Camellia

by Lesley Pearse

  Conrad felt so small and insignificant next to this man but he wasn't quite finished.

  'Almost everything,' he said to Magnus, then looked towards the other three. 'There is one last, very important thing I need to stress. In the six months Mel has worked for me we have become very close. Life has struck her more body blows than most of us could take, but yet she has remained a fine, good person without a trace of bitterness. Right now she is quivering on the edge of a mental breakdown. I want you to bear that in mind, because if one of you should push her over that edge you'll be accountable to me.'

  Sir Miles gave a little snort, which could have been confirmation he agreed or irritation that such a little weed was giving orders. Nick looked taken aback. But Helena's fearful expression was the one which floored him. It confirmed at least part of his suspicions.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  As the car turned into the drive of Oaklands Mel leant forward in the passenger seat, looking eagerly around her. Touched by her obvious delight to be back Magnus slowed right down so she could see everything.

  'There's a badger set over there.' He pointed into the woods to the right of the drive. 'I saw a mother and her babies early one morning back in the summer.'

  Mel smiled happily. It was all just as she remembered seeing it for the first time, three years earlier: the leaves changing to gold, orange and deep russet, a smell of damp earth and the soothing sound of wind rustling the tree tops. Even Magnus was much the same – a few more lines on his face perhaps, and his stroke had left him with a slight limp, but he was as rugged as ever. Even his old tweed jacket had that same woody, country smell she remembered from the day he offered her a job at Oaklands.

  'Sometimes I doubted I'd ever see you, or all this again,' she said with a deep sigh.

  It was the second of October, eight days since Edward took her away from Fulham. She had been kept in hospital when the deep wound in her foot became infected. But she'd been glad to stay there. It gave her body a chance to heal, and time to think things through.

  When Conrad had told her about the meeting at Oaklands, just before he returned to London, she had been stunned by his audacity, but the knowledge she had one true friend on her side soothed some of the pain within her. As Conrad went on to tell her how Nick had traced her life back to try and find her, she was shaken to the core. She had imagined he was still harbouring bitter thoughts about her. The next morning a long and loving letter arrived from him, giving her all the details of his search. He spoke of his deep sorrow about the cruel things he'd said when he made her leave Oaklands and of his hopes that they could start afresh when she was better.

  Mel was now intensely curious about what Helena and Sir Miles had to tell her, but during her stay in hospital it had been enough to have Magnus coming to see her every day. Their reunion had been an emotional one. While she was thrilled to see Magnus had made such a good recovery from his stroke, he was horrified by her scarred face and felt himself to be partially responsible. But with each successive visiting time, the sad parts of the last year were wiped out. Each day she felt both the external and internal scars fading. The mysteries of the past, and what might happen in the future, could wait.

  'Well, here we are.' Magnus halted the car just before the house so she could see the view of the valley. 'I think the weathermen must've known you were coming home today and arranged the sunshine specially.'

  Mel's eyes prickled, not just because everything was even lovelier than she'd remembered, but because he called it home. The sun was a fiery orange ball, about to slip down behind the green lush hills. Wispy pink cotton wool clouds scudded across a still bright blue sky. Here and there, between trees, she caught glimpses of the river, sparkling in the sunshine, and fronting all this was the autumnal magnificence of the gardens. Heavy rain hadn't spoilt the display of huge chrysanthemums and Michaelmas daisies, and there were still a few roses lingering. The Virginia creeper was fiery red on the walls of the house, the pyracantha was studded with scarlet berries and each tree seemed to have selected a different shade of yellow, orange or gold to outdo its neighbour.

  'Oh, Magnus,' she whispered. 'It's heaven.'

  'It's a chilly heaven,' he laughed. 'And Joan and Antoine will be champing at the bit to see you.'

  Magnus had never found it easy to talk about his feelings. Ruth had teased him about this many times, often jokingly claiming he didn't have any. While Mel had been in hospital Magnus had talked her through all the recent events, but he had found it impossible to describe the emotional switchback he'd found himself on in the past few weeks.

  Helena's arrival had been the start of it. Dining with her, helping her settle into her cottage, visiting her film set to watch her work and above all sharing the anticipation of finding Mel had drawn them closer. He couldn't begin to explain the excitement they had both felt as they opened the package of letters from the News of the World. There were dozens, nearly all from stage-struck teenagers. Sadder still were the ones from ex-dancers, women Helena had never met, claiming they had been in shows with her. But the excitement turned to acute disappointment when they realised there was nothing from Mel.

  As the days passed after the article and they realised Mel had either not read the paper, or worse still didn't want to get in touch, the sorrow grew even deeper. Helena was all for hiring a private detective and bombarding the newspapers with messages in the personal columns. Her determination kept Magnus's spirits up, but meanwhile he was developing an intense dislike for Edward, which at times bordered on hatred.

  With hindsight he could see he had picked up on the man's true character, but at the time he had seen himself merely falling prey to jealousy. He hadn't liked the bumptious way Edward arrived at Helena's cottage, assuming not only that he could take up residence there for the duration of the filming, but making it quite clear Magnus wouldn't be a welcome visitor. The man's good looks, impeccable clothes and starchy manner all irritated, but it was his possessiveness towards Helena that most riled Magnus.

  It was around one in the afternoon, some hours after Mel had been found by the farmer, that the police called at Oaklands to question Magnus. To have the news thrust at him that Mel was injured, lying in hospital in Bath was bad enough, but when he was told Edward was responsible he felt murderous. Then to be told the next day that Mel had refused all visitors plunged him into despair.

  Now he thanked God for Conrad's intervention. He obviously cared deeply for Mel, and he had true guts to insist on that meeting.

  After the roller-coaster ride of sorrow, anger, hatred and suspicion, came joy. Few things had moved Magnus as much as the moment when he walked into the hospital room, and saw Mel. Bruised and battered as she was, she opened up her arms to him in welcome. He knew then without any doubt, that daughter or not, she was part of his family.

  But as Conrad had said, she was trembling on the edge of a breakdown, however hard she tried to pretend otherwise. He just hoped that whatever Helena and Miles had to say to her wasn't going to nudge her closer to that edge.

  'Welcome home, Mel!' Joan Downes's voice rang out even before Mel hobbled into the hall on Magnus's arm. The housekeeper rushed forward, her plump face alight with pleasure, eyes bright behind her thick glasses. 'You don't know how much we've all missed you. My goodness I'm glad to see you back.'

  Mel was enveloped in a warm, enthusiastic hug, then Antoine stepped forward, his long thin face as lugubrious as ever, but his dark eyes dancing.

  'Ma chérie,' he said, kissing her on both cheeks, then holding her two elbows studied her face. 'As beautiful as ever.'

  Mel giggled. He had always been one for extravagant compliments, even when flattery was inappropriate. 'You old charmer,' she said. 1 look a fright and you know it. Have you got any old sacks down in the kitchen I can wear over my head till I look more presentable?'

  Although the swelling had gone down on her eye and cheek, it was still yellow and purple, crisscrossed with small vivid scars. But while her face lo
oked awful it didn't hurt any longer. Her foot was the only part of her which did: even hobbling along on her heel was painful, and she'd been warned to keep off it.

  'I've got a tray of tea ready in Magnus's office,' Joan said. 'We wanted to have it down in the kitchen, but we didn't think you could manage the stairs. We're so pleased to have you back, Mel, it hasn't been the same place without you.'

  An hour or so later Magnus collected Mel from his office to help her up the stairs to her old room. It was dusk now. Although it had been good to catch up on all the news, and hear stories about guests and the other staff, Mel was drained and anxious. She had felt almost crushed by the pressure of their unasked questions. As old friends they were entitled to more of an explanation than they'd been given, but she couldn't bring herself to tell them anything. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to.

  That was a bit too much for you, wasn't it?' Magnus said as he opened her old bedroom door. 'I thought it might be, but Joan and Antoine are hard to put off. In a day or so we'll talk together and decide if we can tell them the whole truth. Their loyalty and affection for you is without question. I think, too, you might find it easier once the air has been cleared.'

  She couldn't reply for a moment. The sight of her old room brought a lump to her throat. The curtains were drawn, the bedside light left on welcomingly and someone, perhaps the new girl she'd heard about called Julie, had unpacked the clothes Conrad had brought down from Fulham, and laid her nightdress and dressing gown on the bed.

  'Just as you left it?' Magnus raised one bushy white eyebrow.

  'Even better,' she sighed happily and sat on the bed. She noted the vase of flowers on the small table by the window, a teddy bear sitting on the chair and a bowl of fruit by her bed. She knew that someone called Jayne Sullivan had been using this room in her absence, but she'd left now and Mel's books were back on the shelf as if they'd never been taken away. She knew somehow that all the other things she'd left behind would be in the drawers and wardrobe. 'I dreamed of this room all the time I was gone, especially when I was living in a horrible bedsitter before going to work for Con.'

  But she hadn't remembered quite how the lamp cast a rosy glow on the sloping ceiling, the softness of the carpet or the delicacy of the pink and white decor. She felt now almost as she had the first time she saw it.

  The teddy bear is from Nick,' Magnus said, picking it up and putting it in her arms. 'He thought it would keep an eye on you for him.'

  She held the bear to her cheek in delight. His fur was the same golden colour as Nick's hair and he wore a red spotted bow tie. No one, apart from her mother had ever bought her a soft toy and it had a special kind of poignancy. 'I can't wait to see him,' she said. 'But I'm a bit scared.'

  'You'll find he's changed.' Magnus sat down on the chair by the window, looking tired and very thoughtful. 'He said recently that looking into your past helped him come to terms with his own. I don't fully understand what he meant by that, but I've a feeling you will.'

  Mel nodded.

  'He's become more mature,' Magnus went on. 'Gentler, more sympathetic. His mother used to describe him as a bullock. Looking back she was absolutely right – he was stubborn, hot-headed and very arrogant.'

  'You must both have been very shocked by the things he found out about me,' she said in a small voice.

  'Not shocked as in disgusted, if that's what you're thinking.' He smiled in reassurance. 'It was more enlightening. For someone to go through what you have and end up so capable and kind-hearted, without any kind of chip on your shoulder shows great strength of character. Anyway both of us have our share of skeletons in cupboards too.'

  Mel gave a tight little laugh. 'I can't spare any kind thoughts for Edward,' she said. 'And to be honest I still don't trust Helena even after all you've told me about her. If she's so wise and caring, why did she cart a weirdo like Edward around with her for so many years?'

  'There's a time in everyone's life when they need someone to lean on,' Magnus said, moving to sit beside her on the bed. He wanted to voice his own feelings about Edward, but not now. 'But I'm sure Helena intends to tell you all about that herself.'

  'I still don't see how he had that letter in his house from her if she had nothing to do with all this,' Mel said stubbornly.

  'It was a very old note,' Magnus said. 'Helena said she gave up using the bright blue paper and signing herself "H" years ago – it was a phase she went through at the time she stopped calling herself Ellie. According to the police, Edward had a whole stack of memorabilia stored away in that house. Like a magpie, he'd kept everything she ever gave him. Helena had been to that house only once in her life and that was donkey's years ago when his grandmother was still alive. She thought he'd sold it several years back. I can't help wondering what reason lay behind that smoke screen. Any normal person, knowing that Helena was coming to work in the area and intending to rent a place would have offered it to her. In fact when he came down to Bath with the letters from the newspaper, he stayed at Helena's cottage, yet his own house was only a few miles away.'

  'The whole set up stinks to me,' Mel said. 'And he's in love with her!'

  Magnus smiled at her stubborn refusal to consider that Helena too was a victim. He wished he could admit to Mel how much he cared for Helena. It was the first time since Ruth died that he'd felt desire for any woman, and he had begun to hope that their futures lay together. But until Helena had spoken to Mel and life got back onto an even keel again, he had to keep that to himself.

  'I'd describe Edward's feelings for her more as psychotic obsession than love,' he said gently. 'But you of all people should be able to understand how someone can be trapped by old friendships, and how they look away rather than face that something is very wrong?'

  Both Dougie and Bee flashed into Mel's mind. She did know exactly how people became trapped in relationships.

  'I still find everything about her weird,' she shrugged. 'You said yourself she is overly emotional. Edward had a stack of photos of me that she'd been hoarding. I think she sounds completely neurotic'

  'And I think you'll find that statement funny once you've met her,' he retorted. 'Now when can I arrange for her to come? I don't think my curiosity or my nerves can hold out much longer.'

  On top of his concern for Mel, Nick and Helena, and his anxiety that Edward was still at large, Magnus was worried about his own health. He knew he was a prime candidate for another stroke: his blood pressure was too high, he wasn't sleeping. It was imperative that he found some way to relax, but he couldn't while so much was still unsettled.

  'I don't want to talk about Helena.' Mel tossed her head. 'Tell me more about Nick and this film – he didn't say much about it in his letter.'

  Magnus laughed heartily. 'You always were one for avoiding confrontation by changing the subject.'

  'Nick's more interesting than Helena,' she said stubbornly.

  'He's what they call a hot property now,' Magnus said proudly. 'Delinquents, an appropriate name if I ever heard one, is going to have its TV premiere on Friday week. So everyone wants to interview him.'

  'It's that good is it?' she asked, a flash of her old vitality coming back into her face.

  'If it's half as good as everyone is saying, Nick will never have to do another dog food advert again,' Magnus said.

  He saw a troubled look flit across Mel's face and guessed what she was thinking.

  'It won't make any difference to Nick or me what muck gets raked up when Edward is caught and tried,' he assured her. 'Our only concern is for you – because we both love you, Mel. But now it's time I went downstairs and began cracking the whip. Why don't you relax and watch some television and I'll bring some supper up later for you?'

  'Okay,' she agreed. She was tired and she couldn't face any more questions downstairs. 'Can you ask Helena to come tomorrow?'

  Magnus pulled a surprised face, his eyes glinting mischievously. 'You really are contradictory. A few minutes ago you didn't even want to talk about
her. Now you want to see her!'

  She blushed. 'A girl can change her mind, can't she?'

  'As often as she likes,' he said, getting up from the bed. 'But don't go prancing around on that foot. If you want anything press that bell and someone will come running.'

  When Magnus had gone downstairs Mel looked at the bell push. She knew exactly why he'd installed it, and it wasn't for her to ring and ask for tea.

  'As if Edward could get in here!' she said aloud, but the comfort and security of the room didn't entirely banish her nervousness. Everyone had avoided mentioning the fact that Edward was still at large to her. They seemed to have forgotten she was just as likely to read the papers as anyone else.

  Conrad had been a little jumpy the day before. He said he was only thinking about the restaurant and wondering if the woman he'd hired from an agency to do the cooking would be any good, but she knew he was lying. He was nervous about her safety.

  The police had scoffed at her suggestion that Edward might come here: his car had been found abandoned near Newhaven and they were certain he'd left England as a foot passenger on the ferry to France. But she felt she knew better. Edward had nothing more to lose now he'd lost the affection of the woman he loved. Nor would there be much difference in his mind between being sentenced to prison for one, two, or half a dozen murders. And a man as obsessive as he was would almost certainly want to strike back at the person he held responsible for his plight: Camellia Norton.

  The next morning Mel sat at her dressing table brushing her hair, despondently. She had vaguely imagined that when she woke up today her scars and bruising would have faded more, yet they looked even worse. Putting a little foundation over them didn't help one bit, nor did arranging her hair so it swung forward on her face. She looked and felt ugly.

  She had been in bed by nine o'clock last night, but even though she was tired and her old bed felt so much more comfortable than the hospital one, she hadn't been able to sleep. She could hear an owl hooting, the wind in the trees, even snoring coming from one of the guest's rooms along the landing. Nevertheless her room seemed very dark and still after the lights and continual noise of the hospital.