Take No Farewell - Retail (28 page)

‘I see. Well, if you ladies will excuse me, I think I’ll say good night. I feel rather knocked up.’

‘Good night, Geoffrey.’

And so, little caring what impression I left in my wake, I stumbled out.

The light in Angela’s dressing-room woke me. For all that I was aware, it could have been the following morning, but the bedside clock told me it was not yet midnight. I lay, instantly alert, listening to the sound of a brush passing through Angela’s hair and the slither of silk against her skin. A moment later, she slipped into bed beside me. There was no contact, no touch of hand on arm, no attempt of any kind to bridge the gulf between us. I could have pretended to be asleep and no doubt Angela hoped I was. That, I suppose, is what provoked me to speak.

‘Pleasant evening, my dear?’

‘Not helped by your arriving home the worse for drink, Geoffrey, as I’m sure you’re aware. Beer is such a common smell.’

‘I wasn’t to know I’d find one of your levées in progress, was I? Why didn’t you warn me?’

‘I hardly thought you’d be interested.’

‘You travelled alone?’

‘No. Victor and his party left at the same time. I came with them.’

‘Does that include the redoubtable Major?’

‘Of course not.’

Silence intruded and had almost reached the point of permanence when Angela spoke again.

‘I’ve grown used to sleeping alone, Geoffrey. I trust you’ve no objection if I ask Nora to make up the other room
for
you tomorrow. You’ll be quite comfortable there.’

The room to which she referred had been Edward’s nursery. I remembered coming home after his death to find it stripped of his clothes, his toys, even of his
Treasure Island
wallpaper, but not – for all Angela’s frenzy – of his stubborn little memory. ‘Do as you please,’ I murmured, as I turned my face towards the pillow.

I rose early the following morning, eager, if the truth be told, to depart for the office before Angela was up and about. After a hasty breakfast, I was in my study, gathering some papers together, when Nora interrupted. She wore a puzzled expression, connected, I assumed, with the ring I had just heard at the front door. A telegram was my first thought, but it was swiftly dispelled.

‘There’s a young lady to see you, sir. A little girl. She says—’

‘Is her name Jacinta Caswell?’

‘Why yes, sir. That’s the name she gave. You know her, then?’

‘Yes, Nora. I know her.’

She was in the drawing-room, dressed as she had been that first time she had called at Frederick’s Place. Only her expression had altered. To caution had been added suspicion, to determination a steely defiance. To see her made me feel as proud of her as I was ashamed of myself.

‘Good morning, Mr Staddon.’

‘Good morning, Jacinta. It’s very early for you to be wandering around London.’

‘Oh, I haven’t been wandering. I came straight here from our hotel. I had to leave before breakfast, otherwise my father would have stopped me, wouldn’t he?’

‘I daresay he would.’

‘Or Miss Roebuck.’

‘Would you like something to eat or drink?’

‘No thank you. I shall have to go back soon, otherwise they will miss me and come looking.’

‘Not here, surely.’

‘I don’t know. I can’t be certain. Can you?’

‘How did you get here?’

‘By taxi. Major Turnbull gave me a sovereign when we left the Villa d’Abricot. I used it to pay the driver.’

‘We agreed you’d always contact me at my office.’

‘But you wouldn’t have been there, would you? Not at this time. And we’re going back to Hereford this morning. My father told me so last night.’

‘Even so—’

‘Why did you do it, Mr Staddon? That’s what I came to ask. Why did you agree to leave my father and Miss Roebuck alone?’

‘I didn’t. Not exactly. I—’

‘I heard you. “You’ll hear no more from me.” That’s what you said. I was standing at the top of the stairs and I heard you say it.’

‘It didn’t mean what you thought it meant. It didn’t mean I was going to stop trying to help your mother.’

‘Didn’t it?’ Her chin was trembling. I sensed she was on the verge of tears but was trying every way she knew to hold them at bay. Like her mother, she was determined to display no hint of weakness. I longed to pluck her from the floor and hug her to my chest. But the past – and my part in it – held me back.

‘We’ve found her a good barrister, Jacinta. He’s a very clever man. He’ll make sure the court acquits her.’

‘How can he do that?’

‘He examines the evidence. He questions the witnesses. He … persuades the jury.’

‘Do you think he will persuade them?’

‘Oh, yes. I’m sure he will.’

‘What happens if he doesn’t?’

‘We don’t need to think about that. Sir Henry Curtis-Bennett won’t fail. He never does.’

‘Never?’

‘Not in a case like this.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course.’

‘And his name is Sir Henry Curtis-Bennett?’

‘Yes. You won’t have heard of him, but he’s very famous.’

‘Oh, but I have heard of him. On Wednesday night – the night before we left – my father sat up late with Major Turnbull. I crept downstairs and listened to what they were saying.’

‘That was a dangerous thing to do.’

‘Not really. Miss Roebuck had a headache. She’d taken a sleeping powder. And Major Turnbull has a loud voice. So it was easy, really. Do you want to know what they were saying?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘My father had had a telephone call from his solicitor, Mr Quarton. Mr Quarton must have told him about Sir Henry, because my father was asking Major Turnbull whether he thought Sir Henry would be able to win the case. He didn’t sound as if he wanted him to, though.’

‘What did Major Turnbull say?’

‘He said Sir Henry was good, but not good enough. And then he said something very nasty.’

‘What was it?’

‘He said Sir Henry had defended a wife accused of murdering her husband last year – and lost. He said her name was Thompson and that they’d hanged her. Is it true, Mr Staddon?’

It was, though I had forgotten till now. Curtis-Bennett
had
defended Mrs Thompson. And he had lost. And she had hanged, as she never should have. ‘I … I can’t remember.’

‘He said Sir Henry was just a wind-bag and my father had nothing to worry about.’

‘He said that?’

‘Yes, Mr Staddon. I heard him most distinctly. “
You’ve nothing to worry about, Victor, nothing at all
.” What does it mean? Are they going to hang my mother? Does my father want them to? Why should—’

There was a sudden commotion at the front door. The
knocker
was being slammed and the bell rung simultaneously. I heard Nora’s voice, then, strident and unmistakable, Victor’s. ‘Where’s my daughter?’ he roared.

Jacinta’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘My father. How did he find out I was here?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Quick. Before he comes in. Who was the man leaving the villa when you arrived – the last time you were there? They won’t tell me.’

‘He’s your uncle Rodrigo. Your mother’s brother. From Brazil. He—’

The door burst open and Victor was upon us. ‘What the devil’s going on here?’ he bellowed.

Jacinta turned and looked at him calmly. Instantly, I noticed, he fell back a pace. Some of his aggression, some of his confidence, drained away. ‘I went for a walk before breakfast and became lost, Father. Then I saw the sign for Suffolk Terrace and remembered Mr and Mrs Staddon lived here. Wasn’t that lucky?’

Victor stared at her for a moment, his lips rehearsing words he dared not pronounce. Then he said: ‘Go outside. Miss Roebuck’s waiting in the car.’

‘Very well, Father.’ She glanced back at me. ‘Goodbye, Mr Staddon. Thank you for helping me.’

‘Goodbye, Jacinta.’

She walked slowly out, closing the door behind her. Then, before Victor could say anything, I posed a question of my own.

‘How did you know she was here?’

‘Your wife telephoned me. She thought I ought to know my daughter’s whereabouts.’

‘I’d have run her back soon enough.’

‘Why was she here, Staddon?’

‘You heard her explanation.’

He stepped closer, not troubling to veil the hostility in his gaze. ‘Last time we met, you undertook to leave me and my family alone.’

‘On condition I didn’t learn I was being misled.’

‘Are you claiming you have been?’

‘I’m claiming nothing. Jacinta lost her way and came to my door. That’s all.’

‘No. It isn’t all. But this is: if you try to speak to Jacinta again, if you attempt to communicate with her in any way …’

‘Yes?’

‘Then I’ll make sure you lose what little business your dwindling practice has left.’

‘How do you propose to do that?’

‘I have more influence – in more walks of life – than you can possibly imagine. Don’t force me to use it against you.’

‘One place you have no influence, Caswell, is in my own house. Now, kindly leave it.’

As before, he seemed minded to say something from which a moment’s consideration deterred him. He stared at me, plainly and deliberately, then nodded faintly, as if satisfied that we understood each other. And then he walked swiftly from the room.

As soon as I heard the front door slam behind him, I started for the bedroom. But, halfway up the stairs, I stopped. If I saw Angela, feeling as I now did, there was no knowing what I might do or say. To one, just one, of her barbed remarks, I might respond with something more violent than words. I retreated to the hall and called Nora.

‘Did you tell Angela that Jacinta Caswell was here, Nora?’

‘Yes, sir. She asked who the visitor was, so I gave her the girl’s name.’

‘I see. Thank you.’

‘Are you going out now, sir?’

‘Yes.’

‘And will you be back for lunch?’

‘No. Not lunch. Nor any other meal.’

The Bonnington Hotel was a modest but reputable establishment. I was directed politely to Rodrigo’s room and informed
that
I would find him in. When I knocked at the door, there was at first no answer. Then, when I knocked again, there came a low growl which I took for an invitation to enter.

The room was deathly cold. The window stood open to the chill, dank air and the fire had long since died. Rodrigo lay supine on the narrow bed, fully clothed and motionless, like some knight’s effigy on a tomb. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at me.

‘Staddon!’ He stressed both syllables of my name equally and spat them out like accusations.

‘Hello, Rodrigo. How are you?’

‘How am I?’ He sat upright and I saw for the first time how dishevelled he was, his hair awry, his eyes red and swollen, his chin dark with stubble. Beside him, half-hidden by the rumpled blankets, was an empty spirit bottle. ‘You dare to ask me: how am I?’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘You, Staddon. You are the matter.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I have been to Hereford. I have been told all about you.’

‘Told what? By whom?’

He swung his legs to the floor and glared at me. ‘Why are you here?’

‘To speak to you. To find out what’s troubling you.’

‘They will hang my sister. Is that not trouble enough?’

‘I thought we were going to work together to prevent that happening.’

‘Work together? Rodrigo Manchaca de Pombalho and you?’

‘Yes. Why not?’

‘Why not?’ He launched himself from the bed and, before I knew what was happening, had grasped me by the lapels of my overcoat. I was thrust back against the wall and pinned there, aware of his formidable strength, helpless to do more than hope he would relent. His face was close to mine and he was breathing hard. ‘You lied to me, Staddon, didn’t you?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You said you were Consuela’s friend. You did not say you were her lover.’

‘I’m not. I never have been.’

‘You are still lying.’

‘Who says I am? Who have you been talking to?’

‘That does not matter. What matters is: do you admit it?’

‘Listen to me. There’s been some—’

Suddenly, my head was flung back painfully against the wall. His grip had tightened; I could feel my feet being lifted from the floor. ‘One more lie, Staddon, just one more, and I will break all the bones in your body.’

‘All right. I admit it. Consuela and I … were in love. Many years ago. But that doesn’t alter anything.’

‘You think I will let you help me when I know this about you? When I know you were my sister’s lover – the man who made her … who made her …
uma adúltera
?’

‘This has nothing to do with her trial. All I’m trying to—’

It was like slipping on ice so suddenly that you have hit the ground before you are aware of it. I was in the corner of the room, my feet tangled in the legs of a side-table, my head ringing, my shoulder aching. Rodrigo towered above me, his bulk distorted by the angle of my vision. ‘
Você desonrou a minha irmã
,’ he roared. ‘
Você desonrou a minha família
.’ I put my hand to my brow and it came back smeared with blood. I crouched forward and rose slowly, cautiously, not taking my eyes off him.

‘For God’s sake, man—’

‘Say nothing! I do not want to hear your voice again, Staddon. Leave now. Leave while I will still let you.’

Silenced by the instinct for self-preservation, I edged towards the door. Rodrigo’s gaze never left me. I wanted to reason with him, to explain that it was not as bad as he seemed to think. I wanted, above all, to ask who had told him about Consuela and me. But I did not dare.

I eased the door open, then stooped to retrieve my hat. It had fallen off and was lying at Rodrigo’s feet. Before I
could
reach it, he slipped the toe of his shoe under the brim and flicked it out into the corridor. And, all the while, his unwavering gaze warned me not to protest. I backed slowly out through the door. As soon as I had cleared the threshold, he slammed it shut in my face.

A chambermaid emerging from an adjacent room looked at me with a startled expression. I smiled in an attempt to reassure her, then, remembering the wound on my forehead, turned and hurried away.