by Leo McNeir
“I’m not sure if that would help. I’m pinned down here with work all day.”
“What about Anne? Is she going into town, perhaps?”
*
As a result of studying the Arts and Crafts Movement and the Bauhaus, Anne had become interested in an artists’ colony set up in Darmstadt, Germany, by the Grand Duke of Hessen and Rhine at the start of the twentieth century. And so, with an hour to spare before meeting Maurice Dekker, she had gone to the central reference library in Northampton to see what information might be available. The few books on offer gave a general overview of the period, but she soon realised she would need more specialised resources if her next dissertation project was to be a success.
Absorbed as she was in reading, Anne was alarmed to see that the time for meeting Maurice was almost upon her. She scrabbled her papers together, deposited the library books at the reception desk and dashed for the door.
Marnie had arranged a rendezvous point by the war memorial behind the church opposite the market square. Anne was relieved to see that Dekker had not yet arrived when she rounded the corner. In less than a minute a taxi pulled up at the kerb where she stood and Maurice unfolded himself from the rear. He spoke to the driver as he climbed out, and Anne was not unduly surprised that the car remained at the roadside with its engine running.
“Anne, sorry to keep you waiting.” It was the familiar hoarse voice. “I do hope you haven’t been standing here long.”
“No, really, just a few moments, Mr Dekker, er, Maurice.”
“I’m so glad.” He waved a hand in the air. “Traffic hold-ups, you know.”
“No probs.” Anne reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope. “This is your letter.”
“Thank you.” Dekker looked at the envelope and nodded. “Yes, yes.”
It struck Anne as slightly absurd that she was handing over a letter from one man to his brother-in-law in conditions reminiscent of a scene from a cold war spy story. At any minute someone would leap out from behind the war memorial to stab Dekker with a poisoned umbrella. Maurice looked down at her face with the faintest of smiles.
“This is very good of you, Anne.”
He looked awkward, and Anne suspected he was wanting to find a way to leave without appearing rude.
“Er, may I offer you a lift somewhere?” He gestured vaguely at the taxi.
“No, it’s okay, thanks. I’ve got my car.”
“Then, if you’ll excuse me …”
“Of course.”
They shook hands, Maurice eased himself back into the taxi and closed the door. He raised a hand as the car pulled away and vanished into the one-way system. Anne watched it turn the corner, wondering why a man like Maurice should live the way he did.
It was decision time. Another hour reading up on the Darmstadt artists’ colony or home via the supermarket? A tough call. Anne decided on the practical and turned her feet in the direction of the car park. At the last minute the spirit of enquiry overcame the lure of the shopping list, and she wheeled round abruptly to turn back to the library. To their joint surprise she found herself suddenly face to face with Rick Galt, the librarian. Anne smiled at his confusion.
“Hallo, Rick. Are you following me?” It was as she spoke the words that she realised that was exactly what he was doing. Her smiled disappeared. “Or perhaps I should be asking, why are you following me?”
Rick was already blushing. “I … I’m sorry … I … well I …”
“Have difficulty finishing sentences?” Anne suggested.
Rick was crestfallen. “It must seem strange. It’s ridiculous, I know, but I just wanted to see you again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just like I said. You come breezing into the library, I see you for a few minutes, then you breeze out again. I hardly get a chance to talk to you before you head off to your farm and …” His voice petered out as he realised he had said too much.
“Farm?” Anne repeated. “How did you know I lived on a farm?”
Rick lowered his gaze and said quietly, “It’s on your library membership details. Glebe Farm, Knightly St John.”
His explanation made sense. For him it would be easy to look up her records. But perhaps that was not enough. Why would he want to check her address? Standing together on the pavement, she had clear evidence that he had indeed been following her. She wondered if that day was the first or only time he had done so.
“Rick, have you followed me before today?”
He flushed again and looked as guilty as if he had been caught shoplifting.
“Rick, look, it’s no big deal. I know you don’t mean me any harm, okay? So just tell me if you’ve followed me before. I need to know.”
Rick nodded, unable to look Anne in the face. “I just wanted to see where you lived.”
“So you followed me home?”
Another nod.
“That’s why you walked with me to my car that time?”
“I wanted to know what you drove so I could recognise it.”
“But you knew my address anyway.”
Rick shook his head. “It’s not that easy to access someone’s personal file … confidentiality and all that.”
“Why did you follow me, Rick?”
“Like I said, I wanted to see you.”
Anne was beginning to feel guilty herself. Rick’s only crime was that he liked her. She was giving him a hard time, that he probably did not deserve. She smiled.
“It was really nice of you, Rick, to get your sister to check out the Ham and High for me. It really was your sister?”
“Yeah.” He managed to look Anne in the eye again. “Her name’s Louise.”
Anne patted his arm. “That was very helpful.”
“And you forgive me?”
“Of course I do.” Anne looked at her watch. “But now I really do have to get back.”
“You haven’t time for a coffee? I’ve got some money with me this time.”
Anne smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, but no. Not today.”
“Another day, then? Coffee or maybe go to see a film or something?”
“Rick, I do have someone in my life, but coffee every now and then would be okay.”
For the first time that day he smiled. “Well, it’s a start, better than nothing.”
“You don’t give up, do you? Promise me one thing?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t follow me again, okay?”
“Deal.”
Anne turned and began to walk away. After a few steps she looked round. Rick was still standing where he was, watching her go.
“And one other thing,” she said. “There was no need to shut the gate at the entrance to the field track. My boss nearly drove into it.”
Rick looked completely bewildered. “Gate?” he said.
Chapter 39
Dominic Brodie
It was Saturday morning and in theory Marnie should have had a sense of freedom, at least for the weekend. Instead she had the feeling that Glebe Farm was under siege. All she desired was a quiet life, to get on with running her business and earning enough to complete the rebuilding of Glebe Farm. But everything seemed to be conspiring against her.
As usual she found herself in the office that morning, tying up the week’s loose ends, rummaging in the in-basket and writing up her schedule for the following week. As usual on top of the pile of papers was Anne’s weekly report on projects in progress, the state of play on the farmhouse remodelling, their financial situation and any outstanding issues to be resolved from the past week. Some of Marnie’s friends and clients had referred to Anne as a godsend. They were right.
Yet on that Saturday morning Marnie could not think of Anne without harking back to the events of the previous day. She found it all faintly ridiculous. Handing over the letter to Maurice Dekker was like a third-rate spy story. The Spy who came in from Cold Ashby … From Rutland with Love … The Dekker Identity. As for the incident with the lovelorn
librarian, it was all just too absurd.
The unanswered question of who closed the field gate was another niggle at the back of her mind. Anne had tried to dismiss it humorously, referring to it as Gate-gate, but the fact remained that someone had tampered with it, and they had no idea who that person might be.
When they had discussed their day over supper the previous evening, Ralph had done his best to produce a logical explanation for each part of the puzzle.
Maurice Dekker, he reasoned, was in hiding because he had given a contractual undertaking not to reveal any details about his huge error of judgment that had caused severe losses to the company’s clients. The only way to avoid questioning by the media was to absent himself completely until the affair had been overtaken by other news, other scandals.
Marnie had asked Ralph why Maurice had hidden himself away even from his own family.
“Surely that’s obvious,” Ralph had replied. “Contact with his family would be the easiest way for interested parties to trace him, and naturally he wouldn’t want his family to be harmed by his actions.”
“What interested parties?” Marnie had asked.
“Those who had suffered the biggest losses as a result of his mistake.”
Why had Dominic Brodie come to Knightly St John and taken a room at The Two Roses? Ralph took that to be a clear sign of the family’s anxiety about Maurice. It must have been a major worry for them that he had been incommunicado for so long. Marnie had asked Ralph if he thought the family feared Maurice might take his own life. His reply had chilled her to the bone.
“Definitely.”
With regard to the closure of the field gate, Ralph had dismissed it as a simple but understandable mistake. A stranger had come through, not knowing that it always stayed open.
Marnie was wondering why Maurice could not just get on with his life when she became aware that Anne was speaking from across the room.
“Sorry, Anne?”
“I was asking if you had any plans for today.”
Marnie shrugged. “I suppose we could take Sally for a tootle.”
Anne smiled and pointed towards the window. Rain was falling steadily, and the courtyard was a mass of puddles. At that moment Ralph came past their field of vision, huddling under an umbrella. It was break time.
Even then there was no respite from the Dekker affair. Ralph raised the question of Dominic Brodie and why he had come to the village.
“He wants to see Maurice,” Marnie said.
“With what purpose in mind?”
“Presumably to get him to go back to London, to his family.”
“Would that be the only reason?”
Marnie was unsure what point Ralph was trying to make.
“There is one way to find out,” she said.
“Ah,” Ralph frowned. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea. It’s not really our business.”
“If it’s not our business, why have we been dragged in?”
“We’ve become Maurice’s go-betweens,” said Ralph. “Poste restante and all that.”
They fell into silence, each of them concentrating on their coffee. Eventually Marnie spoke.
“I suppose there’d be no harm in checking if Brodie is still staying at the pub.”
*
They went in at the side door used by guests staying in the pub’s rooms, as The Two Roses was not yet open for normal business. Marnie had left Anne at Glebe Farm to mind the office while she and Ralph walked up to the village as the rain had eased off. In the pub car park they admired the silver Lexus that stood in solitary splendour, droplets of water gleaming on its bodywork.
In the saloon bar they found Liz Parchman wiping table tops with a J-cloth. When she saw them she quickly wiped both hands on her apron.
“I’ll let Mr Brodie know you’re here,” she said.
“Before you do that …” said Marnie.
“Yes?”
“Did Mr Brodie ask for any particular room?”
Liz lowered her voice. “Funny you should ask that, Marnie. He asked to see all the rooms and chose the one facing the high street. An odd choice.”
“Why odd?”
“Well, it’s not a bad room, en suite and all, but it’s not as quiet as the others, and he could have had the pick of the bunch. He’s our only guest at the moment. I thought he would’ve preferred the one at the rear. It’s the biggest and quietest and overlooks the garden.”
“Did he say why he preferred the front room?” asked Ralph.
“No. He just said that was the one he wanted.”
“Presumably you can see across the road to the shop from that room?” Marnie said.
“It’s the only one that does.”
“I wonder why he came here at this time of the year,” said Ralph.
Liz shrugged. “Beats me. He went for a walk yesterday afternoon when he got here, but he hasn’t left his room this morning.”
Marnie and Ralph did not have long to wait before Brodie came down to meet them. He was a neat man in his forties, of medium height and build, with brown hair greying at the temples, wearing a golf sweater and slacks with brown brogue shoes. His expression was anxious as they shook hands.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Why shouldn’t it be?” said Marnie.
“When Mrs Parchman told me you wanted to see me, I was worried that something might have happened to Maurice.”
“Oh no, nothing like that. We just thought we should come and say hallo.”
Brodie relaxed. “Shall we sit down? I’ve asked Mrs Parchman to bring us coffee.”
They thanked him and looked around for somewhere to sit. Brodie guided them towards the window. Liz appeared almost immediately with a tray and set out the coffee cups before them. She left the pot for them to serve themselves and withdrew.
“As a matter of interest, how did you know I was here?” Brodie asked, while pouring the coffee.
“This is a small village, Mr Brodie. Word gets around.”
“I see.” He passed cups to Marnie and Ralph. “I appreciate your coming to call, but do you have any news for me?”
“Only that Maurice is okay. He’s staying several miles from here, but we have contact with him from time to time.”
“You’ve seen him recently?”
“Not personally, but a friend of ours has, and we know he’s well.”
“Thanks be to God,” said Brodie. He took a sip of coffee. “The family’s been sick with worry about him. For some time we feared he’d …” His voice faded. “I’m sorry. We’ve had a double tragedy in the family, and when Maurice vanished like that …”
“You’re obviously a very close-knit family,” Ralph observed.
“I always thought we were, but the events of this year seem to have tested us to near-destruction. My mother is in poor health and is now on anti-depressants on top of everything else.”
“Everything else?” Marnie repeated.
“She suffers from chronic arthritis, finds it very difficult to get about.”
“Would you say you were close to Maurice, Mr Brodie?” Marnie asked.
“Please call me Dominic. Yes, we’ve always been like brothers. And my sister and I were devoted to each other. I know that sounds old-fashioned, rather Victorian, but we had no other siblings, you see, and there’s barely a year between us. There were complications when Melissa was born, so my parents could have no other children.”
“Your parents wanted a large family?” Ralph said.
“I think they wanted more than just two. So when Melissa and I got married, our partners were treated like their own off-spring.”
“You make it sound like a very happy family,” said Marnie.
“You can’t imagine what it was like, Mrs …sorry I don’t think I’ve ever heard your name, apart from Marnie.”
“Marnie’s fine,” she said.
“Thank you, Marnie. So, where do we go from here?”
Marnie and Ralph d
rank their coffee. Dominic looked at them expectantly.
“By coming here you’ve presented us with something of a dilemma,” said Ralph. “I mentioned that Maurice has made us promise not to reveal where he is to anyone.”
“Even to his closest family?”
“That’s the dilemma.”
“Maurice has a brother,” Dominic began, “but he seems to have vanished from the face of the earth as well. They seem to be a regular band of flying Dutchmen, the Dekkers.”
“We knew about his brother,” said Marnie. “David, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, strange fellow. And there’s nobody else on that side.”
“Apart from David’s wife and their son, you mean,” said Marnie.
Dominic froze and stared at Marnie. “What did you say?”
“You didn’t know David was married?”
Dominic shook his head slowly. “And he has a son? You’re sure about that?”
“We’ve met them both,” said Ralph.
“Actually met them? And David?”
“No, just his wife and son.”
“Where did you meet them?” There was disbelief in his tone.
“They stayed with us here for a short while.”
Dominic turned his head and stared out of the window.
“What is David’s son called?” he asked.
“Ben,” said Marnie. “And his wife is called Willow.”
“What kind of name is that?”
“It’s a sort of pet name,” Ralph said. “Her given name is Georgina.”
“Then why use Willow?” Dominic asked.
“They have a kind of alternative lifestyle,” Ralph explained.
Dominic looked aghast. “You mean David’s wife is a lesbian?” He spoke in a hushed voice, barely able to pronounce the word.
Ralph smiled broadly. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just that they don’t lead a conventional life.”
“In what way?” said Dominic. “I don’t follow you.”
Marnie and Ralph glanced at each other, both imagining Glastonbury gliding along on the canal behind Poppy.
“I’m afraid I can’t go into detail about that, except perhaps to say that years ago Willow might have been described as a hippy.”