The Manor

by Keane Jessie

  Belle heaved a sigh. Christ, poor Beezer. That was so shocking. She couldn’t seem to get over it. Her dad had been devastated about it, had actually shed a tear, and she had never seen that happen before.

  In the mirror, she could see the toilet attendant getting up from her seat by the entrance to sweep around the floor, check the basins were clean, set out two fresh boxes of tissues, give this lone customer a brief smile as she went about her work. The woman had a job, a purpose.

  And what do I have? wondered Belle.

  I ride horses, I go to beauty salons, I get my nails and hair done. Beyond that, there was only the prospect of marriage to someone wealthy. That was it. She had no job. She’d had little real schooling. Her dad worked for Charlie Stone, was tied to Charlie Stone in the furnishings business, while her mum seemed – inexplicably – to hate him. But Charlie Stone put bread on their table, housed them in the gatehouse, they owed everything to Charlie Stone and his business.

  She was sick of shopping. Recently, when she’d bought stuff, she’d just chucked the bags into her wardrobe and left them there. Forgotten all about them.

  It would be nice to have something to fill her time. Maybe even a job. She thought of the furniture business – but then, Mum and Dad had always been so determined to keep her out of that. She couldn’t understand why, but it was a fact. Maybe . . . maybe somewhere in Charlie’s company there might be room for her if she snuck in a side door and didn’t let her parents know what she was up to.

  She could spell and she could add up. She wasn’t illiterate, she was quite intelligent. Not in Einstein’s league, of course; Einstein who was now up at Cambridge doing clever things with physics and bacteria. But there might be something, if it was only pushing papers around a desk. She’d have to keep well out of Harlan’s way, obviously, but if he was being groomed to take over from Charlie he’d most likely be working out of head office. So she’d try one of the smaller local offices. That way, at least she’d be achieving something, feeling better about herself. Because right now, she was so bored she could barely function.

  Poor little rich girl, right?

  That was exactly what she was. Nobody was going to pity her because she was loaded. A pampered silly princess. But she felt restless. Unsatisfied. She knew, deep down, that she could be so much more than this, given half a chance.

  She picked up her bag. The toilet attendant had resumed her seat by the entrance. She smiled at Belle. Belle fished in her pocket and pulled out a twenty and dropped it into the attendant’s tray.

  ‘Thanks,’ said the woman in surprise.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Belle.

  81

  She was walking back down Regent Street when someone called out: ‘Hey! Belle!’

  It was Harlan. She could feel her smile of welcome freezing into a scowl of dislike at the sight of him. She hadn’t been having a fabulous time before, but now her day took a distinct turn for the worse. Harlan fucking Stone. And he had his two attack dogs on either side of him, that musclebound fool who was mucking Milly about, Nipper, and his usual sidekick, Ludo.

  They peeled off and crossed the road, weaving through traffic to reach the other side, leaving Harlan alone with her. ‘You got a lift home?’ he asked her.

  Belle hadn’t. She’d been planning to grab a taxi when she’d had enough. Right now, she knew she’d had enough already. Her misery over Beezer’s death, her dread of his upcoming funeral, had ruined any enjoyment she might have felt today. The shopping trip had been a mistake. She shook her head.

  ‘Come on, car’s over here.’

  She didn’t even have the strength left to argue. He took her arm and guided her over the road. His Porsche was parked there. He opened the passenger door for her and she got in. Then he slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

  ‘So what’s up?’ he asked, swerving out into the traffic. Someone honked their horn and he flipped the finger at them. ‘You look shattered.’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Belle. ‘Well. Beezer. I can’t seem to get it out of my mind.’

  ‘Ah yeah.’ He drove with one hand on the wheel, relaxed, casual. ‘Sad, that.’

  ‘You were there when he did it. Weren’t you.’

  ‘Yeah. It was damned tragic.’

  Harlan had twisted his face into a semblance of grief, but Belle wasn’t convinced. She knew there’d always been aggro between Harlan and Beezer. They’d never got on. And she couldn’t forget what Milly had told her, about Beezer spotting Harlan as a small boy going into poor doomed baby Jake’s nursery in the middle of the night. But then – Harlan didn’t know that Beezer had seen him, did he? Because if he had known, then if you were of a suspicious nature you might start thinking that Harlan could have given Beezer a little shove in the right direction, right over that balustrade and down onto the pavement, bashing his brains out – and silencing him in the process.

  ‘Couldn’t you have stopped him? Talked him out of it?’ she asked, watching his face.

  Harlan shrugged.

  ‘How the hell could I? He did it before I even suspected he was about to. One minute he was there, saying how everything in his life was rubbish, then he was gone.’ Harlan cast a grey-eyed glance at Belle. ‘He wanted to do it, and nobody was going to stop him. As I said to Dad, all we can do is give him a good send-off and leave it at that.’

  ‘That’s pretty cold,’ said Belle.

  ‘It’s a fact of life. Beezer wanted out. So he did it.’

  Belle didn’t know what else to say. She kept silent all through the drive home and Harlan didn’t seem inclined to make conversation either. When he pulled up in the lane outside the gatehouse, she unsnapped her seat belt and reached for the door handle, lifting it. But she couldn’t open the door.

  ‘Handy that, isn’t it. Central locking,’ said Harlan.

  Belle glared at him. Shit. This was why he’d stopped in the lane and not pulled onto the drive. There was a large privet hedge shielding them from the gatehouse. Very few cars passed by in the lane. No one could see them.

  ‘Open the damned door, Harlan,’ said Belle tiredly.

  He was smiling.

  ‘You’re such an arsehole,’ she said, crossing her arms in fury.

  ‘Just trying to comfort you, Belle,’ he said smoothly, leaning in. ‘I know how fond you were of Beezer. It’s a terrible shock, losing him like we did.’

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ said Belle, turning her head away. Harlan’s hand landed on her thigh and she was so glad to have thick tights on. If he’d actually touched her skin, she might have screamed.

  ‘Oh come on, Belle,’ he was saying. ‘Now kiss me. You know you want to.’

  ‘I don’t want to,’ said Belle, wishing she’d never got into the car with him. She was sick of him, always trying to feel her up. Sick of the way his eyes were always crawling over her.

  Harlan’s face loomed in close to hers. It was tragic that he was such a total turn-off, because he had regular grey eyes, a straight nose, thick light brown hair. He dressed well. But . . . Harlan Stone exuded some sort of toxic poison from his pores, it always seemed to her. She always felt that he had to work hard at projecting the right emotion at the right time, because in reality he felt nothing. Well, maybe not totally nothing. Now, she was pretty sure he felt genuine lust. She’d had a lot of years putting up with this, him always trying to corner her, trying to paw at her, when it was the last thing she wanted.

  Angry, she drew back her hand and slapped his face, hard.

  ‘I said, open the fucking door, you creep!’ she burst out.

  Harlan drew back. His cheek, where she had slapped him, was turning pink. His eyes, still staring into hers, were icy cold. His hand raised slowly and he rubbed his cheek.

  ‘You’ll be sorry you did that,’ he said. ‘That’s a promise.’

  Then he reached back and there was a loud click.

  ‘Fuck you,’ said Belle. She opened the door, stumbled out, and nearly ran into the gatehouse, h
er heart beating hard.

  82

  Beezer was buried in the family plot beside his mum and dad and his little brother Colin. It was the send-off Harlan had promised it would be. There were flowers and cars and lots of hymns, everything that Beezer could have wished for. Charlie made absolutely sure that the thing was done right.

  Then when the ceremony was over and Beezer was laid to rest, they all went back to Charlie’s place.

  Nula managed – at last – to get Terry alone.

  ‘Terry!’ She grabbed his arm as he passed by. Couldn’t deny, silly old mare that she was, that just touching him still had the power to excite her. He looked at her hand on his arm and his expression made her let go, quickly. ‘I need to talk to you. In private.’

  Nula could see Jill, with a right face on her, watching them from across the room.

  ‘About what?’ he asked.

  ‘Not here.’

  ‘Oh for fuck’s—’

  ‘Look,’ said Nula sharply. ‘I’m not arsing around here, Terry. This is serious.’

  He let out a sharp sigh. ‘All right then. Where?’

  ‘Meet me out by the buggy in ten minutes.’

  ‘This had better not be—’

  ‘It isn’t,’ said Nula, walking away.

  Ten minutes later, they were there by the buggy that ferried Charlie down and back beyond the orchard, to the reptile house or the helipad.

  ‘Christ, I hate that bloody thing,’ said Nula, letting out a jittery gust of cigarette smoke and nodding to where the rotor blades of Charlie’s latest toy sat still and silent. ‘He keeps saying, come up with me, you’ll enjoy it. Like fuck I would.’

  ‘What’s this about, Nula?’ asked Terry, sounding irritable and tired. His old friend had died; he was gutted and now Nula could see him thinking that here she was again, this pathetic crazy old bitch, giving him the glad eye.

  Nula took another deep drag of nicotine. She’d taken up smoking about a year ago, when the worry of her life had felt like too much. She drank a bit, too. Much more stress and she’d be sampling Charlie’s product, and then it would be non-stop down the highway to hell.

  ‘I know what you think of me, the lot of you,’ she said. ‘Mad old Nula, always back and forth to the nuthouse. But I’m not a fool. I can see trouble when it’s right under my nose.’

  ‘What trouble?’ asked Terry.

  ‘Harlan.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He’s going to nudge Charlie out of the way, someday soon. I can see it. Can’t you?’

  Terry was silent for a long while. ‘What have you heard?’ he said at last.

  ‘Nothing. I’ve seen plenty though. The people he’s surrounding himself with. Things that have happened. Things like Beezer deciding to top himself and Harlan there as the only witness.’

  Terry frowned at her.

  ‘Charlie won’t listen to anything I say about Harlan. But nothing’s ever added up about him, nothing. Not from the very first moment he came into our home. And that’s not me, being crazy. That’s a fact.’ Nula threw the stub of her cigarette to the ground and shakily crushed it with her shoe. ‘Look,’ she said.

  Over by the house wall, Nipper was lounging in the sunlight, smoking. He’d been watching them. As Terry’s head swung round toward him, he looked away.

  ‘Him and the other one, Ludo, they’re always hanging about, watching everyone. They’re Harlan’s men, one hundred per cent. Not Charlie’s. Pretty soon, the manor and everything in it is going to belong to Harlan. You can count on it. And when that day comes, where does that leave me? In the crap, that’s where. He hates me, he always has. Tried to fucking kill me once, I know he did, but he didn’t succeed. And you, as Charlie’s friend, as his right hand? You’re surplus to requirements, mate, that’s what you are.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Terry.

  Nula shrugged. ‘Nothing else to say. Only, if I were you, I’d be getting Belle right out of his way. Abroad somewhere maybe. Because once Harlan’s in charge, her arse is fried. He’s always had a thing for her, and once the brakes are off, he’ll do whatever the fuck he likes with her.’

  A muscle was working in Terry’s jaw. ‘He wouldn’t fucking dare,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t think so?’ Nula gave a thin smile. ‘You’re kidding yourself,’ she said, and walked unsteadily away. Then she turned and strode back to him. ‘It’s our twentieth wedding anniversary in a month.’

  ‘So?’ It was his and Jill’s twentieth too, just gone; they hadn’t made a fuss over it. He’d bought her some flowers, that was all. Charlie of course would be different. There had been talk for a long while about a big celebration for the event. But now Beezer had upped and died, maybe no one would be in the mood.

  Nula shrugged. ‘I’m going ahead with it. Right here. A big party.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘I’m thinking that it’s what everyone needs after this. And it’s a month away. That’s time enough for it to look decent. I asked Charlie about it before the funeral.’

  Terry stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and looked at the ground, then at her. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe we could all do with cheering up.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Nula. She paused, staring at his face. ‘I meant it, Terry. Every word.’ Then she grinned. ‘Wise words from mad old Nula!’ Then her grin vanished and her eyes skewered him. ‘I got something to ask you. And Terry – I want the truth.’

  ‘Go on,’ he said cautiously.

  ‘Where did the pair of you really get him from?’

  Terry was staring at her face. ‘What?’

  ‘Harlan. Once I tried to contact the woman who brought him here from the adoption agency all those years ago. I couldn’t. It all stank, you know? No one in the office knew of her. People who’d been there, like forever. Nobody had ever heard of a Mrs Bushell.’

  ‘Nula . . .’ Terry half-turned away, eyes downcast.

  Nula grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Look,’ she said fiercely, her eyes blazing into his. ‘All this has nearly driven me bollock-mad crazy. You know it has. Don’t you think I deserve the truth now? After all I’ve been through?’

  Terry was visibly wavering. ‘Look . . .’ he started, then stopped.

  ‘What?’ Nula’s heart was pounding in her chest. Was she finally – at last – going to hear the truth from someone about that cuckoo that Charlie had thrust into their nest?

  Terry’s eyes met hers. ‘I do think you’ve had a raw deal. I agree with you on that. But if any of this ever gets back to Charlie, I’ll deny it and I’ll say you’re mad too.’

  Nula was nodding. ‘All right. OK. Whatever you tell me, it’ll stay between us. I promise you that.’

  ‘She was a junkie,’ said Terry.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Harlan’s mum. We were in town, Charlie and me, and we went into this squat, and there she was, dead on the kitchen floor.’

  He paused, hands in pockets, frowning heavily.

  ‘Go on, for God’s sake,’ said Nula breathlessly. She couldn’t believe it and yet she did. All these years, and here it was, confirmed. Charlie had lied to her. And Terry had colluded with him over it.

  ‘We found the kid in a cupboard under the stairs, hiding away. God knows what he’d had to live with, what he’d seen and been through, with that skank for a mother.’

  ‘Oh Christ.’ Nula had to lean against the buggy; she felt dizzy all of a sudden. Shocked to her core.

  ‘But Charlie straight away saw it as an opportunity. Well, you know Charlie.’

  Nula was silent. Apparently, she didn’t know Charlie at all. Her husband of nearly twenty years had deceived her in more ways than one. He’d not only fucked Terry’s missus behind her back – raped her, for God’s sake – he’d also foisted some dirty tramp’s bastard onto her. When she had thought she was getting a normal child.

  Terry went on: ‘Charlie knew how much you wanted another kid. That you were gutted by the fact that you couldn
’t do it. And Charlie?’ Terry gave a smile that was almost sad. ‘Charlie’s an empire builder at heart. He wanted a son. Someone to pass it all on to. And there was Harlan. Charlie saw the kid as a gift, a solution to a big problem. But he knew you wouldn’t go for the true story. That you’d hate the very idea of it. So he . . .’

  ‘So he lied,’ finished Nula, her mouth dry, her mind in a spin. She’d been right. All this time, all the times Charlie had said to her, You’re crazy, what’s the matter with you? All the time, she’d been right.

  ‘He was shielding you from the truth,’ corrected Terry. ‘He got one of our girls to pretend to be from the adoption agency. That’s why when you contacted them they’d never heard of her. She’d never been there. It was all a lie.’ Terry turned and looked her straight in the eye. ‘So now you know.’

  Nula’s face was twisted in anguish. To think that Charlie had brought that thing into their home. Harlan had tormented her, tried to kill her. Nearly caused her to lose her mind. And Jake. Oh Christ – Jake!

  ‘The woman. The mother. What was her name?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I never felt comfortable with any of this, Nula. I’m fucking sorry.’

  Nula didn’t say another word. She turned and walked away, back up to the house.

  83

  Milly was restless out in the sticks. She’d made up with Belle over that Nipper business, but Belle was off somewhere at the moment so she went into London, alone. She had spare keys to a flat Dad kept there, the lush place on the river with views up to Tower Bridge, so she moved in. She’d given Nula no explanation for the move other than: ‘I’m so fucking bored out here. I’m going into town. Staying on there for a while.’