“I think everyone else would agree with you there.”
“No,” she retorted quickly, “not because of the danger to the aircraft but because it gave us reason to communicate.”
“You call that communication? We only exchanged a few words.”
“It was enough for plans to be changed once we were on the ground.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“I was due to stay at The High Commission but I rang my boss from the airport and persuaded him that I was more likely to find out what they wanted to know about you if I stayed in the same hotel. We’d met on the aircraft, so recognition when we met again in the hotel would be perfectly normal.”
“But you said getting close was part of the process.”
“Yes, but not that close.”
“I agree. If I had been what your boss thought I was, he was placing you in quite a lot of danger … and,” I said, “don’t you think I might have become a little suspicious with somebody I believed to be from the Foreign Office, coming on to me?”
“Coming on to you? I wasn’t and you weren’t,” Sophie said.
“What?”
“You weren’t suspicious because you hadn’t done anything and I wasn’t in danger for the same reason.”
“So, your early morning swim wasn’t deliberate, is that what you are saying?” I looked at her sideways.
She nudged me with her elbow. “Indirectly, no, I admit … maybe … yes, it was.”
“And there was I thinking dinner in Mama Wong’s and the horrific trip to the beach were all because …”
“It was in part …” she started to say.
I glanced sideways and there were tears forming in Sophie’s eyes. I squeezed her hand and said, “What you have told me has bordered, most of the time, on the unbelievable in so many ways. Harassment as you put it, is not what I would call it because I would prefer professional bungling and a total waste of resources.”
Seeing her tears I guessed she was reliving the agony she suffered when attacked by the sea wasp.
After a few seconds silence, she said,. “And you’re right, I deserved that. Those idiots in Brunei spend all their time living it up and then they make a complete cock-up of the first bit of real excitement.”
“I’m pleased I was the source of their entertainment.”
“I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about me.”
Once again, we both stepped onto the grass verge to let a wide-wheeled tractor go by. The driver, a young lad in his teens, lifted his hand to his well-worn peaked cap and smiled. There was a cigarette dangling from his lips.
“What do you mean?” I asked as we stepped down onto the road.
“The High Commission knew why I was in the country this time, and they knew it was you I was investigating, but obviously they didn’t know the whole story. When the jellyfish incident occurred, they panicked. They knew enough to be rather worried when they heard that you were with me when I was stung. How were they going to explain that away when I wasn’t around to do the explaining for them?”
“But Angela Branson was, she was the first person I saw when I regained consciousness after being drugged. Was she on our flight as well?”
“No, she travelled out two days before, to pave the way for my … and your arrival. Yes, she was there, but she was as worried as Cruickshank … well, you know the rest. When I found out what had happened … well, what I said wasn’t particularly ladylike … it might be best if I keep it to myself. I very rarely use the ‘F’ word. He tried to explain his actions away by saying that he thought he would be arranging for my dead body to shipped home in a box. There would be questions asked and he thought you had the answers.”
“If you’d died there would have only been one cause,” I said.
“Yes, but he didn’t know that at the time.”
“You haven’t mentioned Abby and the Internal Security Police yet,” I said. “You implied you knew why Abby committed suicide.”
Sophie left the road and went towards a five-bar gate that led into a wheat field. The view covered much of the Welland valley and we could see Medbourne and the road leading up on the opposite side of the valley to Blue-Ridge. The house was visible and I pointed it out to Sophie. Resting her head against my shoulder, she slipped her arm round my waist.
“It’s lovely here isn’t it?” she said.
“This part of the county is beautiful. Belinda and I came up here and stopped at this same gate the first time we came to view Blue-Ridge. She used almost identical words to yours.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to …”
“You didn’t … Sophie, I feel you’re wavering for some reason but please tell me what you know about Abby. I can take whatever it is.”
She took her arm away and walked a few feet away before turning to look at me. Although quite tall, she seemed too delicate to be in such a physical business. She couldn’t have weighed more than eight stone. Her hands and feet were tiny, her frame slim, but under that slight external appearance there was obviously a woman with direction.
“The reason I’m hesitating, Richard, is because what I was told hasn’t been confirmed and probably never will be.” Sophie stepped back onto the road. “Can we carry on walking?”
I joined her and she took my arm. “Confirmed or not, I would like to know,” I said.
“Unbeknown to me, you, The High Commission and God knows who else, Brunei’s Internal Security Police were investigating your friend Abby. This is hearsay, Richard, but it is believed Abby was mixed up in or even the leader of a plot against The Sultan.”
I stopped suddenly, not believing what Sophie had said. She moved in front of me and took my hands in hers.
“Richard, I –”
“I can’t …” I started to say.
“I’m sorry, Richard, but that is what I was told.”
“And … and I … God, I’ve been bloody naïve. When Abby and I went out on his launch, it was to tell me about a supposed plot against The Sultan, and he believed the British Foreign Office was in league with the subversives … it was all to do with oil and gas, and Britain looking for alternative supplies … God, I believed every word he told me.”
“So, perhaps what –”
“He also believed you were part of the plot against The Sultan …”
“He what?”
“He wanted me to grill you about why you were in Brunei.”
“But as far as I know, Britain’s relationship with Brunei and therefore The Sultan, has never been stronger,” Sophie said.
“That’s exactly what I told him … now I understand what he was really saying to me. If you had been who he thought you were … it was all reverse psychology and I fell for it.”
“His involvement is not confirmed but if it’s true, it’s unlikely it ever will be broadcast. It’s not the sort of thing a country like Brunei would want the rest of the world to know about.”
“And what you told me about being an auditor …”
“Obviously I had to lie to you about what I did,’ she said. “Regardless of what I thought, you were still on the suspect list because my boss still thought differently to me.”
We had entered the village of Slawston and the church was on our left. Sophie pulled me towards a bench in the churchyard and sat down.
I felt numb.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I said, “I don’t understand why if you had been to Brunei a number of times before last month, he didn’t know you were not with the Foreign Office.”
“That’s easy, Richard,’ she said, leaning back against the bench. “Nobody other than The High Commission knew I was with Customs and Excise.”
“You’ve also explained why the Internal Security Police were interested in me, eventually ordering me out of the country. I was friends with Abby … and you. I think if I had been them I might have hauled me in for an explanation, rather than having a cosy chat and drink in the hotel.”
Sophie nodded. �
��It all makes sense, doesn’t it? The final pieces of the jigsaw puzzle have come together,” she said.
I nodded. “It certainly … I suppose, as you said, we will never know the truth. Did you know Abby’s wife, Nazira, is the PA to The Supreme Commander?”
“Yes, I did know. But you’re right, we will never know the truth, and perhaps it is best if we don’t.”
I took a deep breath. “For the children’s sake I hope she was not involved in any way.”
“I don’t know, Richard. At least what I’ve told you has gone some to explaining why I am here.”
“I agree with the some way,” I said. “You said there were three reasons why you came to see me. I’ve only heard the first one.”
“That’s true,” she said, a mischievous smile appearing on her lips.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
After getting up from the bench, we carried on through the village. We saw a few people who in the inimitable way of villagers all passed the time of day, and I assumed Sophie’s silence meant she was reconsidering what extra she wanted to tell me. In the space of a couple of hours, our relationship had moved on at quite a pace.
Belinda was watching over me, and I knew she would understand, even encourage me, but I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand my feelings in Brunei and they were still confusing me. My confusion hadn’t stopped me kissing Sophie, and we’d spent nearly an hour walking in the open holding hands. Although I’d been wary of the cars and people that were about, my behaviour suggested my caution was perfunctory – because deep down I didn’t really care.
We were back on the road to Medbourne before either of us spoke again. Sophie would tell me her other reasons when she was ready, but there was something else I wanted to ask first.
“Why did Abby commit suicide if he was involved in this plot against the Sultan, surely he –”
“It’s possible he didn’t,” Sophie said, interrupting.
Frowning, I said, “Are you saying he was murdered?”
She nodded then shook her head, a mannerism that endeared me to her even more. “No, I’m saying that it’s a possibility. It would explain why no reason for his suicide has ever been given.”
Shaking my head, my thoughts immediately shifted to Nazira and the children. If what Sophie was suggesting were true, Nazira would also know the truth. How could she be the PA to the Supreme Commander when at the same her husband was plotting to overthrow The Sultan? It didn’t add up. There had to be another reason. Strangely I would have preferred to know that Abby had committed suicide for some personal reason, being diagnosed with a terminal illness for example, but to put Nazira and the children at risk was inconceivable.
Walking down the hill towards Medbourne, I felt as though Sophie had in the space of a little more than an hour, explained everything that had happened in my life since Belinda died and I had taken myself off to the supposed solitude of Derbyshire.
On reaching Pooh Bridge, we paused in the middle of the bridge and watched the water flow underneath, over the ford and down towards the pub. I smiled ruefully. We had no control over the swirls and eddies in the water below us in the same way we had no control over the whirlpools in our lives. We thought we did; we thought we had a choice, but more often than not, we didn’t – the last few months had proved that to me.
“So,” Sophie said finally, “there you have it.”
“There I have it,” I said. “I can’t say it was the way I expected today to go when I went for a game of golf, but I’m pleased it did.” I turned slightly and faced her. “Is it time to tell me what reasons two and three are?”
Sophie, her hands in front of her, suddenly looked vulnerable. “I’ve lied to you,” she said quietly.
“About what?” I should have been concerned but I wasn’t.
“You asked me earlier whether I was authorised to tell you what I have: I suppose the honest answer to your question is, no.” She raised her eyebrows at the look of surprise on my face. “But I’ve told you now so it’s too late.”
“If you weren’t authorised, then surely –”
“I’m not on sick leave,” she said, looking down at the stream. “I’ve resigned. I handed my letter of resignation in last week and told them that they weren’t to expect me to work my notice.”
“But surely you’d be on sick leave anyway after what happened.”
She looked up and the expression on her face suggested that I was being rather stupid. “There was no point. I had made up my mind to resign the night before I walked into the water at Cave beach.”
“Why?”
“Because, Richard, I had fallen in love.”
Dorothy Stephens, the licensee’s wife, looked quite surprised as we walked in. She was a squat woman who always looked extremely healthy, her rosy cheeks and tanned arms resulting from a varied outdoor life but none more so than being a member of a local walking club. She was always smiling, regardless of the time of day or what the weather. Although The Nevill Arms could be classed as our local, I couldn’t say that Belinda and I had been regulars but we had been in often enough for me still to be recognised.
Belinda had accompanied me under duress – using her terminology not mine – because I regarded that supporting the local was part of village life but she thought that it should never become an obligation.
It was a warm early evening, and the tables outside by the Medbourne Brook were filled with all sorts; couples of all ages, cyclists and ramblers. Inside the pub the temperature dropped a few degrees and it was less busy.
“Hello, Richard,” Dorothy said, looking up from drying glasses. Her greeting was for me but her eyes were on Sophie.
“Hi Dorothy, it’s a lovely evening. It’s good to see all those customers at this time of day.”
“It certainly is, we’ve been busy all day. Saw you both standing on the bridge by the church when I took Dotty for a walk. I wondered if you were going to come in later.”
Dorothy was still looking at Sophie … an introduction was in order.
“Dorothy, this is Sophie Mackintosh and Sophie, this is Dorothy Stephens.” The two women shook hands across the bar.
“Pleased to meet you, Sophie,” Dorothy said pleasantly, first names being the order of the day in The Nevill Arms. “Now what can I get you both?” she continued, not waiting for Sophie to return her greeting.
I stole a sideways glance and the twinkle in Sophie’s eyes suggested Dorothy’s informal approach had amused her.
Dorothy had the reputation for being the source of any information required about anything or anybody in Medbourne. This was probably one of the reasons why Belinda, being a private person, hadn’t always been a willing companion. I knew that going into the pub with a female Dorothy didn’t recognise would be playing on her mind, but she certainly wasn’t forward enough to ask outright who Sophie was and what she was doing with me. I was still reeling from what Sophie had told me earlier. I wasn’t stupid enough not to have concluded that I was the source of her feelings and, understandably from my behaviour before and during our walk of confession, she had assumed that her feelings were reciprocated.
I remained confused by my feelings, actions and expectations … my conscience played its inexorable part as usual.
“Erm, a gin and tonic, and a pint of lager, please, Dorothy.” Before going into the pub I had already asked Sophie what she would like to drink.
While Dorothy was pouring the drinks, I felt Sophie’s hand slip into mine and she squeezed my fingers. Other than acknowledging my introduction with a nod and a smile, she hadn’t said a word since we walked through the front door. Perhaps going into the pub wasn’t the best of moves when Sophie had declared how she felt about me, but although it was a longish walk back up the hill to Blue-Ridge, I needed more time to think.
We took our drinks and sat in the corner by the unlit fire. Glancing out of the window I could see the small car park was almost full. The ducks and geese were all lying on the grass next to the
brook and footbridge, enjoying the warmth from the early evening sun. All the customers at the outside tables seemed to be enjoying themselves.
“Was I too direct?” Sophie asked, breaking the silence.
I turned and looked at her. The expression on her face and in her eyes spoke a thousand words.
I had hurt her by not responding straight away.
She had been direct with me and expected me to be the same with her, even if it were to say I didn’t reciprocate her love.
But I did feel the same, why couldn’t I tell her? Since sitting down to breakfast in the Sheraton Utama Hotel in Brunei, and regardless of what else was going on, my conscience had been playing havoc with my feelings and vice versa.
Sophie had travelled up from London to see me and I had been rather naïve to assume that her reasons were to relate what I had been unknowingly involved with, and to tell me she had resigned. Kissing and holding hands were good indicators without the need for words. Had my conscience been telling me it would all go away … again?
I needed to say something.
“We haven’t known each other very long but I have become accustomed to your directness,” I said. Under the circumstances, I was trying to be amusing but my choice of words must have sounded silly. Her knee was touching mine, and as she sipped her drink, I wanted to tell her how I really felt. But I didn’t want to confuse her as much as I was confusing myself. “I suppose I’m still trying to come to terms with what you said.”
“Is it that difficult?”
“Not difficult, but rather unexpected.”
She shrugged. “Unexpected? It wasn’t me who kissed you on the bridge,” she said. “Not the first time, anyway.”
“Pooh Bridge,” I told her.
“Is that what it’s called?”
“Not by anyone other than the Blythe family, or not as far as I know. It’s actually called the Packhorse Bridge,” I said.
Sophie put her hand on top of mine, her fingers stroking slowly. “Richard, I’m not some mixed-up teenager with a crush. You said you’re now used to my directness, I haven’t let you down, then, have I? Since Jeremy and I split up, I haven’t felt like this about anybody else, in fact I have never felt like this about anybody else full stop.”
Pooh Bridge: conscience stricken Page 29
