Chapter 21
‘Peter!’ I called out as I picked up my pace. I looked back over my shoulder to see that Dorothy and Yvonne were chatting animatedly, Leonard was in deep conversation with a couple holding a baby and that Juliet had found a young lad to speak to. As everyone seemed occupied I wondered if I should really be indoors on the hunt, with that pretext of fetching Dorothy’s tissues, but for some reason I felt drawn to talk to Peter again.
He was already inside the confines of the rose garden by the time I caught up with him and he had his head stooped, his hand cupping an orange rose, his nose inside the petals. The garden was set up in an oval shape, reminding me of the room in the house with the stolen items and for a moment I wondered if Dorothy’s painting could be out here, but just a quick glance told me there were no hiding places. There were four borders, though full of rose bushes. I thought it would have been spectacular in June, but now during the last few days of August, there were only a few blooms left. Some of the remaining buds may never open and a good north-easterly wind would see the last of the flowers off. I could see a bench at one end near a water feature that was set into the wall. A bronze lion’s head dribbled water onto stones below. Down here the music and chatter was faint and I imagined that bench would be a perfect place to sit and contemplate life, or to read a book, or just to look at the roses with a glass of wine. I had a sudden urge to do all three.
‘Hello, Peter,’ I said and then realised I’d made him jump as he dropped the rose. ‘Wonderful garden party.’
‘Yes, it is. Leonard has outdone himself again. Hello, Gina.’
Peter walked to the bench and sat down. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment.
‘It’s so peaceful here, you wouldn’t imagine that this house could harbour such a wealth of secrets.’
While his eyes were closed, I took a moment to look at him. He had dark shadows under his eyes, and what could have been loosely called designer stubble yesterday had gone beyond that and his fingernails were bitten down to nothing.
‘I spoke to Harry. I think he’s on the brink of doing the right thing. Well, he’s on the brink of leaving.’
‘That might well be the best thing for Harry to do. Leonard would never send him on his way with a reference anyway, so maybe disappearing and starting over is as much as can be expected. I wish him all the luck.’
‘Are you okay, Peter?’ I asked sitting down next to him. The metal bench was cool on my back through my blouse and with the garden being sunken and shaded from the sun, it was welcome.
‘I’m tired,’ he said. ‘I’m very tired.’
‘Just got tomorrow to get through and then can you take a break, a holiday perhaps? Is there a Mrs Vicar?’
Peter laughed then, a dry hollow sound that came out through closed lips.
‘A holiday and a Mrs Vicar. How wonderful those two things sound, but sadly I have neither time nor inclination.’
I wondered which he didn’t have time for and which he didn’t have inclination for, but I brushed it aside as none of my business. I was about to tell him about Leonard’s secret room and how I felt we were only a coastal scene away from justice, when Leonard himself appeared in front of us, walking down the steps into the garden.
‘Well, this looks cosy,’ he said.
He had a glass of champagne in his hand and appeared a little drunk as he slurred his words and swayed on the bottom step.
‘A companion who never seems to be by the side of her ward and a vicar who likes?—’
‘Leonard, are you okay, old chap?’ Peter said standing up and moving forward to the steps. He caught hold of Leonard’s arm and steered him towards the bench. ‘Sit down before you fall down. I think the sun has got to you.’
Leonard did as he was told, but poured the remaining liquid down his throat before dropping the glass to the ground where it broke in two.
‘Gina, do you think you could get something to put the glass in, my dear? I don’t want any of the children here to hurt themselves,’ Peter said.
‘Of course,’ I said, quickly walking back towards the steps. When I reached the top I glanced back and could see that Leonard had his head in his hands and Peter was standing over him, actually towering over him. He was saying something that I couldn’t hear, but the tone was urgent and angry. Peter no longer looked tired; he was animated.
By the time I came back with some newspaper I’d found in a kitchen cupboard and a dustpan and brush, Leonard and Peter had gone. I cleared up the glass then sat back down on the bench. I had so many thoughts swirling around my head, but couldn’t get a grip on any one of them. What was Rufus involved in and who was blackmailing whom? Who was with Leonard in his compromising video? My mind automatically went straight to sex, but really it could be images of theft. Perhaps there were compromising CCTV images of Leonard and Harry, stealing.
I decided that it was time to go and get those tissues that Dorothy requested.
A team of catering staff had arrived to get the food out for the garden party. Harry had already done a lot of the work, but it was too much for one person to do completely. Now there were about fifteen staff hurrying back and forth from the kitchen and out to an area set up for serving. It was basically a long trestle table covered in white linen and under the shade of another gazebo. There were bain-maries to keep the vegetables warm and portable ovens for the salmon en cro?te.
For now, people were still walking around the gardens, drinking and chatting. They weren’t quite ready for lunch as waiting staff with sliver trays of canapés were still circulating. Dorothy was where I had left her, still in her seat, but now talking to a couple. Yvonne and her pink hat had disappeared. I raised a hand to Dorothy and she waved back and then offered me a thumbs up. Leonard could just be seen quaffing more champagne, surrounded by guests all seemingly enraptured by whatever he was saying. He wasn’t swaying now, but only because he had his back against a hedge. Peter was nowhere to be seen.
I walked quickly around to the main entrance, through the front door and straight up the ornate staircase. I was into Dorothy’s room in moments and with the packet of tissues in my pocket, I was across the landing and up towards Leonard’s personal staircase. I felt a sense of liberation at last. Leonard was too drunk to get here anytime soon and everyone else was enjoying themselves in the garden. Besides, I wasn’t sure how much I cared now. Let someone challenge me on what I was doing. I was only one secret oak panel away from my own challenge. Let the house of cards fall where they may.
I stopped in Leonard’s bedroom doorway and stared at his perfectly made bed. Unwanted images of him in so-called compromising positions came unbidden into my head, but I laughed them off. One thing Leonard was, was a grown man and his sex life – as long as it was consensual – was absolutely nothing to do with me.
I took my time to scan the room. The last time I had been in here, I was flustered and felt under pressure to look and then leave as quickly as possible. Now, though, I just looked. My eyes moved across his bed and that beautiful crewel-work embroidery, over his wardrobe, his chest of drawers, the paintings on the walls, those huge drapes and back to the Chinese cabinet.
Walking over to it, I pulled the handles the same as I had last time and the same as before, it was locked. Then I began to really rummage. I opened his bedside drawers, slid my hand under his pillow, crouched down and looked under the bed. I checked his bathroom cabinet, lifted vases to rattle them, picked through trinket dishes with coins and rings. I stopped and stood still again. I let my eyes roam once more and then they fell upon one of the paintings with an unsympathetic frame around it. The picture was a modern print of a coastal path. Nothing like the one I was looking for, but the frame was odd. It was an overly large, ornate, gilt frame, which didn’t at all go with the picture. But more than that, the bottom of the frame looked slightly deeper than the top. I walked over to the window and looked outside. Leonard had a perfect view of most of the parterre garden from here and I could see him still talking to the group.
Back in front of the picture, I ran my fingers along the frame. The left-hand side felt different to the right and as I fiddled with that edge something popped under my touch and a slice of the frame fell into my hand. Behind it was a tiny key, stuck into the recess. A tiny key that likely opened an antique door on an old piece of furniture.
Without much thought, I pulled it away and walked back to the Chinese cabinet, stood for a second at the side of Leonard’s bed, looking at the door, my heart now pumping faster. I leaned over his covers, pushed the key into the lock and turned. I held my breath as I pulled open the two doors and peered inside. What was inside made me jump. A stuffed bird stared back at me with one beady eye; the other was missing. It was the worst case of taxidermy I’d ever seen. There was nothing else, no painting, and I allowed myself a full minute for the utter disappointment to flow through me as I stared at that ugly, bloody bird and the terrible job someone had done on it. Then I closed and locked the doors, returned the key, slid the piece of frame back into place and left Leonard’s bedroom.
I walked back down the landing so lost in my despondency that I almost didn’t hear the noise coming from Leonard’s office. I hesitated outside the door, listening to the definite sound of drawers opening and closing, and of rummaging. I knew the sound very well after my own exploits for the last ten minutes. I knew Leonard was still in the garden – I’d just seen him – so I decided to open the door and catch whoever was in there. It went against everything I knew to be right and sane, but let’s be honest, that ship had sailed at the beginning of the week when I first started invading Leonard’s privacy.
The handle was cold under my grip, but as quietly as I could, I turned it, pushed the door open and found Peter with his hands in Leonard’s drawers.
‘Peter!’ I said, completely surprised to see him there.
‘Gina, thank goodness it’s you. This is not what it looks like,’ he said. ‘Actually, who am I trying to kid, it’s exactly what it looks like. Leonard has something of mine and I’m trying to find it.’
‘Not you as well – he seems to have something of everybody’s. Is it some artwork?’
‘Um, no, it’s a memory stick with some important stuff on it and…’
He trailed off, looking uncomfortable and I made the connection in my mind: compromising video. I’d been imagining an old video tape, but of course no one had those any more. A recording could easily be on a memory stick.
‘Peter, I think I may know what you’re looking for and I think I may know who has it. Let’s go downstairs where it’s safer to be and have a chat.’
Peter looked mortified sitting in the window seat of the library while I told him I thought Sandra or Rufus might have his memory stick and how I came to know about it.
‘I’m so embarrassed,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know that Leonard was recording us.’
I swallowed down my surprise. I wouldn’t in a million years have put Peter and Leonard together. And there was me asking about a Mrs Vicar.
‘You shouldn’t feel at all embarrassed. Leonard is breaking the law here, recording you without your consent. Another one to add to his list of misdemeanours.’
‘Leonard was so charming when we first met. I was quite swept away with him and my new position here. The setting is so romantic, much more so than the city I was working in before, and I honestly thought we had something serious going. Quite quickly, Leonard made it clear he didn’t do commitment, only casual, and I realised I was deluding myself. So, I carried on with my work, built up the community around the church and kept out of Leonard’s way. When Harry started, though, I saw a lot more comings and goings and, already suspicious about the amount of artwork that Leonard seemed to be collecting, I approached Harry to see what he knew. That was when he told me his whole sorry story.
‘I just kept an eye for a bit, but then seeing how unhappy Harry seemed to be, I spoke to Leonard and suggested he let him go, that Harry had as much on him as he did on Harry. Leonard just laughed, said he knew enough people who could make it all disappear before any police involvement. I thought he just meant the artwork, but now I’m not so sure. When I said I would take it further, he told me he’d recorded us together. I was mortified and he said that I should keep quiet or at any time during any service he could easily show my parishioners who I really was. I know how vain that makes me, but imagine, Gina, halfway through a christening and Leonard has secretly rigged up my projector. My time here and anywhere else would be over. I’m a weak man it turns out, because I should have done more.’
‘He’s despicable,’ I said. ‘I’ll get the memory stick back for you. I promise.’
I said this confidently, but in truth I wasn’t sure how and also, could we be certain there weren’t more copies? Did I just walk up to Rufus and demand he hand it over? ‘I’ll do my very best,’ I said.
Outside in the garden the guests were beginning to take their seats for lunch and I lifted a glass of champagne from a passing tray and downed it before smiling at the waiter and returning the empty glass to him. I joined Dorothy with a sad shake of my head as I handed her the packet of tissues and she patted my hand in solidarity, but all I wanted to do was go home. I couldn’t see how I was going to find the painting. I might be able to get the stick for Peter, but that really wasn’t enough. Leonard had thwarted me as he had so many other people.
Someone put a plate of salmon en cro?te down in front of me and I ate it in silence while everyone around me talked and laughed and the quartet played their soothing music. I didn’t feel soothed, though; I felt an odd combination of irritation and despair. I also had an unsettling urge to phone Douglas and beg him to come and get me. I took another glass of champagne and decided to move through the rest of the day in a haze.