“I was so sorry to hear about Dato Haji Abdullah,” Sophie said behind me. She used his formal names but she knew I called him Abby.
I rested my hands on the work surface and closed my eyes. Did her condolences mean anything more than I was hearing? I wasn’t surprised she knew about his suicide but I did find it a little suspicious that she mentioned it this early. Had she offered her condolences because she meant them, or were they a precursor to her revealing more than I wanted to hear? Perhaps she was testing me, finding out if I knew about it.
Then again, she was here and the ice needed breaking, we had to talk about something.
Turning round, I said, “Thank you. His death, especially as it is believed it was suicide, was a tremendous shock.”
I gave her the mug of green tea, which she cupped in both hands before lifting it to her nose, her eyes closing as she savoured the aroma. “I love the smell of green tea,” she said.
“Why are you here, Sophie?” The question was direct but it needed asking straight away. Our relationship had been unusual to say the least. We weren’t like a couple of old friends catching up on what we’d been doing for the last month.
Lowering the mug, her smile disappeared. She stared at me for a few seconds before saying anything. “There are three reasons why I am here, Richard. Two of my reasons are connected but the third is not related with the other two, well, not directly.” She took a sip of her tea, her eyes never leaving mine. “Can we go and sit down somewhere?”
I led the way through to the conservatory. Sophie again went to the windows and looked out over the garden. “I really do like it,” she said before sitting down in what was still and always would be, Belinda’s wicker chair. She kicked off her sandals and lifted her feet up onto the chair, smoothing her dress down over her knees.
If this was an official visit then I found her body language too casual. Perhaps it was more like the meeting of two old friends, both of whom had news the other needed to hear, but neither knowing where to start. We were establishing boundaries because I hadn’t the faintest idea what was coming, I didn’t really know where to start and what defences I might need.
Or maybe I should go on the attack?
I sat down in the chair – my chair – opposite her. “Where are you going to begin?”
She lifted her head, a sadness appearing in her eyes. “After what has happened, finding a place to start isn’t that easy. I thought our friendship, if that’s what it was, had come to end when you were spirited away from the hospital in Brunei.”
“By spirited I presume you mean drugged and abducted?”
I hadn’t seen her pout before, and for some reason it was an emotion I thought she wasn’t capable of displaying in that way. It made her look very feminine, and incredibly vulnerable. She had been so in charge, so dominant, so in control, but now she seemed rather defenceless. If she stayed like this, how was I going to protect myself from my own feelings?
“I can understand how that must have seemed, Richard, and I’m going to try and explain but, before I do, can I thank you?” She put her mug on the small table next to her chair and began to get up. “Can I show you the real evidence of what you did for me.” She lifted the hem of her dress to the top of her thighs and looked down. “That’s what you did for me.” She wasn’t wearing any tights and her legs were pale, but across the front of both her thighs there were four faint pinkish lines. “My tummy’s the same.” She lowered her dress and sat down. “The doctors said that after a few more months there should be no sign of the attack. They have all said that I owed my life, and the lack of scarring, to you.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Thank you, I owe you more than I owe anybody else in the world.”
I was embarrassed. “I told you in the hospital, I did no more than anybody else could have done. If by doing what I did I helped in your recovery, then of course I’m pleased, but …”
“Richard, will you stop being so bloody modest! You didn’t help in my recovery, as you put it, you saved my life.”
I looked up and it was obvious that I had upset her. Her eyes were watering, her hands clasped tightly in her lap in exasperation.
“Sophie, I reacted on impulse,” I said.
I wanted to react on impulse again and cross the few feet between us. I wanted to show her how pleased I was that she had recovered, let alone that I had played a part in that recovery. Although I needed to put the past behind me and I had thought I would never see her again, I was actually more than pleased she was here. Deep down and despite my promises, I wanted nothing more.
“Richard, this isn’t going the way I planned,” she said solemnly. I was seeking solace in my mug of tea. I couldn’t look at her. “Perhaps I ought to leave … it’s not what I want, but –”
I shook my head slowly. “It’s not your fault, Sophie. I suppose everything has built up inside me, and when I thought I was beginning to resume a reasonably normal life again, the first reminder I have – you – puts me back to square one.”
I managed to lift my head. Sophie was sitting forward, her hands resting on her knees. “I think you should be told what has been going on. You have every right to be suspicious of me …”
“I’m not suspicious of you, Sophie,” I lied, “but I’m not sure I want to know what’s been going on.”
Sophie looked down at her hands as she pondered what she should say next. “I’ve been on sick leave since I came home and I’ve got another couple of weeks to go. My bosses want me to be fully fit before I return.”
I tried to smile. “You’ve been through quite a traumatic experience. You deserve the break and as much sick leave as it takes.”
She was still inspecting her hands. “But my bosses aren’t who you think they are, Richard. I told you I was an auditor with the Foreign Office, but I’m not.” She lifted her head slowly. “I work for Customs and Excise. I’m a senior investigator.”
I felt my heartbeat quicken, and I closed my eyes.
Abby had been right in one way, but he was so far off the mark in another. Customs and Excise? An investigator? The possibility had never crossed my mind.
“And who in Brunei were you investigating?” I asked, lifting my head. I didn’t expect an answer, but the one I got sent shivers down my spine.
“You, Richard, I was investigating you.”
I stared at her, my eyes unblinking, disbelieving.
“Me? What do you mean, me? Why on earth were you investigating me? I –”
“That’s one of the reasons why I’m here, Richard – to explain.”
“And explanations are going to make me feel better, are they?”
“Not necessarily.” A note of resignation crept into her voice. “But I think after what has happened to you, you do warrant something.” She paused for a few seconds. “Look, can we go for a walk? It’s a lovely day and I would prefer to tell you what I have to tell you in the open.”
Abby had wanted the privacy of the open seas to inform me of his concerns and now Sophie wanted to go for a walk. The reason behind Abby committing suicide had never been revealed in the papers and I hadn’t bothered trying to find out. It was possible that what Sophie wanted to tell me would allow me to close the door on that aspect of Brunei if nothing else. It was for that reason only that I decided to agree to Sophie’s request.
We were well beyond the Blue-Ridge’s front gate and heading down the hill towards the village before Sophie started to give me her account of what had been going on.
The road was quiet.
If we had turned right out of the gate and gone uphill instead, we would have, after about three-quarters of a mile, come to the entrance to Nevill Manor, which stood beyond the junction for Drayton to the right and Uppingham to the left.
Blue-Ridge was the last but one house leading away from the village, and the security provided by the narrow and rarely used road was one of the attractions. Our neighbours kept very much to themselves. I smiled having used the word security; I now
realised the woman walking with me may well have been responsible for unlawfully breaking into Blue-Ridge.
Sophie was looking out over the rooftops of the village, taking in the magnificent view Wignell Hill had to offer. I was walking on the other side of the road, my hands in my pockets, wondering what she was going to tell me, when she crossed the road and linked arms with me. I thought it an intimate thing to do, especially under the circumstances. Her hand was resting against my arm and I felt the same thrill as I had when our hands had touched earlier.
I wanted to object, but I couldn’t. Her closeness was what I really needed and wanted.
“We became interested in you when we heard that you’d found Ingrid Mesterom’s body,” she said, her voice soft and not at all businesslike. “We had been aware that she was in the country but she had given us the slip. What she was doing in Derbyshire we don’t know, but we assumed that she was taken there to be murdered.”
I stopped and Sophie didn’t have any choice but to stop next to me. “Are you telling me that Ingrid Mesterom was some sort of international criminal?” I looked down into Sophie eyes. Her face was so close to mine, all I had to do was lean forward and I could kiss her.
“That’s what we were trying to prove,” she said, and the moment passed. “She was a courier, or we thought she was a courier, but we’d got nothing on her at all. Over the previous six months, she had been in and out of the UK four or five times. She was even searched, and I mean a full body search, once but nothing was found.”
“What were you looking for?”
Sophie looked at me as though I ought to have known the answer to my question, and I obviously did. “Class ‘A’ drugs,” she said.
“Why do you think Ingrid was murdered?”
We resumed our walk. Having reached the first corner, we were passing the houses which indicated the start of the village.
“Another mystery but again we had to make assumptions. The description you gave the Ashbourne police of the man in the car park suggested he might have been from a rival cartel, but we really don’t know.”
“It wasn’t my description. I merely passed on what somebody else had seen.”
“Yes, I know. We interviewed the man concerned but he wasn’t able to add any more.” Sophie was looking all around her as she spoke. Some of the houses we were passing were especially attractive.
“So why did I come under suspicion?”
It was Sophie’s turn to stop. “The Ashbourne police thought your version of what happened stank,” she said, bluntly.
“I told them exactly what did happen.” I thought for a moment. “If they thought I was lying, why didn’t they arrest me?”
“Initially there was no proof, well none that a defence lawyer couldn’t have easily shot down. The forensic evidence didn’t add up, but it was mainly because they did a trace on their computer and saw that Ingrid Mesterom was under surveillance. They got in touch with us and we asked them to back off because we thought you might be a new contact. They obliged.”
“Are you telling me it was your lot that searched my house?”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that.”
“Are you allowed to go around searching houses without the owner’s permission?”
“No.”
“At least you’re honest.”
We were standing to the left of the road with Sophie’s arm linked with mine as a car was approaching, I didn’t recognise it at first. There was sufficient room for it to pass.
But it didn’t.
The car stopped about twenty yards away. I glanced in its direction again and that is when recognition hit me like a sledgehammer.
It was Charles and Elizabeth.
Sophie also looked towards the car and then back at me. “Who are they?”
“My mother and father-in-law.”
Sophie immediately took her arm from mine, which actually made the situation Charles and Elizabeth were now staring at look a lot worse. I began to walk towards the car, leaving Sophie where she was.
I approached Charles’s side of the car but I could see that Elizabeth was still staring straight at Sophie. “Hello, you two,” I greeted them as light-heartedly as I could.
“Afternoon, Richard,” Charles replied, but he too was taking sly looks towards Sophie.
I squatted down and asked a stupid question. “What brings you out here?”
With Elizabeth improving slowly, Charles took her out on more and more drives in the countryside to give her as much fresh air as possible. They had called in at least once or twice a week. I hadn’t told them about Abby and neither of them, even if they had read about it in the paper, had made the connection.
“Thought we’d pop over for an afternoon cuppa –”
“But we won’t bother,” Elizabeth added, interrupting, her voice filled with suspicion. “We can see that you’re already entertaining.”
I looked over my shoulder towards Sophie. She was slowly walking towards us. “It’s not what it seems,” I said, looking back into the car and feeling there was a need for me to be uncomfortable. How many times do you hear people say it’s not what it seems only to discover later it was exactly as it seemed.
“I’m sure it’s not,” Elizabeth replied.
“Now, now, Elizabeth, we don’t know all Richard’s friends.”
“Maybe not,” Elizabeth said.
Sophie joined me at the car and an introduction was only polite. “Sophie, can I introduce Charles and Elizabeth Norton.”
Sophie reached into the car to shake hands and said, “Sophie Mackintosh.”
Charles became a bit flustered. He would have been aware that he was sitting down and introductions don’t happen when you’re sitting down, especially not with a lady. However, he took Sophie’s proffered hand and muttered something. She then reached further into the car, across Charles.
“Pleased to meet you Mrs Norton,” she said politely.
“We were Belinda’s parents,” Elizabeth informed Sophie coldly. “Belinda was Richard’s wife.”
“Yes, I know,” Sophie said sympathetically. “I was so sorry to hear about your tragic loss.”
There were a few seconds of embarrassing silence but then Charles coughed and said, “Well, we won’t keep you, my boy. Just thought we’d call in on the off chance. You could have been anywhere.”
Sophie and I moved closer to Charles’s car to let another one pass. “Well, you can still have some tea if you’d like. Sophie and I were only going for a short walk.”
“No, no, wouldn’t dream of it, my boy. I –”
Elizabeth interrupted him again. “We’ve been to tend Belinda’s grave,” she said, “and thought we’d come and keep you company. But as you already have some, we’ll go home.”
I thought Elizabeth’s remark was a little unnecessary. They may have caught me arm-in-arm with another woman but there was no need to jump to the wrong conclusions, or was there?
I wasn’t going to give Elizabeth the satisfaction – if that’s how she felt – of allowing her to draw the only conclusion possible. We had been on far better terms since her stroke and my return from Brunei and I didn’t want to spoil it. I couldn’t tell them the truth and I didn’t see why I had to start lying. I actually had little choice in the end but to leave them with whatever conclusions they had drawn, and would no doubt discuss, and then perhaps when I next saw them alone I would tell them some of the background and the truth.
Saving somebody’s life was probably a good enough reason for them to pay you a visit.
We stood back as Charles selected first gear and watched as he continued up the road and turned in a gateway at the first corner. Coming back down the hill quite slowly, Charles tooted the horn and gave a small wave.
Elizabeth looked like thunder.
“That was my fault,” Sophie said as we carried on walking towards the T-junction in the village. She linked her arm in mine again, not in the slightest bit upset by Elizabeth’s obvious disapproval.
“Not at all, they simply jumped to the wrong conclusions. I’ll speak to them later.”
“You didn’t tell me your wife’s name was Belinda.”
We had almost reached the junction with the main road through the village. Belinda’s grave was in the churchyard that was coming into view … I slowed down.
“We didn’t really have long enough together in Brunei to go into much detail.” I pointed towards the church. “That’s where she’s buried. Do you mind if we make a slight detour?”
“I wouldn’t know it was a detour. I came from that way,” she added, indicating the road to Uppingham.
We went through the small lych-gate into the churchyard. Passing the church to our right, I took Sophie to Belinda’s grave. There were fresh flowers by the headstone. Elizabeth had asked me if I minded if she took responsibility for tending Belinda’s grave and it would have been churlish of me to refuse. I had buried a few close memories of our relationship with Belinda in her coffin. I knew that in her hands she had the locket she had worn containing our photographs, and lying next to her was a framed photograph of the twins. On her other side there was a photograph of Charles and Elizabeth.
Sophie took her arm from mine once we passed through the lych-gate, guessing that I would want this short visit to be very personal. Since seeing Charles and Elizabeth I hadn’t thought about what she had told me so far, but now, as she stood a few paces behind me looking down at Belinda’s headstone, I realised that regardless of my promise I wanted to know more.
“What was she like?” Sophie asked.
“Beautiful, beautiful in every way,” I replied.
Had I brought Sophie to Belinda’s grave for approval? Was I looking for consent? Why did I think that Sophie and I had any sort of future? I had told myself a thousand times that it was too soon, and anyway I was forgetting that for there to be a future both of us would have to agree to it. Elizabeth had already signalled her displeasure and that was before anything existed for her not to understand.
Pooh Bridge: conscience stricken Page 27
