Who Was Angela Zendalic (37 page)

‘So the minute you came back here on your own you were desperate for sex. Searched her out. Seduced her. Got her up the duff in five minutes, and kept her out in the sticks so you could fornicate with every Tom, Dick and Harry.'

‘So I'm a homosexual as well, am I?'

‘You know what I mean.'

‘No, Mr Rawlings, I don't know what you mean. I bought The Hall as a home for the woman I was very deeply in love with.'

‘Then what was all that stuff in the pub. Tell me that.'

‘I'll tell you quite simply. The woman was Merryn. My wife ...'

Ted gaped. ‘What!' You're back with her?'

‘Oh, no. Absolutely not. She's now fully recovered, and she'd come up to Oxford on that day to discuss the terms of our very amicable divorce. If you saw any signs of affection it's because we'd had a long and loving history going back over fifteen years, and three beautiful daughters together. We were conducting ourselves with re-found friendship and generosity, and the platonic love that still existed between us. And just for the record, Angela knew the divorce was firmly on wheels, but she had no idea I was meeting Merryn. We'd decided at the beginning it was strictly my affair, and I'd manage it without causing any stress in our own relationship. In fact I only visited my solicitor yesterday afternoon to go over the fine details.'

Piers got up and straightened his sleeves. ‘So that's all I have to say, Inspector Rawlings. I don't want anything more to do with you, or Peggy, or the Zendalic family ever again. No visits, no phone calls, no letters, and in due course you'll all be receiving an official restraining order. My daughter will be brought up in whatever way I choose for her, and she will be told nothing about any of you. You're free to go now.'

Ted heaved to his feet, reached into his pocket, and placed a small envelope on a low table. ‘I've got something here for the baby. From Peg. A family ring I believe.'

‘No thank you, Mr Rawlings. Take it back to her. Please tell her I appreciate the gesture, but I have no intention of accepting any sort of gifts. I repeat that I want nothing – nothing – to do with any of you ever again.'

‘Can we see the baby?'

‘Certainly not.'

‘But surely ...'

‘Please leave. Now.'

Ted picked up the envelope, placed it back in his pocket, and shuffled to the door in silence. A stiff block of terrified remorse.

Peggy didn't speak as Ted came into the back room, but he pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘No words can soften the blow, can it?' She shook her head. ‘The woman in question was the wife.' He shrugged. ‘I had no idea what she looked like, did I? They were discussing the terms of their divorce.' Peggy still didn't speak. ‘About the ring, Peg.' He withdrew the envelope and lay it on the table. ‘He won't accept it. Refuses to let us see the baby as well. Said he wants nothing more to do with any of us, ever again and we'll be getting a legal restraining order.' Peggy's head dropped with a small muted sob. ‘Look at me, Peg.'

She looked up at him as if she didn't know him. ‘So that's that, then,' she said, slowly getting to her feet. ‘I'm off now to say goodbye to her.'

‘Of course. We'll go up together.'

She recoiled. ‘No thanks. Ted. I don't want your company. In fact, I don't want your company ever again. Will you please leave, and shut the door behind you.'

‘Peg ...'

‘Get out, Ted. Just go.'

‘But ...' Clearly stunned he opened his mouth, closed it again, and walked out of the room.

Peggy put on her coat and left the house. To re-trace the steps she'd made yesterday. A round-shouldered, nondescript woman, her eyes cast down to the pavement in case she saw anyone she knew and felt obliged to explain. To find the Chapel of Rest, and to say goodbye to her beautiful brown girl who was sleeping peacefully.

When Piers got back to college from visiting Sarah there was a note in his pigeonhole.

To: Professor Penney

From: Susan Jenkins

Message timed: 11.30pm.

Prof, Garvie Warlock came into the office this morning. I'd never have recognised him! Quite the man these days. He left you what looks like a picture wrapped in brown paper.

Piers collected it, took it up to his rooms, unwrapped a stunning nude painting of Angela, and read the accompanying note.

Dear Pears

I'm Better I've finially accepted that I've lost angela to you. I want you to have this pantig as i'll only Distroy it. I loved her, but I diserved too loose her. Thak you for all your help last year. I'm doing good at St.Martins. I'm home to help my mother cleer out St.Veep's as she moving to Cambrigde to be near my sisters. I ow you allot and I promis I will leave you and Angela alone fo ever. She did always love you. Good lukc Garvie.

Garvie didn't know, did he? He, like everyone else, didn't know any of it. How could he? The gift, he had to conclude, was just a fortuitous coincidence. With gentlemanly fair play he knew he should contact him, tell him what had happened, tell him the whole story, and thank him for the painting, but he also knew he never would. So he sat staring at the beautiful image of
Angela Listening To Stuart Henry,
depicting his adored at her most beautiful; a stunning work of art, and a credit to the poor troubled boy. It would hang on the wall of his music room at Priory Hall, where he could look at it every day, in blissful memory.

The phone rang. ‘Pierrot, it's me. I'm just ringing to see if you've had second thoughts about me coming up.'

‘No. None at all. I need you desperately.'

‘I've been thinking about the girls. What should we tell them about Sarah?'

‘Well, she's their new little sister, isn't she, so they must be told precisely that. Just present her as a big surprise. They'll be really thrilled. They know nothing of what's been going on, and they're far too young to be curious about the birds and bees stuff. They'll adore her. She's a lovely baby.'

‘How could she be anything else?'

‘You'll have to stay in my new house. It's only just finished, but I can make it comfortable enough. I'd like to move in as well. To be near Sarah. Do you mind? Under the same roof and all that.' He hesitated. ‘Merryn.'

‘Yes, darling.'

‘I really do appreciate this.'

‘I really want to help.'

‘I promise I'll get something sorted out when things have settled down. A live-in nanny I suppose.'

‘I'll get on with our packing right away. Anything we need I can buy. When does Sarah come out of hospital?'

‘The day after tomorrow.'

‘Then I'll be ready tomorrow morning.'

‘I'll be down just after midday.'

April 1973
Old Priory Hall, Monks Bottom

T
hree
months later, Merryn stood on a stony, weed-filled patch of rough garden outside the music room. With pad and pencil in hand she was thinking, screwing up her eyes, turning her head this way and that, and making rough sketches. Piers came out of the French doors, holding two large mugs of coffee, and placed them down on a broken scaffold plank. ‘What are you doing?'

‘I'm envisaging a patio. About twenty feet square. Angled to get the best view over the valley, and a suntrap in the afternoon. Then you can sit here and contemplate. Drink a G and T, and reflect on life. Maybe put up a summer house, so you can use it all year round.'

He nodded and shrugged. ‘I'm going to write out an advertisement for
The Lady
this afternoon. ‘
Live-in Nanny required,'
that sort of thing. You've been so wonderful, and generous, but you must move on soon. Get your freedom back. Maybe start performing again. I'll miss the girl's terribly, but I'll just have to cope with it.'

Merryn hesitated and sipped her coffee. ‘Uprooting the girls from this place would break their hearts.'

‘What choice is there?'

‘We could stay. Not go back.'

‘Oh, Merryn. Do you mean you
want
to stay?'

She nodded. ‘It's been lovely. The girls adore their little sister, and most of all I've become Sarah's mother. It would break my own heart to leave her.'

‘But could we live together without ...without …'

‘Without sex, you mean. I doubt it. We were actually rather good at it, weren't we, and we could – you know – give each other comfort. Learn to love again. Try hard to make some sort of good deal together. The only alternative is to have affairs and I don't think either of us could cope with the complications again.'

‘So what you're suggesting is that we pick up the pieces. After all we've been through it might not work.'

Merryn moved to him, looked him in the eye, and kissed him on the lips. ‘Hold me, Pierrot. Hold me tight. Let's try. Not for our sakes, but for our daughters. All four of them. And for The Hall too. Let's make it a real home, with love and laughter and lots of music.' She let him go, turned away, and stared out over the vista of the valley. ‘There's just one proviso. Sarah's never to be told I'm not her mother. You told me yourself that you whisked Angela out of sight long before she found out she was pregnant, so everyone we know will think she's ours anyway, including the girls. And there's nothing of Angela's roots in her, is there. No-one would guess. She looks just like you.'

Dawn the next day

6
.00am.
The sight of the rising sun's rays falling on the needles of the old cedar. A warm spring wind blowing its feathery branches, and the sound of rooks squawking on the Tudor chimney pots. Piers threw Merryn's silky hair aside, ran his lips down the smooth arc of her neck, and sank his face into the warmth of her back. ‘Oh, that was lovely. We're just the same again, aren't we?'

She pushed herself tighter against him, and gathered both his arms around her. ‘Darling, the pleasure will always be the same, but as two people, as parents, as husband and wife, we'll never be quite the same. There'll always be a part of me that mourns José. You must know that. He wasn't just some crackpot passion. I loved him very much. And don't tell me you've stopped loving Angela.'

He was silent for a few moments. ‘No. Never will. I adored her.'

‘You always did. Women are very knowing, and very wise. She was stunning, even as a little girl in ankle socks. You always wanted her, didn't you?'

He shuddered out a long breath. ‘Yes.'

Merryn turned round to face him. ‘It's nothing to be ashamed about. Love is love, and she was never harmed.'

‘I'm not really like that ...'

‘Shhhh.' She put a finger to his lips. ‘I know you're not, silly. But sometimes things happen that we can't help. If the truth be told she always wanted
you
. In a sweet child-like way to begin with, but when she grew up she became completely possessed. Your love affair was what they say, ‘on the cards'. But we can still make a wonderful life together. Make a home in this divine place, and I've got huge plans to create a garden.'

‘I love you, Merryn.'

‘And I love you, my darling Pierrot.'

‘Merryn.'

‘Yes, my love.'

‘The patio. The one you designed yesterday. Would you mind ...would you mind very much if we scattered Angela's ashes under the foundations. Then she'll always be there for me. To remember in my quiet moments.'

‘Of course I don't mind. It's a lovely thing to do.'

‘You're remarkable.'

‘No I'm not. I'm just a woman.'

May 2014
Henley-on-Thames

T
he
solicitor's office of Bartrum and Partners was nothing like the oak-panelled, thickly carpeted room I'd been expecting. Howie and I were shown into a glass-walled cubbyhole to meet Miss Claridge; an earnest young woman who directed us to sit down. No words of welcome, and no smiles.

Before her, on a desktop, she had what was obviously Pa's Will; peering at it, turning pages, and checking facts in complete silence. After keeping us waiting for what seemed like several minutes she looked up. ‘As you know, Miss Penney, your brother-in-law, Mr Malahide, is your father's chosen executor. I've spoken to him about the painting and he's raised no objection to you seeing the provenance.'

‘That's very generous of him,' I said sarcastically. ‘Now please can I have it?'

She nodded, but made no move to hand it over. ‘Your father's original Will was made as long ago as June, 1973, but it was reviewed several times. The last time was two years ago, to take into account further complexities concerning his bequests to The Foundation, and your mother's full admission to care. However, the provenance to the painting is concurrent with the original date.' At last she passed over a thick white parchment envelope, together with a letter knife. ‘Would you like me to leave so you can read it in private?'