Knowing that he was the owner of a small fortune changed his life. He was wise enough to know that he couldn’t tell anyone about it and that he couldn’t spend it, not immediately. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself. He opened accounts in as many different banks as he could find and he deposited relatively small amounts in each. The largest amount he reserved for a building society account where he opened a home saver account.
His plan nearly came unstuck when the cashier looked at him a bit strangely when he did so.
‘With that amount of money you don’t need to save,’ he said.
He bluffed his way out of it by saying that he’d been left some money in his grandparents’ will and he wasn’t ready to buy a house.
‘I thought it would be the best place for it,’ he said.
‘You’d be better off putting it into a high interest account,’ the cashier said. ‘If you don’t want to draw it out in a hurry you can earn more interest that way.’
With the money secured, the only problem that remained was the gun. The weight of it in his hand, the kick when he’d fired it and the noise it had made were still vivid memories in his mind. The power it had given him was thrilling but he doubted that he would ever use it again. If he was to avoid drawing attention to himself the last thing he needed was a gun, particularly that gun which could be traced to the killing. He put it in a bank safe box, just in case, and there it had remained until he bought his present house. Now it served as a reminder of the past and from time to time he would take it out of the drawer where he kept it and handle it, thinking about its power to transform; life into death, poverty into riches.
For the last two years his life had been blameless. He convinced himself that he’d turned a corner and was a reformed man, glorying in the idea that he had risen above his old weaknesses. His sex life was a disaster. The sex was fine but he hadn’t found the right person to settle down with, the one person who would satisfy him. Over the last few years he had given up on the idea of finding just one person, opting for casual relationships when he felt the need.
Addiction is a powerful and cunning enemy and it still had him in thrall, whether he acknowledge it or not. He was never totally free from its pull.
But now everything was going to come right. Sophie had come into his life and he would find his redemption with her. Once again fate was directing his life and all he had to do was to follow the path that unrolled before him.
Chapter 23
‘Where’s Rosemary?’ Dr Jonathan asked, standing in the doorway of his study in the History Faculty.
‘She’s not feeling well,’ Sophie said, settling down on one of the chairs at the far side of his desk. ‘She came in this morning but she went back to her room after lunch.’
‘That’s a shame. Still, at least I’ve got your work; that’ll keep us busy.’
‘Is it that bad?’
‘Not at all. You’re one of the brightest students I’ve ever tutored,’ Jonathan said, flashing her a dazzling smile.
Sophie blushed. There was something disarming about his candour. She felt his blue eyes on her and looked up.
‘You see,’ he went on, ‘some students are here just because they can’t be bothered to do anything so mundane as finding a job. Others are here because they are clever and want a degree so that it will open up the doors to a better career. But in you I sense a real understanding of history. You have a natural flare for the subject and you empathise with the past.’
‘I’m interested,’ Sophie said guardedly, ‘and I want to learn; not so much ancient history but the history of our recent past, the history of today.’
‘I wish we could do more on contemporary history,’ Jonathan said, effortlessly picking up her cue, ‘but the course is quite prescribed. You'll come to contemporary history towards the end of your course. The interpretation of modern history is such a subjective matter that I think the authorities fight shy of it. They don’t want us to turn this place into a political hotbed.’
‘But surely that’s one good reason to study it now, so that we don’t become a hotbed of unrest. Shouldn’t we be able to find a path through the facts which doesn’t become inflamed with politics?’
Jonathan paused; they seemed to have touched on something that really interested Sophie. She was alert now, not sitting back and merely listening. Her whole manner had changed and she had come alive; no longer demurely looking down, she was staring boldly at him, ready to defend her point of view.
‘This isn’t really the place for this discussion,’ he said, trying to cool the situation, ‘but I have a lot of books on this subject at home. You could come round if you like and I’ll lend you some to read, give you some pointers.’
‘Yes, I’d like that,’ Sophie replied.
‘Okay, that’s fine. I’ll let you know when I’ve got a spare evening. It’ll have to be strictly off the record, though. They wouldn’t like it if they thought I was giving private tuition to a student.’
He picked up her essay, a study on Tudor politics, and took up the thread of the tutorial. Nothing further was said about her visiting his flat and they finished going through her essay.
‘That was an excellent piece of work,’ he said at last. ‘Keep it up!’
Sophie left her tutorial feeling elated. Dr Jonathan had been most encouraging and he seemed genuinely interested in what she had talked about. She decided she would take him up on his offer of books to read. Although they would all be in the library he would give her some guidance about the best things to read. The odd comments he might make would be as valuable as reading through a pile of books. That was what being at university was all about, widening your interests and learning more than the mere curriculum.
Her opportunity came more quickly than she had anticipated. Passing her in the corridor in the faculty building later that week, Dr Jonathan stopped and drew her to one side. He seemed very intense. She was pleased; someone who felt so strongly about his subject and was prepared to share his knowledge with her, well, that was promising.
‘I’ll be at home tonight if you want to drop by and pick up some books,’ he said. ‘I’ve sorted out some for you to browse through.’
Sophie was flattered that he’d remembered their conversation. Perhaps it hadn’t just been pleasantries that he’d uttered trying to make her feel at ease.
He gave her the address of his flat and suggested that she should come round at about eight.
‘That should give you time to finish your meal without having to rush,’ he said.
Later that evening Sophie made her way through the town towards the river and found his flat without any difficulty. She pressed the button by his name and waited for the intercom to respond. He buzzed her in and when she reached his flat Jonathan opened the door, greeting her with one of his dazzling smiles.
‘I like people who are punctual,’ he said. ‘Come in.’
His flat was tidy and, at first glance, even a little spartan. Book shelves lined most of the available wall spaces and a large desk was turned so that it partly faced the open window looking out over the river and partly faced into the room. Two armchairs and a low coffee table completed this, the largest part of the room which flowed into the dining space, incorporating an open plan kitchen area.
‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ Jonathan asked. ‘Students usually like a good hock and I always have a supply in the fridge, just in case anyone drops in.’
‘Thank you,’ Sophie said, ‘that would be nice. Daniel and I often go to a little wine bar in town.’
‘Who’s Daniel?’
‘He’s my boyfriend.’
It was just after ten o’clock when Sophie left and, walking back to her Hall, she went over the evening. Dr J, as they affectionately called him, had been courteous and very attentive. He had been interested in what she had to say and had even prepared her a reading list to go with the books he loaned her, pencilling in comments to guide her thinking. Despite the p
leasant evening, though, there was something unsettling about him but she couldn’t quite place what it was.
Why had he wanted to know so much about her life before she came to university? His interest seemed to go beyond simply polite conversation. It was as if he was interrogating her about her past and that was definitely not something she wanted to discuss with him. He seemed to understand her reluctance and changed the subject after that, talking about what she wanted from her university course. Dr Jonathan was a brilliant lecturer and a charming, if slightly strange man she decided, shifting the pile of books she had borrowed to her other arm. Despite her mixed feelings, she had enjoyed the evening.
And so had Dr Jonathan. He sat in his armchair reliving the moments that had just passed. He was sure now that Sophie was the here for a reason, that something had brought her to him. It was his chance to redress the wrongs of his past. He was finding it hard to think clearly. There was the slight problem of Daniel, Sophie’s boyfriend. He’s not really a problem, though, he thought; young girls form attachments all the time and they set nothing by them, boyfriends are just a way of making friends and having congenial company.
He found it hard to separate the image of Sophie from her mother. The same urge to possess her had taken him the moment he’d set eyes upon her at the beginning of the year. The feelings that had gripped him when he’d suddenly come upon her mother that fateful afternoon, a curious burn of energy, lust and curiosity, they had him in thrall again.
But this time it would be different. This time it was meant to be and he had to be patient, he had to build a relationship with Sophie, to grow her trust in him until she came to him of her own free will. And he was sure she would. Back at work he found himself walking the corridors, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. His obsession with her was growing and the less he saw of her, the more he wanted her.
He visited the student’s common rooms, he went to the Union bar, but he seldom saw her. She was in his dreams, though, there with him during the long nights, often invading his thoughts during the days when he was sitting through tutorials when he was forced to put up with disinterested students, worse for wear after nights of excess, barely able to stay awake and certainly not interested in the finer points of the historical method. The high point of his week was her tutorial when she would sit opposite him for the hour. She was fresh, alert and so beautiful; he ached with desire for her.
The Christmas vacation was a time of deprivation, only made bearable by the thought that term would start soon and then they’d be back together. Now Easter had passed and the summer term was on them. The weather warmed up and the students cast off their heavy winter clothes in favour of light, summer garb. Sophie was radiant and he could scarcely take his eyes off her. The long vacation was coming all too fast and he knew that he’d have to move their relationship along.
He revisited the matter of her reading list and invited Sophie to come down to his cottage one Saturday so that they could discuss her reading in more depth.
Chapter 24
‘Come in,’ Dr Jonathan said, ‘I was expecting you earlier.’
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ Sophie said.
The smile on Dr Jonathan’s face made her feel welcome and she felt encouraged by it, at least he seems pleased to see me, she thought. She was looking forward to having time to talk with him about her recent reading. He is a most interesting man, she’d told Daniel the previous evening, and he’s willing to spare me time to go over my work.
‘I was held up and I missed the bus. This is quaint,’ she carried on hastily, looking around the entrance hall, worried lest he might think her excuse too feeble, ‘it’s not what I expected.’
‘Just because I work in town and have a flat there it doesn’t mean that I don’t value rural peace and quiet,’ Dr Jonathan said. ‘I like the isolation after the week’s work. I could even have wild all night parties here and nobody would hear a thing.’
Sophie smiled. She couldn’t imagine Dr Jonathan hosting wild parties at all, let alone all night ones. A sedate book-reading circle would be more likely or perhaps a quiet dinner with a few intellectual friends from the university. He was too quiet,too modest to be given over to wild activities of any kind.
‘It reminds me of home,’ she said.
‘Well, come on in, I’ve put the kettle on to boil and we’ll have a cup of tea before we settle down to work.’
He showed Sophie into the lounge and went on through to the kitchen. She could hear him setting cups on a tray and then filling the teapot when the kettle came to the boil. The lounge was furnished simply with a large screen television in one corner next to the fireplace, a long, antique sideboard, a modern sofa and two armchairs. There were old maps and objects in display cases on the walls, too many for her to take in with a single glance. The room seemed undecided as to whether it was going to be ancient or modern and yet the two styles complemented each other and neither felt out of place. A bright rug on the polished boards of the floor gave the room a homely feel and was the only concession towards making the room feel comfortable.
Jonathan felt a surge of goodwill towards Sophie. She was here to help him put his life back on track and he loved her. No, it was more than that he thought, I worship her, her innocence and her beauty. In the purity of their love he would find redemption. What more could he wish for than to spend time with her?
‘This is my country retreat,’ Dr Jonathan said, coming in with the tray. ‘It’s where I come when I don’t want to be disturbed.’
‘I hope I’m not disturbing your peace,’ she said.
‘On the contrary, I invited you. You should feel honoured, I don’t ask just anyone to come here.’
That’s a slightly odd thing to say, Sophie thought but, there again, that’s the sort of old-fashioned, gallant thing he would say.
‘I only came because you said you had some more books for me,’ Sophie said ingenuously. ‘And to talk over what I’ve read.’
‘We’ll get to that in a minute,’ Jonathan said, trying to put her at her ease. ‘Tell me more about your family. Tell me more about yourself. I don’t know anything about you other than that you like history. You said you live in the country.’
‘Not actually in the country like this,’ Sophie said, blushing and feeling slightly embarrassed at talking about herself. ‘It’s just in a small country village. Daniel and I grew up there — Daniel’s my boyfriend,’ she added.’
‘I know. You mentioned him before.’
Sophie was flattered that he’d remembered so much from the brief conversation they’d had at his flat.
‘And what about your father? What does he do?’
‘He’s an accountant. He works in our local town. He likes numbers and the way that they balance. They’re his thing; they occupy his mind and keep him happy.’
Dr Jonathan poured the tea. As she took the cup he watched her closely, trying to make sense of his feelings for her. He was convinced that what he felt for her was love that would grow and blossom. The presence of a boyfriend worried him a little but he was confident that as she came to understand his feelings for her, she would abandon Daniel.
‘I’m sorry I don’t have cake,’ he said. ‘I’m not that well organised. And your mother? What about her?’
‘She’s dead. There’s just me and my Dad. My Mum died when I was tiny.’
‘That’s sad,’ Dr Jonathan said, full of compassion. ‘That must have left a huge empty hole in your life.’
‘We came to terms with it,’ Sophie said, guardedly, ‘but my Dad was devastated. I don’t think he’s ever got over it.’
‘I heard that your mother was a very pretty woman. I expect you look much like her.’
The moment he said it, Dr Jonathan realised that he’d made a careless slip. How could he know what her mother had looked like?
The pause in the conversation lengthened. How could he have heard that, Sophie wondered.
‘Dad says I do but I can’t see the liken
ess,’ Sophie said at last, still thinking about Dr Jonathan’s last remark.
She’s fishing for a compliment Dr Jonathan thought feeling relieved, perhaps she hadn’t noticed his slip. He watched as she sipped her tea. How could she not know that she was the double of her mother?
He felt that old tension tightening his muscles. I must stop this, he thought. This isn’t the way I want it to be. But she’s so like her mother; and she’s just as aware of herself as her mother was. He knew the thought was irrational, that her mother hadn’t been the way he liked to think of her, but it made him feel better if he convinced himself that what had happened to Kerry was partly her own fault. The old feelings, buried for so long, were beginning to rise up and take hold of him. He was struggling to push them away but he was losing control, he could feel the darkness wrapping itself round him.
If Sophie doesn’t fancy you, his inner voice prompted him, why else would she have come to you here? All this way! It wasn’t an easy journey; she had to take a bus and then walk. She’s gone out of her way to be with you here. And all that nonsense about a boyfriend, clearly it was just an excuse to let you know that she wants you.
Perhaps he’d got it all wrong and maybe she wasn’t innocent and pure. Just as her mother had flaunted her child to let him know she’d had sex, now Sophie was taunting him with a boyfriend, letting him know that she was ready and willing to enter into a relationship with him.
His resolve was slipping away and he endeavoured to find a way back. What can I say, he asked himself, how can I change the subject? Try to get back to history, his brain was thundering at him; that’s a safe area.
It wasn’t that simple. He’d been here before, so many times, and he knew how this was going to end. He noticed that Sophie was looking at the display case above the sideboard and he latched on to it as a way to sidestep the feverish activity going on in his brain..
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