Mark Lee - The Canal House

“What do you think of Billy?”

“A thug in a nice suit.”

“But you’re not scared of him?”

“No. I can handle someone like that.”

I sat on the wall and watched Daniel pace back and forth in the middle of the driveway. From a distance the party tents glowed with a soft white light, like luminous jellyfish floating through a dark sea.

“The Washington Post sent me to Brussels to interview a physicist who said that the universe was composed of twenty-three dimensions. One of his graduate students helped me write the article because I didn’t really understand the theory. But I figured it out tonight. You can be lost or misguided, then you step off the path, make a certain choice, and you’re in a completely different place where all things are possible.”

“Sounds good to me. When do I make the choice?”

“It’ll happen to you, Nicky. Just keep looking.”

Daniel touched my shoulder and headed back to the castle. As I remained on the wall, I heard the faint rustle of something moving through the grass. I thought it was an intruder, someone who had overheard our conversation, but it was only a ram with a broken horn that emerged from the darkness and blinked at me.

Half asleep, Iheard a soft rapping sound that got louder and more insistent. A key rattled. The door swung open and someone switched on the lights. I sat up in bed, groggy, trying to focus.

Billy and Richard entered the room like two detectives raiding a drug house. Richard darted over to the bathroom and glanced inside, as if someone could be hiding there. “Where are they?” he asked.

“What are you talking about?” I exaggerated my confusion, but I knew right away what had happened. Although Billy wasn’t pointing a gun or holding a club, the expression on his face made me breathe a little faster. It was the look of malevolent seriousness that soldiers and cops showed right before they started to hurt you.

“Julia and Daniel are gone. They’ve left the house.”

“Maybe they went for a walk or something.”

“A six o’clock in the bloody morning?” Billy took a step toward the bed. “Don’t lie, you fat bastard.”

“I don’t know what’s going on.”

Richard glanced at the armoire, paused a moment, then controlled the impulse to yank open the doors and peer inside. “Last night, Julia told me she was tired. She left the party and went up to her room. I woke up early, slipped in to see her, and she was gone. All the jewelry I gave her was left on the dresser, along with this note.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a sheet of white stationery. “Did Daniel talk to you? Did he tell you where they were going?”

“No.”

He unfolded the letter and read it aloud. Dear Richard. I’m going away with Daniel McFarland. I know this seems crazy and I don’t expect you to understand. Perhaps we can talk after some time has passed. I’m very sorry . Richard stared at the piece of paper as if he doubted its reality. “She’s very sorry. What kind of explanation is that?”

“I don’t know anything. Swear to God.”

Richard raised his forefinger and jabbed it in my direction. “Julia was very important to me.”

It’s all in the details, I thought. That’s what Billy had said. I was glad that Richard hadn’t predicted this particular detail, but I knew enough to keep my mouth shut. In a situation like this, it was best to play the role of the plump and bumbling photographer.

“They were talking to each other last night at the party,” I said. “But I also saw them talking to everybody else. Daniel just survived this horrible plane crash, Richard. He’s different, these days. He’s not himself.”

“He really won’t be himself when I find him,” Billy said.

“Where does Daniel stay when he’s in London?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t Julia have an apartment there?”

Richard began pacing again. “She stays with her friend Laura.”

The question of where they might be staying deflected the anger away from me; Richard was a businessman and people like that focus on solutions. He had lost Julia. Instead of asking why, he’d decided to find her.

“If you hear from Daniel, I want you to call me at the Riverside Bank in London. There will be an appropriate reward for doing so.”

Richard headed toward the door and Billy followed him. I heard their voices moving down the hallway. “Contact all the village taxi drivers.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is there a car-hire office in Gloucester? Find out right away.”

“I’ll do that, sir.”

I splashed water on my face, then pulled on some clothes. I remembered my last conversation with Daniel near the gate. He and Julia had already decided to run away. That’s why he had asked if I could handle Billy. I had dodged and shuffled through the initial confrontation, but now I realized I should get away from Westgate Castle before Billy came back to ask more questions.

I slipped out of the room with my luggage and crept down the staircase to the kitchen. Wearing a stained T-shirt and looking very unbutlerlike, Wallace stood near the sink. He filled up a kettle with water and placed it on the burner.

“Good morning, Mr. Bettencourt.”

“Morning, Wallace. Look, I need to get out of here as soon as possible. Could you call a taxi?”

“That’s easily done, sir.”

Wallace went over to a wall phone and dialed a number. It was obvious that he had just woken someone up, but he didn’t apologize. “We need a car at Westgate Castle. Right away.” He turned and looked straight at me. “Drive round to the back.”

Wallace picked up a tin of Yorkshire tea and spooned some into a pot. The kettle began to whistle and he poured the boiling water. “Tea will be ready in a few minutes, Mr. Bettencourt. Would you like a cup before the taxi arrives?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Milk? Sugar?”

“Everything.” I watched him open up the refrigerator and take out a milk carton. “You know, don’t you?”

“Know what, sir?”

“That Julia and Daniel ran away.”

Although I’d spent an entire weekend with Wallace drifting around, I had never really seen him, as a person. Now, he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, studying me with his watery blue eyes. Not a bad man. But not a strong one. Drinking problem, maybe. He needed this job.

“I heard some sounds around four o’clock so I looked out my window at the courtyard. Dr. Cadell and Mr. McFarland came out carrying their luggage and the motion-detector lights went on. They walked through the gate and went away.”

“Why didn’t you tell Mr. Seaton they were leaving?”

Wallace hesitated, then spoke with a firm, proud voice, heavy on the northern accent. “Because I’m not some bloody fetch dog like Billy Monroe.”

A sleepy taxi driver showed up twenty minutes later. As we drove toward the main road, I saw Charlie Drayton climb out of his Ford Fiesta and walk toward his flock of sheep.

I had to wait an hour at the village railroad station, and I kept thinking that Billy was going to show up. I didn’t completely relax until I got on the London train and it glided out of the station. In the dining car, I bought a scone wrapped in plastic and a Styrofoam cup of water with a tea bag drowning at the bottom.

For most of my life I had watched other people’s affairs like a scientist observing different specimens, but this time it felt different. I realized suddenly how much I wanted Daniel and Julia to get away and create their own version of happiness. They were both solitary, difficult people who seemed to be more comfortable in a war zone than in a living room. Yet if they could come together, then perhaps there was a chance for someone like me. Obviously I wasn’t going to end up with Miss Hedges, but there could be somebody else and we could pack our suitcases and walk out the gate and escape from the fear and the failures of the past.