Fatal Choices

by Anne Morgellyn

  ‘Yeah.’ He waved the smoke out of my face. ‘Because everybody in the world wants to meet everybody else. Jim sure keeps the Sixties spirit burning. He makes a tidy profit from it, but I wouldn’t say he was in it for the money. Did you sign the guest book?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘He has guest books going back for years. I’ll look out for you – Louise Androssoff Moon.’

  ‘Just Louise Moon, I wasn’t married then.’ I could remember very little about my Jim Haynes party, apart from a stack of Playboys in the bathroom and a conversation with two mime artists, one of whom I kept in touch with till he turned up on my doorstop when I was back in London, expecting to sleep with me.

  ‘There’s the Charon Clinic – but that’s not really a good thing to have in common.’

  ‘I don’t know about that. If I hadn’t been in your car and the police hadn’t come snooping, I’d be dead by now. That’s not a coincidence, that’s fate. I know you’ve got a husband and a kid, but I’m thinking that maybe we were meant to meet.’

  I avoided his eyes. The sun was going down. We would have to go in soon.

  He poured himself more wine. ‘London’s the last place I’d go back to. You know I was stopped by a copper in London a couple of months ago because he thought I was drunk and disorderly? In fact, I’d just come out of hospital.’

  ‘That’s terrible. How did you manage?’

  ‘I asked them to find me a hostel, but they said it wasn’t their responsibility. They said I didn’t qualify. I was kipping on a zed-bed at my lady-friend’s niece’s place before I came to Switzerland. I was keeping my money for that but I gave her two hundred quid before I left because she did me a favour taking me in after Eileen died. That’s another thing about being on the road, you lose touch with people, especially family. Anyway, she took me in while I was having the radiotherapy.’

  ‘How are you going to manage in Paris?’

  ‘I’ll get by. I always do.’ He looked me in the eye. ‘There’s not a lot left out of the refund. I need to get a place. Five hundred should cover it – euros. I said I might come and tap you, didn’t I?’

  He was rubbing his beard. His fingers were black and bruised-looking. ‘I’m still owed for gigs I did years go. It’s easy to rook a sessions man. They think you don’t remember where you’ve played. When I think of some of the jobs I’ve done, when I read about the royalties some people are pulling in – let’s just say I hate producers. I never got royalties for all the hits I’ve recorded. I always took the cash. They got me by the short and curlies. They knew I never had the wherewithal to sue. Not that I was interested in the money, not really. I was young back then. I was only interested in having a good time: sex, drugs and rock and roll. It’s a cliché all right, but it’s true enough.’

  ‘I’d need to get the cash tonight,’ I said. ‘Now, in fact, before it goes dark. You could wait here.’ There was nothing of value in the apartment, excepting Rodolfo’s antiques and they were too heavy to put in a rucksack. I was ashamed of myself for even thinking that. But I was relieved that he had come for my money, not for me.

  ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘I’ll find some way of getting it back to you.’

  ‘It’s Buz’s money really. I’m sure he wouldn’t object to helping a fellow traveller.’ I bit my lip. ‘That came out wrong. I mean, I see it as a sort of tribute.’

  ‘You had something going with him?’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that. He was my friend.’

  ‘You don’t mind if I stay here, do you? I like sitting out here.’

  ‘Not at all. You carry on.’

  I walked briskly to the nearest hole-in-the-wall, as Nicky called them. My salary had just been paid in so I could cover it. When I got back, Drew was still in the garden. He rose when he saw me, took the cash and told me I was a nice lady. I said I hoped he wouldn’t mind if I turned in soon. He said he didn’t mind at all. He was more than ready to hit the deck.

  The security lights came on. I looked up and saw that Rodolfo was out on his bedroom balcony, smoking. I raised my hand to him and ushered Drew inside. It was well after nine and the apartment was deep in shadow. I got a duvet, sheet and pillow for Drew, showed him where the bathroom was and told him to help himself to a nightcap.

  After I came out of the bathroom, I saw the french windows were open again and he was back on the terrace, smoking.

  ‘Can you lock up when you’ve finished?’ I said, embarrassed to be standing before him in my bathrobe. ‘The taxi’s coming at eight thirty. Help yourself to anything you need.’

  I went to my bedroom and closed the door. Pretty soon after I lay down I heard him shut the windows. A few minutes later, he went into the bathroom and ran the tap – he must have been brushing his teeth. Then I heard the salon door close. There was no sound after that, but just as I was dozing off, I heard him snoring.

  He wasn’t there when I got up the following morning. He had torn a sheet from the memo pad and scribbled a note in pencil: ‘Thanks for your help. You’re a star. I’ll be in touch’. I saw that he had made himself some tea and toast and had washed up the cup and plate. I supposed I would never see him or the money again.

  I thought it was the taxi driver ringing my bell, but it was Rodolfo in his striped silk gentleman’s dressing gown, asking if he could help me with my cases. This was just an excuse, of course: he wanted to see who I had been entertaining.

  ‘You’re up early,’ I said, relieved to see the taxi turn into the drive. I knew that after I had left Rodolfo would go into the apartment and nose around. I didn’t care about that, although it wasn’t exactly aristocratic to root through the possessions of one’s tenants; in fact, it was ignoble. Now I would have to tell Androssoff about Drew’s visit. I wasn’t going to tell him but now I saw I should because Rodolfo was bound to tell him. He stood outside the villa, waving me off.

  ‘Arriverderci,’ I called. ‘See you in ten days.’

  16

  As the plane began its sharp descent over City airport, I had a strong sense of revulsion. It was hard to believe that our economy depended on these soaring buildings of glass and steel, poking up into the sky along the snake-bend in the river. The light on top of Canary Wharf Tower was a beacon to mammon but there was no sense of industry here, as there had been with the old docks. I wished the dockers and the print workers would come again and chase the canaries away.

  I saw Nicky perched on Androssoff’s shoulders and waved frantically to him as I came through arrivals. He looked as though he had grown a bit since Monday. As we rode in a cab back to Primrose Hill, he told me about the sights he had seen, all the Chinese food and ice-cream he had eaten.

  We drew up outside the stuccoed house where Androssoff had his flat. The Harley-D wasn’t in its usual spot below the steps.

  ‘Where’s the bike?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s up at the garage. I always leave it there now when I’m away.’

  The flat was much smaller than our apartment in Geneva but Nicky was clearly taken with it. He showed me his den, the tiny cubby hole where Androssoff kept his desk-top computer with a large screen for peering at microscopic slides. He had bought a child-size camp bed but if Nicky lay down and stretched out his arms, he could almost touch both walls. It wasn’t dark because an opaque glass door let in light from the living room.

  ‘Wouldn’t you be better in daddy’s room?’ I said.

  ‘He wanted to sleep in here,’ Androssoff said. ‘I leave the door ajar when he’s in bed.’

  ‘I hope he doesn’t hurt himself on that door.’

  ‘It’s toughened glass, Louise. Pilkingtons’ finest.’

  Nicky was pulling me towards the bedroom. That bed held many memories for me, with Chas. I thought of my bedroom in Geneva: Naomi with Androssoff.

  ‘What’s the matter, Mummy?

  ‘Why don’t you lie down, Louise?’

  ‘Can we go and fly the kite, dad?’

  �
��There isn’t enough wind. We’ll go and collect the car and you can say hello to Bernie. Then you can help me load up. Got to set off early, Nick. It’s a long drive.’

  ‘I thought you’d sold that old Volvo before we went to Wellington,’ I said.

  ‘I’m hiring a car to get the three of us down to Devon. It’s at the garage where I get the bike serviced.’

  ‘I hope it isn’t stolen.’

  ‘Oh behave, Louise. I’ve known Bernie for years.’

  ‘Mummy,’ Nicky said in the tone he used when he wanted something. ‘Can we come and live here with dad?’

  ‘We live in Geneva now. You’ll be starting your new school after the holiday.’

  ‘Can I go to school here?’

  ‘Let’s go and get the car,’ Androssoff said. ‘Give your mother a break.’

  He’d reserved a table at the Greek restaurant in Regent’s Park Road but we had to be out by eight o’clock sharp when the local celebrities would start arriving. I didn’t mind that at all because an hour was about Nicky’s cut-off point for sitting still. I was pleased to see him attacking the meze with a hearty appetite. The only dishes he didn’t like were the calamari and the taramasalata, but he got a special ice-cream for dessert because the owner knew Androssoff well. It was a lot of food to get through in an hour, but we managed to clean every plate.

  Nicky was sick four times on the way to Devon. The motorway was very busy and, factoring in the puke and toilet stops, the journey took us nearly seven hours. Androssoff hated driving. ‘We’d have been down here in half the time on the bike,’ he griped. The roads in Devon were less congested, but the bends on the country lanes exacerbated Nicky’s nausea. We were all relieved to see the old stone gateposts of Stasia’s house.

  I had never felt easy around my sister-in-law. I hadn’t seen her since we went out to New Zealand and she had gone a lot greyer and worn-looking. She was two years older than Androssoff but she always deferred to him, which annoyed me because he was often rude and offhand with her. He wouldn’t sit and have a welcome cup of tea with us, preferring to take our stuff straight over to the flat above the stables which belonged to him.

  ‘I thought you’d stay in the house, Charles,’ Stasia said. ‘I’ve got my biggest room ready for you all. There’s not enough room in the flat for the three of you.’

  ‘This is your auntie, Nick. My sister.’

  They looked at one another warily, but Stasia didn’t come forward to kiss Nicky. He stood his ground as well and held on to my hand.

  ‘He’s very like you. Charles.’

  ‘I see a lot of Louise in him. He’s got her eyes and my brains.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll be a doctor, too.’

  I didn’t like this talking over Nicky’s head, nor did I relish the thought of staying in the house. There would be guests wandering about, strange guests – new age travellers and festival folk.

  ‘If we stay in the flat, you could let the room,’ I told my sister-in-law. ‘He’s got a camp bed, haven’t you, sweetheart?’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure, Louise. It’s a premium room, en-suite. I’ve turned two families away today already.’

  ‘We always stay in the flat,’ Androssoff said. ‘It’s my flat. I thought you’d take it as read.’

  Nicky went over to the range, where a large ginger Tom-cat lounged in its basket. I hoped it wouldn’t scratch him. The last cat Stasia had was vicious.

  ‘Don’t touch it,’ I called. ‘Wait for it to come to you.’

  ‘Come on, Nick.’ Androssoff said. ‘Help me unload.’

  ‘He does look very like my brother,’ Stasia said to me when they had gone off.

  ‘Yes, he does. Not quite so dark.’

  ‘My hair was the colour his is now when I was his age.’

  ‘The same colour as mine then.’ I poured more hot water into the teapot.

  ‘It must have been quite difficult for you with a baby, in a strange country.’

  ‘Wellington is very British. But it’s true we didn’t know many people. All that comes, I suppose, when children start school. I was on my own with him a lot with Chas away all the time.’

  ‘And now you’re both away from Charles. I was surprised to hear you were taking Nicolas to Geneva.’

  ‘It’s worked out much better for all of us. They’ve got quality time together now. We’re together every week end, Friday afternoon to Monday morning. Before, Chas hadn’t any time to spend with us. He had a lot of responsibilities with the project. He wasn’t expecting that. He thought it would be mostly research at the faculty.’

  ‘It was shocking news about his colleague.’

  ‘Yes, it was. Buz was a good friend to me, and Nicky loved him.’ I helped myself to a biscuit. She was a very good baker.

  ‘People are under such pressure these days. There’s no time to reflect, no spirituality. I see it all the time in my guests. A spiritual emptiness.’

  I drank the rest of my tea. ‘I’d better go and see what they’re up to ...’

  ‘You’ve time for another cup.’ She poured it out. ‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to spend a huge amount of time with you. This is my busiest period. There’s a music festival this coming weekend and our camp site is full. We had a terrible mess yesterday because the Portaloos weren’t working. I had to let the campers use the facilities in the house and, of course, the house guests didn’t like it. Fortunately, I was able to find a supplier with a temporary solution. It’s called a bog-in-a-bag – a sort of close-stool with a bin liner. I managed to secure two dozen of them.’

  ‘That sounds very practical.’

  ‘Yes, except it means we have to empty the bags in the cess pit.’

  ‘Oh dear. You’ve got your hands full then.’

  ‘Yes, but I thought we could all eat together in the evenings, here in the kitchen. I’ve made a Woolton Pie for tonight’s supper, all vegetables from our garden.’

  ‘That sounds delicious.’

  ‘Could we eat at seven? I hope that’s not too late for Nicolas. It will give me a chance to lay the breakfast tables beforehand.’

  ‘Of course. Perhaps I could help you. Nicky might want to help with that.’

  ‘No, thank you. I can get it done more quickly by myself.’

  ‘I can understand that. It’s often quicker to do things by yourself.’ I got up.

  ‘If you just wait a minute, Louise, I’ll give you some sheets and duvets to take over there. I hope it isn’t damp in the flat. I never let it out to guests.’

  ‘No. I don’t think Chas would like that.’

  ‘You’re going to need towels too.’ She was rooting in the laundry room adjacent to the kitchen.

  ‘Are you sure you can manage to carry all these?’

  ‘I’ll send Chas over.’

  Androssoff had opened the windows but the air in the flat was rancid, as though it had not been let out for seven years. With the sofa-bed pulled out there was hardly any room for Nicky’s camp-bed and we would have to clamber over him to get to the bathroom and kitchenette.

  ‘Maybe we should sleep in the house,’ I said.

  ‘I’ve had a better idea. You sleep here, Louise, and we’ll camp out.’

  ‘But you haven’t got a tent.’

  ‘It’s all sorted, isn’t it Nick? There are plenty of tents down in the stables. People leave them behind after the festivals because they get too wet to pack up.’

  ‘I can’t have Nicky sleeping in a dirty old wet festival tent. You don’t know where it’s been.’

  ‘I want to go in the tent, and you can’t stop me.’

  I turned to Androssoff, exasperated. ‘You’ve started something now.’

  ‘A bit of friendly bacteria won’t do him any harm, will it, Nick?’

  ‘Can we get the tent now, Dad?’

  ‘You’ll have to have your supper first,’ I told him. ‘Your auntie has prepared it. Woolton pie.’

  ‘Tell you what, Louise, you eat the Woolton pie and I’
ll take him for fish and chips.’ Androssoff winked at Nicky, it was a conspiracy.

  ‘That is so rude when Stasia has spent time cooking for us, with all the work she’s got on. You may not care about teaching him manners, but I certainly do.’

  ‘She knows I can’t eat that vegetable slush.’

  ‘I want fish and chips.’ Nicky was scrabbling at his father like an eager little mouse.

  ‘He was very sick in the car, Chas.’

  ‘We’ll walk to the village Chill out, Louise. We’re on holiday.’

  17

  Camping-out was a short-lived venture. In the early morning, Androssoff came up to the flat to use the bathroom. He said he’d got up in the night to piss in the bushes because he didn’t want to disturb me, but his back was killing him now after a night on the ground.

  ‘You need a bog-in-a-bag,’ I said. ‘Where’s Nicky?’

  ‘Asleep in the tent. He’s well set-up. He’s got his camp-bed.’

  ‘You can’t leave him out there. Go and fetch him.’

  ‘What the hell do you think is going to happen to him, Louise? He’s twenty yards away. He’s well away from the lake and the other campers.’

  ‘Some very odd people stay here. You should know that by now. He might wake up and be frightened. He’ll wonder where you’ve gone. Go back and get him.’

  ‘You go and get him if you’re worried. I need to take a dump.’

  I couldn’t handle that sort of intimacy. Nicky was sleeping soundly when I got to the tent. He had burrowed into the duvet I had fetched the night before, having vetoed the sleeping bags Androssoff had dug out from the mouldering pile of camping gear in the stables.

  ‘Nicky, wake up,’ I said, shaking him. ‘Daddy’s gone back to the flat. We’ll go and see Auntie Stasia and have some breakfast. We’ll tell daddy he’s got to come too.’ I had tried to make conversation with her as we shared the Woolton pie, but we had already been over most of the relevant topics at tea-time. I hadn’t anything in common with Stasia, except Androssoff. I wasn’t vegetarian or spiritual, I didn’t bake, I didn’t relate to the problems of running a country house B&B; I didn’t go to music festivals – excepting Drew’s gig at Montreux. I wasn’t going to spend another evening of my holiday on my own with her. She didn’t seem interested in Nicky either. She just wanted her brother.