When Belinda’s heart stopped beating, I had gone into a vacuum. My attempt at escapism into Derbyshire ended in disaster. When trying to relive the past by going to Brunei that also ended in disaster. Neither attempt at escaping had been rational. One was my way of burying my conscience as well as Belinda, and the other had actually been true escapism … geographically.
In a somewhat roundabout way the latter had at least told me that I did have a future – not that I doubted life going on but I could easily have found myself in a deep rut. If I could feel the way I did about Sophie then perhaps the loneliness I had envisaged was a product of the loss rather than a commitment. I had convinced myself that Belinda would not have wanted me to mourn her forever because she would have insisted that I move on – not necessarily go looking, but at least recognise the fact that somewhere out there I did have a future and perhaps that future might involve somebody else.
The cross-roads, roundabouts, inconsiderate drivers, and on one occasion a rather beleaguered decision whether to turn left or right, had only briefly interrupted my thought processes that culminated in the promises.
Promise one: Belinda would never mean less to me than she had when she was alive, but I had to look to the future and not spend the rest of my life in mourning.
Promise two: I would start, not look for but start a new career when Isabelle and David went back to school after their summer break … I thought I might try teaching.
Promise three: as well as finding that new job, I would redecorate Blue-Ridge exactly as I knew Belinda would have wanted it, with perhaps one or two minor adjustments.
Promise four: I would dismiss all thoughts of trying to discover an explanation for what had happened since Dove Dale.
Promise five: I would try to become a son to Elizabeth and Charles rather than the husband of their dead daughter.
And finally …
Promise six: David and Isabelle would have the best possible chance in life without stifling their own needs and aspirations.
With these promises firmly embedded in my mind, I crossed Blue-Ridge’s threshold whistling for the first time in many months. Something good had come out of a traumatic period and whatever came my way me next I was ready for it.
Leaving my suitcase in the hall, I went through to the kitchen and made a black coffee before phoning Charles. My promises were not in any particular order of priority but Charles and Elizabeth were the first people who came to mind as I unlocked the front door.
“Seven seven five, one one six,” Charles said, a little apprehensively.
“Charles, it’s Richard.”
“Hello, my boy,” he said, his voice lifting. “Sounds as though you’re next door.”
“I suppose in comparison with Brunei, I am. I’m at Blue-Ridge.”
“You’re home?”
“Yes, Charles, I’m home. How’s Elizabeth?”
“Fine, fine,” he said. “Must come and see for yourself.”
“Have you had tea yet?”
“Putting water in the kettle as we speak.”
“I’ll be there before the tea has brewed.”
“Right, my boy,” he said enthusiastically but he was also surprised. “I’ll get another cup and saucer out.”
“Be with you shortly, Charles.”
I wasn’t surprised that Charles had sounded surprised.
I had called during Belinda’s illness and after her death but I had never phoned simply to invite myself round. Belinda always did the organising for the family; all I’d needed to know was where to be and when to be there, and on occasions what to wear. Only time would tell me whether I was embarking on trying to keep one of my promises too soon, but what I didn’t know then was that one of my other promises was already in the process of being broken.
Elizabeth was in the conservatory and she looked a lot better than I expected. There seemed to be a slight debility in the left side of her face, but other than that, she appeared perfectly normal. She greeted me with a lopsided smile but actually put her arm round my shoulders as I bent down to kiss her on the cheek.
“Welcome home, Richard,” she said.
“I’ve only been away a week, Elizabeth, and I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you came out of hospital.” I sat down in the wicker chair next to her. I could hear Charles chinking the cups in the kitchen.
“Don’t be silly. You were here when Charles needed you. There was nothing you could do after that.” She looked concerned as we both heard Charles utter an expletive from the kitchen but then she shrugged and let a wicked smile cross her lips. “He loves looking after me. I feel a bit of a fraud.”
“You deserve it.”
With a slight bluster, Charles stepped into the conservatory, carefully carrying a tray in front of him. “Sorry, took a little longer than expected,” he explained putting the tray on the coffee table.
“Did I hear something break?” Elizabeth asked him, at the same time stealing a mischievous look at me.
“No, no, nothing broken. Dropped the sugar, all cleared up now,” Charles said, putting the cups on the saucers.
“Tell me about Brunei,” Elizabeth suggested as she watched Charles being mother.
“Not a lot to report actually,” I lied. “Nothing has changed very much. Money is still being spent as though it’s going out of fashion but when there is so much of it, who can blame them?” When Charles passed me a cup of tea, I noticed that his hand was shaking slightly. “Thank you, Charles.”
“Cake?” he asked, holding a plate of irregularly sliced pieces of fruitcake in front of me.
“You haven’t given Richard a tea plate, Charles,” Elizabeth commented from behind him.
“It’s all right.” I took a piece of cake and smiled at Charles who was looking serious and businesslike.
“You were telling us about Brunei, Richard,” Elizabeth said once Charles had sat down.
The cake was lovely … moist and crumbly. “When I say it hasn’t changed, the airport is now quite modern, there’s a motorway and a theme park.”
“Why did your friend – Abby, I think you said – why did he want you there that urgently?” Charles asked, looking slightly relieved now that tea was served.
I took a sip of tea. I needed to delay replying until I had thought of an answer. I decided to use what Abby had told Nazira. At the mention of his name, the expression on Abby’s face as he left the ward flashed into my mind.
“Advice,” I said, looking from Charles to Elizabeth, “but advice that needed to be given on the ground, if you see what I mean. Last time I was there, we had to leave a project I was involved with up in the air. There were political issues that we hadn’t foreseen.” I shrugged and picked up another piece of cake. I didn’t like lying to them but the alternative wasn’t an option. “Anyway, changes of heart and the need to move on as quickly as possible necessitated a visit, albeit quite a short one.”
“Thought you’d finished with Aspect?” Charles said.
“Astek,” corrected Elizabeth.
“I have,” I said, “but there were bound to be a few loose ends. This was one of them.”
“Hope you set your fee as high as possible.” Charles said.
“I did,” I lied again. A change of subject was necessary. “Anyway, Elizabeth, I’m delighted to see you looking so well. Charles told me that the prognosis is good.”
Elizabeth’s smile disappeared for a second or two but Charles was looking out of the window at a couple of doves that had landed uncomfortably close to his vegetable patch … he didn’t notice.
“I’ve been lucky,” she said. “It’s not everyone who gets a warning.” The smile returned. “How else could I get Charles to do everything?”
Charles snorted. “You only had to ask, didn’t have to get yourself taken into hospital.”
We talked for almost an hour.
I sensed a change in Elizabeth that suggested I wasn’t going to have to work too hard on one of my promises. She had mellowed.
Her stroke may have been only over a week ago but her recovery was remarkable. She hadn’t moved out of her chair since I arrived which meant I didn’t know whether her mobility was impaired. It was obvious from her dismissal, though, that she didn’t want to talk about her experience other than to reassure Charles through me that she was fine.
Moving on to talk about Belinda was inevitable, but even then I sensed a change in attitude. When Elizabeth reminisced about happier times, I was included: I was part of the family group. At one stage when Charles, having turned down my offer to help, went into the kitchen to refill the teapot, Elizabeth looked at me for a few moments before asking a question she had never asked before.
“Do you miss her terribly, Richard?” she asked, leaning forward slightly.
I nodded and looked down at my hands. “More than I could find the words to describe. She was my life, Elizabeth. When she left, half of me went with her.”
Her next remark suggested that she too had been aware of the perceived gap between us, but she couldn’t have chosen a better time to bring it into the open.
“I haven’t been fair to you since she died. I suppose I needed somebody to blame and as you had spent a lot of time with her when she was ill, you were the unfortunate choice.” I looked up and could see the sincerity in her eyes. “You have always meant a lot to us both and yet I could never bring myself to tell you. We couldn’t have asked for a better son-in-law. I am afraid I for one took you for granted. You know what Charles is like. If he stubs his toe, he thinks twice about swearing. You were there for him when he needed you and in his own way he has told me how grateful he is.”
“There’s no need to say thank you in a situation like this, Elizabeth. And, anyway, I was on the other side of the world when you came out of hospital.”
Her smile accompanied a slight shaking of her head. “Male pride would have intervened. Charles would have wanted to prove he could cope.”
“Yes, but –”
“No buts, Richard. Charles is a man of few words but when he does speak, I listen. I wanted to say that we are here for you if you ever need us for more than just a cup of tea.”
Charles reappeared with the fresh pot, and other than a few knowing looks in my direction, Belinda wasn’t discussed again.
That would have been for Charles’ sake.
He wouldn’t have been able to stand the embarrassment of discussing emotions with another man present. What Elizabeth had said, though, was music to my ears.
On leaving the house, I felt as though something quite momentous had happened and I wished that Belinda could have been there.
I could hear her now, “You see, Mummy thinks the world of you. I told you all your misgivings were in your head.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The following three weeks seemed to pass quickly.
I set about redecorating Blue-Ridge. To my surprise, I found that I was whistling to myself and painting to the highs and lows of the music that blared out from the radio, mainly Classic FM.
The kitchen, study and living room were finished before I collected the twins and Jane for the next exeat. We had a lovely thirty-six hours together. Although the improvement was maintained, Elizabeth wasn’t up to producing one of her memorable Sunday lunches so Charles had to bow to pressure and he brought her to Blue-Ridge instead. I left Isabelle and Jane to do most of the preparation and cooking, the results of which were excellent. Even David, and Charles during a quiet moment, had to admit that they had done a superb job. Charles, Elizabeth and Jane reminisced about Zimbabwe once again but still without any reference to the political situation.
The weather was also exceptional, meaning that we were able to spend a lot of time outside. We had a barbecue on the Saturday evening and my competence to cook the sausages, burgers and chicken was accepted. Isabelle and Jane appeared to be on a constant high. David, probably sensing that he would be missing out, spent time with us rather than playing games on his computer. During the drive back to school, the three of them were chattering away about their recent experiences. Isabelle’s admission from the previous exeat was not mentioned. It was in all our pasts; now we had nothing but our futures to look forward to.
The decorating proceeded with similar enthusiasm after the children had gone back to school. The house seemed horribly quiet but I knew that Belinda was with me and was watching over me. Anybody listening in would have wondered to whom I was talking.
Standing back to admire another piece of handy-work, I was unaware that I was days away from having not just one, but two of the promises I had made turned upside down.
It started with nothing more innocent than an early morning cup of coffee and the daily paper. I was sitting in the conservatory. The good spell of weather was temporarily broken and the rain was, aided by strong winds, was lashing down. The garden looked grey and dismal, the colours of the flowers masked by a perpetual gloom.
Out of habit I flipped through the paper initially to see if any headlines caught my eye, then I went back to the front page trying to take in what the editor had decided I ought to be briefed on that day.
There was the usual political analysis and because I had the same paper delivered each day, I tended to agree with the criticism, diagnosis and prognosis. I was constantly told that the ruling Labour party’s manifesto was proving to be a pack of lies: what had been promised hadn’t been delivered, and the non-deliverers were blaming their predecessors for not sowing the seeds of their success prior to handing over power.
Therefore, nothing had changed.
I was smiling at a particular editorial I could have written when, glancing at the opposite page, I saw a headline I had missed earlier, but now it had my total attention, the article I had been reading suddenly forgotten.
I didn’t have to read beyond the headline to know that the minister being referred to in the article was Abby. He had told me it was goodbye but nothing could have prepared me for discovering the truth in the fourth column on page twelve of a The Daily Telegraph. I forced my eyes to drop below the bold print of the headline to discover the horrible facts of what had happened.
Brunei Minister Commits Suicide
It was announced yesterday by the Minister of Internal Affairs for Negara Brunei Darussalam that Dato Haji Abdullah bin Basrah Ibrahim, the Minister of Development, was found dead in his office. A spokesperson did suggest that, although internal investigations were ongoing, the Minister had taken his own life.
Dato Haji Abdullah had held one of the most senior ministerial appointments for over five years and was considered to be one of His Majesty The Sultan’s closest advisors and allies. The spokesperson gave no indication why the Minister should take his own life. Married with three young children, he had risen quickly from a junior post in the civil service to a very senior position. There was no information immediately available that suggested there was anything in his past that would have been the cause of him taking his own life.
His Majesty The Sultan, who is currently on a low-key visit to the United Kingdom, was not available for comment last night nor was any member of the Royal party. Mr Robert Cruickshank, the British High Commissioner to Brunei, was also unavailable for comment.
Speculation that the Minister had become involved with some questionable aspects of an import/export business was denied.
Brunei Darussalam was once …
Staring at the article, the words, the lines became a blur as I tried to take on board what was in the article.
Abby dead?
I couldn’t believe it. He had no reason to kill himself, and his involvement with dubious import/export activities was equally unlikely. Nevertheless, I had to admit that when I saw him it was obvious that something was troubling him deeply. I had dismissed anything to do with the Chinese, but in so doing, I was no closer to the truth.
While decorating and during the odd unguarded moment some of the detail of my experiences had crept into my mind, but keeping my promise, I did my best to d
ismiss it quickly as it had sneaked up on me.
Now I couldn’t stop it all flooding back.
I didn’t get any more decorating finished, in fact little got done for the rest of the week. Each time I picked up the roller or brush, the enthusiasm for decorating had deserted me. I could see Nazira and the children, their faces covered in confusion as they tried to come to terms with what had happened.
That first night I seriously contemplated getting on the next available flight to Brunei, but what could I do? Even if allowed back into the country, which was unlikely, Abby’s burial would already have taken place. At one stage early in the morning, the phone was in my hand and I started to dial Abby’s home number but then I stopped and replaced the receiver – a few words of comfort was all I had to offer. Is it possible to comfort somebody having had a shock of that magnitude? Is the comforter not trying to find an excuse for his own inadequacies?
I woke up on the Friday morning feeling no better than I had on the preceding few mornings. I still didn’t have the energy or enthusiasm to carry on with the house, so I decided to go shopping, not a task that I enjoyed but one that was necessary because stocks were running low. Not having played since Belinda died, I also decided to ring a few chums to see if they were available to play golf that afternoon. Having a round of golf would take my mind off things, if only temporarily.
I hoped Abby wouldn’t object.
The previous evening I started a letter to Nazira – a coward’s way out? – before driving into town I finished it off as best I could. Words had failed me. The letter took me over two hours to put together and I still wasn’t happy with it, but there was nothing more I could say.
After clicking into answering machines for the first two calls, I gave up ringing my chums for a game of golf. It wasn’t a good idea anyway – I wouldn’t be good company, which might generate questions I wouldn’t want to answer.
Pooh Bridge: conscience stricken Page 25
