Ursula's Secret

by Mairi Wilson

  “Fredi, darling!” Evie was genuinely pleased to see the handsome Dane.

  “Enjoying yourself, Evie, my dear?” Fredi enquired, a hint of humour just detectable in his soft voice as he leant in to kiss her lightly on the cheek. Evie’s raised eyebrows said it all. “Hmm. Thought not. Come with me.”

  With one hand cupping her elbow and the other clearing a path through the chattering masses, he led her over to a pair of chairs sheltered from the worst of the hordes by an ornamental Chinese screen.

  He helped settle her into one of them and then beckoned a waiter over.

  “Champagne, Evelyn. Never fails to make the truly tedious just about bearable.” Nodding a thank you to the waiter, he took the other seat and raised his glass to her. “To the most intelligent woman here tonight, and the most glamorous.”

  Despite herself, Evie smiled. “Fredi, dear, you’re quite ridiculous and a hopeless flatterer. I was a minister’s daughter and am now a doctor’s widow. Glamour is what you’ll find over there.” Her head flicked briefly in the direction of Cameron’s circle.

  “Ah yes, the heartbroken Cameron and his coterie.” Fredi’s eyes followed in the direction she’d indicated. “If that’s glamour, I want none of it. But intelligence, wit, charm – I have that in abundance right here.”

  “Kind of you, Fredi. But I fear I’m a little under par this evening.”

  “I’m not surprised. You must be missing her. You and Helen were such very good friends.”

  “Yes. Yes, we were.”

  “And Ursula too. In the old days. How the three of you could make even a young man like me blush!”

  “We never made you blush, Fredi.” Evie laughed.

  “Oh, but you did, I just hid it well. You were quite formidable.” Fredi rolled his eyes and Evie felt her spirits lifting a little.

  “Were we? I suppose perhaps we were. Young women never really understand the power they have.”

  “Well, that certainly doesn’t stop them using it with devastating effect on a fellow.” Fredi was warming to his theme. “You had us all running around like quicksilver.”

  “I’m sure we never did …”

  “There was that time you and Ursula—”

  A chiming of metal against crystal stopped Fredi’s reminiscences and a hush settled over the room.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I interrupt your evening for just a few moments, please.” The consul general’s booming voice easily filled the large space. Evie and Fredi stood, straining to see him over the heads of the assembled company. Evie’s breath caught sharply as she saw Cameron beside him. Fredi heard her and took his arm in hers, gently patting her hand in reassurance.

  “A few weeks ago one of the worst storms this country has ever seen carved a path of chaos through our lives, and we have all been busy trying to recover and to repair the damage it caused. That night was one few of us will forget easily and one which has left us all more than a little shocked. Not least because of the tragic loss of one of the best-loved members of our tightly knit community, our lovely Helen Buchanan-Munro, and two of her children. Nothing, of course, will ease the pain of the family she leaves behind, but, Cameron, I want you to know that I’m sure I speak for all of us when we say we admire your courage, not only in the heroic attempt to save your family, which put your own life at risk, but also the fortitude with which you are bearing her loss and caring for your boy. Good man. And I’m sure again that I speak for all of us when I say that if there’s anything at all any of us can do to help you and little David through this awful time, we will do it gladly. Helen was always the first to offer help to a friend in need. It’s the least any of us can do.”

  Murmurs of “hear hear” filled the room and Cameron, jaw clenched as if to contain his grief, looked up from the floor, nodded and mouthed a thank you as the consul general shook him by the hand and clapped him stoutly on the shoulder.

  “May I … could I say a few words perhaps?”

  “Of course, Cameron, dear fellow. Of course.”

  The room fell completely silent again, expectant faces turned toward the handsome widower.

  “I can’t tell you how much it means to me to … to have your support at a time … like this.” Cameron’s voice was taut with emotion, clipped and precise. “Helen meant the world to me, and the children …”

  Evie couldn’t help herself. “Oh! How—” Fredi coughed to drown her words as a few people turned to look in their direction.

  “I know, Evie, I know. But not now,” he murmured softly, squeezing her hand. She nodded tersely.

  Cameron was still speaking. “I will never forget the horror of that night. But it has shown me the strength of the community we have here in Blantyre. The value of good friends and the importance of supporting each other …” His voice cracked. “Thank you.”

  The guests clapped loudly as the consul general’s wife stepped in and led the broken man away to a quiet corner. The room was positively humming with the drama of it all.

  “A marvellous performance,” Fredi remarked wryly. “He’s in quite the wrong profession.”

  “It’s all lies, absolute lies.” Evie’s voice was low and vehement.

  “I know, Evie.” Fredi turned to look at her carefully. “I know.”

  Her stomach lurched. Fredi knew? How could he? She stared at him and waited for him to say more.

  “A few of us do, in fact.”

  “Really? Know what exactly?” Evie forced herself to keep calm, although her pulse was racing. They’d been so careful.

  “How he treated her. The bruises. She didn’t always manage to conceal them completely.”

  “Oh. Oh those.” Evie realised her relief that this seemed to be all he knew was making her sound dismissive. “Dreadful. Yes, of course. Absolutely dreadful. She wouldn’t say, of course, but one knew.”

  “Did she ever—”

  “Fredi, darling? Would you mind? I’ve really had enough this evening and would like to go home.”

  “Poor darling. Of course. You must be feeling awful, and having to listen to that little display can’t have helped. How thoughtless of me. Shall I take you?”

  “Oh, no need for that. I’ll get—”

  “I insist. Did you have a wrap? Wait here and I’ll fetch it for you when I ask the desk to send my car round.”

  Evie stood by the open verandah door with her back to the throng. She shouldn’t have come. She really wasn’t in the mood for socialising, and had she thought for one moment Cameron would have been parading his “grief” like a medal of honour she’d have turned down the invitation point-blank.

  She stepped through onto the quiet terrace, and froze. Cameron was bending over one of the younger consular women and was whispering in her ear, that lascivious look Evie hated on his face. The girl giggled and put a pretty, manicured hand up to her mouth. Blowing Cameron a kiss, she wriggled away, looking back over her shoulder at him before she traipsed back into the reception room through the doors at the far end. Cameron watched her go, then turned to look out over the gardens and saw Evie watching from the other end of the terrace.

  “Evie. Watching over me, are you? Been there long?”

  “Long enough.”

  “We’ve not had a chance to talk this evening, have we? And we, the two people in the world who loved her best, should really be comforting each other, shouldn’t we, at this dreadful time?”

  “Should we, Cameron? Looks to me as if you’re not short of comfort this evening.”

  “I know. Wonderful isn’t it? Everyone’s being so very, very … kind.” His smile was taunting her and she breathed deeply. She would not give him the pleasure of seeing her irritation.

  “Darling Helen. How I’ll miss her.” He placed a hand against his heart, playing the part of mourning husband with blatant insincerity now that his audience had disappeared.

  “Really.”

  “Oh yes. She was everything to me. To little David. Life simply won’t be the same without h
er.”

  “No, I don’t expect it will.” Evie was seething. How could he? The nerve of the man. Surely he must know that Helen had confided in her? That Evie – and, it seemed, others – had seen the evidence of his brutality.

  “Her loyalty, her love. My life will be so empty without it. I can’t bear waking up alone every morning without her there beside me, that beautiful head lying on the pillow, her soft skin touching mine—”

  “You make me sick.”

  “Evie!” He pouted at her. “Come now, is that any way to talk to a poor grieving—”

  “You can drop the act, Cameron. I know. I know exactly how much you loved Helen. Exactly how hard you tried to save her.” Evie hissed as she held him in a steely gaze. He flinched in an exaggerated way, and looked down.

  “Oh, I’m hurt! Cut to the very quick! I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes you do, Cameron. We both do. You didn’t try to save her. In fact, quite the reverse.” Even in the dusky light she could see Cameron’s eyes lose their teasing sparkle and grow dark, but she couldn’t stop herself continuing. “You left her there. And Izzie. Pulled up the gangplank and sailed off to safety. If David hadn’t been down below already, would you have left him there too? Or did you need at least one son and heir to survive? Oh yes, our brave hero. You really tried to save her.”

  Cameron reached over and pulled Evie towards him, looking intently into her eyes. “How could you possibly—”

  “There you are, Evie – got it.” Fredi bustled towards them, waving Evie’s wrap like a flag of surrender over his head. Cameron sprang back from Evie, dipping his head so his face fell into shadow.

  “I say, Cameron. Damned sorry, old man.” Fredi nodded briefly in Cameron’s direction as he draped Evie’s wrap around her shoulders. “Shall we leave you in peace? Shouldn’t think you’ll feel too much like socialising. Come on, Evie, old thing. Let’s get you home.” Fredi hustled Evie back towards the nearest doors, leaving Cameron standing silently behind them.

  Even with the wrap around her, Evie was chilled. She’d let him goad her and now she could only pray she hadn’t said too much.

  Ever since she’d found out that she had, realised the devastating consequences of her indiscretion, she’d lived with the guilt, been unable to forgive herself. Now, lying in her hospital bed, she felt the familiar tears of remorse trickling down her cheeks. She let them run unchecked, grateful for Lexy’s shocked silence, and cursed herself for ever presuming to interfere in the lives of others, and for lacking the courage to confess to Helen that it was she, not Ursula, who betrayed her in the end.

  25

  Blantyre Hospital, 16th June

  “Miss Shaw? Christopher Chizumu here. Senior partner at Chiz—”

  “Mr Chizumu. Good afternoon. What can I do for you?” As soon as she’d felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, Lexy had stepped out of Evie’s room. She pushed through the door from the corridor to the empty stairwell as she spoke, perched herself on the top step of the downward flight and wondered what bombshell the legal profession had in store for her now. She’d thought her business with Chizumu & Chizumu had been concluded, but clearly not.

  “Rather more a case of what we can do for you, I believe, Miss Shaw. I’ve just been speaking to Ms Hamilton in our Edinburgh office.” Lexy curbed her impatience. She knew precisely where the inimitable Ms Hamilton worked. “I understand you were talking to Ms Hamilton’s assistant about the tenancy agreement drawn up on Miss Reid’s croft in the Scottish Highlands.”

  “Yes that’s right, I was. He expressed surprise that it was in the current file when it should have been archived—”

  “Yes, yes. Which would imply we legal creatures are mere humans capable of misfiling material. But I’m delighted to say it seems we are not. Ms Hamilton says the lease was kept in the current file at Miss Reid’s request. In case anyone should come across it … inadvertently, let’s say. The correct paperwork sits in an entirely different file. The lease merely acts as a reminder to the lawyer in charge of Miss Reid’s affairs. However, in the light of current circumstances, and in view of the speculation surrounding the whereabouts of certain funds—”

  “Please, Mr Chizumu, come to the point.” Lexy was not in the mood for rigmarole.

  “Of course, I simply want to make it clear, that although it’s all been a little irregular in administrative terms, we have not in any way been remiss in attending to our fil—”

  “Mr Chizumu, please.”

  “Yes. Quite. Well, it transpires that in fact ownership of the property was transferred for an amount which can only have been a token payment—”

  “To whom, Mr Chizumu?” Lexy cut in, proud of her punctilious use of that relative pronoun, under such trying circumstances.

  “Ross Buchanan-Munro.”

  Evie heard Lexy come back into the room but didn’t open her eyes, feigning sleep as she replayed the consequences of her betrayal over and over in her head, trying to find the words that would make it more palatable, make herself less culpable. But there were none. The truth, unadorned and unmitigated, was what Helen’s granddaughter deserved. Evie knew that now.

  She flicked open her eyes, saw Lexy watching her, turning her phone over and over in her hands, before dropping it into the bag that lay at her feet.

  “Well? Were you going to tell me Ross survived? I know he did, so don’t bother denying it, and I know where he is, too. Are you going to tell me how that happened, or why you said Helen shot him? Has this all been some ridiculous, elaborate lie?” Lexy’s voice was low, but her anger was clear, colder now than it had been before. Her posture was cowed, as if she knew what was coming would be bad, not at all what she wanted to hear. Poor girl, Evie thought. All she’d wanted was to find a family, somewhere to belong. And instead … But there could be no going back. Evie was reconciled to having to tell her it all.

  “No, not a lie. He was shot, yes, but he did survive.”

  “She left him there?”

  “She didn’t know. Cameron had checked for a pulse, said he was dead—”

  “And she didn’t bother to check for herself.”

  Evie sighed. How could she make Lexy understand? She’d never met Cameron, never faced the demon.

  “Hear me out before you judge her.”

  Lexy crossed her arms and legs, slouched back in the plastic chair and tilted her chin. “Go on, then, I’m listening.”

  Cameron, of course, had bided his time, kept away from her until he’d worked out his next move, but then he came to find her, as Evie had known he eventually would.

  Evie had been sitting in the garden, her book closed on her lap, a finger marking her place. Impossible to read. All she could think about was Helen. How she missed her. How she hoped their plan would work and keep her and Izzie safe. Sister Agnes had agreed to help, as Evie had hoped, and it had all been surprisingly easy to arrange. Helen was safe now. Evie could relax.

  She’d turned her face up to feel the warmth of the early morning sun and tried to still her thoughts. A shadow fell and she snapped open her eyes. The sun was directly behind him and he was just a darkened silhouette to her sun-drenched gaze.

  “May I join you?”

  The moment he spoke, she sat upright. Those silken tones made her flesh crawl. Cameron sat next to her on the bench, too close for comfort, but when she tried to move away to the far end, his hand grasped her wrist. “If you want to hear what I have to say, Evie, and believe me you will, I suggest you stay exactly where you are.”

  “You have nothing to say that I want to hear. I’m quite sure of that.” Evie tried to pull his hand from her arm, but he simply squeezed harder.

  “I think I do. We could start, perhaps, with the fact that we both know Helen is still alive. That you’ve hidden her away somewhere. I’m sure if I really tried, I could find her.”

  The sun no longer felt warm and she stopped trying to move away from him.

  “That’s better.” He let g
o her arm. It throbbed, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of rubbing it, of letting him know he’d hurt her.

  “Now, where was I? Yes, Helen. Alive. But then you know that. In fact, you told me.”

  Evie’s stomach clenched. Stupid, stupid woman. She’d known he wouldn’t have missed it, her carelessness. She’d betrayed Helen, put her in danger. What was Cameron going to do?

  “You didn’t mean to, of course.” He was smiling, obviously enjoying her discomfort. “But you’ve never been much of a dissembler, Evie. Too much Christian honesty bred into you back in that cold old manse. You shouldn’t ever let anger goad you into revelation, my dear. And you did, didn’t you? Or was it that you’d had too much champagne? So unlike you. And there I was. So recently bereft and you had no pity in your heart for me, the poor young widower left with a young bewildered boy to care for—”

  “Enough, Cameron. I didn’t fall for it then and I won’t now. You have no audience to impress here. Spare me the performance. What do you want?”

  “Why, to chat about the old days. About my darling wife. Her lovely children. My own lovely son.”

  He was watching her closely and saw her flinch at that.

  “That’s right, Evie. I know that too, you see. All your little secrets are safe with me. For the moment. But she must have told you I knew about the boy. Quite a scam, really.” He laughed with genuine pleasure. “Can’t say it was easy resisting the temptation to tell dear old Gregory. Can you imagine, the poor fool. A honeybird in his nest all that time and he had no idea at all. I have to say I was impressed. You all managed the situation very well. But I’m not here to go over old ground. David is mine, but I won’t go public on that. I want him to have Buchanan’s, you see. No, I’m here to talk about the other one. Young Ross and what happened to him. That’s something you don’t know and I think you’ll be interested, if not a little shocked, to learn the truth.”

  “I do know, Cameron. So whatever you hope to gain by revealing that tragedy to me, or whatever lies you’re planning to tell, save your breath. If it’s to make Helen out to be a murderess, a villain, in my eyes, you won’t succeed. If anyone is guilty of a crime there, it’s you. Pushing a child into a loaded gun. What did you think would happen?”