Chapter 10
‘What does it say?’ Dorothy whispered urgently, dropping her nonchalance as soon as she was out of sight of the master of the house.
I looked down at the piece of card and read the words on the front. It was a riddle and there was a code on the bottom with directions relating to the letters of the alphabet. It was the sort of thing I would have concocted with my brother when we were kids on those very wet Sunday afternoons that seemed to go on forever. I could feel Leonard listening on the other side of the hedge as I read out the clue.
‘I am an odd number. Take away a letter and I become even. What number am I?’
It was an obvious conundrum that I understood immediately, but I kept it firmly to myself.
‘No idea,’ I said to Dorothy. ‘Let’s go for a walk and if we get lost I’m sure someone will come and rescue us.’
I took us a short way along the first stretch of hedging and then stopped to show Dorothy.
‘If you take away the letter S from the front of the word seven you have the word even. Do you get it? Seven: an odd number,’ I whispered.
‘Oh, I suppose I get it,’ Dorothy said with a raised eyebrow. ‘Not my sort of thing really.’
‘Dorothy, you do the crossword; you must have some idea.’
‘I buy the newspaper and I try to do the crossword, but in truth I’m much happier with a gritty thriller,’ she said with a smile.
‘Right, well the answer to this is seven and if you look at the code at the bottom, the letter S means go right, then the letters E and V take you left, so that’s left three times and then N takes you right again. You see?’
Dorothy frowned and then shrugged.
‘Can you see now why I chose you as my companion?’ she said with a grin, and then linked her arm through mine as we set off and I steered her confidently into the maze.
The others had clearly worked out the answer quickly and had long disappeared, although their chatter and laughter could be heard at various points as we traversed the hedgerows back and forth.
Our pace was quite slow as Dorothy couldn’t walk very quickly and soon the excited voices of the others seemed to have grown softer and more distant.
‘Hang on, here’s another clue.’
I pulled out a card that was stuck into the edge of the hedge and read it out.
‘If two’s company and three’s a crowd what are four and five?God, he’s not very imaginative, is he,’ I said. ‘So, it’s another right, then a left and then a right, then a left again.’
‘What was the answer?’ Dorothy asked. ‘I’m honestly not very good at quizzes.’
‘Nine,’ I said. ‘He asks the question what are four and five? Four plus five equals nine.’
‘Oh, I see!’ Dorothy said, delighted.
‘Please don’t be impressed.’
‘No, you’re right. So, Gina,’ she said after a moment. ‘You were saying about growing up in Bushy Park. How did that happen?’
‘My parents were living in a grotty flat in Teddington with me and my brother. I was five at the time. They’d heard about an old prefab the Americans had left after the war and it was in the parkland. So we and two other families took it over and made it home for a few short years. It was a happy time,’ I said and almost wish she hadn’t asked. It had been a happy time, but it all went wrong shortly after.
‘That sounds wonderful,’ Dorothy said. ‘Idyllic, but does that mean officially you were squatters?’
‘Yes.’ I laughed. ‘I suppose we were – not that I would have understood that at the time. They made it such a lovely home and with the deer park as my front garden, it was great.’
‘And you mentioned your marriage earlier. If it’s not being pushy, can I ask what happened?’
‘You, pushy? Perish the thought,’ I said and she laughed.
‘Touché.’
‘After forty-five years of marriage, two children and two grandchildren, he decided I wasn’t the one for him. He said he couldn’t understand what had brought him to this place in his life and if this was all there was, then what was the point. He also said he needed to find himself.’
I began my statement with a matter-of-fact tone, but as I got to the last few words I had to swallow, hard.
‘My goodness, how very disappointing of him,’ Dorothy said. ‘I’m generalising here, I do realise, but women tend to find themselves through friendships and activity, through reading and learning. I think men tend to need some sort of justification for existing through sex.’
There was a beat of silence while we digested those words before Dorothy added her caveat: ‘Not all men, of course.’
‘My son asked me if I thought there was someone else and I suppose it’s entirely possible. His letter suggested that I was beige and unexciting, like I said earlier, so it would make sense.’
‘And like I said earlier, you are neither of those things,’ Dorothy said.
‘I think there is some truth in it, though. I’m not being self-deprecating,’ I added quickly as Dorothy opened her mouth to speak. ‘I’ve let myself go a bit. I don’t worry about my clothes much; I rarely buy anything new. I don’t colour my hair any more or wear much make-up. I can’t remember the last time I looked at myself in the mirror and felt pleased with what I saw.’
‘Oh, Gina, that makes me so sad to hear you say that. It’s not all about looks, but you do have wonderful skin. You are very attractive.’
As she said this, my left hand reached involuntarily to my right arm and to the damaged skin under my sleeve, and I suppressed a shudder.
‘One assumes he was happy with how you looked for the majority of your marriage?’
‘Yes, I suppose,’ I said. ‘He did used to compliment me. He used to say how lucky he was to have such a lovely wife who doted on him. God! How pathetic that sounds. The thing is for the first time in my life I will be living alone and can please myself, but…’ I paused while I tried to get to the heart of what I really wanted to say. ‘I’ve only ever looked after other people. It sounds lovely doesn’t it, to please oneself, but I don’t really know how.’
‘There are different ways to deal with that situation. You can decide to be unhappy and abandoned or you can embrace an opportunity, shake off the shackles of marriage, because that is really what it is to be married and raise children, as a woman, to constantly look after those you love.’
‘But you were happy with Philip, weren’t you?’ I asked her, surprised at her views.
‘Yes, of course, but I didn’t know that marriage, for a woman, equated to signing up to a lifetime of servitude,’ she said with a smile, as if in full acceptance of her role. ‘What did you expect when you said yes to your husband?’
I thought about that for a moment and felt a bit embarrassed by my answer.
‘I don’t really remember much about that time, to be honest.’
‘Ah, young love; I remember it well,’ she said.
I opened my mouth to tell her that it wasn’t like that, but she’d started talking about my new-found freedom again.
‘Anyway, you can take off whenever and wherever you like, start a new hobby or pick up an old one. You could write a book, take up a dance class or find a new bloke; lucky you.’
‘Dorothy, you could do the same, you know.’
‘Ah, well, you see it’s different for me at the moment. I was lost when Philip went. I couldn’t produce the art that I’d always loved so much. I could barely be bothered to pull a pan out of the cupboard and cook myself a proper meal. It wasn’t just about his death; it was because of Leonard. The thought of him orchestrating what he did, to have what he wanted at any cost, eats away at me. What I’m suggesting for you, is what I’d be suggesting for myself – possibly not the dancing or the bloke, though. And I will, once I have justice for Philip. It consumes me, you know, this need for the truth. But, when it’s over, and I do have faith that we will be successful this week, then I will allow myself to become a woman content on her own. I know I can do it once I’ve shaken off this anger. And, Gina, I know you can do it too.’
‘Dorothy, my friend, you are so insightful and offer up such an impassioned speech with a great argument for independence without shackles and yet, somehow I’m feeling myself even more compelled than ever to do your bidding and find this painting for you. Bravo.’
‘I meant every word, you know. I think we can help each other,’ she said.
I was about to ask her how she planned to help me, but some of the others’ voices were within earshot again, so I took her hand, gave it a squeeze, and tried not to think about the task before me that was far greater than getting us out of this maze.
I then pulled my phone from my pocket and opened my maps app, zoomed in on our location and, watching the flashing blue dot move, I pulled Dorothy gently to the left.
‘Here,’ I said. ‘We don’t need Leonard’s terrible clues to reach the middle; we have technology!’
The middle of the maze was surprisingly large, and the entire group were already there, proving that Leonard’s clues were hardly tricky at all. His staff had managed to navigate the labyrinth of hedging and deliver a table laden with food and drinks. There were more plastic rose trees and I remembered the game of croquet earlier. Leonard liked a theme; that was for sure.
A huge glass bowl of something that looked like punch sat on one end of the table with a sign next to it – Drink me! Platters of meat and cheese, bread, cakes and fruit covered the rest with the obligatory sign – Eat me! Juliet was crowing over the fact that she had worked out all the clues and wanted to know what her prize was because it couldn’t possibly just be dinner. Leonard smiled, indulgently, and handed her a twenty-pound note from his wallet. She looked surprised at his change in attitude, but then pocketed the money.
This was going to be a meal that I couldn’t get out of, I realised as everyone took their seats. Some jazz music began to fill the air around us from hidden speakers and mingled with the sounds of people piling food onto their plates and glasses being filled. If it hadn’t been for what Dorothy had planned for me, this all might be a lovely thing to do on a warm summer evening, but instead my mind was twitchy and preoccupied. I opened my photos on my phone and began to scroll through the pictures I’d taken earlier while Leonard was safely at the other end of the table. There was so much of the house I had yet to see and probably many places that would be completely out of bounds to me. He could have it hanging up in the attic rooms or hidden in a shed or storeroom somewhere; he may have even destroyed it.
I glanced across at Dorothy who was sitting opposite me on the other side of the table. She had helped herself to some food and was nibbling on a chunk of cheese with slices of apple. She looked like she didn’t want to be there much either and I wondered what would happen if I didn’t find the painting. Dorothy had already said she wouldn’t be able to let it go and move on. She would be consumed with anger when she should really be grieving the death of her husband, but then, wasn’t anger one of the many stages?
When my beloved mother Ellen died, I had eventually been angry. Firstly, though, I’d wandered aimlessly through my days in a haze as dark as the smoke that had filled our house on that terrible night. There was a numbness to my existence with the occasional awakening to grief and guilt.
Ellen was a gentle woman, kind and funny, smart and serious when seriousness was needed. She was appreciated for her work, loved by many, admired by more than just my father and, ultimately, fallible.
It had been eighteen months after her death that I met Douglas. The year was 1980 and I was twenty-eight. My friends had dragged me out in some odd celebration after the successful court case, but I couldn’t feel any sort of victory over the man who had started the fire. How could I possibly? Douglas had been drinking with a few of his own friends and as the pub filled and we had to start sharing tables, I found myself talking to him. To this day I can’t remember what was said – I don’t recall much about that time at all – but I must have thought him nice and friendly, because I married him and had his children. I wouldn’t have guessed that a man who would see me through that terrible time with care and compassion would be able to discard me so easily over forty years later.
I felt a determination settle over me. I would find the painting or certainly find out if Leonard was responsible; then Dorothy could move on with her life.
Harry had arrived and was spooning ladles of the punch into glasses and they were being passed around the table. I declined his offer as he handed one to me, but Leonard had other ideas.
‘Gina, you are more than Dot’s carer here and I’d very much like you to enjoy your time the same as everyone else.’
With all eyes expectantly on me, I took the glass. Then I took a breath and a sip of the drink that Harry handed me, unfortunately at the same time, and as the liquid hit the back of my throat I coughed.
‘Bit strong for you?’ said a voice and I looked up into the eyes of Harry, who wasn’t smiling, but actually, at that moment as the sun made me blink, he looked a little intimidating.
‘A bit strong for everyone, I would imagine,’ I said, attempting a laugh, once I’d stopped coughing. Instinctively I took another mouthful to soothe the tickle that remained in my throat and this time, as the cool liquid flowed down to my stomach and began to flood my system, I got a taste for how potent it really was. Not just fruit punch then. Harry was hovering and put out his hand to take the glass away, but I held it firmly. Everyone else was drinking, apart from Juliet, and I would just have this one. It might help me to relax a bit and perhaps I may have some sort of epiphany about where that painting might be.
For the next couple of hours Leonard held court at the end of the table with stories of his trips abroad. He’d travelled the Trans-Siberian Express and the Orient Express, stayed in lavish hotels and dined in the best restaurants around the world. He’d skied in first-class resorts and sailed on exclusive boats. Everyone was rapt by his tales and, despite myself, even my attention was caught. I’d usually find this sort of bragging incredibly tedious, but for some reason, that evening I didn’t. I drank and ate along with the rest, joined in animated conversations and felt completely relaxed and safe.
As the sun went down and we finally vacated the middle of the maze, Leonard escorted us back towards the house. I stumbled on a tree root poking out onto the path as we walked past the orangery and realised that I must be a little drunk, but no one seemed to notice. I thought back to all that had been discussed that evening, feeling as if I’d missed something vitally important, but my brain couldn’t seem to remember anything that had been spoken about. My relaxed state had evaporated and now I just felt disconcerted.
I saw Dorothy up to her room, but as I headed back to my own, I couldn’t remember whether I’d even said goodnight. One thing I did see before I closed my door, though, was Harry watching me from the far end of the landing where he raised a hand in a funny sort of farewell gesture and then disappeared behind his own bedroom door.