The Storm

by Effrosyni Moschoudi

“So, where are you meeting him and when?”

  Laura’s eyes lit up. “At the West Pier, by the toll booth, at nine o’ clock.”

  “So late?”

  “Yes. Christian wanted to make sure there won’t be many people about. Also, at this hour, the cabaret will be busy; highly unlikely for Charles to be visiting town or returning home that early.”

  “Well thought!” Maggie smiled with relief and placed a sincere hand over her heart. “I certainly wish everything works out smoothly for you. Just promise you won't forget me,” she joked, giving her friend an affectionate look that caused Laura’s heart to melt.

  “Oh my precious, precious, Maggie!” Laura opened her arms and gave Maggie a big hug, cradling her tenderly. “I could never forget you! I owe it all to you. My second chance in love and happiness could never have happened without you.”

  ***

  Laura and Maggie lingered at the front garden, unwilling to part just yet. The sun was low on the horizon, casting golden hues on the rhododendron bushes and the wide, wrought-iron gate. The two old friends had said goodbye in the drawing room, away from prying eyes, but now, standing near the gate together, Laura couldn’t help but give Maggie another hug.

  Across the freshly cut lawn, Harold was tidying up in the garden shed. Earlier that afternoon, he and James had done chores around the property, planting flowers, pruning the bushes and mowing the lawn.

  A lot of paraphernalia was left lying about in the garden when the two men left in a hurry to go pick up the weekly order from the grocery store before tea. Now, James was inside helping Jen put away the food supplies in the pantry. Harold had volunteered to tidy up the garden on his own.

  Harold had seen Maggie come in earlier. Although he had walked the length of the corridor back and forth past the drawing room a couple of times, he never managed to pick up a peep. This was his last chance before Maggie left and although he was too far away to eavesdrop, he saw them hug each other far more fervently and for much longer than was customary. This could only mean one thing: this was goodbye.

  When Maggie left, and as he’d already finished putting everything away, Harold walked up to the front door of the house at the same time as Laura. When they met at the threshold, she eyed him in that formal, apprehensive way that she reserved only for him. Harold was well aware she didn’t like him, but he was quite all right with that.

  “My lady?” With a slight bow, he gestured for her to enter first.

  “Thank you, Harold.” Laura walked through the door briskly, light-footed.

  Harold entered after her and hurried to the phone to report to his boss. After the call, he made an excuse to Laura and took the next bus to town. It was high time for another chat with that helpful porter at The Seabird hotel.

  Chapter 32

  The big day dawned to find Laura waking up earlier than normal, eager to pack her suitcase quickly, well before Jen was expected to come in to tidy up her room. Freddie was still in bed so she made a mental note to pack a small bag for him at noon when Jen was busy cooking and Charles was fast asleep.

  She saw no point in Freddie going to school that day, but it was of vital importance that she gave no cause for suspicion. This had to look like a normal day, just like any other, despite it being for her the stuff of fairy tales and the manifestation of her wildest dreams.

  Christian’s words had stuck in her head, whirling ceaselessly around like a tornado: ‘Meet me at the West Pier, by the toll booth, at nine o’ clock sharp’. The words whirled and whirled around, pushing away every other thought.

  Laura opened her window shutters fully wide to gaze at the blue wash of the sea foaming with white horses beneath the brightest of skies. Standing at the very same window where black-out curtains used to hang once, where through tired, sunken-in eyes, she used to gaze at the world without a glimmer of hope, that glorious morning, Laura tilted her head back, breathed in the crisp, sea air and gave her brightest smile.

  ***

  “Sir, it’s me!” Harold’s voice echoed down the line urgently, enough to send a shiver down Charles’s spine.

  Charles gripped the receiver with so much tension his knuckles turned white. He leaned forward in his office chair, a vein popping on his forehead. “Tell me! What did that porter say?”

  “It’s confirmed, sir. Searle’s booked a private, long-haul taxi to take him to Devon tonight. He asked for it to wait outside at quarter to nine this evening. Sounds like he’s meeting the viscountess around nine o’ clock somewhere.”

  “Well done, Harold! You’ve done a great job. Now forget all about this and leave it to me.”

  “Sir, may I suggest perhaps—”

  “Yes?” Charles interrupted him impatiently.

  “May I suggest that I come with you tonight?”

  “Don’t be silly, man! I’ll just get my wife and her child and bring them back home! Hardly a task that requires two men!”

  “But, sir, what if it gets ugly?”

  “What? With that goat herder? Give me some credit, man! I’ve had my share of fist fights! Even if it comes to that, I can handle myself.”

  “I do apologise, sir, I didn’t mean—”

  “It doesn’t matter, Harold. I’ll be all right.”

  “Shall I ask James to meet you at The Black Cat and drive you?”

  “Really, Harold, I think you’re getting old! Why would I want James to know of his mistress’s indiscretions? The whole point of this damn exercise is to ensure no one finds out what that dirty whore is up to!”

  “Yes, of course, sir, of course . . .”

  “I’ll just get a taxi and wait outside the hotel. I’ll follow that spineless rat and when he meets up with her and the child I’ll have my say and bring them home.”

  “Sir, forgive me, but you might find yourself in a difficult situation. What if this gets out of hand?” Secretly, Harold was worried about his boss’s bouts of rage, and his inability to control his anger with dignity.

  Charles scoffed. “Harold, what on earth are you imagining? All I’ll do is spoil their little plan. Once I’ve put my wife and the boy in the taxi with me, that peasant can go anywhere he likes on his own, for all I care.”

  Lilly walked into the office just as Charles put the receiver down. Upon seeing her, he walked up to her, rubbing his hands together with glee, then planted a firm kiss on her lips. “I just found out! The lovebirds are meeting tonight. Oh, I just can't wait to spoil their little plan!”

  Lilly turned away, pretending to look at the busy street outside the window. The corners of her lips curled with dismay. “Oh, really?” Doing her best to sound nonchalant, she turned around to face him again arranging her features into an expression of amusement. “So, tell me; you know the time and place of their meeting? Harold can't be that good!”

  “No, I don’t know the place, but I do know the time. Searle is leaving the hotel in a long-haul taxi at quarter to nine tonight. We know for a fact he’s hired it to go back to Devon and believe he’ll be meeting Laura somewhere near the hotel. They’re surely planning to leave together with the child.”

  “Ah, the fools!” Lilly said chuckling, “I cannot believe they thought they could pull a fast one on you!”

  “Yes, can you imagine, indeed?” cackled Charles.

  Lilly turned about face and made for the door. “I’ll get you a drink,” she said, then stopped at the threshold. “Afterwards, if you don’t mind, I’ll dash downtown for a bit. I have something to pick up from the chemist’s.”

  “Sure, my darling,” said Charles absentmindedly, returning to his papers on the desk. When Harold called, he was in the middle of adding up the last month’s expenses. Now, he had to start all over again. He sat upright in his chair, turned up his sleeves and threw Lilly a look of sheer satisfaction. “Have I told you how precious you are to me, darling? There is no way I was ever going to face my marital woes with a smidgen of sanity if I didn’t have you.”

  Lilly blew him a kiss from the do
or and disappeared behind it, then hurried to the canteen to get his drink. After that, she’d have to run a very urgent errand. She had thought on her feet. The excuse about the chemist’s was perfect.

  Chapter 33

  Lilly stood on the pavement with a young boy, a few numbers down from Laura’s house. Just moments earlier, she had called the boy over, offering him a pretty penny to do a simple task for her. As she guessed, he was more than willing to oblige her. He didn’t look much older than fifteen. His clothes were shabby, in stark contrast to Lilly’s impeccable, stylish dress and shoes.

  She handed him a little envelope and looked around with apprehension before turning to him again, her brow furrowing with concern. “So, you’re fully clear about what I need you to do?”

  “Yes, madam! I’ll ring the doorbell on number four and, if the maid answers, I’ll ask for this letter to be handed only to the viscountess.”

  “And if a man comes to the door?” Lilly feared Harold might answer it, which was the reason she summoned the boy for the task, just to be safe.

  “In this case, I’ll say I got the wrong house and rush back here to you.”

  “Good lad,” she said, patting his shoulder. “Now go and make sure you get this right. Deliver it as you should, and I have a good mind to give you a bit extra!”

  At the sound of that promise, the boy broke into a run, stopping breathless before Laura’s house. He gave Lilly a nod of acknowledgement across the distance and bolted through the gate. While waiting for his return, Lilly paced up and down the façade of a stunning cottage that looked endearing, its front wall half-covered with ivy. Despite her being anxious, she couldn’t help imagining how wonderful it would be if she could live in this beautiful street one day, under the same roof with Charles, as his wife.

  ***

  Jen closed the door behind her and gave a frown as she looked down at the envelope the boy handed her. It was addressed to the viscountess. It wasn’t her business to wonder about her mistress’s affairs, but the boy gave her the impression he was in a terrible rush. The moment she took the envelope from his hands, he vanished down the paved path, running out to the street as if he were being chased. He didn’t carry a bag and didn’t look like a delivery boy. It was all quite strange.

  Putting the envelope in the pocket of her apron, Jen made for the corridor to return to the kitchen. Her mistress had gone for a walk on the beach with little Freddie. She’d give her the envelope as soon as she returned.

  Hurried footsteps from the other direction caused her shoulders to jump, and she looked up to find Harold gazing at her with bewilderment.

  “Was that the doorbell, Jen?”

  “Yes, Harold.”

  “Who was it?” Harold was on full alert because of the day. He’d been the shadow of both Jen and his mistress all morning.

  Jen huffed in astonishment. “What’s the matter with you today? You’re being very strange! Look at you, looking all concerned! It was just the doorbell; not a raid from the Luftwaffe!”

  Harold rearranged his features to an expression of carefree mirth and said, “That’s ridiculous, dear Jen! I was only asking because I’m hoping for a friend to bring something for me today.”

  “In this case, no, this wasn’t for you. It was just a lad delivering a letter for the viscountess.”

  His eyes widened. “Really? Can I see it please?” Harold put out his hand, his posture rigid, his voice commanding.

  Jen tilted her head. “What on earth for? Don’t you believe me?”

  “Don’t be absurd, Jen! And don’t forget I’m your superior in this house.”

  “That’s true,” she said, taken aback even further. She threw him an apprehensive look, her fingertips reaching into her pocket to touch the edge of the envelope. He’s acting truly strange today.

  Harold shook his outstretched hand impatiently. “Suppose you have a lover, or something?” He gave a snort, trying to make a joke of the situation as to keep his real motives well concealed.

  Jen gave a giggle. “Now, it’s you who’s being absurd! I’m a married woman, Harold!” The joke had worked its magic. Relaxing in his presence, the maid handed him the envelope immediately, then fixed him with a gaze of mock-accusation.

  “See? It’s for the viscountess, not for me!” she said with a chuckle. “Besides, my lover only calls on Wednesdays.” Jen waggled her brows playfully.

  Harold gave an easy laugh as he looked at the elegant writing on the envelope. His eyes widened with surprise for a split second only, then he raised his gaze again and smiled pleasantly at Jen. “I’ll make sure not to ask you on Wednesdays then.” He gave her a huge grin and watched as she dissolved into hysterics. Then, he turned about face, his expression turning serious. “I’ll make sure our mistress gets this. You can go back to work now,” he said, disappearing down the corridor without caring to address the maid’s protest.

  As soon as he entered his private quarters, Harold tore the envelope open. He didn’t have the slightest doubt about the sender. It wasn’t just the handwriting he knew so well; he’d seen it dozens of times all over the notes on Charles’s desk. It was also the perfume that the envelope reeked of. It was a particularly delicate and luxurious perfume that mixed vanilla with jasmine in a delicious way; in a way that only the French could ever manage. He knew that perfume well, and the one person who always wore it.

  Hurriedly, he opened the single sheet of paper he found inside. The brief but succinct message was in the same handwriting.

  Dear Laura,

  We don’t know each other, but believe me when I tell you that I’m a friend; probably the only one who cares enough to help you today. Your husband and Harold know all about your meeting tonight and your plans of escape with Mr Searle.

  Please take my advice and leave right now, long before nine o’ clock tonight when they plan to stop you.

  I wish you luck and happiness,

  An anonymous friend.

  Harold folded the note and put it back in the envelope, then stormed out of the room to alert his boss. He feared for the girl, but this was something he couldn’t possibly keep to himself. He easily guessed why she would do something like this, but the risk she took was preposterous. There was nothing he could do for her now. It was as simple as that. Her bed was made; she might as well sleep in it.

  Chapter 34

  Charles slammed the receiver down and held his head with both hands, his elbows resting on his desk. His brilliantined hair came loose, a glistening dark fringe falling limply to brush against his shirt sleeve. With an impatient hand, he swept it away from his face as he looked up again, his eyes pooling with tears.

  “What’s the matter with me?” he yelled to himself, springing up to pace the office. “I’m crying over some skirt?”

  He wiped the tears with the back of his hand, feeling disgust at his own weakness. He rushed to the door and swung it open. Drawing a deep breath, he tipped his chin and called Joe, his burly bouncer.

  “Sir?” the big man said, holding a kitchen towel in one hand. He was behind the bar with the head barman, preparing for the big, Saturday evening rush. Only a couple of patrons were in at the time.

  “Where’s Lilly? Is she back from town yet?”

  “Not yet, Boss. Shall I tell her to come see you when she returns?”

  “You do that,” he replied curtly and returned to his office, closing the door.

  Once alone again, he burst into tears. This time, it hit him as even more humiliating as before, as this time, sobs came too to tear at his lungs and throat. “Keep yourself together, Willard!” he said with a grunt shaking his fist in the air. “Damn it, Charles! This time I need you to act like a man! No more niceties with women who cannot respect you! No affections to anyone who tries to double cross you!”

  He strode to a small mirror that hung over the basin in the corner and eyed his reflection with determination. Still, he couldn’t help noticing how vulnerable he looked, all teary-eyed, his face contorte
d with angst.

  “I don’t care how much you loved that cheap, French skirt! She double-crossed you; she has to go! One woman in my life I cannot trust should be enough, damn it!”

  Charles wiped his eyes, this time with his handkerchief, and sat back down in his chair. Moments later, he stood again, paced to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of scotch and a clean glass. The situation was an emergency, calling for a stiff drink away from prying eyes. No one needed see him in this state over at the bar.

  He stood behind the window curtain as he took long swigs of his whiskey, watching the busy crowds come and go. Many couples walked hand in hand, others with their arms entwined. It didn’t elude him to notice that the younger they looked, the more their faces shone with joy.

  “I’ve wasted my life. I’ve wasted it for nothing!” he muttered through gritted teeth. “That damn whore! I should never have married her! That ungrateful little woman! She dazzled me from the stage and I lost my mind. And now, years later, I’m made to look like a fool! Who? Me! A goddamn Willard! May God be my witness, both she and that peasant of hers will pay for it! I swear they’ll both pay for it!” he shouted, pacing up and down again.

  Charles drained the last remnants of his drink and hurried to the bottle on his desk to pour himself another glass. Just as he was about to do so, there was a knock at the door. Without waiting for a reply, Lilly walked in breezily.

  “Did you ask for me, my darling?” she said, holding a packet from the chemist’s that she made sure to visit for something trivial. You couldn’t be too careful with a man as intelligent as Charles.

  Charles looked up and when she saw his face, she brought a hand over her mouth and rushed to him. “What’s the matter, my love?”

  Ignoring her, Charles gestured to her to sit, then walked back to the window. He gazed at her across the distance, managing with effort a half-smile.

  “I see you’ve done your shopping,” he said calmly, amazed at his own self-restraint.