Morrison Adams Circles of Subterfuge collection

by H A Dawson

  ‘Perhaps, although to be fair to him, he’d barely started his warm up routine.’

  ‘You can think what you like, but I still say he overdoes it.’

  ‘Has he always been into fitness? I mean back when you first met.’

  ‘I suppose he has, only back then, he’d run in the fresh air.’ She leant back into the chair. ‘Lord only knows why he wants to do it inside these days. He’s not afraid of the weather – not being a landscape gardener.’

  ‘He was a gardener then, too, was he not?’

  She nodded, pensive.

  I imagined Dad working in gardens during the day, returning home to Mum and me in the late afternoon, and then having had dinner, he’d go for a late night run. I also imagined him meeting with his lover during those times, and then, later on, his daughter too.

  ‘Was Benholt where his uncle lived?’

  Her eyes narrowed, her suspicions aroused. ‘No, that was in Cheshire.’

  ‘But it was where the two of you met, wasn’t it?’

  Her nod was almost imperceptible.

  I assumed she was wondering how I knew of Benholt since I couldn’t remember either of them ever mentioning it before. Yet it shouldn’t be a secret, not unless there was something to hide.

  ‘Why did he move there?’

  ‘Why the questions?’

  ‘I’m just curious,’ I said in a chirpy voice. ‘Any reason I can’t be?’

  She studied my relaxed expression. ‘I believe he had a friend there – someone who was willing to give him a gardening job.’

  ‘It must have been a big garden for it to be worthwhile. Who was it?’

  ‘I can’t remember his name, but yes, from what I remember, the garden was large.’

  ‘Large as in a quarter of an acre, or large as in a hectare?’

  She shot me an irritated stare.

  ‘I’m just curious! Dad’s illness has made me think about him more. I’m trying to piece together bits of his life that I know nothing about.’

  ‘Perhaps you don’t know about them for a reason, Kelly’ she said and strode into the kitchen.

  I chased after her. ‘Is there something I should know? Something …’ I paused to consider my choice of words ‘… immoral maybe.’

  ‘Your father is not an immoral man, and if you don’t mind I don’t like your implication!’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I wasn’t implying anything. I was-’

  ‘Just curious, I know Kelly. You’ve already told me.’

  I stiffened and watched as she removed her cardigan and laid it over the back of a chair in the dining room. Made in thick-gauged wool and knitted in a loose stitch, it allowed me to see something white within the pocket. It was probably unimportant, but I wanted to check it out hoping there might be a connection to the man at the door.

  Yet I couldn’t do it right now, not with my mother a few metres away and wiping the kitchen worktop. So I waited, and as I did so, I tried to draw her some more on the early years of her life with my father. Reacting to her sensitivity, I approached the subject by praising Dad’s abilities, the success of his business and their wealth.

  It seemed a safe way to start, yet my mother remained tense and told me that whilst his business made some profit, it wasn’t as lucrative as I was implying. After that, I got a lecture about people's incorrect assumptions regarding small businesses in that everyone assumed the owners were wealthy people.

  ‘It’s a fallacy,’ she said. ‘Most of the time, business owners earn less than those they employ!’

  ‘I still think Dad’s done all right for himself.’

  ‘He can do no wrong in your eyes!’ she said.

  I lowered my head. I hoped she wasn’t going to start ranting, but clearly, there were things she wanted to offload, and next, it was regarding the difficulties of running a small business. It seemed to me that she resented my father’s choice of employment, yet I couldn’t determine why. They had both done well for themselves and owned my house as well as their own. The money they’ve earned couldn’t have come from her – she had often told me she earned a pittance.

  As far as I was aware, neither had acquired a substantial inheritance. My father’s mother left him a few thousand pounds, and my mother’s older relatives were still alive and had given her nothing. In addition, they didn’t gamble nor did they do the lottery. It was something else to arouse my curiosity.

  ‘I’m sorry Kelly,’ she said and puffed out. ‘I’ve a lot on my mind. I don’t mean to take it out on you.’

  ‘I know. We’re both stressed about Dad.’

  ‘It’s no excuse, though, is it? I should be the one supporting you and not the other way around.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’ I thought of the man at the door. ‘And you can talk to me … about anything.’

  She looked out of the window with glazed eyes. I followed her gaze for a few moments before I glanced at the clock. The morning had progressed quicker than I had expected, and I was ready for a sleep. I was also sure that my mother would want to get into work, so I made the suggestion to leave. Mum agreed and went upstairs to collect her work jacket from the wardrobe.

  As I waited, the conversation we shared spun through my thoughts. The news of Dad’s secretive past had left me highly suspicious, causing me to question everything my mother had said to me, some of which – if not all of it - was likely to be innocent and unconnected. Her tetchy behaviour was probably due to my father’s failing health rather than the stranger appearing at the door. It was unlikely to be as suspicious as I believed.

  Suddenly, I remembered the note, causing me to jolt and hurry to Mum’s cardigan in the dining room. As I’d suspected, there was a scrap of paper in her pocket, and it contained a name and a phone number. I wanted to write it down and fumbled through my bag for a pen and my notebook. However, before I managed to extract them I became aware of my mother’s footsteps on the staircase, and my anxieties aroused and I started to shake.

  I couldn’t risk her seeing my prying, so I memorised the number, put it back, and hurried to the centre of the lounge to write it down. As I took out a pen and my notebook, I continued to repeat the number in my head. Regrettably, my mother’s presence into the room and her comment regarding our departure caused me to forget the last digits. Frustrated, I wrote it down the best I could, and then doing my best to appear nonchalant, told her that I’d just remembered something one of my colleagues had asked me to do.

  She seemed to accept my comment and we vacated her house. During the short journey to my home, I tried my best to create a visual imprint of the last three digits of the number on a scrap of paper. Yet it would not come to the forefront of my mind. At least I had learned the man’s first name. He was Alex. I suppose it was a start.

  Chapter 9

  Due to my strange sleeping patterns, I stayed up until two-thirty at which point I felt drowsy enough to go to bed to sleep. I awoke about four hours later feeling reinvigorated and got straight out of bed, had a quick shower, and progressed downstairs for a coffee and a bite to eat.

  I was excited to be going to Benholt and believed I was about to make a major breakthrough. I sensed I should be acting more cautiously since Dad had also visited and he hadn’t had any success. Nevertheless, my eagerness remained, and as I made a poached egg and then placed it on a slice of toast, my trip stayed in my thoughts.

  I carried my breakfast to the lounge, switched on the television, and began to eat. I had gotten over the fact that Dad had deceived my mother and me, and was grateful to help him with a part of his life that troubled him. I still worried that when I found her, the fallout would be massive, and certainly, as far as my mother was concerned. But that was for another day. I had to find Bex first and reflected on the brief conversation Dad and I had shared after my night shift a couple of days ago.

  Dad had been far calmer than he had been during my previous visit, so I decided to tell him of my plans. I could tell from his expressions rather than his words th
at finding Bex was immensely important to him. He didn’t say outright that it was his dying wish to find her, but I sensed it was a motivating factor.

  It caused a weight to form in my gut. I wanted to tell Dad that the medical team would find a way of helping him, but at the same time, I didn’t wish to give him false hope. As my mother had told me just the previous day, we should start to consider that a recovery might not happen for us. It was a dreadful thought, increasing the urgency of my quest.

  I placed my knife and fork on the empty plate and laid it on a coffee table. I was reaching for my coffee when the sound of the outer door opening broke me from my gloomy thoughts. Glad for the distraction, I carried my things to the kitchen and welcomed Ebony back home from her night shift.

  As I made her a drink, she shared a brief account of her night, which, from the sound of it, was among the less eventful.

  ‘How’s the woman with leukaemia doing?’ I asked. ‘Wasn’t her name Rosy?’

  Her reflection turned sombre. ‘She’s back home … in between treatments. She’s due to have another chemo session in a few days, and from what I’ve heard, she’s having another overnight stay as a precaution.’

  ‘I guess they won’t know how well the chemo is working until she has a scan.’

  Ebony agreed. ‘If we had the beds, she’d be with us permanently. Regrettably, that’s not the case.’

  ‘I assume she has someone to look after her.’

  ‘Her mother. Her parents have separated.’ She sipped her coffee then sighed. ‘What she’s had to go through is unbelievable, yet she always has a smile on her face. And you know what?’

  I regarded her with interest.

  ‘I miss her. It’s horrible to say, but my job is so much more fun when she’s around.’

  My expression was sorrowful. It did look as though they had built a rapport as she had mentioned her antics a couple of times during the last few days, and she had always spoken positively.

  After that, our conversation progressed to other matters starting with her troubles with her boyfriend, moving onto my relationship with Matt, and onto my trip to Benholt. It was a pleasure to chat with her and time swiftly passed.

  A knock on the door alerted me to Matt’s arrival. Ebony drifted away, leaving us alone, and once he’d deposited Dad’s computer on the table and I’d grabbed my bag, we left my house. I appreciated receiving his assistance and as we climbed into the car, I thanked him for helping me. Given I displayed a lack of interest in our relationship, it was more than I deserved, yet in true fashion, Matt didn’t complain and made easy chatter as our journey progressed.

  I passed him a sidelong glance, absorbing his good looks and gentle mannerisms. He was an easy man to be around, and I could do far worse. In fact, I would even say that I doubted that I would ever find a male companion who I could get along with as well as I did with Matt. It was a troubling thought, and one I willingly put from my mind.

  Matt caught my attention. ‘Are you going to give your dad his computer back?’

  I passed him a concerned glance. ‘I will.’

  ‘So you’re not going to have a nosy around.’

  The thought caused me to tense. In truth, I would quite like to. I just wasn’t convinced it was the right thing to do.

  ‘I thought you said you’d got your father’s approval for this search.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Then he won’t mind. When are you next seeing him?’

  ‘Soon … the next couple of days.’ I paused. ‘He has a meeting with his team today so that might affect my decision.’

  ‘Any ideas what the plan is?’

  I shook my head. From what I knew of the medical system, they wouldn’t give up on him if they had any chance at all of achieving success. Yet from what I’d gathered, they’d tried a variety of medications all to no avail. I wasn’t sure where that left us.

  ‘I went to see my mother yesterday,’ I said. ‘She seems to be preparing for the worst. I tried to paint a positive picture, but we’re both aware of how bad his heart is. He gets breathless just making basic conversation, and the slightest thing causes extra stress to his heart.’ I passed him a quick glance. ‘He’s turned into an old man in such a short space of time.’

  ‘So there’s no improvement at all.’

  ‘His colour was a bit better the other day, but it could have been because he’d been asleep. He gets tired so easily.’

  I hated thinking about it yet it was always there in the background, reminding me of my own vulnerability and mortality. Something terrible could happen to anyone of us at any moment. A couple of weeks ago, I would never have thought we would be in this position, and who could say where we would be in a further two weeks’ time.

  If a lesson was to be learnt then it was to practice mindfulness and live in the moment. I also wanted to seek out the positive rather the negative, and be appreciative of what I had rather than what I didn’t have. Today, my father was alive and there was every chance he would recover. Should he not survive, I’m sure I would give much to return to the here and now.

  I was not going to be morose. I couldn’t control what was happening to Dad’s heart, so I was going to try to accept it. I was going to focus on the things I could do, and that included finding Bex.

  The peculiarities that had occurred during my visit with my mother entered my thoughts, and I experienced an intense need to share what had happened with Matt. Within a few minutes, I’d told him about the stranger at the door, the intriguing parts of the conversation that we’d shared, and the mobile phone number I’d found in my mother’s pocket.

  ‘You should have photographed it.’

  ‘Of course.’ My amusement widened my face. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

  He passed me a twisted smile. ‘Have you called the number? You could add three numbers to the end, couldn’t you?’

  I agreed that it was worth a try and pulled my phone from the pocket, along with my notebook containing the number, and made the call, adding the most likely digits to the end. However, I wasn’t as fortunate as I’d hoped I’d be, as the moment I asked for Alex I learned I had the wrong number. I tried several more times after which I gave up.

  I glanced at Matt. ‘If I’d have used my brain more, I would have got the number.’

  ‘It might not be the visitor’s number.’

  ‘I can’t imagine who else it belongs to. It’s too much of a coincidence.’ I gazed through the windscreen, noticing the gathering traffic ahead. ‘And before you say it, I do realise that he might not be connected to Bex.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to say that. I think there is a connection – if not to Bex then to your father’s past.’

  ‘You do?’

  He slowed the car to a halt and joined a queue. ‘You said it wasn’t work-related, and if it was anything to do with anything personal, such as relating to an unpaid bill or suchlike, she would have told you.’

  ‘I agree, but my dad has made it clear that my mother doesn’t know about Bex. Assuming we’re right, she was sending Alex away, meaning she knows something and it clearly troubles her.’

  ‘Maybe it’s something else to do with his past. You’ve said they are both secretive and don’t like speaking about those times. If you ask me, they’re hiding something.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe we’ll get some answers at Benholt.’

  As we edged forward in the queue of traffic, I considered our day. I didn’t like the thought of prying into Dad’s past. It was one thing asking the locals if they knew Bex Chapman, it was another thing asking them to give me gossip on my father’s younger days. If there was anything worth learning then it should come from him or my mother.

  ‘There’s something else to consider too,’ he said. ‘You said your mother was distressed. My guess is that it wasn’t anything to do with your father’s failing health - you’ve told me how calm she has been ever since it kicked off. Why should that approach
change? His condition hasn’t deteriorated.

  ‘I tend to agree. I just don’t want to jump to conclusions.’

  The traffic started to flow again and after a few moments, we were progressing at a normal speed. There was no indication for the holdup; there were no road works or were there any cars at the side of the road that had been involved in a collision.

  ‘It’s a pity you never saw Alex,’ Matt said.

  ‘I know. I didn’t even see his car. I suppose if I’d have gone to the front gate to see beyond the hedge, I might have done. I didn’t think it was important at the time.’

  ‘So you can’t put an age on this man?’

  ‘No … although at a guess, I’d say he’d be middle aged. It didn’t sound like a young man’s voice.’

  ‘For your mother to be as stressed as you say she was it sounds like a big deal. It’s intriguing, Kelly, for sure.’

  ‘And worrying.’ I glanced at a sign, indicating our approach to Benholt. ‘I hope we’re doing the right thing.’

  ‘You’re father wouldn’t have sent you if he thought you might expose something he didn’t want you to know about.’

  I hoped he was right. At the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder how much thought my father had given to sending me on this quest. I felt as though I had railroaded him into agreeing, and since his need to find Bex was immense, he’d fallen in with my plan. That aside, he wasn’t in a fit state to be thinking about the wider implications. He had one aim, and rightly or wrongly, he was acting selfishly to achieve it.

  As Matt followed the signs for Benholt and then sought out a place to park, my anxieties remained, my gut churning. Whilst a part of me was excited at the prospect of finding a woman that I believed would turn out to be my sister, another part filled me with worry and dread. I didn’t know what I was getting into, and given my mother’s anxieties, I wasn’t convinced I wanted to.

  Matt turned off the engine and rotated to face me. ‘Ready?’

  I nodded, albeit reluctantly, and we vacated the car.