Хилари Боннер - A Deep Deceit

Frank Harvey was suddenly sounding like a doctor. I noticed how kind his eyes were as well as everything else. I could see how Carl, who never liked to talk about himself, had been able to confide in this man. I struggled to take in the enormity of what he was telling me.

‘I could forgive him everything, except letting me live a lie all those years,’ I said softly. ‘I think he may have let me believe I had killed my husband. I think he may have known all along that I didn’t. And that’s such a cruel thing...’

Frank Harvey interrupted me there. ‘But you’re not sure that he did, are you? And in any case, self-delusion is part of his condition. Even if he did know at the beginning that you hadn’t killed your husband, he almost certainly came to believe that you had as much as you did yourself. In self-defence, of course. So he had to protect you, look after you like nobody else could. He was sick, Suzanne, remember that. He is still sick.’

I had never thought about it that way round before. I was grateful to the doctor. It hurt me so much to think that Carl could have deliberately lied to me about Robert’s death. I grasped at the straw, comforted to think that maybe he had been as weak and confused as me, and that he had never wanted to be cruel.

I thanked Frank Harvey for his words of solace. ‘I guess I had come to understand that he must be sick, even before I met you and you told me all of this. I still feel... I am not sure, really, but I suppose I still love him.’ I fell silent.

‘He’s the kind of man to inspire that sort of love; he was as a kid.’ Frank Harvey sounded as if he was talking to himself not me. He was staring into his glass. When he looked up his voice was quite brisk. ‘And you think he may have come here, come back to his roots?’ he queried.

I nodded. ‘I didn’t know where else to look,’ I said. ‘At first I thought he’d come looking for me. I thought that might have been why he broke out of jail. Perhaps I was just kidding myself – in any case, he didn’t come to me. I waited. The police were sure he would come to me too. Then I just got this feeling that maybe he needed to return here for something. Now you’ve told me the dreadful story I feel all the more sure I’m right. Though I don’t even know how he could have got here. He had no passport...’

‘Plenty of initiative, Harry. Needed it, the way he was brought up,’ muttered the doctor.

‘So you think he could be here?’

‘Key West is a village. Can’t imagine he’d be here long without me getting to know. Any case, he’d want to see me, I reckon.’

‘Maybe not straight way,’ I said. ‘Look, does it make sense to you that he would come here? That’s what I want to know.’

‘Yes, I guess it does.’

‘So where could he be?’

The doctor shrugged. ‘I’d love to help you find him, Suzanne, if I could. I’ve my own guilt, you see. Maybe I wasn’t qualified to help Harry. Maybe I should have sent him to a place where he could get proper help. My partner back then reckoned Harry ought to have been in a hospital. I thought it would be the end of him, that I could do better. Maybe I was wrong. I never in my wildest imaginings thought Harry would ever hurt anybody.’

‘But he didn’t,’ I said quickly; then, remembering all that had happened: ‘Not really...’

Frank Harvey smiled sadly. ‘Suzanne, his daughter got killed, he abducted you and kept you prisoner.’

‘He didn’t mean to hurt his daughter. He was trying to help her, wasn’t he? And he didn’t abduct me, that wasn’t the way he saw it, he only wanted to keep me safe. He didn’t mean to hurt anybody.’ I blurted the words out, tears misting my eyes. It was all such a mess and I knew it even as I spoke.

‘But he did hurt people. I know he didn’t mean to. It’s not in his nature. Harry isn’t an evil man, he’s never been that. He’s always been a gentle, kind person. But he carries a lot of demons around with him. Maybe I didn’t realise quite how many.’

‘You’ve nothing to be guilty about, Doctor Harvey,’ I said. I found I already liked and trusted this old man, who so clearly had his own flaws.

He smiled fleetingly. ‘Call me Frank,’ he said.

‘Do you really think he believed I had killed Robert, that he came to accept it as the truth?’ I asked.

‘Almost certainly. It would have been intolerably cruel otherwise to have allowed you to bear that burden for so long. Harry would not deliberately be so cruel. It’s just that, well, we all make ourselves believe certain things, particularly about those we love. With Harry it goes a bit deeper. He puts those he loves on a pedestal, wants them to be in a situation where only he can take care of them, and that’s what he makes himself believe, that he has to protect them.’

I reached out and touched the doctor’s hand. It was veined blue with age and shook slightly, the result of all that whiskey no doubt. ‘Thank you, Frank,’ I said and I meant it.

He understood at once, I could see that, and put his other hand on top of mine. ‘You’ve loved a good man, Suzanne,’ he murmured. ‘But a good man with a terrible weakness.’

I smiled, lapping up the reassurance. I had lost a lot of my belief in myself when I stopped believing in Carl. You do that, I think, if you have devoted many years of your life to something you discover might have been a lie. I had come to think this about my whole relationship with Carl. I knew now that it hadn’t been a lie, I knew it with devastating clarity. I just wanted to find Carl and tell him too.

‘Come and see me tomorrow at my house,’ said Frank Harvey, jotting down his address on a beer mat. ‘I’ve got something I want to show you.’

‘The letter?’

‘Sure. And something else besides...’

Mariette tucked her arm through mine as we walked back to the Artists House. It was a beautiful night. The moon cast long shadows along the streets and the stars were so bright that in patches the black sky turned almost to silvery white.

When we got back to the house Mariette ordered me to put on my bathing costume, produced a bottle of white wine from the fridge in our room and led me to the jacuzzi in the backyard. ‘We need a drink and a bit of relaxing,’ she said.

The water was warm and frothy, and the wine was cold and smooth. The combined effect was indeed relaxing. And although Frank Harvey’s story had shocked me rigid it brought me closer to understanding Carl and what had made him into the kind of man he was more than anything that had come before.

By the time we came to go to bed I was pleasantly drowsy and I slept more soundly than I had in weeks.

In the morning I felt refreshed both in mind and body. ‘He has to be here, he just has to be,’ I said.

Mariette did not look convinced. ‘You heard what Frank Harvey said, Key West is a village. He’d know...’

‘Not necessarily, not if Carl did not want him too. It was fifteen years ago that anybody here last saw him. People change and Carl is very resourceful, you know.’

‘Yes,’ said Mariette crisply. I knew that she was still not at all sure that Carl really was worth looking for.

‘I have to find him,’ I told her simply.

Mariette sighed. ‘I know, it’s just that... well, all this psychobabble, it doesn’t actually change the dreadful things he did, does it?’

Mariette was Cornish and down to earth. Her reaction was entirely predictable and probably very good for me.

‘It does for me,’ I nonetheless replied firmly.

The next morning after breakfast I left Mariette lazing in the Artists House gardens and contemplating yet another session in the jacuzzi, while I found my way to Frank Harvey’s house, an attractive wood-fronted old place in a quiet tree-lined road just a block or two away from his favourite bar.