The Storm

by Effrosyni Moschoudi

  As he half-expected, the door was locked from the inside. The clicking sounds of the door unlocking echoed loudly. Charles’s face appeared jovial when it swung open.

  “Oh, hello Harold! I see you picked up the suit. Good man! But you didn’t have to bring it here, my good fellow!” He smiled pleasantly and beckoned him inside.

  Harold issued his boss with a tight-lipped smile and followed him in to find Lilly sitting in a chair by the desk. She was smoothing her skirt when he entered, patting her hair, an awkward smile on her face.

  Harold visited the cabaret often to run errands for his boss, but he’d also enjoyed using the gambling hall when it used to be in operation. He knew well that the young girl was his boss’s mistress. No doubt, he interrupted them at a not so opportune moment.

  “Hello, dear Lilly,” said Harold with a curt nod.

  “Well?” asked Charles. He scratched his head and gave a guffaw, waving his arms about. What is it, man? You look out of sorts! Have I been working you too hard? Sit down, have a drink with us!”

  Harold nodded and took a seat. For a few moments, he fell silent as he watched Lilly pour him a glass of whiskey and put it on the low table beside him. He felt thankful that he caught his boss in good spirits. Had he been in one of his occasional sour moods, he wouldn’t have dared broach the difficult subject. Harold removed his hat, raked his hair with an impatient hand and gritted his teeth. I’d better get this out as soon as possible. It has to be done. There’s nothing for it!

  He cleared his throat. “Sir, I have something personal to communicate. I wonder . . .” He threw a polite glance at Lilly. “I wonder if I could have a word in private with you?”

  Charles flashed Lilly an amused smirk and turned to his valet with a huge grin on his face. “What’s the matter with you today? What’s with all the formalities? You can say anything in front of Lilly. I trust her blindly. So out with it!” Charles huffed, and when he bent over his valet, the man caught a whiff of his heavy, whiskey breath. He started early today. No wonder he’s chuckling no end.

  “My lord, I do insist that I speak to you alone this time. I’m afraid this matter is of a particularly sensitive nature—”

  Charles made wheel shapes with one hand in mid-air. “All right, man!” He turned to Lilly, and gave a little bow. “Would you mind, my precious? We won't be long! Man to man talk, you understand.”

  Lilly sprang upright and giggled half-drunkenly. She loved those perfect, early afternoons that came more often than not these days. They consisted of a big lunch with the boss in some fancy eatery in town, then a love-making marathon in his private suite, followed by lashings of alcohol and chocolate. It all made her feel like she were suspended somewhere halfway between earth and seventh heaven. “No problem,” she slurred, disappearing behind the closed door within seconds.

  Charles went behind his desk and slumped down in his chair. “So, what is it you have to speak to me alone about?” He rolled his eyes comically.

  “Sir,” started Harold, then took a swig from his drink to steady himself. He turned to Charles to stare squarely into his eyes and said the dreaded words that had been churning in his mind. “Christian Searle is in town.”

  Charles’s eyes widened and he bolted upright. “What did you just say?”

  Harold cringed in his chair. “I’ve just seen him with the viscountess. I’m sorry to tell you, sir, but it looks like she’s having an affair with him.”

  Charles came out from behind the desk and walked up to his valet, a murderous glint in his eye. He grabbed at the man’s jacket and forced him to stand. “What are you telling me, man? Have you lost your bloody mind?”

  “I’m so sorry, sir! But I’ve just seen them with my own eyes! They’re intimate with each other, I regret to report!”

  Charles let go of Harold’s lapels, turned about face and started to pace the room furiously. “But how could this happen? When?”

  “I don’t know, sir! All I know is I’ve just seen them together, exiting a hotel—”

  Charles gritted his teeth. “A hotel? Where?”

  “Downtown, sir . . . The Seabird. They were holding hands. He hailed a taxi for her, and they kissed goodbye. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination, sir, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

  “Why, that dirty whore! How dare she mar my name like this! And in broad daylight! I’ll kill her! I’ll kill them both!” he said, rushing to the door, but Harold caught him just as he opened it. He held him in a vice-like grip, causing Charles to spew out expletives when he realised he couldn’t break free. Although Harold was older than Charles, he had the advantage of being sober. With swift moves, in a way that looked rather effortless, Harold pulled his boss back into the room and made him sit in the chair that he occupied moments earlier.

  “Pardon me, sir, but you’re in no position to face her or him in your present condition! You and I are going to have a nice cup of strong coffee and talk about this. Then, I promise you, we’ll find the perfect way to get Mr Searle to leave town and never come back.” Harold put a hand on Charles’s shoulder and spoke to him calmly and sweetly, like you would address a little boy. “Sir, promise me that you’ll stay here till I’ve come back from the canteen.”

  Charles sneered and nodded in silence. His chest was rising and falling erratically. His eyes glinted with fury, but he was being honest with his response. Harold had always proved a trustworthy advisor. He’d never failed him in the past, and he had every reason to trust him again now.

  Harold hurried through the doorway. Outside, he found Lilly hovering with an inquisitive expression. “What was that all about?”

  “Pardon me, miss, but this is a private matter. I am in no position to discuss it,” he said politely and walked away, leaving the door open.

  Lilly stood at the threshold and laid her eyes on Charles who was sitting in a chair, his shoulders slumped. He was staring at his lap and shaking all over. Lilly raised a hand to pat her hair, tipped her chin and entered with a winning smile. There was nothing that her boss wouldn’t share with her. From what she’d already overheard, this development seemed fortuitous for her. These days, nothing would please her more than a chance to evolve from mistress to wife. Although, in the beginning, sleeping with Charles was just another part of the job, over the last few months, somehow, she had grown to care for him deeply. Lilly smoothed her hair with a careless hand, then placed it on her hip and gave a small sigh. This joke of a marriage that’s been upsetting my darling Charles has lasted long enough!

  Chapter 29

  1988

  Sofia got off the bus and walked just a few feet down the road, a small note in her hand where she’d written the address of Ricky Lennard’s office. She found it easily. It was on the second floor of an apartment building on the outskirts of town. She stood before the closed door and glanced at the logo of Rocking Horse Publishing, recognising the rocking horse image from Ricky’s business card.

  The company name nagged at her again. It resonated with something inside her, but for the life of her she couldn’t retrieve it. Throwing the quaint toy horse another glance, she rang the doorbell. Shortly, a moon-faced man in a smart suit answered it. With an amicable smile, he gestured to Sofia to come in. He took a seat behind a desk in the hall and used the phone to inform Mr Lennard of Sofia’s arrival. After a few moments, the man himself appeared through the double doors of the adjoining office, an exultant expression on his face.

  “So good to see you again, Sofia! Come in, come in!”

  Sofia sat opposite Ricky Lennard at his desk and, after a few pleasantries, took her poems out of her bag and handed them to him. They were typed up neatly on a few sheets of A4 paper bound with staples. Enthralled, Ricky leafed through the pages, stopping here and there to read the odd verse. After a few minutes that seemed to last forever to Sofia, he looked up to gaze into her eyes, a big smile on his face. He leaned back in his comfortable chair, rubbing his hands together. “Young lady, I believe you’re in with
a good chance for publication.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, obviously, I must read your poems at my leisure first, before I can be sure. But from what I’ve seen so far, your poetry is splendid. I’m sure it’ll be perfect as part of an anthology that I’m putting together in association with a couple of my regular poets. Mind you, if I find that I like a great number of your poems, who knows, I might even be able to offer you a separate publication with just you as the author.”

  Sofia gasped, then brought a hand to her mouth, lost for words. She deserved all the credit; these were her own poems. She hadn’t included any among the ones The Lady had dictated to her in her dreams. She could never have submitted those, for this would have felt as vile as plagiarism.

  Ricky tittered to see her stunned expression. “Come on, an intelligent girl like you should know her strengths and weaknesses. Surely, you know you’ve got talent.”

  “I admit I think they are good, but I didn’t expect to find a publisher interested in them.”

  “Well, it seems you have, regardless,” said Ricky, offering her his hand.

  Sofia shook it, a modest smile playing on her lips.

  “Well done, Sofia. I can't wait to read them all. Give me a week or so . . . Is that all right?”

  “Of course.” Sofia stood to leave. “Thank you, Mr Lennard, I’ll speak to you soon.” When she reached the door, he called out to her, causing her to turn around, her eyes still twinkling with excitement.

  “Do you think you could bring me your sketch of the West Pier next time you visit? The way you depicted The Lady of the Pier on it was just marvellous. I’d like to show it to someone, if that’s all right. Also, I think it would be wonderful as the artwork for the cover of the publication. Would you agree to let me use it?”

  Sofia’s face lit up. “Of course,” she managed after swallowing hard. “Anything you wish, Mr Lennard.”

  ***

  Sofia hung up the phone, her face alight with relief, yet remorse tugged at her heartstrings. She’d just said goodbye to Jeff, for good. They hadn’t spoken at all since that fight at the night club, but then she received a phone message from him out of the blue, asking her to call him. It turned out he wanted to know where they stood and, of course, Sofia was unable to deny her feelings for Danny. After that, the call ended quickly. It felt to Sofia that he was well prepared for this eventuality. With utmost politeness and dignity, he wished her well, saying that, in a way, he’d known all along this would never work out. Sofia offered to be friends, but he said he preferred to say goodbye for good. This is why, when Sofia hung up, she felt her heart sink. Her eyes pooled with tears to leave behind such a sweet friend, but she could see this was for the best.

  That afternoon she was rushing to visit Danny’s house, having been invited there by his sister. Sue had lost her nerve since their talk at the café a few days earlier. Despite her best intentions to help locate her mother for Danny’s sake, she couldn’t bring herself to search through her father’s things. So, she asked Sofia to come over and do this with her. Her brother was at work and her father had planned appointments till late that evening so they would have time to do this without fear he’d walk in.

  When Sofia arrived at the house, Sue’s father was still around. As always he was polite but didn’t say much and didn’t stay in their company for more than a few moments. It was like Sue had said; he was like a wandering ghost in the house, and even when he was in it, he preferred his solitude. While the girls had a cup of tea in the kitchen, he watched TV alone in the living room.

  This gave Sofia the opportunity to tell Sue her latest news about Ricky Lennard and her recent conversation with Jeff.

  “Will you tell Danny?” asked Sue, when she heard about Jeff’s decision to say goodbye for good. She was cuddling Paris on her lap, the little puppy’s eyes soulful as he nibbled at her fingertips.

  “I don’t know; do you think I should?”

  “Look, Sofia, it’s none of my business, but if I were you, I’d keep it to myself for a while.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? It allows space between you. If Danny hears you’re available, he may mess things up again. As long as you have a boyfriend, he can be a friend and behave himself.”

  “Oh Sue, until when?” said Sofia, raising her eyes to the ceiling, a laboured sigh escaping her lips.

  “Look, from what he says, he’s doing well in therapy. He claims he’s never felt better in his skin than he does these days.”

  “Okay then, I won’t tell him Jeff called. If he asks, I’ll say I still don’t know where I stand with my boyfriend. Let’s hope this buys us enough time.”

  Sue’s father appeared at the door. “Right, girls, I’m off. Goodbye, Sofia. Don’t wait up, Sue.” He had his jacket and baseball hat on, carrying his heavy toolbox, ready to go.

  “All right. See you, Dad.”

  The moment they heard the door click shut, the girls rushed upstairs to his bedroom, little Paris yelping and skipping behind them, thinking it was time for play again.

  ***

  Sue searched all the shelves and drawers in her father’s room, something that Sofia refused to help with, as it felt wrong to rummage through the things of a total stranger. Instead, she watched while Sue searched the chest of drawers and peered inside the storage boxes under her father’s bed. Sue found a lot of tools and, to the girls’ dismay, some porn magazines and video tapes, too. Sadly, they found nothing that could be used as a clue for their purpose. An hour later, with every nook and cranny having been searched, they had nothing to show for it.

  “Wait a minute!” Sue’s eyes lit up. “The shed around the back! He has plenty of storage boxes there, too.”

  Sofia rolled her eyes. “Great. More porn tapes. I can't wait.”

  Sue grabbed the key from the hook by the door, and they put on their coats, rushing outside, leaving the puppy to whimper behind the closed door.

  The shed was a paradise to any given handyman, containing all sorts of tools and paraphernalia the look of which baffled the girls.

  “What do men do with all these things? I mean, all I’d ever need would be a hammer, a screwdriver and a drill. What else is there?” said Sofia with a titter.

  Sue grinned. “Goodness knows! Come! He puts the storage boxes back here.”

  The girls counted a dozen boxes, some of them labelled, some not. They exchanged a glance heavy with humour and decided to leave the unlabelled ones for last.

  Sue cringed. “Let’s hope we don’t have to open the unlabelled ones at all. The secret of what a man reads or watches in privacy should be something he should take with him to the grave, don’t you think?”

  The girls shared a giggle and began to inspect the labelled boxes. A couple of them were marked ‘paperwork’, so they started with those.

  They opened the first one and found that it was an unruly heap of documents, consisting mainly of old utility bills and tax return forms. “Not a very tidy guy, your dad, is he?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Sue gave a lopsided grin. “What did you expect? Individual files stacked in alphabetical order? The guy’s a plumber, not a secretary. We should thank our lucky stars he labelled the boxes as it is!”

  Without further ado, the girls set out to inspect the documents one by one, removing them from the box as they did so, and placing them on the counter.

  They were lucky, for they never had to open a second box. At the bottom of the first one they found a thick bundle of tattered old envelopes tied with a ribbon. They were written in an elegant handwriting that Sue didn’t recognise. They were sent many years ago according to the postmarks, having been addressed to ‘Danny and Sue Markson’.

  Sue’s heart began to race. “Oh my God! These were sent to our old house!”

  “Where that woman visited? The one your dad refused to let in?”

  “Yes,” managed Sue as she clutched the bundle in her hands, her voice frail. “Could these
be from my mother? But she never wrote to us! Not once!”

  “Open one, Sue! Open one and read it!”

  With trembling hands, Sue untied the ribbon and slid her fingers inside the torn envelope on the top of the pile. She pulled out a penned letter in two small sheets, the lettering elegant in faded black ink. On the first sheet, there was only a short note:

  Sussex, 12th of April 1980

  My dearest Danny and Sue,

  By now, I write without hope. I can only assume that your father is the reason for your lack of response to my letters of all these years, so I guess this last letter is not for you, but your father. I love you, my darlings, always. All my love, Mum.

  Her eyes feverish with impatience, Sue started reading the letter on the other sheet, her heart racing. She threw Sofia only a momentary glance, signalling to her with a nod that she was welcome to read this letter too, then resumed devouring the lines.

  Bill,

  Congratulations. You have managed to separate me from our children just like you said you would. Yes, I loved another man and decided to leave you for him. I admit it was despicable to leave like this, without telling you, without a proper goodbye. But I was very young then, I had my own problems, and I wasn’t thinking. I was wrong. But, Bill, for my wrongdoings, I paid the price. All these years, I’ve lost touch with my children, despite my best intentions. So, you win.

  I hurt you by leaving and you hurt me back. Believe me, though, whatever pain you have felt, cannot amount to the way I feel for being separated from my children. I fought for custody, but even in court, I lost, thanks to your masterful lawyers. So, congratulations. You have beaten me so this is where I give up. Instead of writing any more letters that I know you will only intercept, I will keep quiet from now on, hoping that time will be my ultimate ally; hoping that when our children grow up, they will seek me out themselves. I live for that day. I breathe for that day. And I pray, that they will do that, for my life will never be complete until I hold them in my arms again. I hope your choice helps you sleep at night, Bill. May time be the ultimate judge for both you and me.