The Concealers

by Janet Pywell

  ‘And where would you go?’ Gunter laughs.

  ‘I’ll find somewhere – and don’t fool yourself. I’ll find someone who will love me properly.’

  ‘Like Jim?’ Gunter teases.

  ‘Jim?’ repeats Mike.

  ‘He’s got a crush on Roma – that’s his excuse to film us all – so that he can secretly spy on my wife. Rather like you, Mike. You’d have a go at her, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘You’re disgusting,’ Roma says, and I hear her standing up. ‘You’re drunk.’

  A waft of cigar smoke drifts toward me. I swallow a cough before dashing through the doorway and into the darkness of the castle stairwell. I’m dashing down the flights of stone steps when suddenly a hand grabs my wrist, and Wilhelm pulls me violently against my will, into the vast space of the small hall.

  Chapter 12

  ‘And when a woman’s will is as strong as the man’s who wants to govern her, half her strength must be concealment.’

  George Eliot

  Wilhelm holds both my wrists together. His face is close to mine as he kicks the door closed behind us and pushes me against the wall. His breath is rank; stale alcohol and garlic.

  ‘What were you doing up on the battlements?’

  ‘Nothing.’ I pull from his grip.

  ‘You were listening to their conversation? You’re spying on us, aren’t you? That’s why you came down to the dungeon.’ He throws me back against the wall, but I slip and fall against the old tapestry. I’m rubbing my wrists when he asks, ‘Well? What were you doing up there?’

  ‘I took coffee to your brother.’

  ‘A likely story.’

  I stare at him. ‘Then go and check. Go and ask them.’

  ‘You also took coffee to Freya, are you the new coffee maid?’ He laughs.

  ‘A lot of the staff have gone home. I’m helping.’

  He leans forward. His breath rushes at me when he says, ‘You were eavesdropping. I saw you. Why?’

  I sigh dramatically. ‘Look, I’m exhausted. Gunter asked me to take him up a coffee to the battlements. It’s a beautiful evening, and I haven’t been out of the kitchen for a—’

  ‘You’re a liar. You were in the library with Freya.’

  ‘Because,’ I say with exaggerated patience. ‘I was looking for Gunter.’

  He leans closer, and I step back.

  ‘You’re a liar.’

  ‘It’s always been my experience that when someone accuses you of something – it’s because it’s their own weakness.’

  ‘You’re a bitch.’

  ‘And you spy on people using the secret passageways, only you’re not even good at that, we heard you.’

  ‘Are you a lesbian too?’ he taunts.

  ‘It’s none of your business.’ I smile.

  ‘Freya doesn’t like men.’

  ‘Freya does like men; she just doesn’t want to sleep with them all.’

  He laughs loudly. ‘She’s a dyke.’

  I turn to walk away, but he grabs my shoulder and spins me around. ‘Don’t turn your back on me. I’m talking to you.’

  ‘It’s been a long day, and I’m up again early tomorrow.’

  ‘Do you want to have sex?’

  I laugh with surprise. ‘No, thanks.’

  He pulls at his belt. ‘I’ve got something here …’

  ‘Save it for Chloe, I’m sure she can’t resist your charms, besides, where is she?’ I ask to distract him.

  He’s unbuttoning his fly, but he’s still drunk, and his fingers can’t coordinate. He frowns. Then suddenly, he reaches out and grabs my arm. ‘Help me.’ His grip is tight. He places my hand on his cock.

  I twist quickly, turn and elbow him in the ribs, then I take a few steps back and sidekick him in the lower stomach.

  He doubles over.

  Taking up my kickboxing stance, I double-punch him in the face, spin around and land him a kick on the back of his calf.

  He slumps to the floor.

  I walk out and close the door behind me, trying to ignore my racing heart.

  * * *

  Julie is in the kitchen, humming to herself when I walk in. She looks weary.

  ‘You took your time, Ronda. Is everything alright?’

  ‘I got delayed.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mac said the family are all drunk and angry.’

  ‘I think he’s right. Where is he?’

  ‘Trying to keep an eye on them all without upsetting them. He’s frightened they might make a mess or ruin something in the castle, and they’re all paranoid about being watched.’

  ‘Roll on tomorrow afternoon,’ I grin. ‘Right, let’s have some supper, shall we?’

  I spend a few minutes looking in the fridge and the pantry before reappearing with smoked salmon, langoustines, guacamole, various cheeses and fresh rolls. I’ve just placed the food on the table when Hugo walks in. He grins at the array of food in appreciation.

  ‘You can only eat with us if you provide us with a bottle of something delicious.’

  ‘With alcohol content,’ Julie adds.

  Hugo returns a few minutes later with a chilled bottle of Chardonnay. ‘Am I accepted into the girly kitchen club?’

  ‘I’ll have to ask my colleague. Julie, is Hugo allowed to join us?’

  She grins at our pantomime. ‘Of course, now that he’s brought refreshments.’

  Hugo stands behind us and pours the wine professionally. ‘Would madam like to sample the wine?’

  ‘No!’ Julie and I cry out in unison.

  ‘Just pour it out,’ she adds, ‘quickly.’

  ‘That’s been a day,’ I say, sipping the wine with appreciation. ‘We’ll all sleep well tonight.’

  ‘So long as Jim isn’t prowling around outside again like he did last night.’ Julie takes a langoustine. ‘Doesn’t that man sleep at all?’

  ‘I think a lot of them will be up all night.’ Hugo helps himself to smoked salmon and guacamole. ‘Herr Schiltz’s resignation seems to have sent them into a panic. Mike is on the terrace trying to get him to change his mind – but he’s resolute.’

  ‘An unmitigated disaster,’ I say, savouring the wine on my tongue. ‘For a birthday weekend.’

  ‘Do you think it’s deliberate?’ asks Hugo.

  ‘Why would he ruin his wife’s birthday?’ Julie asks.

  I think of the conversation with Freya, and if it’s true what she said that Louisa is staying with her husband because she has to, then maybe he knows this. But perhaps deep down, he loves her.

  ‘I think he genuinely wants her to have a happy birthday.’ I think of the diamond ring hidden in the birthday cake.

  ‘I don’t think he’s the sort of man to consider anyone,’ says Julie. ‘He seems to do what he wants, whenever he wants to, just like his sons.’

  ‘Where’s Jack?’ I ask.

  It’s Julie who replies. ‘I was out having a cigarette I saw him walking around the grounds with Chloe.’

  ‘Wilhelm got annoyed with Jack, and he started drinking shots, challenging Gunter and Freya …’ Hugo’s sentence drifts, and his face darkens. I turn around to follow his gaze and look over my shoulder.

  Jim’s body fills the doorway.

  ‘Have you got any ice?’

  Hugo stands up quickly. ‘An ice bucket? Of course.’

  ‘Not a bucket, I just want ice.’ Jim stares at the feast on the table. ‘Someone has beaten the shit out of Wilhelm. It’s to take the bruising out of his cheek.’

  I don’t say a word. I concentrate on the shell of the langoustines, hoping my face won’t give me away, wondering if Wilhelm will admit to being hit by a woman.

  ‘What happened?’ Julie asks.

  ‘Someone must have got sick of his smart mouth,’ Jim replies. ‘But they won’t get away with it. They’re like a clan, this family, if you hurt one, you hurt them all – once they find out who did it, then there will be a price to pay.’

>   My heart is thumping rapidly. I don’t look up.

  ‘It’s probably one of the family members,’ Hugo replies, passing Jim a bowl of ice and a clean tea towel. ‘No one else would have a motive for that kind of behaviour, unless of course…’ he pauses. ‘Wilhelm provoked someone.’

  Jim takes the ice and leaves without replying.

  * * *

  By the time I make my way back to my room in the converted stables, I’m more than weary. It’s been a long day. Inside my room, it feels different. I look around, check the small wardrobe, my overnight bag and the bathroom but all seems untouched. I look around the walls, paranoia taking hold of me, wondering if Jim has planted a camera in my room, but I find nothing.

  Satisfied with my investigation, I shower quickly and then lie on my bed, and check my mobile messages. There are three from Tina with a couple of photos of Molly. I smile and spend a while looking at their silly faces. In one image, they both have their tongues hanging out, and I laugh aloud.

  I reach for the second phone hidden in my weekend bag, the phone Inspector Joachin gave me, and there’s one message waiting for me.

  You’ve done a great job today. Thank you. We are so close to the information we need. There’s just one more favour I have to ask you to do. Message me when you can. It doesn’t matter what time it is.

  I sigh.

  One more favour; I want to go home. I want to be in London.

  I type slowly, my eyes closing.

  Strange family. Angry and mostly drunk. Herr Schiltz has resigned from the board, and this has tipped them over the edge. They all have their issues. Mrs S liked the ring!!

  I pause. There’s a lot of information to write.

  Herr S is closing the USA office. Gunter and Roma have to relocate to London, rumour has it Gunter must work with Jack, but they hate each other. Freya said that Herr S knows who killed his first wife. Jim is spying on everyone. What do you want me to do?

  Inspector Joachin replies right away.

  There’s a package taped under your bed. Please can you put it beside Herr Schiltz’s breakfast plate in the morning – without getting caught!

  There’s a package under my bed.

  Who’s been in my room?

  I’m so tired I almost roll onto the floor, and just as Inspector Joachin described there’s a brown padded envelope taped to the springs under my bed. It’s the size of an envelope that would hold a hardback book. I decide to leave it there.

  I turn off the light, and I’m so tired, I fall asleep immediately.

  * * *

  I wake early and with a start. Inspector Joachin’s phone is still on the duvet beside me, and my own phone is on the small table. I check them both – no new messages.

  I read Inspector Joachin’s message from last night again, and I remember how I’d been too tired to react to his last favour. I delete the messages.

  I pull back the duvet and kneel on the floor. The package is held by thick masking tape to the bed frame springs.

  The padded envelope is shaped like a book. I touch it like an excited child would maul a present on Christmas Eve, but I feel suddenly uneasy. It isn’t a book.

  I shove it under the duvet; then I pull on my shorts, t-shirt and my running shoes. I make an effort with a few stretches then when I open the door, the first glimpse of dawn takes my breath away.

  It’s beautiful; golden light shines on the tips of the firs along the riverbank, and the birdsong is as loud as an opera. It’s simply stunning.

  I run for forty minutes, and by the time I return to my room, my body is damp with perspiration. I shower and tie a red, cream and golden bandana around my wet hair. I pull on clean chef whites and shove Inspector Joachin’s package into the deep pocket, wondering how I can place this on the dining table without Jim or one of his many cameras noticing me.

  * * *

  It’s five-thirty and Bobby the blackbird is chirping happily on the fence, but all is quiet in the castle.

  There are a few dirty glasses in the sink, and the kettle is warm. I walk through to the Grand Hall where the long dining table has been set formally for brunch at ten o’clock.

  The white linen tablecloth, gold-plated candelabras, and flower vases with freshly cut stocks, sunflowers and irises look resplendent in the early morning rays shining through the windows. The terrace doors are closed, so I walk around the table as if checking the place settings, rearranging a spoon, jug or fork, leaning over the table, knowing I’m about to take a considerable risk.

  If Jim’s cameras are trained on the table then I will be caught, but what alternative do I have?

  I lean forward, stretching with my left hand to rearrange a yellow tulip while at the same time pulling the package with my right hand from my pocket. I slip the packet between the folds of the napkin.

  It’s over in a second.

  I carry on walking around the table, one by one, to all the place settings and then I stand back and look at the table with a professional eye. It looks perfect. I turn my attention to the table against the wall. It’s going to be a good day. Brunch. Champagne. Departure.

  I’ll make sure there’s some food for later for the staff and me, or I’ll pop into the local village pub this evening after they’ve all gone home.

  I’m just pouring myself a coffee in the kitchen when Hugo and Mac arrive together. They seem to get on well, and they’re sharing a joke, and I can’t help but notice the difference between them. Although they’re of a similar age, Mac is broad and rugged, whereby Hugo is slim but also muscular. In a contest, I’m not sure who would win.

  ‘Ah, coffee.’ Hugo smiles appreciatively.

  ‘Morning.’ I pour Hugo a mug. ‘Mac, coffee?’

  ‘I had one this morning already. Thanks.’

  ‘You were up early.’

  ‘Every morning.’ He grins. ‘I saw you jogging. You’re very fit.’

  Hugo looks surprised. ‘Ronda jogging?’ He turns to me. ‘I thought you were joking when you said you went out early.’

  ‘Thank you, Mac, my secret is out.’ I poke out my tongue at Hugo. ‘I have to keep fit for my kickboxing.’

  Mac laughs. ‘Was it you who kicked the stuffing out of Wilhelm last night?’

  ‘Me? As if.’

  ‘He wouldn’t tell anyone. Jim was really annoyed. I had a feeling he was more embarrassed than hurt.’ Mac’s laugh is a deep rumble.

  ‘What happened?’ asks Hugo.

  I don’t reply, but I can’t hide my smile of satisfaction.

  ‘I think it had something to do with Freya, did it?’ Mac guesses.

  ‘Was it when you took the coffee upstairs?’ Hugo looks concerned. ‘Did Wilhelm hurt you?’

  I shake my head. ‘He was obnoxious and awful to Freya, so I left them alone, but after I took up the second coffee to Gunter on the terrace, he cornered me in the small hall. He said he wanted to talk, but he was drunk and vile.’

  ‘So, you kicked him?’ Hugo’s face is a picture of incredulous admiration.

  ‘He held me by the wrists. Look!’ I pull up the sleeves of my whites and show them the bruising on my skin.

  Both Mac and Hugo lean closely to look.

  ‘That’s not right.’ Mac frowns. ‘I’ll tell—’

  ‘No, please don’t. It’s best to say nothing. They’re leaving at two o’clock and then it will all be over.’

  ‘What time are you going?’ Hugo asks.

  ‘I’m staying until tomorrow morning. And you?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m taking the train tonight.’

  The back door opens, and we all turn.

  Julie appears, smiling. ‘You’ll never guess what’s just happened?’

  Chapter 13

  ‘There is never vulgarity in a whole truth, however commonplace. It may be unimportant or painful. It cannot be vulgar. Vulgarity is only in concealment of truth, or in affectation.’

  John Ruskin

  ‘It’s a bit embarrassing, really,’ Julie says. ‘I probably
shouldn’t say anything.’

  ‘You have to tell us now,’ I say.

  ‘I’ve just seen Paula and Freya walking across the lawn toward the river. It looks like they’re going for an early morning swim.’

  ‘So, what’s wrong with that?’ Mac asks.

  ‘They were holding hands,’ Julie giggles. ‘Who would have thought that amongst these arrogant and obnoxious guests, love would thrive?’

  She reaches for her apron.

  ‘There’ll be some hangovers this morning, I’d imagine,’ Mac says, hovering near Julie. I can see he’s attracted to her. ‘Some of them were still awake at three o’clock – drinking, up on the battlements. I brought some of the glasses down.’ He nods at the sink.

  ‘Thanks, Mac.’ Julie beams at him.

  ‘I’ll have a quick wander around and see if there are any more glasses or food platters. It looked as if they ate the sandwiches I left out,’ I say.

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Hugo places his mug on the counter and follows me outside, and whispers, ‘We can leave the lovers to it.’

  ‘Mac and Julie, do you think?’

  ‘He’s besotted with her.’

  ‘You’re such a gossip, Hugo.’

  ‘I’m just interested.’ We stop to survey the table in the Grand Hall. Hugo stands with his hands on his hips. ‘It looks amazing.’

  I smile. ‘I think Mac did the flowers this morning.’

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘Let’s go to the library and then up to the small hall,’ I suggest, ‘we can access the battlements that way, rather than through the towers and past the bedrooms. I’m sure most of the guests are still sleeping.’ I want to see the spectacular sunrise, but I can’t tell him that.

  Hugo checks his watch.

  ‘Six-thirty, the cleaners will be here shortly.’

  We scan the library with the majestically book-lined walls, rich paintings, – not all originals – and ornaments and sculptures. We pick up a dirty ashtray, an empty brandy bottle and two glasses.