50. Even at the end – 2017
‘The list–’
‘Yes, Anton, I know. The list is on your desk.’ Ursula cocked her head to one side and grinned. They were having a rare good week. Probably because there was a big business event coming up and he wanted her to give her best performance as the dutiful, loving wife.
He treated her to a pained smile. Anyone who didn’t know him as well as she did might have assumed he was constipated, but this was what passed for reasonably happy in Anton’s world. ‘I’ll be back by two o’clock.’
‘Will you want lunch?’
‘No. The client is insisting on brunch.’ He raised his eyebrows to show his disapproval. Anton wasn’t a fan of brunch. It interfered with his daily structure.
‘How terrible for you. You have my utmost sympathy.’
He grimaced and laughed at her joke. Moments like this were rare and Ursula chose not to spoil it by telling him she was going to the allotment later.
As soon as he drove off she went straight up to the office, in a hurry to finish the list and get away. Samuel and Clyde were planning the allotments’ summer show and she’d promised to give them a hand.
Naturally the first task on the list was dusting that bloody model, his doll’s house, his miniature prison.
She took it apart as methodically as she always did and applied gentle strokes of the brush.
It was yellowing a little, she thought. ‘Showing your age, old chap. I wonder which of us will cave in first.’
Next, she tackled the stack of invoices he’d left out for her to record and file.
For a minimalist devotee, Anton was surprisingly keen on paper records.
Ursula’s job was to enter the details into a separate spreadsheet and file them in his specially made cabinets.
This she did meticulously because she knew he’d check to make sure she’d done it properly.
Ursula suspected his secretary did exactly the same job with exactly the same invoices in his office in New Street.
He probably checked those as well. Although he probably had more faith in the secretary.
Number three on the list was to go through his inbox and move into a folder any new invoices that needed his approval before being sent out.
Yet another boring and pointless job he’d invented to keep her home.
Ursula clicked on the email icon but, instead of opening the general inbox, a message popped up asking whether he really wanted to delete a mail.
It was unusual for him to leave a job half done like that.
She closed the window, leaving the mail undeleted, and made a note to remind him to look at it when he got back.
She was about to click close on the email when she noticed the title: ‘Let’s do brunch.
’ It must have been from the client he was meeting, although it sounded too informal for that.
Especially as there was a smiley face after the words, like the sender knew him well enough to tease him about his dislike of brunch.
Maybe it was from the latest lover. She’d never given his other women much thought before now, but they hadn’t invaded her home before.
And yes, this was only an email and it wasn’t technically in her home, but it was close enough to make Ursula read it.
‘Hi Anton,
Sorry I had to cancel Friday. Mum had another relapse and Dad wanted us all to be there for her.
She’s recovered now but I think the sooner we get this project concluded the better.
Dad’s really keen to get her into the new house as quickly as possible.
I know it’s asking a lot of you to prioritise us, but you’re the only one he trusts to design something he’ll like. You know how exacting he can be.
Can you do 11.00 tomorrow at the usual place? Bring the plans.
We really enjoyed seeing you both last month, by the way. You must come again. For a weekend next time.
Susannah’
Whoever this Susannah was, she probably wasn’t his lover.
But they had a usual place, so more like a friend who happens to be a client.
Ursula read it again and stopped at the same sentence that had pulled her up the first time: ‘We really enjoyed seeing you both last month.’ There’d been a conference in London last month, or so he’d led her to believe.
It sounded like he’d spent part of it with this Susannah and at least two others.
The lover would be one of them. It must be serious if he was introducing her to clients and friends.
Ursula looked for more clues, caught the sender’s full name, and saw all she needed to know.
Susannah Fry-Weatherall. Anton was building another house for Bernard Fry, but this was more than business.
He was friends with them. She remembered Cass’s nervousness about Anton knowing she was back. It was no wonder.
Ursula printed off two copies of the email. Anton would only delete it when he got home and make out she’d imagined it. She put one copy in the glove compartment of her car ready to take to her allotment shed, the one place she could hide anything from him.
Back in his office, she looked at the list. Another twelve jobs before she reached the end of it.
She took a pen, a red one, and scored lines from the left top corner to the bottom right and did the same the other way.
Then she turned it over and wrote on the back of it.
Something for him to find after he came up here to lick his wounds.
Something that made quite it clear what she wished for him.
She looked around the room, looked at the lighter patch on the floor where she’d once left traces of her baby, and promised herself this was the last time she would do Anton’s bidding. Then she went downstairs to wait.
A little before two, the Volvo came into the drive.
Ursula sat at the table, stiff and upright, while Anton drove it into the garage, closed the door and came into the house.
He frowned slightly at the sight of her sitting there, watching him for once.
She pushed the email across the table. ‘You forgot to delete this.’
He scanned it and said nothing, but if you knew him as well as she did, it was just possible to spot the signals of disquiet. The blinking for one thing, and the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead for another.
‘You also forgot to mention you were designing another house for Bernard Fry. Or that you were friends with him and this woman, who I assume is my half-sister.’
‘It’s just business.’
‘It’s never just business when it comes to that family, and well you know, Anton.’
‘You’re being ridiculous. I can’t turn business down just because you have a problem with your father.
Besides, it shouldn’t really matter now that Gillian is dead.
He is willing to bury the hatchet. I don’t see why you can’t do the same.
’ He’d found his voice and what a spiteful, bitter voice it was.
What a ruthless, self-serving, conscienceless man she was married to.
‘The trouble with you, Anton, is that you’re entirely devoid of empathy.
You’re cold and empty. You always have been, and I have no idea why I’ve been prepared to live with it for so long.
The truth is I despise you, and ordinarily I have no interest in what you do or who you do it with.
But you’ve crossed a line. If it was your intention to drive me away, then you’ve succeeded. ’
‘Now you are being melodramatic. Sit down and let us talk this through.’
‘No. I’m going out now to see my friends, and to make arrangements.’
‘What arrangements?’
‘To leave you.’
She went for the door but Anton got there first, blocking her way. ‘Don’t be a fool. You can’t exist without me. You can’t even dress without me telling you what to wear.’
She jolted to a sudden halt, knowing there was some truth in his outburst, and she almost gave in. But then he came towards her with an expression that said he’d won, yet again. He’d seen the doubt in her and was moving in to take advantage.
‘I won’t allow it.’ His voice was softer now, the sort you used to placate an empty-headed pet.
How dare he assume she was nothing without him? And how dare he assume she was his to control. A violent fury rose in her and without realising what she was doing, she ran at him and pushed him. He fell away much more easily than she’d expected and landed on his backside.
Ursula stepped over him and walked outside.
The whole of her body was shaking and she had to hold onto the car while she let the air in and out of her lungs.
Each breath came out with a laugh. She was free.
She could hardly believe how easy it had been.
Habit made her look up to the office window.
He was there already. Watching. Always watching. Even at the end.
She was greeted at the allotment by Clyde, eager for her to meet his new friend, a gangly mass of long black fur called Colonel.
‘My daughter got him for the kids but the fool girl didn’t think about the effort you have to put in with a dog, so he’s come to live with me until she works out what to do with him. ’
Samuel came sauntering along the path towards them. Clyde pushed back his hat in acknowledgement. ‘I’m introducing me new lodger to Ursula.’
Ursula tickled Colonel behind the ears, amazed at how calm she felt after what had just happened. ‘He’s very sweet.’
Samuel scratched his head. ‘Him still a youth. When him full grown, he’ll be a giant.’
Clyde nodded in agreement. ‘I told that girl she was crazy to get him, but she wouldn’t listen. I’ll be back in ten minutes. Come on, Colonel.’
‘I’ll get the kettle on and find a biscuit for Colonel,’ Ursula called after him. Clyde did a thumbs up as he strolled away, the dog trotting along with him. It was nice to see him smiling again. He hadn’t been doing that much lately. ‘Did his daughter really get Colonel for herself?’
‘That’s what she told Clyde. I have my doubts but it don’t matter. Him needed someone to care for since Carmen passed.’ Samuel put his hand on her shoulder. ‘You look different today, Ursula.’
‘I’m leaving Anton. I might have to go away for a while to sort myself out.’
‘You must do what you have to do. We’ll be here when you get back. Me and Clyde. And Colonel. That dog’s going nowhere.’
She was in no rush to get home and knowing she’d be away for a while, Ursula stayed until late at the allotment, watching the sunset with Samuel.
Earlier, she’d called Solly to ask if she could stay with him and Cass.
They were living together now. Not as man and wife, but as two old friends looking out for each other.
So it was all arranged. Tomorrow morning, she’d pack her things and go.
The house was in darkness when she pulled in but she could see Anton’s outline in the office window. She wondered whether he’d been there all afternoon and evening waiting for her. Unlikely. He probably heard her car pull into the drive.
When she got inside, she turned on the lights and listened. It was eerily quiet, even by this house’s standards. She went upstairs to make up the bed in the spare room.
The door to his office was half open. He was in there in the darkness, sulking.
Ursula walked past it to the linen cupboard and took out the spare bedding.
On her way back, the duvet pushed against the door and knocked it further open.
It caught on something and came to a stop.
‘Anton?’ Her voice cut through the silence.
She tightened her grip on the bundle in her arms and peered into the darkness.
‘Anton?’ She switched the light on, looked behind the door and dropped the bedding.
It was him, curled up on the floor like a foetus.
She touched his wrist to find a pulse, but she already knew there was none to find.
Ursula could tell by his eyes, wide open and vacant. Anton was dead.