The Concealers

by Janet Pywell

  ‘Right.’ Jim begins to climb the stairs again, and I back away, knowing I’ll never be able to hide in Herr Schiltz’s bedroom.

  Chapter 8

  ‘Look at the means which a man employs, consider his motives, observe his pleasures. A man simply cannot conceal himself!’

  Confucius

  A hand pulls me from behind. Someone grabs my arm, and I spin around. Hugo has a finger to his lips.

  ‘Come on,’ he whispers.

  I need no more encouragement.

  He pushes me ahead of him, and I’m suddenly inside a dark and confined space, a hidden laundry cupboard. He presses up behind me, his body close against mine, and he pulls the door quickly back into place. His mouth is beside my ear.

  ‘Shush, don’t move.’

  I’m not sure whose heart is beating the fastest. His arms are around my waist, and the muscles of his taut body are comforting and reassuring. After the adrenalin rush of almost being caught, my body begins to relax and sink back against his. The footsteps stop right outside the door. My body stiffens again.

  I hold my breath, expecting the door to be pulled open. There’s a scuffle in the master bedroom and Jim curses loudly, then his footsteps are outside again. He must be only a few feet from us, and I hunch my shoulders, trying to make myself invisible. When I hear Jim’s heavy footsteps pounding down the stone steps again, my body relaxes.

  ‘Right, come on, this way,’ Hugo whispers. He pushes me gently out of the cupboard, and instead of going downstairs, he pulls me in the opposite direction, around the corner. Here there is a smaller, much narrower flight of stairs.

  ‘Watch your step,’ he cautions me, as I climb. ‘There’s a small door at the top. Push it. It’s easy.’

  I push, and suddenly I’m blinded by natural sunlight and fresh air. I gulp heavily, breathing deeply before I realise that we’re on the battlements, hidden behind the tower with the slate roof.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ I lean on the parapet and breathe in large quantities of air, conscious of Hugo beside me, waiting patiently.

  ‘What happened?’ he asks. ‘Why were you in Herr Schiltz’s bedroom?’

  I regard him carefully.

  ‘How did you know about the hidden laundry room?’

  ‘It’s where the lord of the manor could hide in case there was an attack on the castle.’

  ‘How did you find it?’ I insist.

  ‘It’s what I do.’ I must look puzzled because Hugo explains, ‘I’ve worked in so many castles, Ronda. They’re my favourite places. There are always secret passageways, hidden tunnels, or sinister dungeons. I make a point of locating them all within the first two hours of my arrival.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  Hugo shrugs and leans on the wall beside me, overlooking the manicured lawn and rose garden to the chestnut wood and fir trees and toward the river beyond.

  ‘I guess it makes me feel safe. I know where I am and if there’s a fire or a problem, then I can always get out.’

  ‘Umm, that makes sense.’

  ‘Now, what about you, Ronda? Why are you up here snooping around and not in the kitchen?’

  ‘I got lost.’

  ‘Nice try, Ronda but if you don’t tell me the truth, I guess I’ll have to report you.’

  I gaze at him. I know he’s serious.

  ‘I was having a wander around. There’s no law against that.’

  ‘Look, I know you didn’t want to be caught, so you must be up to something.’

  ‘Alright, alright. I’ll tell you. I’m a kleptomaniac,’ I confess.

  He grins. ‘And, I’m anything but a fool. Level with me, Ronda, or I will take you straight down to Paula and Jim where they’re meeting Herr Schiltz in the library.’

  I sigh. ‘Okay, but you must promise that this will stay between us and you won’t tell anyone else.’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘Okay, well, it’s like this …’

  * * *

  ‘The thing is, Herr Schiltz is exactly like my father,’ I say quietly, focusing on the horizon and enjoying the morning sun on my back. ‘They even have the same old Hollywood moustache. He’s arrogant, rude, obnoxious and he’s obviously a narcissist. And, when I met him in London, I didn’t want to take this job, but I had to. I need the money.’ I hold up my hand. ‘Please don’t ask why. That’s another story.’

  The intensity of Hugo’s gaze disconcerts me.

  I continue, ‘I always wanted to be a chef but my father insisted I went to Sandhurst. He was a bully. My mother had just died of cancer, and I was broken-hearted. I couldn’t stand up to him, but after he died, I was liberated. It’s as simple at that, Hugo. I began working as an apprentice in some of the top restaurants in London. I applied for Masterchef and began my new career. But then last week, I met Herr Schiltz and, quite honestly, I was terrified. So, I came to his room this morning, hoping to speak to him alone, to ask him if he’d like to see the birthday cake I made for his wife.’

  Hugo shifts position; he folds his arms, but his eyes don’t leave mine.

  ‘I want, no – I need to get his approval so that he wouldn’t humiliate me later, in front of everyone, if he didn’t like it.’

  ‘So why couldn’t you tell Jim that?’

  I shrug. ‘Because he frightens me too, but in a different way.’

  ‘I can understand that. Jim’s no more of a chauffeur than I am. He’s a bodyguard. I’m sure of it.’

  I nod, and I relax, breathing more easily.

  ‘So, why was Herr Schiltz holding a knife at you this morning in the kitchen?’

  ‘I’m sorry you saw that.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I told you, Hugo. He’s a narcissist, and he threatened me. He said that if his wife wasn’t happy with the birthday cake then he would be furious.’

  ‘But he held a knife at you.’ Hugo squares his shoulders. ‘That’s not right, Ronda.’

  ‘I don’t want to make a fuss, Hugo. I want to get through this weekend without any incidents, get paid, and go home. But in the meantime, I don’t want to be humiliated. You saw what he was like in the library with me – in front of everyone. Then I get dismissed like I’m a servant, so I want to make sure he likes the cake. I don’t want to be humiliated.’

  Hugo frowns. ‘I don’t like the man.’

  ‘Me neither. But you must be used to him and his family, haven’t you worked for them before?’

  ‘He often employs me, through Paula, of course. He hardly ever speaks to me directly unless he’s with someone he wants to impress and then he talks about the wines or champagnes as if he’s an expert. Then he gets me to buy expensive wine for him …’

  ‘Then, you know him well?’

  ‘No, hardly at all. He’s not the sort of man you will ever know.’

  ‘And what about the others?’

  Hugo tilts his head and smiles. ‘Ronda, for a chef, you’re asking an awful lot of questions.’

  That’s when we hear the roar of an engine coming up the driveway, the squeal of brakes and tyres scattering gravel in all directions. There are angry voices, a car door slams and Hugo and I move simultaneously along the turreted battlements to see the action below.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘I don’t know, but we’d better get back downstairs just in case anyone is looking for us.’

  * * *

  We hurry across the battlements, and through the door which leads down to the small hall and the library. We slip down the back stairs, past the pantry and storeroom and dungeon entrance, toward the kitchen.

  ‘What’s happened?’ asks Hugo as we enter the kitchen.

  It’s Dan looking through the door into the Grand Hall who replies, grinning, ‘They’ve fallen out massively.’

  ‘It sounds like Gunter and Jack,’ Julie says.

  Dan adds, ‘Jack reckons Gunter tried to kill him. Wilhelm is trying to stop them from ki
lling each other.’

  ‘Where’s Mac?’ I ask, but no one seems to know.

  ‘They haven’t all come back yet.’ Julie looks concerned.

  ‘We should go out there,’ says Dan.

  Hugo says, ‘Maybe we should go and see if we can help.’

  The voices fade.

  ‘They’ve gone into the garden,’ Dan says.

  Mrs Long pushes between us all. ‘It’s not even lunchtime,’ she moans. ‘I hope they won’t be wanting food. We’ve far too much to do, already. It’s about time you came back, Ronda. You’ve been gone for ages. I’ve had to prepare the haggis all by myself.’

  ‘I’ll add to the flavouring,’ I say. I will not let Mrs Long tell me how long I can be gone from the kitchen. ‘Perhaps you’d like to start on the raspberry cranachan?’ I add.

  Julie smiles. ‘What about me?’

  ‘You’re helping me with the rumbledethumps.’

  Hugo laughs. ‘Are you making up these names?’

  ‘Not at all,’ I say in a mock-serious tone. Rumbledethumps practically originated on the Scottish borders.’

  ‘What’s in it?’ Hugo asks.

  ‘Potato, cabbage and onion. It’s a healthy vegetarian dinner option.’

  I smile, pleased that I’ve seen the papers in Herr Schiltz’s bedroom, and I’ve not been caught, and I managed to get out of a sticky situation with Hugo.

  I say, ‘Now, you’d better go outside into the garden and sort out the fighting warriors. They’ll be working up an appetite.’

  * * *

  When everyone is busy, I slip out of the kitchen. Inside the pantry, I check on the cake. It appears untouched but I look at the fondant carefully for any signs of tampering – I can’t take any chances but that’s when I hear a muffled scream.

  I pause. It’s coming from the basement – the dungeon. Instinctively, without thinking, I take the stone steps carefully down where the air is colder and there are soft thumping sounds. My throat dries and I’m reminded of my military experience.

  Confidence for life.

  The stairs lead me to a tiny passageway at the end of which is an iron door. It isn’t closed and I peer through the gap. It’s a windowless room that looks as if it’s used as a dumping ground for the castle’s unused items; old chairs, painting pots and pans. A mixture of dumped rubbish some might call treasure. A bulb swings from the ceiling.

  I pause, watching the scene. Gunter and Wilhelm are leaning over Jack, who is lying on the floor.

  ‘Get that rope,’ Gunter says. ‘We’ll tie him up and leave him here.’

  ‘What will Papa say?’

  Jack is curled into a foetal position, Gunter kicks him in the kidneys and he groans. ‘He won’t find out.’

  ‘We can send Freya to rescue him.’ Wilhelm laughs. He’s struggling with the rope, trying to loop it through the old iron manacles on the wall. ‘This will scare her.’

  Gunter reaches down and grabs Jack by the neck, places the noose over his head then pushes him close to the wall. Wilhelm tugs on the rope.

  ‘What’s happening?’ I push open the door and stand with my fists at my side.

  ‘Get out!’ Gunter shouts, moving quickly away from Jack.

  ‘Is he alright?’ I ask, nodding at Jack’s motionless body.

  ‘It’s none of your business. Go away!’ Wilhelm growls.

  Jack whimpers.

  ‘Little pussy, crying for help.’ Gunter kicks Jack in the ribs and he groans.

  Wilhelm pulls on the rope to lift Jack up.

  ‘STOP!’ I shout. ‘Leave him alone.’ I move forward defiantly. My hands are shaking, but I’m determined.

  Wilhelm looks uncertain then he drops the rope and Jack falls on the cold floor, unmoving, and lifeless.

  ‘I’ll call your father,’ I say. ‘He’ll know what to do.’

  I turn away, but Wilhelm is quick. He moves with the speed of a panther and he grabs me, knocking me flying against the stone wall. I scream in anger, instinctively, twisting. I duck under his shoulder and bring Wilhelm’s dominant right arm up behind his back, bending and crushing his wrist, pushing his head against the wall.

  Gunter shouts, ‘Leave him alone.’

  ‘He hit me.’

  ‘Let him go!’ Gunter orders.

  ‘Only when you stop kicking Jack.’

  I twist Wilhelm’s wrist, and he squeals.

  Gunter considers his stepbrother lying with his eyes closed on the floor then he swaggers toward me, smelling of alcohol.

  I twist Wilhelm’s arm again. ‘Help me, Gunter,’ he calls.

  ‘I can take you both on if you like. Your father would be very impressed.’

  Gunter squares his shoulders and I get ready for him to jump me, but instead, he turns away and heads for the door, sneering at me as he says, ‘Bitch! Come on, Wil.’ Gunter calls his brother from the steps. ‘Let’s go. I need a drink.’

  I push Wilhelm after him, up the stairs, and he staggers falling and banging his head on the stone step. He glares at me but follows his older brother silently.

  After they’re gone, I move quickly to Jack’s side.

  ‘Are you alright?’

  He opens his eyes. ‘Have they gone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Jack struggles to sit up, holding his ribs.

  ‘What was that all about?’ I ask.

  He doesn’t reply.

  ‘Are you badly hurt?’ I insist.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with you. Stay out of it.’ I see him wince with pain as he stands up.

  ‘You might have broken ribs. You’ll have to rest.’

  ‘It’s none of your business.’ He straightens up, and with a slight limp, he walks up the steps without a backward glance.

  ‘Well, thank you, Ronda,’ I say aloud. ‘Thank you for coming to my aid.’

  My sarcasm echoes around the dungeon and I wonder what might have happened had I not intervened. I pick up the rope, coil it up and place it with some other dusty junk on a table. It’s a dark and depressing room and I wonder what ill-fate some people may have come to in this place and I shiver. I take a deep breath and I retie my bandana, thinking how good that felt to protect myself against Wilhelm. I might have lost my confidence in the kitchen, but my self-defence instincts are still intact.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Paula appears and asks for some lunchtime snacks to be brought to the library. ‘Herr Schiltz would like some homemade shortbread and some salmon sandwiches.’

  ‘Oh, would he?’ Mrs Long grumbles, forgetting her son’s earlier advice about not biting the hand that feeds you. She moans, ‘It’s all in the picnic hampers. They’ll come back half-eaten. It’s such a waste.’

  ‘We have some shortbread I put aside in the pantry, we didn’t use it all in the hampers,’ I say. ‘There’s also fresh salmon you can use. We are about to make lunch for us anyway, so it’s only one extra.’

  ‘He’s paying for the food,’ says Dan who listened to Mac’s advice this morning. ‘He can have what he likes.’

  Outside the open kitchen window, Bobby the blackbird is chirping happily on the fence. Jim walks past, his eyes glancing everywhere, and he sees me looking at him through the open window.

  Suddenly worried, I go to the pantry and check on the birthday cake. I breathe more easily when I see it. It’s still exactly how I left it, with the golf ball on the far side against the wall. Nothing has moved. Nothing has been tampered with, and I rub my head and breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t trust any of the family. Am I getting paranoid?

  * * *

  After a snack in the kitchen with the staff, I go back to my room. I’d love a bath, but there’s only a shower, and although the power of the water isn’t strong, I stand with the water on my back easing the stress and pain in my neck and shoulders.

  It was an early start, and I towel myself dry. Although I’m tired, I practise a few kickboxing moves in the privacy of my room to stretch my aching muscles. Then I lie on th
e bed and reach for the mobile Joachin gave me.

  I type quickly.

  I’ve put the diamond ring inside the cake. Couldn’t get a photo. They’re eating it tonight. It’s safe in the pantry. Ronda.

  I send the message wondering if Joachin will answer immediately and if he does, hoping we can have a conversation and I can tell him how I was almost caught.

  Inspector Joachin texts straight back.

  Well done!

  I think hard, hoping to engage more with him.

  Gunter, Will and Jack have come back early from the grouse hunting. They’re arguing. Jack accused Gunter of trying to kill him. Then Gunter and Wilhelm were beating him up. I had to intervene!!

  I add the exclamation marks for effect.

  Inspector Joachin texts.

  Well done. Ronda.

  Joachin is a man of few words, so I type.

  I was nearly caught in Herr S bedroom but Hugo – the sommelier – saved me and showed me a secret laundry room. Hugo has worked for Herr S before!!

  There’s no reply and feeling frustrated, I type.

  Paula seems to think an announcement will take place tonight and I saw a note in Herr S’s bedroom saying, ‘I hereby tender my resignation’.

  I wait. I keep staring at my phone. Is there anything else I need to tell him?

  I read over all the messages again and focus on the positive.

  Great job, Ronda – thank you.

  I delete the messages. Why am I so needy? So bloody insecure?

  This is James’s fault. I wasn’t like this before. After I won Masterchef and I’d done all the interviews and appeared on TV, I had confidence. I knew who I was and where I was going, but then James arrived. He was like a prince, full of praise and love. He was funny, kind and supportive, and when he needed encouragement in his business, he expected that I’d support him. I didn’t want to see him low, depressed or worried and when I’d agreed to help, he’d been so pleased. He talked about going to Paris, getting engaged and even married. I’d been such a fool. I’d fallen for his lies. I’d waited for him like an idiot while he’d stolen everything from me. And now, I had to wait for him to pay me back. When I’d tracked him down, I went to his mother’s house and told her what happened. She’d cried. She’d pleaded with me. She was old. She loved him, and I’d grown to love her. She’d been kinder to me than my parents – my bullying father and my mother who’d always turned away and pretended nothing was wrong.