Sea of Lost Love (12 page)

“The eye of the needle and all that,” she replied with a chuckle.

“So you do know your scriptures.”

“Some,” she said with a smile. “One picks it up in a family like mine.”

As she walked down the road she was surprised to find that she felt a lot better.

 

No one wanted to begin the painful task of sorting out Monty's affairs, least of all Pamela, who'd rather have gone to ground like a bear. However, the matter was taken out of their hands by a telephone call from the family solicitor, Mr. Scrunther, who requested a meeting most urgently. It had been over a week since Monty's disappearance. Nothing more had been recovered. The waters had swallowed all trace of him, along with the secrets of his last moments, forever sealed in the sea's impenetrable bed of rock and stone.

Mr. Scrunther's office was in the nearby town of Newquay, on the main street above an estate agent specializing in pretty seaside houses for rent. Archie accompanied Pamela and Celestria, as neither of them knew the first thing about Monty's business, though he was pretty vague himself. As an executor of his brother's will, it was right that he should be there, although Monty could not officially be pronounced dead due to the absence of his body. There would be an investigation, no doubt, and a petition to court in order to receive a death certificate. Monty had acted most irresponsibly. The very least he could have done was leave them with a body to bury.

Mr. Scrunther greeted them unhappily, shaking their hands and muttering his regrets through his bushy white beard. “This is a sad day indeed,” he said, ushering them into his office. It was dim and smelled of damp wool and stale cigar smoke. “I knew Mr. Montague when he was a young man setting off to Brazil in search of gold. He was a man of courage then. Who could have predicted this?”

“Shame he didn't have the courage to face his problems, whatever they were,” said Archie, taking a seat.

Mr. Scrunther walked stiffly around to his own chair. Cornwall was no place for a man with arthritic bones. He sat down carefully and leaned back against the leather, the buttons on his waistcoat almost popping under the strain of his capacious belly. He took off his pebble glasses and proceeded to clean them with a white cloth before replacing them on his large potato nose.

“I'm afraid Mr. Montague had a whole mountain of problems,” said Mr. Scrunther, looking like a headmaster discussing a wayward child with his parents.

“Monty?” said Pamela. “Problems?” Mr. Scrunther leaned forward and opened a large black file. He lifted his chin and glanced down his nose, upon which a small sprouting of curly white hairs was visible.

“As I'm sure you know, Imperial Amalgamated Investments folded two years ago.” He paused as he heard Pamela's sharp intake of breath.

“His business folded?” repeated Archie, horrified. He turned to Pamela. “Did you know anything about this?”

“No.” She frowned, looking bewildered. “He must have begun something new because he's been working incredibly hard for the last two years.”

Mr. Scrunther shook his head and raised his eyes over the rims of his glasses. “I'm afraid his other businesses folded in the last six months. The Buckingham Trust Company and St. James's Holding Company. There is no easy way to tell you this, Mrs. Montague. Your husband was in terrible debt.”

“There must be some mistake,” interrupted Archie. “Why, only a couple of weeks ago he was away on business in Paris.”

“He said he had a million pounds under management!” Pamela argued. “Surely he didn't lose all that?”

Mr. Scrunther shook his head gravely. “He lost most on the stock market. Every investor lost his money. The rest he withdrew himself.”

“What did he do with it?” Pamela asked.

“That, I'm afraid I cannot tell you, Mrs. Montague, because I don't know. He came to see me Thursday before last. He wanted to settle his affairs in the event of his premature death. Of course, I suspected nothing of his intentions.”

“He came to see you the day before the party? What did he say?” Pamela glanced at Celestria, who was sitting quietly, listening to every word. Her mouth was fixed into a grim line that did not soften when she returned her mother's look.

“He was anxious. He said he had lost everything. Perhaps that is why he had gone to Paris, in order to see what he could salvage.”

“Why didn't he tell me?” said Pamela, shrinking into her chair. “If all his businesses went bankrupt, what the devil have we been living on?”

“Savings, investments…” Mr. Scrunther paused. “Your husband used to have a lot of money, Mrs. Montague.”

“Then where's it all gone?”

Mr. Scrunther shrugged. “I don't know. I only know what he told me. That he doesn't have anything left.”

“Well, that explains why he took his life. He couldn't bear to disappoint us,” said Celestria. “All anyone ever talks about is the wonderful Monty, getting them all out of trouble, and where did it get him? Into trouble himself. He just couldn't say no to anyone. He even offered to pay for your birthday party, Uncle Archie.” Archie looked puzzled. Julia had kept her promise. “Yes, I overheard Papa and Aunt Julia talking in the library about a week before the party. She was crying. Well, Papa said he'd help her out.”

“Monty once more to the rescue.” Archie breathed in through his nose. He didn't like to discuss his problems with outsiders, and it humiliated him to think of his own wife groveling for money.

“He also paid for Mrs. Craddick's son's hospital bills,” Celestria continued, glancing at her mother. “It seems that Papa was looking after everyone but himself.”

“Helping everyone? What with? If he had no money of his own?” Suddenly the color drained from Pamela's face. Her jaw dropped, leaving her mouth hanging open like a shark's. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed in horror. “He's gone through mine as well. I just know it.”

Mr. Scrunther cleared his throat. “Two years ago Mr. Montague put the house in Belgravia in your name, Mrs. Montague, thereby avoiding any inheritance tax in the event of his death.”

“Did he do that at the time Imperial Amalgamated Investments collapsed?” Archie asked.

“He did.”

“At least he cast a thought to us,” said Pamela with a sniff. “I'd hate to think of us being destitute.”

“Mr. Montague's death may have come as a complete surprise to you all. However, I would imagine he had planned it very carefully. I'm sorry he kept you in the dark. Perhaps I should have said something.” He scratched his beard.

“You couldn't have abused his trust, Mr. Scrunther,” said Archie diplomatically. “We completely understand.”

“If it meant we could have avoided all of this, it would have been worth it,” answered Mr. Scrunther.

 

On the way back in the car, Pamela sat staring out of the window in silence. Now, at least, they had a motive, however incomprehensible it was. Archie gripped the steering wheel. Pendrift Hall was suddenly in grave danger. He had hoped to ask Monty for help. Now there was no possibility of help from anywhere, only heaven. His wife hadn't told him that she had already divulged their money problems. She couldn't have known that he was on the verge of doing exactly the same thing himself. He had felt emasculated by the thought, but desperation had left him no alternative. Now he didn't know what to do, or whom to turn to. Celestria watched the raindrops wiggling down the window as the drizzle fell from low gray clouds. It was bleak outside, and it was bleak within. No one spoke, each in his or her own silent world, trying to come to terms with the knowledge they had gained about the man they had all thought they knew.

“Why didn't he tell me?” said Pamela after a while. “It makes me so mad. If he wasn't dead, I'd kill him myself!”

“Would you have understood?” said Archie, not meaning to be unkind.

“He obviously didn't think so,” Pamela replied. “I didn't question him about his affairs. We never talked business. He said that was men's talk, better left for discussion over a glass of port at the end of dinner. I suppose he had enough of it at White's. There was no need to bring it all home with him.”

“You don't know Papa's gone through your money,” said Celestria. “Anyway, how could he touch it?”

“Because he set up the account, darling. Of course he had access to it. I never even looked at it. I just spent when I felt like it. Your grandfather gave it to me when I married. Back then it seemed such a large sum; I never believed I'd ever get through it. I certainly never expected my husband to!”

“What's happened to innocent until proven guilty? Isn't that the law in this country?” Celestria was angered that her mother was already accusing her father of robbing her.

“I'll call the bank as soon as we get home,” said Archie through gritted teeth. “Don't worry, Pamela, we'll get to the bottom of it.”

“I can't bear it,” she said melodramatically, a tear trickling down her ashen face. “I thought I knew the man I married. I've lost everything. If he's been through my money, what are we going to do? What will I do about school fees and our home? Without money, how will we maintain it, and God, all the staff, how will we pay them? We're going to be destitute. Homeless. Why didn't Monty think of that before he threw himself into the water?”

“That's precisely why he killed himself,” said Archie. “Because he couldn't bear to let everyone down.”

“What will your mother say?” Pamela exclaimed. “Rather a lot, I should imagine.”

“I'm not going to tell her,” said Archie firmly. “Why give her unnecessary pain?”

Pamela raised her eyebrows in disapproval. “Don't worry, I'll carry it all for her,” she said sarcastically.

Archie ground his teeth. The woman was pushing his patience to the limit. It was a wonder he hadn't lost his temper. She didn't know the meaning of the word
destitute.
He and Julia were in real danger of losing Pendrift Hall, without a soul to turn to for help, while pampered Pamela was screaming poverty. Had she forgotten her millionaire father? Or was the lead in the current drama too tempting to resist?

 

That night Archie dressed for bed in his dressing room adjacent to his wife's bedroom. Classical music wafted out from the gramophone, along with the floral scent of her bath oil. Everyone had gone to bed, exhausted and emotionally wrung out. The shock of nearly losing Bouncy had sent Julia into a frenzy of devotion. She read him stories, cuddled him at every opportunity, and visited his room five times a night to check he was tucked up in bed. Monty's suicide had been a terrible blow for everyone, but he knew his wife thanked God the sea had taken him and spared her son. To her the two were interlinked. The man for the boy. As if there lurked below a monster to whom a soul must be sacrificed, like some ancient Greek myth.

He wandered into her room. She was brushing her hair at her dressing table, her gaze lost somewhere in the space between herself and the mirror. When she saw him enter, she blinked and shifted her focus.

“Darling, are you all right?” she asked, as if she had only just noticed how troubled he was.

He nodded bravely. He clearly wasn't. She stood up and walked over to him. He didn't move away, but let her put her arms around him.

“Is it Pendrift?” she whispered.

His breath was staggered as he tried to repress his misery. “I don't know what to do,” he replied. “I'm letting you down.”

“You're not letting me down. I'd be happy in a hovel, as long as we're all together.”

“You don't mean that, darling. Pendrift Hall is your greatest love after your children.”

She pulled away and frowned at him. “After my children? After my children and you. You're my greatest love, Archie. I loved you before I loved them, remember?”

“That's very sweet of you.”

“I'm not being sweet. I'm being honest. I'd rather you sold everything and we lived in contentment than living like this, with worry, barely communicating, forgetting about each other.”

“If I sold Pendrift, neither of us would be happy. You know that as well as I. Pendrift is in our blood. It's a part of us, like another child. It would be like tearing off a limb, or scooping out a piece of our hearts. Can you imagine young Bouncy, or Wilfrid and Sam, being anywhere else? Pendrift is all they've ever known. I'd rather sell the paintings and the furniture than lose their home. No, there has to be another way.”

“I was thinking, Archie. Nanny's getting old now. It's time to let her go. It's got nothing to do with the other morning, or that we need to save money; I'd like to look after Bouncy myself. Perhaps we could settle her into one of the farm cottages, give her a small pension.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Are you sure?”

“I nearly lost Bouncy. He's so precious. I don't want to miss a minute of his growing up.”

He kissed her forehead. “If it's what you want, I support you. Bouncy would rather be with his mother.”