Хилари Боннер - A Deep Deceit

I kept thinking about my surreal experience at the police station. It didn’t make any sense. I felt I had been fobbed off, dismissed as being of no consequence like some kind of prankster. I half wondered that they hadn’t accused me of wasting police time, such had been the attitude of DS Perry.

There were so many unanswered questions I should have asked and didn’t. The Devon and Cornwall Constabulary weren’t really interested, that was the truth of it, or they would not have let me leave without having received a full report from the Metropolitan Police. Perhaps Carl was right to treat me as if I were stupid. I certainly felt it, as well as everything else. I wanted to go back to the police station and demand that they find out at once exactly what the Met believed had happened in my Hounslow manse home seven years previously. And I might have done so, too, were it not for Carl. As it was, I could not face the confrontation with him that I knew such a course of action would bring about. So I just stood there in a vaguely trancelike state.

Because of that, maybe, I did not notice anyone in the street outside before the doorbell rang.

I heard Carl shout ‘just a minute’, followed by a muffled curse as he dropped something in the kitchen and then his heavy footsteps as he made his way across our little dining room to the front door.

‘Hallo, there, brought you some good news,’ said a familiar voice from the alleyway outside.

‘Right,’ said Carl, making no move to invite the caller in.

‘Yes,’ the voice continued. Will Jones, no doubt about that.

There was a pause.

Then Will, obviously puzzled by the absence of Carl’s usual hospitality, spoke again. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in, then?’

‘Of course,’ said Carl unenthusiastically and I could hear a shuffle as he stepped aside, then Will’s footsteps, followed by the slight bang and click of the door closing.

No wonder Will sounded puzzled. We both liked him but his occasional unexpected visits to our little home were welcome for more reasons than that. He had only ever been turned away once before, the night of the pink champagne, and I think he had understood that I had always felt a bit guilty about that. Apart from anything else, he usually brought with him an envelope full of money when he called. Will knew how broke Carl and I almost invariably were and was in the habit of passing on the cash to Carl almost immediately after he sold a painting. A call from Will usually meant a sale, so he was nearly always a welcome visitor.

‘Where’s Suzanne?’ he asked. If Carl was in the house it was unusual for me not to be there with him, particularly in the evening, and Will knew that.

‘She’s upstairs,’ said Carl.

Will must have made a move as if he were intending to climb the staircase – after all, he knew well enough that we more or less lived in our airy top room with its stunning picture window and that was where we usually entertained him when he brought us ‘good news’ – because I heard Carl tell him not to go upstairs.

‘She’s in a bit of a state, you see,’ he muttered by way of explanation.

‘What’s wrong, Carl, can I help at all?’ enquired Will predictably. He was the kind of man who always seemed to want to help if he could. Mind you, I just wished he’d go away and I suspected Carl felt the same. There are times when the last thing you want is someone else’s help. And Will could be very persistent in his attentions to us.

Very quietly I made my way to the top of the staircase. There was a bend in it, and if you were both silent and careful you could squat there and watch what was going on below through the banisters without being spotted. Why is it that overhearing yourself being talked about is always so irresistible? Even in my confused and depressed state of mind I wanted to know exactly what Carl was going to say about me and how Will would react.

At first Carl just sighed. For a moment I thought he might try to pass it off and show Will the door. But he didn’t. After a few seconds he gestured to Will to sit down and joined him on one of the old upright chairs round the table.

‘It’s this hate campaign against us, if that’s what it is...’ Carl began.

I saw Will’s expression change, a kind of shadow fall across his face. He did not speak, just sat waiting for Carl to continue, which he eventually did.

‘I knew she’d be upset, but I never thought she’d be quite so bad. I think it was the nightmares. She thinks they’re never going to go away, not now these letters and all the rest of it have started...’

‘What nightmares?’ asked Will.

Carl hesitated. ‘Oh, she’s always had them,’ he said eventually. ‘Since childhood. But I think she thought they had finished. The threats brought them back, worse than ever.’

‘I didn’t know. Poor Suzanne,’ said Will and I was touched by the concern in his voice.

‘She went to the police today,’ Carl continued.

Will appeared to be almost as anxious as Carl. ‘What did they say?’

‘About the letters, you mean?’

Will really did sound puzzled then. ‘Yes, of course, the letters. What else?’ he asked.

Carl blinked rapidly. ‘Of course,’ he repeated quickly. ‘The letters and the other threats. It’s what they’re referring to, that’s what’s worrying us.’

Will looked and sounded surprised now. ‘You know what they’re about then, do you?’

Carl nodded.

‘Are you sure?’ asked Will.

‘We’re sure all right,’ said Carl.

Will half looked as if he might say more, but he didn’t. Neither did Carl speak for a bit. I didn’t see that it really mattered whether he told Will any more of it anyway, and half hoped that he would. The whole world was going to know soon enough, I assumed, so we might as well get it over with. There wasn’t really a secret any longer, was there?

However, Carl just drew in a deep breath, as if making a great effort to pull himself together. ‘Look, Will, thanks for coming round, but I’m afraid we’re just not very sociable today,’ he said then. ‘I need to be alone with Suzanne. I’m sorry. We’re both upset.’

Will stared at him for a moment or two. ‘Why don’t you let me go up and talk to her for a minute. I’m sure I could help,’ he said.

My heart sank. I didn’t want to have to talk to anyone.

Thankfully, Carl dissuaded him. ‘I don’t think so, Will. I think she would really like to be on her own for a while.’

‘Of course.’ Will stood up at once as if he were about to leave, then reached into his pocket and brought out one of the brown envelopes we were invariably so grateful to receive. ‘I nearly forgot. Sold two of your landscapes last week,’ he said.

Carl muttered his thanks and escorted Will towards the door.

‘Give Suzanne my love, then.’

Carl nodded as Will stepped outside. On the doorstep he turned and put a big hand on Carl’s arm. ‘I’m so sorry about all this. Tell her, won’t you?’ he said quietly.

‘I know you are, Will, thank you, and of course I’ll tell her.’

He went back into the kitchen. He must have guessed I had been listening, even if not watching, but he didn’t look up as he passed the bottom of the staircase.

There was silence for a few minutes more and then Carl called me to eat my supper. Obediently I trotted downstairs and sat at the table.

‘You heard Will, I expect,’ he said casually.

I nodded my assent. He didn’t say any more. He had spread a white cloth over the old table and put a small vase containing a few flowers in the centre. A candle stood next to it, its flame flickering palely. Strange when all that is normal becomes suddenly abnormal. I had experienced that sensation before.