ‘It’s not just sex?’

  ‘No. Though I’m not pretending that’s not important. But I love you – I want to marry you. Will you?’ There was a silence. My stomach felt as though I were falling. Falling from a high window into the arms of an angel.

  ‘You can’t.’ She made a sound that was half a giggle and half a sob. ‘You’re already married.’

  ‘There’s such a thing as divorce.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t be able to. You’re a clergyman.’

  ‘There are other ways of making a living.’

  She kissed me. Then she rested her head against my shoulder. ‘Anyway, there’s Toby.’

  ‘What’s he got to do with it? I don’t want to marry him.’ A monstrous suspicion sprouted in my mind. ‘You and Toby – surely you’re not –?’

  Joanna laughed, a sharp, nervy sound like a shower of stones against a windowpane. ‘Toby and I aren’t lovers, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  ‘I told you about the heroin. I didn’t lie to you. But I didn’t tell you everything.’

  I waited. The evening air cooled my bare skin. Ash fell from my cigarette to the sheet. I brushed it off and dropped the cigarette end in the ashtray.

  ‘You remember Annabel? Toby’s friend?’ She pulled herself away from me and sat up on the mattress, her arms round her knees. ‘Well, he used the same technique on me as he did on her.’

  ‘Heroin.’ My hand slipped on to Joanna’s thigh, as if I needed to reassure myself that she was still there, to feel the flesh and blood of her. ‘Are you – you’re addicted to heroin?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you’re not –’

  ‘I’m not a half-starved junkie living in a basement room in Notting Hill? I’m not selling my body to pay for my habit? I’m not covered in sores. I’m not subhuman.’

  I put my arms around her and hugged her.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be like that, you know. If you’ve got a regular supply of it, you can lead a perfectly normal life.’

  ‘But there was no sign of it.’

  ‘I don’t use a syringe. I smoke it. That’s how Toby got me started.’ Her voice was low and the flow stumbled. ‘We used to smoke dope together. Cannabis, pot – whatever you want to call it. Everyone did. All our friends. And why not? As far as I can see, it’s perfectly harmless. But Toby began rolling me joints with a little something added. My special joints, he called them.’ Her shoulders twitched. ‘And after a while, I couldn’t do without them. So what could I do? I didn’t know anyone else who could get me heroin. Only Toby. Keep it in the family: that’s what he said. And as long as I do what Toby wants, there’s no problem there.’

  ‘There are doctors. A GP could refer you to a –?’

  ‘But I like it. Besides, I’m scared.’

  ‘Why are you scared?’

  ‘Because if I try to stop using heroin, Toby won’t be able to rely on me to do what he wants.’

  ‘But that’s the whole point of it, surely?’

  ‘He’ll do something. He’ll try and get me back on it. And if he can’t manage that, he might do anything. It’s very easy to overdose, you see. Especially with C
hinese heroin. And his stuff’s all Chinese. It comes in from Hong Kong, and you never really know how strong it is or what they’ve cut it with. It’s not pure, like the stuff you get on the NHS. Not that there’s much of that around these days. But if a dealer gets annoyed with a customer, he’ll sometimes give him a shot of unusually pure heroin. There’s a word for it in the trade. It’s called a hotshot. And it kills you.’

  ‘But what good would that do him? You said he hasn’t any money of his own. Wouldn’t he be killing the golden goose?’

  ‘If I made a will, you mean? Left what I’ve got to someone else. I’m not sure it would work. When we bought this house, he made me sign something. A sort of option clause. It gives him the right to buy it at a nominal sum unless he agrees to the sale.’ By now it was almost entirely dark and Joanna’s voice had sunk to a whisper. ‘He’d probably kill me anyway. There’d be no danger for him, because everyone would say I was just another addict who had taken an overdose. He likes to feel in control, you see. That’s important in itself.’

  ‘But killing you?’

  She twisted in my arms. ‘Believe me. You must believe me. He’s my brother, I know him.’

  She reached for the cigarettes again. For a moment we smoked in silence.

  ‘Have I made you hate me? Despise me?’

  ‘Of course you haven’t. We’ll go away together. Then I can look after you, help you with the treatment. We’ll find you a lawyer, too. Toby won’t be able to find you. That’s the important thing.’

  ‘I can’t do that. I can’t ruin your life.’

  ‘You don’t want to come with me?’

  ‘You know I do. But if we go away together, I’ll ruin you – one way or another. And I love you – so how can I do that to you?’

  ‘You must let me decide that. I know what I’m letting myself in for.’

  ‘You don’t, not really. You don’t know what living with an addict is like. You don’t even know me very well.’ She stroked my neck, tracing the outline of the Adam’s apple. ‘We must go. They’ll be wondering where we are.’

  ‘They don’t matter.’