by Janet Pywell
I’d adopted James’s mother as my own, and I couldn’t let her down. I couldn’t go to the police. So, although we both knew what James had done was wrong, we had to wait for him to do the right thing, He’d promised us both he would. Six months later, I’m still waiting for the first payment and I’m still bankrupt. Silly Ronda George. I can hear my father’s voice, ‘You can’t handle money. You’re useless, Ronda. You’ll never be rich. You have to join the army.’
I look at the blank screen in my hand. Joachin hasn’t replied so I toss the phone on the bed and close my eyes, feeling suddenly very, very weary – and very, very sad.
Chapter 9
‘It is a great act of cleverness to be able to conceal one’s being clever.’
Francois de La Rochefoucauld
A soft tapping on the door wakes me. I leap off the bed.
‘I thought you’d overslept,’ Julie says. ‘Mrs Long’s had a break, but she’s due back in twenty minutes.’
‘Wait for me?’ I ask. I throw on a clean white tunic and tie a yellow and brown bandana over my hair.
‘That looks lovely on you.’
‘Thank you.’ We are walking back to the kitchen. ‘Has anything happened this afternoon?’
‘Mac seems very upset, but he’s not saying much.’
‘He didn’t say anything about the others arriving back early?’
Julie shakes her head. ‘No, but he seems quite distraught. Perhaps you could speak to him?’
Inside the kitchen, Mac is eating a sandwich taken from one of the picnic hampers lying open beside him on the table.
I pat him companionably on the shoulder. ’Do you want some shortcake?’
He shakes his head.
‘Tea?’
He nods, and he remains silent while I make one for us all.
‘Want to come outside, and we can drink it on the bench together?’
He glances at Julie, and she smiles encouragingly. ‘That’s a good idea. That will give me some space. I need to crack on.’
Reluctantly, Mac gets to his feet. He shuffles out of the door behind me, and we sit companionably on the bench at the stone wall.
‘I heard there was a row. Some of the guys came back early. Are you alright?’
‘I’m okay. Well, I hope so.’
‘What do you mean?’
Mac looks uncomfortable. ‘It should never have happened.’
‘No one was hurt, were they?’ I argue.
‘But I’m responsible.’
‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’
‘That’s the thing, Ronda. I don’t know. One minute everyone is in the butts and the guns are firing and the next thing Gunter is on the moor, unprotected, and then, well, I don’t know. He accused Jack of trying to shoot him.’
‘Did he?’
‘How would you know? How would anyone know what they were doing? I haven’t got eyes in the back of my bloody head.’
‘Then that’s what you should tell Mr Schiltz,’ I say with finality.
* * *
The ladies return from their day trip to Loch Ness in a flurry of noise, laughter and general excitement.
Julie helps Mrs Long with the layout for afternoon tea while I go into the pantry, paranoid now about the birthday cake. It hasn’t moved. No one has touched it. The golf ball remains in the same place.
‘Ronda!’
I jump.
Hugo is standing at the door. ‘Want to see something, Ronda?’ he whispers.
‘Like what?’
‘Wow! Is that the birthday cake?’ He looks over my shoulder and ventures further into the pantry. ‘Did you make that?’
‘You know I did. Stop messing with me.’
Hugo grins. ‘You mean, you’re not falling for my French charm?’
‘No.’
‘Umm, well how about, I show you something?’
‘Thanks for the offer but I haven’t time.’
He grins. ‘You wish! Come on, it’ll take ten minutes, tops – and it’s fun! You’ll enjoy it.’
‘What is it?’
‘Come on. Trust me. Where’s your sense of adventure?’
‘Okay, ten minutes. Lay on, Macduff,’ I say.
‘And damned be he who first cries, hold enough!’
‘Okay, Shakespeare – I’m impressed!’
‘You can be my Lady Macbeth.’
‘No thanks, she wasn’t a very nice person, and things didn’t end well for her either.’
I follow him out of the pantry, and he leads me up the back staircase toward the library, but then at the top of the stairs and without any warning, he presses a small hidden lever hidden in the wooden wall panel. There’s a slight clunk as secret door swings open.
‘Surprise!’ he sings quietly. ‘Shush, come on.’
‘Are you making a habit of this?’
He holds out his hand. ‘Come into my parlour, my wee lassie …’
‘I’m not a bloody dog,’ I reply, wondering if I should even trust him.
* * *
‘What if we get caught snooping around?’ I whisper.
‘We won’t. Trust me. They’re upstairs in their bedrooms getting changed. They haven’t come down to the library yet.’
I step into the dark, narrow passageway behind him, and he hands me his mobile to control the beam of the torch. He pulls the door behind us, and we’re trapped like in an Egyptian tomb. I feel claustrophobic. There’s no air, and it’s hot. My palms begin to sweat. Hugo’s mouth is close to my ear.
‘We must be very quiet, or they might hear us scurrying around.’ He moves cautiously and he guides me carefully along a short pathway. I imagine cobwebs and spiders climbing over my face, and I shudder. He stops suddenly and turns off the torch. He leans closer, toward my ear, and my skin tingles.
‘We can see into the library from here, but just in case anyone is in there, I’ll turn off the light now. Are you alright?’
‘Yes.’
There’s a small shaft of light coming into our passageway. Hugo pushes my head toward the spy hole. ‘Look!’
I peer through the slatted gap and into the empty library, remembering last night when I was invited into the library to meet the family. Now, Julie and Mrs Long have laid out cakes and teacups, and they have returned to the kitchen.
‘What are we hiding behind?’ I whisper.
‘Books. Do you remember there are rows of books on shelves? Some of them are real, and others are false. Unless you look really closely, you wouldn’t know the difference.’ He clicks open the secret door into the library. ‘Come on. I’ll show you.’
Just as he steps into the library, the door opens.
‘Quick!’ He pushes me back inside. I almost slip, but he holds me by the waist while he secures the secret door, and I feel his rapid breath on my cheek.
It’s Louisa’s voice we hear first and my body tenses.
‘We can talk in here, Fran.’
‘I’m sorry, Lou, but this is urgent, and we haven’t had a chance to be alone.’
‘I know it is difficult. Come on, sit over here near the window. Do you want a drink, Fran?’
‘Pour us both one, I think you’ll need it,’ Fran says seriously.
Their voices are clear and, like Hugo, I lean forward to peer through the slat of light.
Louisa is still wearing navy cut-offs and the pink shirt she had on this morning. She stands at the bar and pours two large Bombay Sapphire gins. She adds a slice of lime, plenty of ice and the small cans of tonic fizz as she pops the top.
‘God, I need this,’ Fran says. ‘Cheers.’
‘You’re right, Fran. That was a bloody awful day.’
‘Whatever is Wilhelm thinking – marrying that bloody American girl. She’s a pain.’
‘Chloe’s not that bad. In fact, I think she might be good for him.’
Fran turns from the window.
‘But she’ll never be as kind as Roma – how did Gunter manage to marry such a lovely g
irl? I don’t know what she sees in him. She looks positively miserable most of the time. I wish that there was something we could do.’
‘It’s their marriage so we must leave them to get on with it.’
‘She has other options. She could leave him and take the children.’
‘He’d make her life miserable. She’d pay a heavy price.’ Louisa sips her gin.
‘He’s so like his father.’ Fran moves to the sofa.
Louisa doesn’t correct her.
Fran asks, ‘What’s wrong with Freya, she’s always on her phone?’
‘I have no idea. I guess it involves someone she’s fallen in love with again – but you know what she’s like, she’s a secretive little devil.’
‘Let’s sit here, Lou.’
Fran points to a small and uncomfortable sofa where they sit close together, their knees almost touching, and I have to strain to hear their words.
Hugo’s rapid, soft breathing near my ear doesn’t help, so I dig him in the ribs and put my finger to my mouth, conscious that his taller frame is more cramped in this small space than mine.
Fran says, ‘I know that over the years, we’ve never discussed Mike and Friedrich’s business and we both know that they haven’t always seen eye to eye on things, but I’m…worried, Lou.’
‘What about?’
‘Well, I don’t know how much Friedrich tells you—’
‘I never ask him anything.’
‘Well, I don’t ask Mike, either, but he left some papers out at home last week. They were on his desk and I—’
‘We’re you snooping, Fran?’ Louisa giggles.
‘No, no, I just went into his study, and he’d gone to the bathroom, and I put a cup of coffee on his desk, and I was shocked.’
‘Shocked?’ Louisa sips her gin. ‘Why?’
‘Well, you know they’ve started to export lots of things from the Far East, especially from China?’
‘Erm, sort of …’
‘Well, do you know or don’t you?’
‘Friedrich did mention something about it, but I didn’t take much notice. Why?’
‘Well, you know they normally deal with museums and art galleries, shipping paintings and things like that, well—’
‘Get on with it, Fran.’ Louisa drains her gin and stands up. ‘I haven’t got hours, Friedrich expected me upstairs twenty minutes ago. You know what he gets like.’
Fran stands up too. ‘Wait! Lou, look, the thing is, I think they’re importing animals—’
‘Animals?’ Louisa looks surprised. ‘Have you gone nuts?’
‘No, I’m not nuts. And I think it’s illegal. I think they’re transporting animals that are used illegally, in tests, you know, for pharmaceuticals or makeup and things—’
‘Importing into England?’
‘No, into the States – into America.’
‘You can’t be right, Fran. Friedrich would never agree to that. Call him what you like, but he’s not a criminal.’
‘Then why would Mike have all that paperwork for turtles, reptiles and snakes?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Louisa replaces her glass on the table. ‘It’s nothing to do with us. We mustn’t interfere. Let’s go and get changed. We’re all meeting at six.’ She checks her watch. ‘We have less than an hour.’
‘But that’s not all.’ Fran stands her ground, clutching her gin glass. ‘The boys were fighting this morning on the moors. Wilhelm is worried that he’s being ignored in favour of Gunter—’
‘That’s nothing new.’
‘Yes, but your Jack is furious. Presumably, Friedrich is making a big announcement tonight. Jack thinks that he and Freya are being cut out of any inheritance that Friedrich might leave them.’
‘Jack and Freya are my children. They have no claim on Friedrich’s estate, and they know that.’
‘Be honest, Lou, Friedrich has treated your children more favourably than his own boys, and everyone knows it.’
Louisa sighs. ‘There’s nothing I can do about that.’
‘No, you messed up years ago by getting involved with Friedrich in the first place.’
‘Don’t say that. Not now. Not tonight.’
‘Why? It’s true. Poor Iris.’
‘Don’t you DARE!’ Louisa shouts.
I pull away from the screen.
She hisses, ‘Don’t you DARE mention her name. This is my birthday party weekend, and I won’t be reminded of that woman.’
‘I’m sorry, Lou, but you have to open your eyes to see what’s going on. Did you know that Friedrich’s changing his will?’
‘He’s not changing his bloody will,’ Louisa roars. ‘He’s NOT.’ Then more quietly, she adds, ‘He’s explaining everything to everyone tonight. Before dinner.’
‘But why tonight?’
‘Quite simply, my dear Fran, because he wants the truth to come out. The family will have time to assimilate Friedrich’s new plans, none of them will create a fuss as it’s my birthday, and then tomorrow we will all go home. It will be the end of the matter.’
‘I only hope you’re right.’
‘I am right.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘Come on, Fran. Let’s go upstairs and get dressed for dinner. I don’t know about you, but I need a shower.’
After they leave the library and I exhale slowly. It’s hot in the cramped space, and my tunic is sticking to my back.
‘Come on.’ Hugo takes my hand and, using the torch, leads me along the narrow pathway back to the back end staircase. He looks out, peering around the secret panel to check the coast is clear, and only after I’m in the passageway does he close the secret door.
Mrs Long appears in that very moment. ‘Ronda?’
Suddenly, I’m pushed back against the wall and Hugo is leaning over me smiling. To anyone who didn’t know, it might look as if we are kissing.
Hugo says under his breath loud enough for her to hear, ‘Oops, Ronda. It looks like our secret is out.’
I glare at him, but he pecks me on the lips and disappears quickly in the opposite direction, leaving the imprint of his quick kiss firmly on my lips.
I bring my hand to my mouth. I haven’t been kissed since James.
‘Ronda?’
‘Yes, Mrs Long.’
‘I don’t think you have time for this sort of behaviour. The guests are waiting.’
* * *
I say to Dan, ‘Would you come and give me a hand?’
He follows me into the pantry.
‘Are you going to put it on display while they eat dinner?’
‘Yes. Can you make sure no one gets in my way as I carry it through, please?’
I inspect the cake and check the fondant golf ball. The cake is still intact.
‘It looks amazing.’ Dan then adds with a grin. ‘Don’t drop it!’
I lift Louisa’s birthday cake and carry it carefully, not thinking of the wrath that would descend on me if I dropped it. I can imagine Herr Schiltz’s anger. I’d seen my father angry – with my mother – when I was thirteen years old. She had dropped something small, a dish or a plate or something. He’d been furious and he had split her eye open with his fist. I went to help her and she said to me, ‘he doesn’t mean it, he’s a brigadier,’ as if a man in his esteemed position wouldn’t hit a woman.
A few months later, I’d been carrying a large bag of garden waste to the car. We were going to the dump. The bag split and the anger that my father heaped on me in public had been so humiliating. I can still feel the sting on the back of my legs.
It was something I’d never forgotten.
Dan guides me through to the Grand Hall, to the long table against the near wall, away from the heat and the sunshine. I place the cake on the display stand then rearrange the linen cloth.
‘That’s amazing, Ronda. I wish you could make me a birthday cake,’ Dan says.
‘When’s your birthday.’
‘November.’
‘That’s a long
way off, but if you email me, I’ll send you one.’
‘Really?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because … well, no one has ever made me a cake before. Mum bought me one a few times from the supermarket but – it’s nothing like this.’
‘I’m guessing you’d like one with footballers on it – Celtic?’
Dan laughs and looks pleased. ‘You’ve got to know me, Ronda. You’re a good listener.’
If only he knew.
* * *
‘Where are the guests now?’ Julie asks.
‘Arguing as usual.’ Hugo appears fed up, so I smile at him.
‘Really, what about?’ I wipe my hands and look at him.
‘They’re still in the library, having tea,’ he whispers. ‘Presumably, Herr Schiltz has some announcement he wants to make, and he wanted to get it over with before the evening started and before Mrs Schiltz’s actual birthday celebration tonight.’
‘What’s he announcing?’
Mrs Long walks into the kitchen and appears flustered. She stops and stares at me chatting to Hugo, and he walks away.
Mac comes in through the back door.
I ask him, ‘Have the men patched up the quarrel they had at the grouse shoot?’
Mac frowns. ‘They’re not men. They’re boys.’
‘Did they really try to kill each other?’ Julie asks.
Mac shrugs. ‘Who knows, but they might after the announcement tonight.’
‘Why?’ Julie asks.
‘Presumably, Friedrich Schiltz is stepping down from the company, but he wants Gunter to take over with Jack under his wing.’
‘Jack is his stepson?’ asks Julie.
‘Yes.’
‘What about Wilhelm?’ I ask.
‘That’s the problem.’ Mac rubs his cheek. ‘I think that Wilhelm is working in America. Herr Schiltz wants to close down some of the operations they have over there, you know, minimise the business. He wants more control in Europe so he’s favouring his eldest son and stepson who live here.’
‘Wilhelm could move back to Europe?’
‘He won’t. I think he hates his family – and more than anything – he hates his stepmother.’
