by H E Joyce
Laura looked up at her with astonishment. ‘But why? You were doing so well. It’s best to face the demons that are causing you the problems, it won’t do any good running away from them.’
‘I’m sorry, I really am.’ She took out her check book and hurriedly wrote. ‘This is what I owe you for the two sessions,’ she said, shoving it into Laura’s hand.
‘Well if that’s what you want. I can’t stop you of course, but Victoria, I’d really like to help you. Are you sure you don’t want to continue?’
‘Thank you, but I’m sure,’ she said, calm once again. She gazed at the framed photographs over the fireplace. ‘Is this your son?’ she asked.
Laura looked at her, puzzled by the way she so quickly changed. ‘Yes, that’s Jody.’
‘And this one,’ she said, pointing to another, ‘your husband?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Jody looks like a nice boy.’
‘Yes, he’s a great kid. Well, you know my number, call me if you change your mind about this, won’t you?’
Their eyes met. ‘Thank you, but I won’t change my mind, Laura.’
As Laura helped her on with her coat, Victoria looked around the spacious hallway and said: ‘It really is a beautiful home you have - beautiful.’
‘Look,’ Laura said. ‘I don’t know who this person is that you mentioned, but take my advice, whoever he is, don’t let him bring you down. And if you just want to talk, free of charge, just pick up the phone, okay?’
‘I’ll remember that, and yes you’re right, no man is worth… goodbye Laura. And again, I’m very sorry, I really am.’
She left leaving Laura puzzled once again by her odd behaviour. The previous day, Victoria had seemed so desperate to see her, yet like their first meeting she had cut the session dramatically short. What was so terrible that she could not face continuing with the session? Laura wondered. Victoria had given her little or no information as to why she was having these bouts of anxiety; the only small clue was that there might be a man involved. It was frustrating to Laura, to not even be given the chance to resolve the woman’s problems and it left her with a deep sense of failure. Was it her technique? She had always tried to make her clients feel relaxed, and to date, as far as she was aware, she had always been successful. What more could she do to help? After all, if a client did not want to continue, there was nothing she could do.
This sort of thing had never happened to Laura before. There was something about Victoria that troubled her, she had felt it on their first meeting, and now the feeling was strongly reinforced. It seemed that the woman needed to unburden herself of something rather than suffering from anxiety, but if that was so, why see a complete stranger? Why not a friend? But then, there was always the possibility she had no friends. Yet even that theory made little sense, as in the end she had chosen not to open up to Laura either.
Laura returned to her office and placed the buff folder that contained just a few brief notes on Victoria in her filing cabinet.
It was just before midday when, from her office, she heard a car pulling up outside the house. At first, given the erratic nature of Victoria Hanson, she believed it might be her returning, having changed her mind yet again. She went to the door and opened it only to be greeted by Ron Cartwright, the local sheriff.
‘Good morning, Ma’am,’ he said, tipping his hat as he did so. He was a cheerful, but at the same time business-like man.
‘Good morning Sheriff, what can I do for you?’ she asked curiously.
‘Well Ma’am, Michael gave me a call and asked if I could drop by. Seems you thought you may have had an intruder on your property yesterday. Is that right?’
‘Well this is a little embarrassing,’ she said, welcoming him into the hallway. ‘I asked him not to call you; I’m sure it was nothing.’
‘Heck, he did the right thing. No point in taking chances – that’s what we’re here for, after all. Did you get a look at this intruder?’
‘No, I didn’t, it was dark and raining, and it was too far away anyway – over there by the barn. But Michael checked it himself this morning, I don’t see…’
‘Well, I’ll just go take a look for myself if it’s okay with you.’
‘Yes, of course, but…’
The sheriff stepped back outside. I’ll call back on you in a few minutes, Mrs Peterson.’
It seemed a pointless exercise. Michael had found nothing amiss, so why would the sheriff? She assumed it was a gesture and nothing more; he would snoop around for a while, find nothing, and then, his job done, would leave. It wasn’t that she was ungrateful; more that she felt something of a fraud or a neurotic, because on such a bright, glorious day as this, even she could doubt whether or not she had actually seen anything at all.
Laura saw him enter the barn as she made a pot of coffee. It seemed he was thorough, as twenty minutes passed and he had not yet returned to the house. She had watched from the kitchen window, and there being only one entrance to the barn, she knew he must still be inside. She wasn’t sure why, but she began to feel uneasy. How could he be taking so long? She could hear the police radio in his car squawking occasionally, and a voice saying something - she didn’t know what, it was unintelligible to her - but it only went to increase her growing anxiety. What if Michael had missed something? What if there was a crazed maniac lurking in some dark corner that had attacked the ageing and less than fit looking sheriff? Without considering any possible danger to herself, she went to the hallway and quickly pulled on a coat. Despite the brightness of the day, there was a distinct autumnal chill in the air.
As she opened the door, she flinched sharply with a momentary shriek of fright as the sheriff stood facing her.
‘I’m sorry Ma’am, I didn’t mean to scare you, I was just about to knock.’
Laura held her chest for a moment, and then laughed. ‘No, I’m the one who should be sorry; I probably scared the hell out of you, screaming like that. You must think I’m crazy.’
‘Were you going somewhere?’
‘I was coming to look for you. You seemed to be gone for ages, I was getting a bit worried.’ The man looked at her, or at least she thought so, as if she were mad. ‘I’ve just made some coffee, would you like some?’
‘Why yes, I’d love some if it’s no trouble.’
‘No, of course not, come on in.’
He sat down at the table in the kitchen, took off his hat and laid it on the chair next to him. ‘Well, Mrs Peterson, you’ll be glad to hear that I found nothing.’
‘Yes, well, as I said, that’s kind of what I expected, but thanks for taking the time to look around. I’m only sorry we’ve wasted your time. It’s Laura, by the way, call me Laura,’ she said, handing him a mug of coffee.
‘Thank you. It’s no trouble at all I can assure you. But look, if you’re ever worried again, just give us a call and we’ll get a car right round to you. He took a sip from his mug. ‘That’s mighty good coffee, Ma’am,’ he said, ‘and most welcome too.’
‘Thank you, it’s the least I could do.’
‘You like it round here, Laura?’
‘Yes, I adore it, it’s so much… quieter than the city.’
‘Yeah, you wouldn’t get me living in no city. I was born and bred here ya know. No, wouldn’t be anywhere else but right here in Brooksville.’
‘I suppose you must know everyone around here by name.’
‘Well, yes, pretty much I guess.’
Laura joined him at the table. ‘Do you by any chance happen to know the name, Hanson – Victoria Hanson?’
He put down his coffee and rubbed his chin as if in deep concentration. ‘Victoria Hanson, Hanson, Hanson – no, can’t say that I do, Ma’am. Any special reason? If you don’t mind me asking that is.’
‘Oh, no it’s nothing. Would you like me to top that up for you?’
‘No thanks, I’d better get going,’ he said, picking up his hat and raising himself wearily from the chair. ‘We’
re expecting some pretty rough weather to arrive next week,’
‘Yes, I know, I saw it on the T.V last night.’
‘Well I’d get that barn door secured if I were you. There’s no proper fastening that I can see, just an old worn out latch. If the wind’s as strong as they say, it’ll tear that door straight off.’
‘Okay, thanks, I’ll do that, and thanks for coming, I really appreciate it.’
‘No problem, and don’t forget, if you have any worries, give us a call.’
‘I will, Sheriff, goodbye,’ Laura said, opening the door for him.
‘Goodbye then Ma’am, you have a nice day.’
‘Thanks, you too.’
Laura was aware of the barn doors being in need of attention, it was something she had meant to fix for a long time but had never quite got around to doing. With the threat of gales in the days ahead though, it seemed as good a time as any to get the job done, and she drove into town to get the necessary fittings from Merryweather’s. While George Merryweather looked for the items he thought she would need, a couple of robust bolts and a padlock, she chatted with Blanche, over a cup of coffee.
Blanche advised Laura, that if she hadn’t already got some, she should consider stocking up with candles, batteries for torches, and even perhaps a storm lamp, as from experience, she thought there was a good chance the power would be lost should the storm be as severe as promised. Laura already had a couple of storm lamps, but took the advice and bought a good supply of candles and batteries. While she was there, she also settled her account.
‘I met the local sheriff this morning, I can’t believe I’ve never met him before in such a small place,’ Laura said.
‘You mean old Ron? Well I’m not surprised, he keeps his head down mainly. He’ll be retiring soon, anyhow. Don’t see much of him myself, except in him passing by in his car.’
‘Really? Well, I don’t suppose the crime rate’s exactly high in Brooksville.’
‘Why I couldn’t tell you the last time I heard of any sort of crime here, honey,’ said Blanche. ‘How did you happen to meet him, anyway?’
‘Oh, it was silly really, he came out to the house. Michael asked him to come and take a look around. It was completely unnecessary, I felt so stupid.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘It was nothing – well, actually, I thought I saw someone creeping around near our barn yesterday, that’s all. It could have been a trick of the light or anything.’
‘Oh, but you can’t be too careful, Michael did the right thing. Did Ron find anything?’
‘Well no, and I didn’t expect him too. After all, even if there had been someone snooping around, they were hardly likely to hang around. Still, he did say to call at any time if I was ever worried, so…’
‘Yes, and you must – promise me you will, my dear.’
‘I’m sure it won’t be necessary. But yes, I promise, Blanche.’
‘Well that’s alright then, and you can always call me as well, you know that don’t you?’
‘Thank you, that means a lot.’
‘How are Michael, and Jody, anyway? I haven’t seen them in a while.’
‘They’re both fine, Michael’s quite busy, and Jody’s enjoying school. He tells me he has a new teacher. I think he may even have a little crush on her.’
‘Oh, the replacement for old Betty, you mean?’
‘Yes, that’s right, she’s only been there a month or so I think.’
‘Yes, I heard Betty was retiring, she’s been teaching at that school for years you know. Do you know who the new teacher is?’
‘Uh, I think it’s a Miss Anderson, yes that’s right, Anderson. Do you know her?’
‘No sweetheart, I… I don’t think so,’ Blanche said, with a manner that was wholly uncharacteristic. It seemed to Laura that her usual cheery expression had changed to one of awkwardness and unease.
‘Really? I thought you knew everyone around here.’
‘Well, not everyone dear,’ she said, attempting to busy herself.
‘Are you okay, Blanche?’
‘Yes dear, I’m fine,’ said Blanche, scurrying behind the counter and busying herself.
‘Look, Blanche, we are friends aren’t we? – I mean you would tell me if there was something I should know wouldn’t you?’
‘What a question, Laura, of course I would,’ she said, still busying herself.
‘Well, okay, guess I’d better be going. I’ll see you soon, Blanche, take care.’
‘You too, dear, you too.’
Six
Michael emerged casually from his office studying some papers. He looked up from them and glanced at his watch. ‘It’s four-thirty Margaret, why don’t you get on home?’
‘What, again? But I’ve got these letters to do.’
‘Oh, they can wait until tomorrow. Go on, I’ll close up.’
Margaret looked at him worriedly. ‘Mr Peterson, you’re not thinking of firing me, are you?’
‘Firing you? Whatever gave you that idea? Of course I’m not.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, but you’ve been acting a little strange the past few days, if you don’t mind me saying. And two days running, you’ve sent me home early. I know things have been a little quiet and I just thought…’
‘Well stop worrying, I can assure you, Margaret; I’m not going to fire you. Besides, I’d never manage without you, you know that.’
‘Well, I…’
‘Of course I couldn’t. There’s nothing to worry about – really.’ Michael flicked his eyes up at her, gave her a brief smile, and gazed back down at the papers in his hand.
‘Well, if you’re sure?’ She switched off the computer and put her coat on.
‘Absolutely! Just think yourself lucky you have such a generous boss.’
‘Why yes, I do, of course, and I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘I know you didn’t, now off you go before I change my mind.’
She picked up her umbrella. ‘Alright, see you tomorrow, goodnight then, Mr Peterson.’
He smiled at her again. ‘Goodnight, Margaret.’
When she’d gone, he returned to his office and waited a few moments before picking up the phone.
‘Hello, it’s me. Where shall we meet?’ There was a pause as he listened. ‘Okay, I’ll see you in thirty minutes.’
He hung up the phone, put his coat on, and left immediately, certain that he could get there, conclude the business, and be home not much later than usual. For a moment he considered giving Laura a call to warn her he may be a little later, just in case, but decided to chance it. He was sure he could keep the meeting as brief as possible.
Turning his cell phone off, he drove out at speed on Snow’s Cove Road and then onto the 176 to where the hotel was, near a place called Third Pond. He arrived in less than twenty-five minutes. It was the sort of place where you could remain inconspicuous, an impressive building that stood alone in open country, but impersonal with its large restaurant and bar. He and Laura had been there for dinner once before, but neither liked the place. There was no chance of him being recognised, either by the staff or anyone else, as no one he or Laura knew frequented it.
The bar was virtually empty, which made it feel all the more cold and unwelcoming. He took a seat at a table, and when a waitress approached him, he ordered a beer. Then he waited. About ten minutes passed, then she walked into the bar and straight to the table where Michael was waiting, nervously glancing at his watch. He stood up as she approached. She was a woman who exuded confidence.
‘Hi Michael,’ she said, kissing him on the cheek. He didn’t reciprocate, but looked at her unsmiling, the tension in his face obvious. ‘What’s the matter, anyone would think you weren’t pleased to see me?’ she said.
‘Of course I am, ‘ he said, as they took their seats. ‘What would you like to drink?’
‘My usual,’ she said, shifting her glance to the waitress.
/> ‘So,’ Michael said. ‘I got your text earlier, is something wrong? It sounded urgent.’ He finished his beer. ‘A bourbon on the rocks, and another one of those please,’ he said, to the waitress, gesturing to the empty bottle in his hand.
‘No, nothing’s wrong darling, I just wanted to see you, that’s all.’
‘You just wanted to see me?’ he said, incredulously.
‘Yes, is that so terrible?’ she said, her icy blue eyes staring searchingly into his.
‘No, of course not, but look Beth, I’ve been thinking – about us.’
‘What about us?’
‘Look, we’ve had some good times together, I’m not denying that, but I’m married now, the stakes are too high to go on like this.’
She glared at him. ‘What are you trying to say. Are you trying to tell me it’s over, Michael?’
‘I just don’t see how we can… Yes! I suppose that’s what I’m trying to say, Beth. This has to end.’
‘I see.’
‘Do you? Look, you know how I feel about you, how I’ve always felt about you, but it’s different now, I have responsibilities.’
‘To her and that kid of hers, you mean,’ she spat. ‘Well what about me, Michael?’
‘Beth, we’re not married. I have no responsibility to you. Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so cold, but…’
She looked down at her bourbon and swirled the ice around in the glass, her thick, dark, shoulder length hair dropping forward so that it almost hid her face. When she looked up at him, her eyes were wet with tears.
‘Just tell me this, Michael, do you love her as much as you love me? Or maybe you don’t love me at all – is that it? Are you just using me? she said, sobbing.
‘Beth, please, get a grip,’ he hissed. Maybe I should go before this turns into one of those scenes that you’re so good at.’ He began to raise himself from the chair.
‘No, don’t go, Michael, I’m sorry, please stay. I won’t cause a scene, I promise,’ she said, reaching over and clutching his arm.
He sat down again, sighing, as he knew he would, as he always did. She had always had the same effect on him, was able to control and manipulate him. But now it was different, he was only too aware that she now had a hold over him like never before. He paused for a moment and chose his next words carefully.