As he wandered through the stacked shelves, and empty cartons waiting to be crushed and taken away, he thought about their new operation in Sydney. Cookson’s had opened just a year ago, and was already doing better than both the Auckland and Wellington stores combined. Talk of opening another one in Melbourne within two years was something he and his father had discussed the week before, and Nathaniel was excited about the prospects in Australia. God knows, he was pretty fed up with New Zealand, but not just because his memories in both Auckland and Wellington had been permanently tarnished by the events of the past few months and the subsequent evaporation of both his wife and his mistress.
While he certainly did not mourn the absence of Anthea, his wife of nearly fifteen years, he was desperately lonely without Margaret to turn to, especially in this time of personal crisis. Odd, he thought, how the one person you need the most in a bad situation is sometimes the one person who is also affected and, in this instance, with tragic consequences.
He’d last seen her several months ago, when they’d argued about why her husband (in name only) had turned up in her life once again. Margaret had been taken in and questioned by the police, and was unable to provide enough information about the man to even convince them that he existed, let alone that he may have been responsible for the death of Anthea Cook. And so, suspicion fell upon Margaret. His own questions about everything further served to rip their once unbreakable bond apart, and when his mother got wind of it all, and uplifted Maureen and Lewis from Margaret’s care. Margaret had disappeared and he had no way to reach out to her, not that he would have known what to do if he’d seen her. She would surely blame him for the loss of her children and he could clearly see that and understand it.
He thought about Anthea’s simple life of indulgence. She was someone he went home to while he was in Wellington - enough to keep up appearances in public occasionally - but in his heart, he had always been married to Margaret. Now he’d lost them both, and his mother had their children safely tucked away in Sydney. If he knew her at all, she’d be mostly uncaring about the fact that they were the real victims in all this. He had always failed at standing up to Sybil, then again, he didn’t know of anyone who had ever really managed to do so. She was certainly a formidable woman, with a sharp intellect and quick wit.
He knew that he had to try and work this out for the sake of the children, but the feelings of powerlessness to bring about any kind of change overwhelmed him every single day. Although Maureen was not his own daughter, but the result of a brief love affair Margaret had had during the war with an American naval officer, he felt strongly that both children were his. Lewis had been a delightful surprise five years earlier, and made his love for Margaret complete. She left him in no doubt that she loved him too, and he lived for the days they could be together each month when he had to work in Auckland.
He wondered where she was right now, and his heart lurched sideways again and slammed into his ribs, robbing him of breath. He imagined her destitute and bereft somewhere - maybe drinking her way through her pain the way he had been. He’d tried to track her down through her old friends, but they knew nothing and didn’t appear to be lying about that. In fact, Jean and Ruth seemed every bit as worried as he was, although they also did afford him a certain amount of blame for her disappearance.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When Solange awoke the next day, she quickly folded and put away the clothes that Gregory had worn the night before, grabbed a quick breakfast of two eggs, toast and a glass of milk, then headed downstairs to her store. Her reputation for extraordinary costumes was growing and her design skills were being recognized across the city. A new order for a series of gowns to be created for a debutante in Melbourne had arrived a few days ago, and she wondered if she should make the time to personally deliver them when they were finished at the beginning of next month. She could see no reason to go to Melbourne, but equally could see no reason not to. A chance to get away would certainly not go amiss. Deciding to think it over she’d see how she felt closer to the time.
While she reviewed her fabrics, and selected some that she felt would best suit the designs she had in mind for the debutant, she thought about the talents of Margaret McKenzie, and what she’d seen of her performance a few nights earlier. Solange was not easily impressed, but there was no denying that Margaret had an extraordinary presence on stage. She’d looked absolutely gorgeous in the Diana gown, and was a hit with the crowd at Bennett’s. Solange knew that Margaret was hiding a lot about why she was in Sydney, and she wondered most of all how such talent on a stage had become so well hidden, even in Auckland. For someone like that, surely, she’d have made it across to Australia before now, but this was apparently her first time on these shores. She hoped that she was planning to stay a while - her body looked so good in Solange’s designs she was tempted to offer to dress her for free in return for Margaret telling everyone where her designs came from.
Making a mental note to do just that, Solange continued through her morning, reviewing fabrics, design notes, measurements, and appropriate haberdashery items for decoration. This was what she loved to do the most, and the time slipped by. It was nearly 3 pm when the front doorbell tinkling indicated that a customer was entering the store and Solange glanced up to see Margaret striding confidently along the narrow building towards her.
“Margaret, darling, you were simply wonderful the other night! Just adorable. Tell that Timmy that you deserve a raise already, and he’s not to let you go anywhere, anytime soon.”
Margaret took in the dark wig, cut into a Chanel style bob, heavy eye makeup and 6 o’clock shadow around the bright red lips, above a sheer caftan style dress that was barely decent for that time of day, but especially on that particular body at any time. They air-kissed on both cheeks, something that Solange was ‘trying out’ to see if she liked as a form of greeting. “And I don’t have to ask do I? Diana is hanging happily after a good airing? Mmmn?”
“Oh Solange, you know I’d never do anything to harm our gorgeous Diana… yes she’s well cared for. So, what are you working on today?” Margaret deliberately looked over the designs on the large white table, and studied the fabrics spread around them. “Mmmn, these look lovely, but are you sure of the color? I mean white is a dreadfully dull color for such a style don’t you think? I feel some drama would be much better - perhaps an emerald green like this silk?”
The singer and the costumer pondered fabric choices for a few moments until Solange grew tired of being questioned by someone she liked a lot but considered to be a rank amateur in the game of creation. “Enough, come, let’s sit and talk; tea and perhaps I have some leftover orange cake upstairs.” Solange quickly went and put the closed sign on the door, then guided Margaret upstairs to her small flat. “Margaret took a quick polite look through the handful of small rooms, then helped her friend to lay out cups, saucers, and plates for their afternoon tea. Once seated, Solange offered the tea pot to Margaret to take the role of pouring, and sat back to observe her.
“Margaret, my dear, how is it that you came to Sydney… really?”
Margaret looked sharply at Solange, her hand shook slightly as she handed her the cup and saucer a moment later. She poured her own cup before setting down the teapot and settling back into her chair to share the answer that the few moments of delay helped her to create.
“Have you heard of Cookson’s, the new department store that opened here about a year ago?”
“Oh, you mean that place down on Elizabeth Avenue? Yes of course. I hear it’s lovely.”
“The reason I’m here is that the woman whose husband and son own the company has stolen my children…” She paused for a long moment… “And I’m here to get them back.”
Margaret’s eyes held fast to Solange’s, in a moment of brave candor. She put her tea cup down, put her hands in her lap and waited for a response.
“Oh!” That was not what Solange had expected to hear. But, curiosity firmly piqued now, s
he waited, hoping that Margaret would elaborate. However, Margaret, having been used to being interrogated by police inspectors for hours on end, knew the game and sat silently.
“Why?” Solange finally broke an almost uncomfortable silence. Margaret’s shoulders firmed up a little and she decided to share most of her story with her new friend after all. By the time she was finished, a few tears had fallen, from both of them, but a new resolute attitude of determination was reinstated.
“Do you have any idea how you are going to do this?” Solange could feel Gregory wanted to emerge into the conversation and if that happened, she knew he’d take over, but she was also sure that Gregory might have the best head for this situation. Doing a minor battle of supremacy in her mind, she put Gregory in his place for now and pressed on with some questions. “My dear, I do not personally know of the Cook Family, but I may know the area where your children live. Perhaps the first thing to do is ensure that your children are in fact here, and are safe. Have you heard word from them at all?”
“Well, Mrs Cook, er, Sybil, promised that if I was willing and did not make a big fuss about her taking them at the time, she would ensure my letters were passed to Maureen and that I received one each month in return. However, that dried up after two months, so I am unsure. They’ve been here nearly six months now.”
“And your lover?”
“Nate? I’ve not seen anything of Nate since several weeks before Sybil arrived to make her threats and take the kids. I’m not sure of his state of mind, his attitude towards me, or what’s happened, but we were deeply in love before all this. We argued terribly before it of course - the investigation and the police interrogations were brutal for both of us. But we haven’t had any opportunity to re-connect with each other after that.”
Solange poured them both a second cup from the pot. Sitting back, she nursed her cup and saucer, and looked out at Margaret from under heavy false eyelashes. “My dear, don’t you think that talking with him might be your very best option? Before you do anything else of course.”
Margaret thought about that for a long moment. She relished being able to talk to someone about all of it - she’d not been able to before now. Her lifestyle, as a mother to two illegitimate children and as the long-term lover of a well-known wealthy merchant, meant that most of her time was spent happily looking after her children. She’d not really felt the need for other friends, until now. “Yes, perhaps you are right. But when I couldn’t reach him and he didn’t come to me for the two weeks after Anthea’s death, I grew to believe he did not wish to see me. His mother arrived, and everything happened so fast. I first packed up and went to the place I’d stayed in Taranaki when I had our son. I didn’t think much beyond wanting to walk out my fears and sorrow; for a while that worked well. The windy cliffs of Mokau were a solace to me, certainly. When I returned to Auckland just a few weeks ago, there was no sign he’d been there, and certainly no messages for me. My dearest friends, Ruth and Jean said they’d seen him a long time ago, but didn’t wish to talk with him at all. Of course, they didn’t realize I was ‘missing’ in his view.
They finished their tea in near silence, each picking at, but not finishing, their slices of cake. Both were caught up in their individual thoughts about Margaret’s story. Margaret was not expected to sing that evening, so they cooked up a light dinner together after discussing Solange’s idea of providing Margaret with costumes in return for being her spokesperson, and tried a few designs out for good measure. Margaret made it home just after nine and she looked out her window in the direction of where she thought Maureen and Lewis might be and sent a silent prayer for their safety and wellbeing. ‘And how could I even find Nate to talk with anyway?’ she thought as she climbed into bed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gregory wandered into the Italian espresso bar and found a seat at the back. He scratched a little at the camisole he was wearing under his shirt; the lace was not as soft as he’d anticipated when Solange made the sweet little ensemble yesterday. And the strap kept slipping off one shoulder. He was delighted to see Kaiden enter a few moments later, and signaled to Giampietro at the bar to fill his usual coffee order. Once their coffees were set down, the two men looked properly at each other and smiled. Their friendship was perhaps unusual, and yet founded on a story of survival and genuine care that bordered on brotherly. Trust between them was also absolute.
“So, my friend, life is treating you well?” Gregory already knew the answer, but asked the question anyway. Life in Australia was infinitely better for Kaiden and Alyssia than it had ever been in Malta. He was delighted to have been able to not only introduce them to it, but also to assist them to settle well here. He was careful to only ever present himself as Gregory to them, and a part of him loved living the double life he led.
“We are both well and Alyssia sends you her deepest regards.”
Small talk was not really the style of either man, and so they quickly got to the business end of their semi-regular meetings. Gregory needed to discuss some aspects of the change in his ability to obtain a sales outlet for some of the goods they acquired, and this time, he felt that it might be possible to help Margaret too; a theory he wanted to explore certainly.
“My contact is leaving, retiring, and that leaves a gap in my chain of distribution. I have to make some decisions about either replacing him, closing down the operation, or going down a completely different path altogether. As this affects you too, I thought I’d see if you had anything to say before I make any decisions.” Gregory was unsure just how much Kaiden knew of what potentially happened with the stolen items he handed to him, or whether he’d be able to help at all, but it was worth asking for his friend’s input into the dilemma.
Kaiden puffed a few times on his pipe before answering. “What we’ve been doing these last few years has been good, profitable, and also very easy. But I have been wondering for a while about the chances of using our intelligence a little more, and perhaps expanding with what we learn of our collective employers’ business activities.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Kaiden continued, “We have come to learn of a new warehouse in the city, supplying goods to a large store downtown. The manager is sleeping with one of my maids. Marija is in love, but she is not stupid, and knows the value of finding and keeping information. As for the manager, he is probably too pussy-struck to know what he is saying half the time and he also drinks. Marija has been certain that at times she could easily have taken the keys from him while he slept. I am unsure what exactly he has stored, but I’m thinking it’s perhaps clothing, accessories, shoes, and a wide range of nice things for a house. Christmas is coming soon, so a chance to see what exactly might be there and what we could, er, ‘share’ is worth considering, don’t you think?”
Gregory took a moment to think about Kaiden’s idea, then said, “Unfortunately, we still have the problem of passing on the goods unless we do this carefully and before my man leaves to retire in the new year. But I have no idea how long that will be. It’s already early November, that doesn’t give any of us much time.” He paused. “Which store is it? I’ll go and have a look.”
“Cookson’s, in Elizabeth Street. They’ve only been open a year here, and their warehousing arrangements are not terribly sophisticated, which is why they would be perfect for this.”
“Cookson’s? Who does your girl work for exactly?”
“The old matriarch, Mrs Cook. Her son runs the show, but is away a lot. She’s a real Foxx Ommok.” He grinned, recalling some of the awful things that Marija had said about her boss using her native Maltese.
“Well, that’s good to know - because I was going to ask if you might know that family. Even better that you have a girl there as I need some more information.” The two men leaned slightly more towards each other and Gregory explained his idea. “I need to know how the children, who are new there, are being treated. I may also need to get a letter passed to the older one. Can you talk with
Marija and ask her to report back? Meet you at the other place this time next week.”
Kaiden was quick to reply “yes, of course” and they each rose to go. Gregory flipped a few coins at Giampietro and said a friendly “Arrivederci” as he exited the cafe. He smiled to himself as he contemplated life’s simple pleasures and coincidences.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Margaret heard from Grant twice over the following weeks, and neither contact yielded much promise of an easy legal resolution to her problems. However, Grant did make it clear that so far as he was able to determine, the New Zealand Police were not investigating the death of Mrs Anthea Cook any more as a priority, believing that it was potentially likely she had slipped or maybe even jumped off the cliff. No further evidence having come to life, they had decided not to close the file completely, but had other things to focus on for the time being, which meant that they had relatively little interest in Margaret’s whereabouts.
Grant also made it clear to her that he’d like to meet again, perhaps in a non-commercial way, and hoped that an invitation to dine would be regarded favorably.
Margaret folded the letter and sat thinking about its contents carefully. Maybe Anthea had slipped, or maybe she’d jumped and ended her own miserable and dull existence. But Margaret felt sure that was unlikely, given that Thomas Morris was somehow involved. The problem was still going to be to find some way to prove that. She was quite certain that Nate would find it far easier to return to her and reunite their family if that were so. He may even finally wish to go against his mother and marry her.
Rhythm and Rhyme Page 5
