Home through the Dark

by Anthea Fraser

  “I think Stephen was all along. I’m not sure why, but after a while there were phone calls and doorbells ringing in the middle of the night and someone always watching me from a seat in the park.”

  He stared at me incredulously. “And you still went on with it? Were you out of your mind? Why in God’s name didn’t you come to me before?” And then, without waiting for a reply, he added sharply, “No one actually tried to harm you physically, did they?”

  “No, the worst time was probably when someone climbed up on my balcony one night. I think it was Stephen.”

  “What happened?”

  “Marcus went after him.”

  He moved fractionally. “Ah yes, Marcus. He was – with you?”

  “Actually I was with him. I’d gone for dinner at his flat. He – happened to look out of the window and saw the figure.”

  “I see. Then I suppose I have to be grateful to him. How much does he know about it?”

  “Nothing; I didn’t dare tell him.”

  Although I didn’t turn my head, I knew Carl was watching me intently, but all he said, after a pause, was, “I suppose I’d better tell you my side of it, though you know most of it from what Suzanne Grey told you. The first I knew was when Madame rang me in great distress a few days after – after you’d left and asked me to go straight round. She told me everything then, that the change we’d all noticed in her a few months previously had been caused not by her son’s death but by his sudden and unwelcome arrival in London.

  I gather life had become a nightmare for her. Not only was she terrified of being discovered harbouring a criminal, and an illegal entrant at that, but from what she said I think he used to knock her about a bit to try to get more money out of her. She daren’t invite anyone to the house and she was frightened every time the doorbell rang. Added to all this, he would regularly disappear for days at a time. She never knew where he went but she was convinced he had established contact with some dope ring and was back in the old routine. He’d always been very vague about how he managed to get into this country, and she was only able to fill in the gaps when Suzanne went to see her. By that time she was nearly out of her mind with worry because the police had phoned to report finding the Fiat, which, of course, was registered in her name. It had apparently been parked without lights on the embankment.”

  “Stephen must have driven it back when he came to post the ransom note. I presume that had a London postmark?”

  “Yes. Anyway, Suzanne’s news about his contact with the theatre was the first real lead, and of course since they’d helped him before, the obvious assumption was that they were helping him again; in other words that they were concealing him at his own request as a means of extortion. It was easy to explain away Suzanne’s ignorance of what had happened. She was so highly strung she could easily have made a slip and given everything away.”

  “So your first visit to Westhampton was purely reconnaissance?”

  “Exactly, and in the meantime we had decided to ignore the ransom note. They knew Madame would never go to the police with it, since that would mean exposing Etienne’s presence here. We concluded it was simply a question of letting them pay for his keep instead of Madame, which seemed an admirable arrangement.” He paused. “You can imagine I was somewhat surprised to find you there.”

  “And you tried to warn me to keep away from the theatre.”

  “In rather a clumsy way, yes, though it never occurred to me for a moment that you were in actual danger. And then, when you suddenly came out with Madame’s name – well, I just wasn’t thinking straight at all. I wanted to believe you were in on the plan but I never managed to convince myself and I never mentioned your being there to Madame.”

  “So, what happens next?” I asked after a moment.

  “I suppose we’ll have to get him away from them, though Lord knows what we’ll do with him then. No doubt his poor mother will be lumbered again. One thing’s certain, I’m damned if I’m going to risk my civil liberty or whatever by being an accessory after the fact. Is that the right phrase? It sounds good, anyway. If we go to the police it’ll come out that Madame was sheltering him before the kidnapping though I imagine there’ll be extenuating circumstances.”

  “Perhaps we should leave it to her to decide. We’ll have to tell her, anyway, that I’ve located him.”

  “Yes, but I imagine the best thing would be for us to drive down tomorrow and force a confrontation of some kind. We’ll have to play it by ear when the time comes.” He stood up and took his own glass and mine over to the bar. “Which leaves us free to turn to more personal problems.” I sat unmoving, listening to the splash of the liquid and Carl’s footsteps coming back over the carpet. “You know,” he said conversationally, handing me my glass, “when I saw you just now standing at the door, I thought you’d come to ask for a divorce.” The lengthening silence jarred on my taut nerves. “Do you want one, Ginnie?”

  I looked up and met the force of his eyes. “Do you?” I countered.

  “Like hell.” He sat down carefully, his eyes on the level of the brimming glass. “That Marcus chap, though. I presume he is in love with you?”

  “It’s possible,” I said faintly.

  “He’s obviously much more your type than I am.”

  “Undoubtedly. There’s one snag, though.”

  “Which is?”

  “That I’m fool enough still to love you.”

  He reached out and gripped my hand tightly. “Fool’s right. Ginnie, you know sackcloth and ashes were never my scene, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Leonie. Will that do?”

  I smiled tremulously. “For one who in his time has spoken all the most lyrical love words in the English language, you don’t cut a very romantic figure, my darling.”

  “I do love you, though, in my own selfish, inconsiderate way. One hell of a lot. That’s been borne in on me in no uncertain way these last few weeks. When you went away it was – like an amputation.” He turned to look at me, still gripping my hand. “I want you back, make no mistake about that, but I’m not fool enough to ask you to come back to the kind of life we had before. We wouldn’t stand any more chance of making a go of it than we did last time. I’ve been trying to see a way round the problem and I think I’ve found it.” With his free hand he reached for his glass and drank. I sat unmoving. “Have you read anything about the new art centre they’re building up in the North Riding? It’s to be a fantastic project – theatre, library, art gallery all in one complex. They were looking for people to run it and I put my name forward. I heard the other day I’ve been accepted, but the final decision is up to you.”

  “You mean you’d leave London?”

  “I’d come down from time to time, of course, to act or produce, and we could take a furnished flat for as long as we needed one, but half the trouble has been that I’ve been far too bogged down in the glamour and prestige of life here; you know that better than anyone. We’d be off to a much better start working together on this new challenge – and I do mean together, because I should need your help. So what do you say? Will you come to Yorkshire with me and make it all worthwhile?”

  For the first time I saw in his face the uncertainty, the basic insecurity he had admitted but which I’d never been able to accept. “Yes, darling,” I said softly, “I’ll come.”

  Chapter 14

  I WOKE the next morning to find Carl propped on one elbow looking down on me. “I’m still trying to convince myself that it isn’t all a dream, but since you seem real enough perhaps we’d better think about getting some breakfast.”

  I stretched sleepily. “What time is it?”

  “Just after nine. I’ll wait till half past and then give Madame a ring and let her know we’re coming round.”

  The sun was shining when we left the flat an hour or so later. “I’ve brought a few things just in case I need them,” Carl said, tossing a small grip onto the back seat of the Bentley, “but we should be back tonight if all goes w
ell.” A tiny pinprick appeared in my bubble of happiness. If all goes well. We still had a difficult and perhaps dangerous task ahead of us before we could relax and begin our new life together.

  We collected my own case from the Kingston and Carl paid the bill; I had at least made some use of the room during the long hours of waiting yesterday. Then we drove through the russet and gold of Regent’s Park to Madame Lefevre’s beautiful home. She met us at the door and, despite her anxiety, swept me immediately into a warm embrace. “It is so good to see you again, chérie. Carl has been distrait without you.”

  “Thank you,” I said humbly and followed her into the vast first-floor drawing room overlooking the park. She was a charming woman, rather plump now and in her late sixties but still with the unassailable chic of the true Frenchwoman.

  “Eh bien,” she said, when the pert little maid had brought in a tray of coffee. “Tell me about Etienne.”

  So once again I went through the outlines of the story, of how I had first heard of the kidnapping and how it was through Suzanne that I too had learned of the victim’s identity.

  “I hope you will forgive a foolish old woman her pride,” Madame said ruefully, passing me a delicate bone china cup and saucer. “I could not bring myself to tell even my closest friends of the true position.”

  “Of course we understand,” I said gently.

  “And now of course we must go to his assistance.” Her eyes clouded and I knew achingly that she was preparing, because she would admit of no choice, to go back to a life of uncertainty and intermittent assault with Etienne concealed once more on the premises. And I thought how hard it was to equate the different parts that made up this man: the ruthless drug pusher, Suzanne’s passionate lover, the laughing voice that had spoken to me through the locked door and the heartless, bullying son.

  Carl said quietly, “Will it be possible for us to get into the theatre, Ginnie? Surely it will be locked up, being Sunday?”

  “Yes, they have a day’s break after the last night of a production before they really get under way with rehearsals for the next one. However, the caretaker has a key and he knows me.”

  He glanced at his watch. “What time did you say Rachel takes his meals?”

  “About midday and again at six.”

  “It’s eleven now. We haven’t a hope of being there for his lunch, which means we must wait for the evening meal. I’ve a pair of wire cutters in the boot, so if she hasn’t got the padlock key with her we should still be able to free him quite easily. I’ve a torch as well. I can’t think of anything else we might need.”

  I shivered involuntarily and Carl’s hand closed over mine. “Hang on, darling; it’s nearly over now.”

  Madame said worriedly, “I do not like to think of you putting yourselves in danger for my son. Perhaps after all the police –”

  “No,” I said quickly, “it’s better this way. Try not to worry.”

  She said in a low voice, “If only he would return to France –”

  “We’ll certainly suggest it,” Carl said grimly. “After all this trouble, I feel it’s the least he can do.”

  She shrugged expressively. I leaned forward and replaced my cup and saucer on the tray, and Carl got to his feet. “We might as well be on our way.” He took her small plump hands in his. “Soyez tranquille, madame, tout sera bien.”

  Her lips trembled as she reached up to kiss his cheek. “I shall pray for you,” she said simply.

  Then we were in the car again and following the route I had taken so haphazardly four weeks earlier. There were quite a lot of cars about on this cold, sunny Sunday morning, but the holiday traffic of my earlier journey was past.

  “In a way I’ll be quite sorry to leave Westhampton,” I said reflectively. “I’ve made some good friends there.”

  “Yes, I suppose so. Oh, by the way, they told me at the Kingston there was a telephone call for you this morning, a Mr. Sinclair. He didn’t leave a message. I presume that would be Marcus?”

  “Yes.”

  Carl’s eyes were on the road, narrowed against the sunshine. “Was there ever any point when you felt you might be able to – reciprocate his feelings?”

  “Not really. He said himself it was a pity I was so hung-up on my husband.”

  “Bless you for staying ‘hung-up,’” Carl said quietly, “and don’t grieve too much for Westhampton. From what I hear, Roydstone Park sounds a similar kind of town.”

  “How soon will we be moving?”

  “Not until the spring, and of course Richard is looming in the meantime, but we can go up at weekends and get the feel of the place, perhaps start house-hunting. Once we get settled there I hope to do more television work, too. Yorkshire Television have approached me several times but I’ve been too involved down here to be able to accept anything. Though of course, it’s the theatre up there which I’ll be mainly concerned with. Just think of it, a theatre where we’ll have a more or less free hand! In time we can build up a touring company, too. There’s just no limit to the scope which will open up.”

  “Carl, I’ve been thinking. I’m afraid I’ll have to stay in Westhampton at least for this week. For one thing I’m working at the George and they’re entitled to a week’s notice. They’re very short-handed at the moment. Then there’s the flat. I’ll have to arrange to sublet it or something. Mr. Henry will probably be able to help. And there are so many people I couldn’t possibly miss saying goodbye to.”

  “Far be it from me to try to deflect you from your principles, my love! I might not manage the whole week with you, but I’ll stay as long as I can. Robert Harling is one of the reasons I ought to get back; he’ll be signing in for rehearsals shortly. Let’s hope none of this will reverberate on him. I’d be most loth to see my brand-new Clarence in clink! We’ve not far to go now. Will we be in time for lunch at the George? It would save you having to start cooking the minute we reach the flat.”

  “We should be; they go on serving it till two. This is the spot where Etienne bumped into me, by the way.”

  It was five minutes short of two as we drew up outside the George and hurried inside. Jane raised a hand as we passed the desk. We went straight through to the dining room but neither of us did full justice to the traditional Sunday lunch of roast beef. Now that we were back at the centre of the unresolved business which awaited completion, I was becoming more and more apprehensive of what lay ahead.

  After the meal Carl went with me to Mrs. Baillie’s room to hand in my notice. She expressed conventional regrets, but I was amused to see that she was far more interested in Carl, waiting patiently in the background.

  “By the way, darling,” I said over my shoulder, “Mrs. Baillie would be undyingly grateful if you’d address a meeting of her Townswomen’s Guild.” I smiled into her startled, slightly embarrassed eyes. “And I might as well confess, Mrs. Baillie, that Carl is my husband.”

  “Really?” Her face broke into a delighted smile and her eyes dropped to the ring on my finger which Carl had firmly replaced the night before. “I did realize, of course, that you were married, but I must admit I never for one moment –” She broke off in confusion and we all laughed.

  “I should be delighted to address your meeting, Mrs. Baillie,” Carl said easily, with the smooth charm which had enslaved so many, and we promised to fix a date before we left Westhampton.

  By the time we had stopped the car outside the Beeches, Marcus was standing waiting for us. I went over to him, followed more slowly by Carl.

  “Looking at your face,” Marcus said crisply, “I don’t have to ask how things are. I phoned you at the hotel this morning but of course you weren’t there. I can’t say I was very surprised.”

  “I have a feeling this is really goodbye,” he had said.

  Carl had reached us now, and held out his hand. After a second’s hesitation, Marcus took it. “I want to thank you very sincerely for your kindness to Ginnie,” Carl said quietly. “Your support has been a great comfort to her.�
��

  I saw a muscle twitch in Marcus’s temple and held my breath. “I’m glad of that,” he replied after a moment.

  Carl smiled slightly. “And to answer your unspoken comment, I intend to take much better care of her myself in future.”

  Marcus smiled and relaxed a little. “I’m delighted to hear it. Here’s your key, Ginnie. I hope you explained the extreme propriety of our little arrangement, since I need to collect my pyjamas!”

  “Oh, I did. Come in for a moment, anyway.” The emerald green carpet was back in place, as good as new.

  “I collected it yesterday,” Marcus said, catching my delighted exclamation.

  “Bless you, and you’ve laid it beautifully. We must settle up with you. I bet it was expensive.” I added to Carl, “I left the washing machine on one day and nearly flooded the place!”

  He was looking about him with evident approval. “I haven’t been allowed in here before. It’s most attractive.”

  “Look at this,” I said proudly, opening the drawing-room door. The browns and golds of furniture and brocade lay bathed in the rich light of the afternoon sun.

  “Perfect! We must have a room like this in Yorkshire!” He told Marcus of the proposed move and we all talked together for a few minutes. Then Marcus said a little diffidently,

  “There’s one thing I have to ask. Is all the – danger over now?”

  Carl glanced across at me. “Not quite.”

  “Is there anything at all I can do?”

  “I think we at least owe him a full explanation, don’t you, Ginnie?” I nodded and as briefly as possible Carl sketched in the details. Marcus of course already knew of the Picardy Hotel, the watchers in the park and the theatre connection. I saw him nod slowly as the last points fell neatly into place.

  “I’d better go along with you this evening,” he said quietly.

  Carl hesitated. “We’ve no right to expect that.”

  “You didn’t expect it. Of course, the best thing would be for Ginnie to remain safely here, but I know she’d never agree to that.”