The Moment She Left

by Susan Lewis

  She appeared neither shocked nor suspicious, but he knew better than to assume that he’d convinced her they weren’t talking about him.

  ‘My first question,’ she said carefully, ‘has to be, what is your friend being blackmailed about?’

  His smile was brief. ‘And you know I can’t tell you that.’

  She nodded. ‘OK, so let’s begin with how this blackmailer is making contact.’

  ‘By Royal Mail, I’m told. No emails or texts, I guess because they’re traceable.’

  She didn’t disagree. ‘Have you seen any of the notes? Are they typed, cut-out newsprint, handwritten even?’

  ‘Typed, I believe.’

  ‘And has your friend met any of the demands?’

  ‘He has.’

  ‘And how is he getting the funds to the blackmailer?’

  ‘In cash, to a Post Office box number. Apparently the town or city has changed each time.’

  ‘I see. Then I’m afraid that tracing this person without knowing the full story is going to be extremely difficult.’

  Though he’d expected this answer, he felt crushed by it anyway.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘has your friend confided in you? Do you know what it’s about?’

  He nodded. ‘I had to know.’

  ‘Had to know?’

  His head was starting to spin. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he replied, dabbing his face with a napkin and watching Bill take off across the south lawn on his quad bike. ‘Gosh, it really is humid today.’

  She was still watching him in that knowing way of hers. ‘Charles, I surely don’t have to remind you that you can trust me,’ she said softly.

  He attempted a smile. ‘Of course not, but it isn’t my secret to share.’

  ‘Then why don’t you have a talk with your friend and see if you can persuade him to talk to me himself?’

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ Pamela demanded, finding Rowzee on the terrace trying to attract Bill Simmonds’s attention as he emerged from the estate’s apple orchard that bordered their garden.

  ‘I want to have a go on his mower,’ Rowzee informed her. ‘It looks such fun.’

  Pamela regarded her askance. ‘I sometimes wonder if you’re right in the head,’ she commented.

  Rowzee laughed. ‘Wonder no more, it’s official, I’m absolutely not right in the head.’

  ‘Mm, that is definitely true if you’re fancying him.’

  Rowzee’s eyes widened. ‘Who said anything about me fancying him?’

  ‘Well I certainly don’t, if that’s what you’re implying, and if you ask me, it’s the real reason you want to have a go on his mower. You ought to be careful he doesn’t think it’s a euphemism and start thinking you’re after his body.’

  Finding that hilarious, Rowzee went to hug her.

  Laughing too, Pamela said, ‘Ssh, he’s on his way over.’

  They watched as Bill Simmonds strode unhurriedly across their lawn looking, Rowzee decided, a bit like John Wayne in The Quiet Man. Or maybe he was more like Gary Cooper. Whoever, he was a very striking man in his all-male, rugged sort of way; he just needed a gun on his hip and spurs on his boots to make him the complete film-star package.

  ‘Hello ladies,’ he called out in his gruff West Country accent. ‘Inviting me over for a cup of tea, are you?’

  Rowzee cried, ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Not,’ Pamela finished. ‘We’ll never get rid of him,’ she muttered to Rowzee.

  ‘Who wants to?’ Rowzee muttered back. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on.’

  Clearly not wanting to be left alone with her unwelcome admirer, Pamela followed her inside.

  ‘Pretty hot today, innit?’ Bill sighed, removing his battered hat as he came to the open door.

  Here was someone with all his own hair and teeth, Rowzee was thinking, if Pamela could just get over herself. ‘Would you rather have a cold drink?’ she offered.

  ‘As you like,’ he responded, fixing his arresting blue eyes on Pamela. ‘So what were you waving out to me for?’ he asked her.

  Affronted, she snapped, ‘It wasn’t me. It was her.’

  With a wink at Rowzee, he said, ‘Oh and there was me thinking me luck had changed.’

  Pamela blazed as Rowzee choked on a laugh.

  ‘She wants to have a go on your mower,’ Pamela told him haughtily, and the next instant she and Rowzee erupted into laughter.

  Clearly enjoying their amusement, he said, ‘Of course she can have a go. You both can, any time you like.’

  Afraid they might be getting out of control, Rowzee managed to gasp, ‘I’m sorry, Bill. We’re being very silly. It must be the sun getting to us.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with that,’ he told them, taking out his mobile as it rang. ‘Micky,’ he said into it, ‘your timing’s not great, son. I’m with two lovely ladies who are about to give me a cup of tea. You’re right, I am talking about Rowzee and Pamela. No, I haven’t asked them anything yet . . . You just mind your own business and get on with whatever you’re ringing about.’

  As he listened he wandered outside, leaving Rowzee to make the tea and Pamela to say, ‘I wonder what he wants to ask us.’

  Amused by her sister’s intrigued tone, Rowzee said, ‘I’m sure we’ll find out when he’s ready.’

  Turning away sharply as Bill caught her looking his way, Pamela said, ‘You’ll be far more interested than I am. Now I need to get going or I’ll be late for my next appointment. By the way, I should be finished early tonight if you feel like going out somewhere.’

  Rowzee thought about it and decided that, yes, she did. ‘Shall I book Luigi’s?’ she suggested, following Pamela to the front door. ‘We always like their penne arrabiata.’

  ‘OK. Let’s meet there at seven.’

  Remembering that meant she’d have to drive, Rowzee said, ‘I think I’ll spring for a taxi so we can travel home together.’

  ‘You mean so you can have that extra glass of wine. OK, do as you like. Just don’t bring the gardener,’ and picking up her briefcase and handbag she went off to the car.

  ‘I won’t mind if you bring a date,’ Rowzee called after her.

  ‘Where am I going to get a date?’ Pamela called back. ‘And please don’t . . .’

  ‘The Internet?’ Rowzee cut in quickly. ‘Everyone’s doing it these days.’

  ‘Ah, so that’s what you’ve been busying yourself with lately. You need to be careful, there are all sorts of weirdos signing up to meet people that way. And I know what you’re like, you’ll end up on some big mean daddy website featuring whips and masks and God only knows what else without even realising what it is.’

  ‘Is there such a site?’ Rowzee asked, fascinated. ‘What do big mean daddies do with all that stuff?’

  Refusing to rise to it, Pamela got into her car, blew Rowzee a kiss and drove away.

  Finding Bill sitting in the shade of the terrace, fanning himself with his hat, and no longer on the phone, Rowzee put down a tray of tea and sank into another chair. ‘It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?’ she murmured, enjoying the warmth of the air as it wafted in from the distant sea.

  ‘It is that,’ he agreed, swiping away a fly.

  They continued to sit in companionable silence, soaking up the gentle sounds of nature, until Rowzee remembered what he’d said to his son on the phone. ‘What haven’t you asked us yet?’ she prompted.

  He grinned and laughed, and she noted that yes, he definitely had all his own teeth, and very nice they were too. ‘That’s between me and Micky,’ he replied, ‘but I reckon I could tell you too. I’m after asking that lovely sister of yours out on a date.’

  Thrilled by the idea, Rowzee was about to give a cheer of delight when a wave of dizziness swooped over her.

  ‘Mm, you don’t think she’ll go for it?’ he grunted, as she put a hand to her head.

  That wasn’t what she wanted to say. She wanted to encourage him, tell him he was right to pursue Pamela, that she thought they
were a great match even though Pamela might be playing hard to get, but the words wouldn’t come.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked worriedly. ‘You’re looking a bit . . . strange.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she mumbled. The garden, the sky seemed to be swaying, and nothing sounded right.

  ‘I’ll get you some water,’ he decided, and kicking off his boots he tramped into the kitchen.

  He was back in moments with a large glass filled to the brim and a cool, wet towel to put on her forehead. ‘Sit back,’ he instructed. ‘Take it easy. A little bit of sunstroke, I expect. Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘No, nothing to worry about,’ she croaked, relieved to have got the words out. ‘Thank you,’ she added as he handed her the water.

  He returned to his chair and gazed quietly out at the garden where butterflies were hovering over the wild-flower borders and a pair of great tits with splendid yellow chests and busy beaks were pecking away at a feeder.

  She loved the way he wasn’t fussing her, while clearly knowing she wasn’t herself; it made him seem so capable, and there, while she felt more strongly than ever that she should get him together with Pamela before she went.

  However, for the moment, afraid this little episode might get worse before it passed, she said, ‘If you don’t mind, Bill, I think I’ll go and have a lie-down.’

  ‘Of course not,’ he replied, and getting to his feet he held out a hand to help her up. ‘Is there anything I can get you before I go?’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she assured him, hearing the musical notes of a text arriving in her phone.

  ‘OK, well you know where I am if you need me, and any time you want to have a go on the mower, it’ll be my pleasure.’

  Smiling, she watched him walk down the steps to the lawn.

  ‘If you get the chance,’ he said, turning back, ‘maybe you’ll put in a word for me with Pamela.’

  With mischief in her heart, she said, ‘Happily. If you tell me what it is that attracts you to her, maybe I could start with that.’

  His head cocked to one side as he thought. ‘Well, I guess I’m taken by the way she sometimes seems to miss her mouth with her lipstick. You know, when it goes all smudgy. It makes her very kissable.’

  Unable not to laugh, Rowzee decided she might not repeat that.

  ‘Oh, and there’s the way she doesn’t quite fit her clothes, like she’s going to burst right out of them and give us all a splendid surprise.’

  Knowing she wouldn’t be repeating that either, Rowzee waved him off and went inside to check her phone. There turned out to be two texts waiting: the first, from her niece Lucie, lit up her world. Would it be possible for you to take care of Teddy when we go to Spain?

  Rowzee didn’t even hesitate. Looking after Teddy the Wheaten Terrier, taking him to the beach for long walks, or around the Burlingford Estate, or even into town to dog-friendly cafés, was one of her greatest pleasures.

  The message saying Yes, yes and yes had already gone before she saw the reminder of her appointment at the doctor’s tomorrow.

  Was she going to be fit enough to take proper care of Teddy? And how was she going to ferry him around if she couldn’t drive her car? He was very boisterous and inquisitive and loved nothing more than to go off exploring or to meet other dogs. What if she had one of her absence attacks while they were out and she ended up losing him? She simply couldn’t bear that to happen, but she’d already said yes now, so how was she going to get out of it without raising suspicion and causing concern?

  It was a blasted nuisance, this tumour. If she knew how to cut it out herself she jolly well would, but apparently even the experts couldn’t do that. So instead of whingeing to herself about it, she decided that she’d better go and prepare for her appointment with Jilly. It probably wasn’t going to be easy convincing her dear ex-student, now marvellous GP, that all she wanted from here on was something to help ease the symptoms for a while, so she could get done everything that needed to be done while she still had the marbles to do it.

  ‘So, how much do you believe in the friend?’ Helen Hall was asking Andee as their pre-lunch drinks were served.

  Andee shook her head slowly as she went back over her conversation with Charles, trying to fathom where her instincts had been then, and where they were now.

  She and Helen were seated at a window table of the grandly named Palme d’Or restaurant, newly opened on the first floor of the Kesterly Royal Hotel overlooking the bay. Since it was lunchtime, and the day was hot, tempting everyone on to the beach, it was less crowded than it might have been, but there were still several people around that both women knew. Helen, a petite, pale-skinned woman in her late forties with a shock of dark red hair and shrewd green eyes, was one of the town’s more prominent lawyers so was particularly well known. She was also a good friend of Andee’s and, in a sense, her employer, since she’d lately taken Andee up on an offer to help out with cases that should have been qualifying for legal aid, but thanks to all the cutbacks weren’t.

  ‘It’s hard to imagine Charles doing anything that he could be blackmailed for,’ Andee said, once the waiter had gone, ‘which sounds naïve, of course, but you know him as well as I do. How easy would you find it to cast him in the role of a villain?’

  Sipping a cranberry soda, Helen said, ‘He doesn’t have to be a villain to be blackmailed. It can happen for all sorts of reasons, as you well know. Oh dear, don’t turn around now, but I’m afraid Martin’s just walked in.’

  Feeling her insides knot, Andee kept her eyes on Helen. ‘Is he alone?’ she asked, praying the children weren’t with him, or his mother, whom she adored, but wouldn’t want to meet in a situation like this.

  ‘As far as I can tell he is. Ah, there he goes, working the tables in typical Martin fashion. Is there anyone in this town he doesn’t know?’

  Since the question didn’t require an answer, Andee picked up her own cranberry soda and took a sip. She wondered how many people he’d told that she’d moved out, and guessed, or at least hoped, that he hadn’t gone public yet, in the hope that she might change her mind.

  ‘So how are things there?’ Helen asked quietly.

  Andee inhaled deeply. ‘Don’t ask,’ she murmured.

  Helen’s eyebrows rose. ‘That bad, huh? How are the children taking it?’

  ‘Not well. They’re not communicating with me much at the moment.’

  Sighing, and speaking from experience, Helen said, ‘Breaking up is hell, that’s for sure.’

  With a half-smile, Andee said, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not feeling as sorry for myself as I seem to be sounding. I’m just frustrated by how in limbo I feel. It’s like I need to make some decisions, to get a sense of moving on with my life . . .’

  ‘Hang on, it’s only been two weeks since you took one of the biggest decisions of your life, so give yourself a break. Take a breath, let things happen to you for a while, instead of trying to force yourself into some sort of plan that hasn’t even got on to the drawing board yet.’

  Andee smiled. How good it was to have a friend to confide in, especially one so rational and supportive. ‘I know you’re right,’ she said, ‘but I can hardly believe I took this step without having at least some idea of what I want to do next.’

  ‘That very step was what you wanted to do next. You had to free yourself from your marriage in order to find out what your options might be. Or that’s how you put it to me before you left. OK, brace yourself, he’s coming over.’

  Wishing herself a thousand miles away, Andee turned to greet Martin, and found herself feeling both sad and annoyed about how cheerful he was pretending to be. Or perhaps it wasn’t a pretence. Perhaps he’d discovered that he didn’t want to be married any more either.

  She could always hope.

  ‘So how’s my darling wife today?’ he chirruped, stooping to kiss her cheek in a brittle, almost aggressive way. ‘Looking as lovely as ever, I see. Helen, always a pleasure to see you, but I hope you’re no
t trying to talk my wife into joining the gay divorcee club.’

  ‘Martin, for God’s sake,’ Andee muttered, hoping no one had heard.

  Helen said, ‘Long time no see, Martin. How are you?’

  Apart from bitter, angry and humiliated, were the words that shot to Andee’s mind.

  ‘Just great,’ Martin declared with a slick, self-satisfied grin. ‘A lot of projects on the go, so busy, busy, busy. And how are you when you’re not defending the town’s lowlife?’

  Tensing with fury, Andee was about to respond when Helen put up a steadying hand. ‘No point rising to it,’ she cautioned, as though Martin were no longer there. ‘It’s really not worth it.’

  Laughing, Martin said, ‘One to you, Helen. So, can I send some drinks over for you girls?’

  Wanting to call him a patronising bastard, Andee said, ‘We’re fine thank you.’

  ‘And I guess you’re not inviting me to join you?’

  ‘I presume,’ Andee retorted, ‘you’re here because you’re already meeting someone, so please stop this and go away.’

  Putting a hand on her shoulder, he gave it an unpleasantly hard squeeze. ‘Anything you say, my darling. Just don’t let her pay the tab,’ he warned Helen, ‘she can’t afford it,’ and before either of them could respond he went off to his own table where a suited businessman was already waiting.

  Helen took a breath, waited for Andee to do the same, and said, ‘I don’t remember him being so crass.’

  ‘He isn’t usually,’ Andee replied, still furious, but determined not to let it spoil their lunch. ‘Shall we just try to forget he’s here and go back to where we were before he came in?’

  ‘Closing the gap as if he never was. I’m all for that. So, I believe we were talking about Charles.’

  ‘We were. So what am I to conclude about the friend?’

  Helen was thoughtful as she sat back in her chair. ‘Well, given who Charles is, the head of a financial institution, ex-MP with friends in very high places, there’s a good chance the friend could be real.’