Sidney Chambers and the Shadow of Death (38 page)

‘You can call me Wilkie.’

‘Why can’t you let me go?’

‘Because the painting is mine and I can’t let you take it away.’

‘I don’t have to take it away. I could just leave.’

‘But then you will tell your friends and they will come and I will be removed from this lovely home and I will never see such beauty again.’

Amanda saw that she was getting nowhere. She was beginning to understand the nature of his obsession. She decided on another course of action. ‘I meant to ask. The Holbein seems an odd choice?’

‘Does it indeed? Perhaps so. But it is because the lady in the painting looks unerringly like my mother. As soon as I saw her I knew that I would have to own it. Do you know how old Anne Boleyn was on her coronation?

‘Either twenty-six or thirty-two. Her birth date is disputed.’

‘You do know your history. I am very impressed. We’re going to get along grandly. My mother was in between those ages when I was born, and I think she must have looked very much like this. And now she will always be with me, preserved in the timelessness of art, where death cannot touch her. I can look at her as much as I like: all day if I need too. I don’t have many fine qualities but one of them is astonishing patience.’

‘But the painting is not of your mother.’

‘I can imagine it is her.’

‘And why does it have to be the original painting? Everything else here is a copy. You seem perfectly content with them.’

‘Because my mother is now the only real thing in a world of fakes, as she was in life. Do you see? It’s really rather clever of me.’

‘I suppose it is.’

‘So do you think I am going to give up the only original artwork I possess? Or perhaps I now have two: you being one yourself. A living sculpture. I am Pygmalion. Together, perhaps, we could have Paphus: a son. Try some of your sandwich . . .’

Amanda was still unsure how to deal with her captor: whether to be defiant or try to befriend him. ‘You know my friend will come for me. I have told him about my visit.’

‘I am afraid that I don’t believe you. You sound too nervous when you tell me. You’re not a very good liar, are you, Miss Kendall? Perhaps I should call you Amanda, seeing as we are about to be intimate. Or Mandy. Do you like being called Mandy?’

‘No I don’t.’

‘Milly-Molly-Mandy. You even look a bit like her. Were you pretty as a child? I imagine so. I wonder what you look like without your clothes on. I think I will have to watch when you wash.’

‘I won’t wash.’

‘We all have to keep clean, my dear. There is soap. It’s Cidal. My mother used to use it. And a towel. You see how I look after you. I’m a very kind man. I can be even kinder if you are nice to me.’

‘I feel faint.’

‘Then you should eat something.’

‘I do not want to be poisoned.’

‘I have left you a banana. You can peel it yourself.’

‘You could have interfered with it.’

‘It’s on the window ledge. I’m glad I put bars across. Another week and you could be such a slip of a girl you’d probably be able to squeeze right through them.’

‘Can’t you leave me alone?’

‘Aren’t you enjoying my company?’

‘I am not.’

‘I thought you liked our little chats?’

‘Go . . .’ said Amanda. ‘Please. Just go.’

‘I don’t think you should be rude to me. I’m not a very nice person when I’m angry.’

‘You’re not a very nice person in any circumstances.’

‘That’s not very generous of you. Have your banana . . .’

‘I don’t want a bloody banana.’

‘When I was a small boy it was my Friday treat. My mother used to take me down to the greengrocer’s and let me choose. We would eat them in the car on the way home. I like them when they are a bit sticky.’

‘I can’t stand bananas. They make me sick.’

‘That’s a pity. Especially since I brought one as a present.’

Amanda decided to mollify him. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t want to appear ungrateful.’

‘Of course, you should give me something in return. I wonder what that might be. You don’t seem to have very much to offer other than yourself. But that would be quite nice. I could look forward to that. In fact, I might save you up as a treat.’

‘Please don’t.’

‘I wonder what you are going to let me do? There are so many choices. I think I’m just going to eat your banana while I decide.’

Sidney had been surprised by Inspector Keating’s anxiety about Amanda and found it touching, even though he was not unduly worried himself. She would often disappear for a few days to see friends in the country and their communication had its sporadic moments. After all, their friendship was relatively new and, as he had told Geordie, he did not like to make too many demands. Besides Sidney had concerns and duties of his own, not least Grantchester’s upcoming summer fête and the annual scout trip to Scarborough.

He was not even alarmed when his sister first telephoned early on a Tuesday morning to say that Amanda had not been home for several days. Although that was not unusual in itself, Jennifer then explained that the National Gallery had telephoned to ask whether Amanda was ill. Her car was missing, her parents were abroad and a strange address outside Ely had been written down on a notepad together with the name ‘Wilkie Phillips’. Did Sidney know anything about any of this and should she be worried?

Her brother pretended that all was well and told Jennifer that Wilkie Phillips was a member of the art world and that Amanda had been keen to talk to him about Holbein. There was nothing to worry about, but if she could just give him the address then he would make some enquiries and set her mind at rest. Jennifer was clearly not convinced by her brother’s attempt at a calm response, but obliged.

As soon as he had put down the receiver, Sidney went straight to Cambridge station, where he then took a train to Ely. He took his bicycle with him and, after he had alighted, he headed off across the Fens. A feeling of dread filled his being, a sentiment not helped by the fact that the villages he passed seemed to become more remote by the mile. He asked directions to the private road where Wilkie Phillips lived and turned off down a narrow track. This then widened to reveal the ramshackle dwelling that Amanda had approached three days earlier. Her car was parked outside. The roof of the MG was down but it had been raining and the seats were wet. Now Sidney worried even more.

He approached the front door and rang the bell. There was no reply. He rang again. Then he walked around the house. The main windows were boarded up. There was no sign that anyone lived there. He rang the bell again. Then he banged on the door.

There was silence.

Sidney bicycled back towards Ely but stopped at the first telephone box he saw.

He called Inspector Keating.

‘I’m worried about Amanda,’ he said.

‘Now you tell me. What’s wrong?’

‘It’s not good, Geordie. I think she’s been kidnapped.’

Inside the house, Wilkie Phillips was in a cheerful mood. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t hear the doorbell. I think it might have been your friend. What does he look like?’

‘He’s quite hard to describe. He’s very tall, with a kind face. He stands very straight. He has brown eyes. He wears black.’

‘He wouldn’t, by any chance, be a clergyman?’

‘He is.’

‘Oh dear. That will have been him, then. And now he’s gone. What a pity I couldn’t let him in. We could all have had a little chat. Is he your special friend?’

‘Not in the way that I think you mean.’

‘Then there’s room for me. Perhaps you are, as they say, “unattached”, Miss Kendall? Quite a catch, I would have thought. And you know about art. That makes you all the more attractive. We could have a series of discussions about the difference between the naked and the nude.’

‘I don’t think that would be a good idea at all.’

‘Don’t you? I could take up life drawing. Or we both could. We could draw each other. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?’

‘I really don’t think so.’

‘You do know that you are going to have to be much kinder to me if you want to leave?’

‘Mr Phillips, I can see that you have no intention of letting me go.’

‘Wilkie, please. I have told you this before. It would be so much easier if you co-operated.’

‘And what do you want me to do?’

‘Why, take off your clothes of course.’

‘And if I do so?’

‘I’m only going to look. I don’t want to touch.’

Inspector Keating made it clear to his friend that this was the last time he was prepared to go out on a limb and help. It was only because he was fond of Amanda, and recognised that she could, potentially, curb Sidney’s more extreme flights of fancy, that he had agreed to step in and provide two cars and six men on what could turn out to be an embarrassingly wild goose chase.

Sidney had already made enquiries in the area, and it was acknowledged that Wilkie Phillips had always been strange, that he had seldom been seen since the death of his mother and that the local vicar had given up trying to pay any pastoral visits since it had been made clear that they would not be welcome. The local shopkeeper said that Phillips came as little as possible but that, when he did so, he stocked up on condensed milk, salmon paste, bread and bananas. He seemed to eat little else. Whether this made him dangerous, or merely eccentric, was another matter.

Keating asked his men to park out of sight and approach the house across the neighbouring fields. Sidney was to try to make a normal visit once more and, should there be any problems, then the police would be on hand to give immediate assistance. If there were no reply at the door, Keating would issue a warning with a loudhailer. Any further silence would result in them entering the premises and retrieving Amanda by force. He assured Sidney that they would not leave the area without her.

For a short while Amanda had been able to sleep but when she woke she found that her hands and feet had been bound. She wondered if she had been drugged, or if she was still dreaming. Wilkie Phillips was in the lavatory and he was sitting on a stool. He had been watching her.

‘I hope you had a nice rest, my dear. I did so enjoy last night. Wasn’t I good to leave you alone? I was so tempted to be naughty.’

‘What have you done to me?’

‘I thought we might play a little game.’

‘How did you do this?’

‘You were tired, and so sleepy, and I just tampered with the water tank. Only a little, you see, but just enough to send you off. And then I was very careful. You didn’t notice me at all. But perhaps all this is a bit tight for you.’

Wilkie Phillips knelt down beside Amanda and began to unbutton her blouse. The speed of his breathing increased. His breath smelled of stale banana and fish paste. As he reached the lower buttons Amanda dipped her head and bit his hand. Phillips leaped back. His hand shook with the pain. She had drawn blood.

His face contorted but his voice remained calm. ‘That was a mistake, my dear.’

Amanda noticed a toolbox on the floor by the door. Phillips crossed to it and pulled out some black gaffer tape. He tore off a length and returned. He pulled back her hair and gagged her. He forced her on to her front, lifted up her blouse and undid her bra at the back. He turned her over and pulled the bra away. He leaned forward, over Amanda, but as he did so she twisted her head away to gain momentum and used her forehead to hit him in the face. Phillips’s nose began to bleed. He checked the blood. There was a momentary pause. Then Amanda saw his fist coming towards her face.

All was darkness.

The police took up their positions. Sidney approached the front door and rang the bell repeatedly. There was no reply. He walked round the outside of the house, banging on every window and every shutter. It was impossible to see inside until he reached the barred lavatory at the rear of the house. He looked in and saw Amanda half-dressed, bound, gagged and unconscious on the floor. He called out her name. He heard a noise from inside and saw the shadow of a man move across a doorway. He ran back to the front door and waved Keating forward. He shouted out what he had seen. The officers were summoned. The door was broken down. Two men ran to the back of the house. They found the lavatory unlocked. They knelt down beside Amanda. She was still breathing.

Police officers searched the house. When they came to the snug they found Wilkie Phillips standing before the painting of Anne Boleyn. He was shouting and swearing and blaming his mother for his impotence.

He was also naked.

As he sat by Amanda’s bed in Addenbrooke’s Hospital, Sidney realised that he had never seen her without make-up. He knew that she would not want him to see her like this, bruised and vulnerable, that she always liked to look at her best; but now that she was sleeping, and unaware of how she looked to the world, he had never felt so fond of her.

He began to pray.

‘O Lord, look down from heaven, behold, visit and relieve this Thy servant. Look upon her with the eyes of Thy mercy, give her comfort and sure confidence in Thee, defend her from the danger of the enemy, and keep her in perpetual peace and safety, through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.’