Chapter Thirteen

Lilith

After only three hours’ sleep, that morning’s run was a real test of my tenacity.  I could so easily have pulled the duvet over my head and stayed in that warm burrow all day, but I knew that even one lapse would be a sign that my resolve was beginning to crumble. 

So under an azure sky that taunted me with memories of Santa Marita, I made my eleventh and final circuit of the island.   As usual, Bran had joined me for this last slow lap, and now the little lurcher came to observe the stretches that marked the end of my run.  She left me as I reached the solid side door that took me back into the Hall, trotting off to the greenhouse where she spent most of her day.

As I walked through the dining hall on the way to my breakfast in the kitchen, I saw Laura Fenworth sitting alone at the head of the table.  Any pleasure from the previous night’s activities had long gone; she gazed down at the empty plate before her and I guessed she was scheduled for a meeting with Blaine. 

‘Lovely morning, isn’t it?’ I asked with studied breezy insouciance.

Laura looked up in surprise.  She had been lost in her own thoughts, and I wondered which part of her evening she was recalling. 

‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’

‘Lilith Bresson.  Court Artist.  Enchanted to meet you.’  I offered Laura my hand, which she declined.  ‘I understand you had a particularly energetic night.’

There was an involuntary twitch at the corner of her mouth.  ‘How the hell do you know what I did last night?’

My false smile vanished. ‘Because after you’d finished with Finn, what was left of him came to see me.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah, oh.’

I didn’t have to say anything else then.  I just stood there in my sweat-stained t-shirt and stared her down.  She looked away first.

‘I’ve been having a hard time.  My hus... My ex-husband... That wasn’t me, not really – but Blaine made it sound so…’

‘Easy?’ I suggested. ‘Enjoyable?’ 

‘She said it was his job.’  She closed her eyes. 

‘You’ve just heard yourself, haven’t you?  You’ve just listened to your own pathetic attempt at justification, and realised what shit it actually is.’

‘I really don’t want to talk about this.’  Laura Fenworth’s thin, clawed hands toyed with a silver teaspoon.

I leant forward so that she was forced to see my face.  ‘That’s because no matter how much you try to justify your actions, or tell yourself the bad lady made you do it, you know that last night was who you become when you think no-one’s watching.  Congratulations on your moral bankruptcy, Ms Fenworth.’

Blaine met me in the narrow doorway that led to the staff quarters where she had no doubt been getting the details of last night’s drama from Henry. ‘Good morning, Lilith.  I assume some beautifully modulated self-righteous outburst has just paved the way for my meeting with Ms Fenworthy?  So thank you.  It makes a rather pleasant change to share the workload.’  She strolled away from me and over to the table where her next victim waited, and the scant satisfaction I felt at attacking Laura disappeared at a stroke.

*****

‘Are you working all day?’ Henry asked nonchalantly as he served coffee.

‘I was planning to, but I’m hardly in the mood.’

‘No, I can quite imagine.’  Henry pulled up a chair.  ‘Look, Lilith, I can’t apologise enough for last night.  You should never have been dragged into it, but to be honest you dealt with Finn far better than I could ever have done.’

‘I didn’t deal with him, Henry, for fuck’s sake – it makes him sound like some kind of wild animal.’ 

‘I’m sorry.  That’s not how it was meant to sound. It’s just that when he gets like that, the outcome tends to be a little… uncertain.’

I backed off.  ‘Well, at least we got you out intact this time.’

‘Ah.’  Henry rolled his eyes. ‘Now that was an interesting night.’

‘Have you seen him this morning?’

‘Not yet.  Perhaps the poor boy’s actually managed to grab a few hours’ sleep.’

I thought of the half-dozen codeine tablets that had gone from the bottle.  ‘Perhaps.  So, why did you ask?’

‘Ask what?’ Henry frowned. ‘Oh. That.  Ah.  It’s just that, well, I’ve got some shopping to do in the village.  Finn usually comes with me, but after last night, things might be a little, well…’ he tailed off.  ‘I was just wondered if you might fancy a morning off to join us.’

‘Sure.’

‘No, I shouldn’t have asked in the first place.  I had no right –’

‘Henry, I’m saying yes. A break from this place would be good.  There’re a few things I need myself, and I really don’t fancy staring at Blaine’s face right now.’

‘Oh.’ Henry’s face broke into a delighted grin.  ‘That’ll be wonderful.  About ten o’clock, at the jetty?’

*****

‘I always take Finn with me for the big shop.’ Henry expertly guided the little boat to shore. ‘He’s rather useful for the heavier items.’ 

I lay with my face pointed to the sun and idly trailed my fingers in the foaming wake.  Opposite me, his eyes focused on some distant point across the lake, sat Finn.  He hadn’t said a word from the moment he met us at the tiny landing stage. I wasn’t surprised.  I wasn’t exactly ready for conversation myself.

He wore the same jeans and nearly-white t-shirt that he had worn on the day he made his move on me, and I realised that his own wardrobe consisted of about half-a-dozen items.  I had merely swapped my sweat-soaked track pants and t-shirt for a clean set, and put in my brown contact lenses: my disguise when venturing out into the world.  Only Henry had dressed for the occasion.  In his cream chinos and mauve gingham shirt, he looked like he was going to spend an afternoon at his country club.

*****

The stares started as Henry tied our boat to the moorings.  Two women talking on the jetty fell silent as we stepped ashore, and a cluster of young men, lolling on a bench overlooking the lake, gawped with affected slack-jawed indifference.  In their sorry collection of stonewashed jeans and tracksuits that had never seen a second’s physical exertion, they made me look well-dressed.

‘God, it’s like fucking Deliverance.’  As we walked past the bench, its inhabitants passed whispered, giggling comments behind their hands. I just about made out ‘faggot’ and ‘gimp’ in their highly imaginative barrage of abuse.

‘Coyle’s cronies,’ Henry explained.  ‘So called ‘Security’ and general maintenance.  You get used to it.’

‘I sincerely hope I don’t.  How much do they know?’

Finn glanced back at the gathering. ‘Just enough to stir up random shit as a hobby.  They’ve got me pinned as some fuckin’ gay house pet. The rest they make up amongst themselves, with a few well-placed suggestions from Coyle.’

I was glad when we turned a corner that hid us from their sightlines. ‘Isn’t she worried that they might say something? I mean, outside this place?’

‘One did, once.  Said to his cousin that he reckoned Blaine must be some kinda nymphomaniac on account of all the visitors she was getting.  Just jokin’ on, really.’

‘And?’

‘Coyle had a little chat with him.  Now his mother visits him every week and on a good day he recognises her.’  He kept walking, head down against the fading catcalls. ‘Anyway, they all know they’ve got it good.  Hanging around the village and indulging in a little paid thuggery to pass the time.’

‘Yeah, I can’t really see them making it big in the city,’ I agreed. ‘So.  What now?’

‘We trawl around the village, Henry loads me up like a cart horse, then we go back before Blaine unleashes hell because we’re out after curfew.’ 

‘Right.  No offence Henry, but I really don’t fancy wasting my precious freedom hunting down organic kohlrabi.  Is it all right if I meet you back here in an hour?’ I asked.

‘Better off breaking your car out of the compound then driving like the hounds of hell are trying to gnaw on your exhaust,’ Finn replied, before Henry could open his mouth.

I rolled my eyes.  ‘Better off not tempting me.  I’d like my brother’s school trips to go ahead without the need for an ambulance.’

*****

Anonymous and unrecognised, I spent my hour wandering aimlessly around the village of Albermarle. 

The well-scrubbed families that inhabited the holiday cottages infested the street.  I picked up snatches of conversation about what they might do for dinner – eat at that nice if slightly pricey restaurant or have a barbecue? – where they might go if it rained tomorrow; what exciting tales of windsurfing and fishing they would tell Grandad when they emailed him later that day.

It was as if I was observing them from behind the same screen that had separated me from Finn the night before.  I could see them, but they were so far removed from my life that they could have been from a distant planet.

I drifted in and out of the tasteful, expensive shops like a wraith, not even looking at the merchandise as memories of the previous night ran through my head in a continuous, sick loop.  Eventually I gave up and began a slow stroll back to the meeting point just as the sun disappeared behind a bank of grey cloud and the temperature dropped by ten degrees.  In Santa Marita, the pavement, the trees, the air itself would have held onto the warmth so that it stayed wrapped around me like a cloak long after the sun vanished.  Homesickness hit me like a punch to the stomach and I looked forward to my rendezvous with Henry and Finn, the only people in the world who might understand. 

By the time I caught up with them, they were weighed down under shopping,  Henry managing four bags and Finn appearing to have at least ten.  I knew then that I wasn’t ready to go back.  I wanted a few hours away from Albermarle Hall in the same way I craved company and normality when I finished a piece in Santa Marita. 

‘So, has our hard work earned us a visit to the pub?’ I asked.

Finn glanced at the small carrier bag that I hung off two fingers.  ‘Hard work?  And what the fuck have you done?’ 

‘Bought a pack of disposable razors, a box of tampons and an apple.’‘Wow. Knock yourself out, lady.’

He had finally relaxed a little. Henry was visibly relieved at Finn’s return to relative normality, and I wondered how many times this endless cycle of provocation and forgiveness had been played out.  ‘So.  Pub?’ I asked again.

‘Oh.  Um, well… I don’t know.’ Henry said, skittishly. 

‘Finn?’ I pleaded, like a naughty schoolgirl persuading the class swots to bunk off for the afternoon.

‘Henry, we’re doing fine for time.  C’mon, one small sherry won’t kill you.’

Henry pursed his lips, tempted.  Finally he gave a dramatic little sigh.  ‘Ooh, go on then.  Just the one, mind you.’

Finn grinned.  ‘Way to go, you rebel. Right, Ms Bresson – there are two pubs in the delightful village of Albermarle, but one’s for guests only so I’m barred, which means it’s going to have to be The Fox, just down the side street there – it’s where all the estate workers go for a pint, and closest thing Albermarle’s got to a dive.  Landlord’s an absolute shitehawk, but at least he’ll sell me beer.’ He began to lead the way, then paused.  ‘Oh, and you’re buying, on account of me not being allowed to carry cash.’

*****

According to the peeling enamel plaque that nestled into the luxuriant ivy on the wall, The Fox and Grapes had been a public house for over three hundred and fifty years, and was rumoured to have been the base for a plot against King Charles the Second.  It certainly provided enough low beams and shadowed nooks for any number of conspirators to conceal themselves, which matched my mood perfectly.

The perfume of stale beer and decades of cigarette smoke assailed us as we walked into the barroom.  A dilapidated jukebox stood against the wall, obscuring the last picture in a set that portrayed dogs playing snooker, and the carpet by the bar had worn away to nothing.  Definitely off the tourist trail.

Four of the youths from the lakeside now continued their observations from a pool table by the leaded window.  Dust-laden shafts of light illuminated their stares as they contemplated our little party, and I was desperate to find our own dark corner where we could hide.

The asinine sniggers began again as we stood at the bar.  At first I assumed that it was just another example of the attention Albermarle Hall’s permanent residents received whenever they dared venture into civilisation, but one ginger haired youth – whose bone structure suggested a particularly stagnant gene pool – was grinning inanely at Finn. ‘Must’ve been a good night, mate!’ he spluttered, and pointed his pool cue at Finn’s back.

‘Turn around,’ I ordered, and as Finn obeyed, Henry visibly paled. 

Finn’s thin t-shirt was turning dark red across the shoulders as blood seeped through the cloth.

I winced.  ‘Looks like you’ve reopened old wounds.’

‘Ah, fuck. Let’s go.’

‘Yeah, time to get back in your gimp mask,’ the mouthy red-haired kid added, to the great amusement of his friends.

‘We’re staying put.’ I strode over to the bar, where the landlord was pretending to rearrange a row of pint glasses so he could get a better view of the drama.

I hated the man the moment I set eyes on him.  Decades of sampling his own wares had given the man the gut of a sumo wrestler and the waxy complexion of a drowned corpse, and as I approached he gave me a stare that peeled away my vest top.  In any other circumstances I wouldn’t have ventured within a mile of the old letch.

‘Can I help you, love?’ he asked, his eyes fixed at chest height.

I supposed that his breast fixation at least reduced the risk of recognition. ‘Do you have a side room?’

‘Yeah.  Down the hall.’

‘And may we use it?’

‘Private parties only.  Sorry.’ He gave a leer that was far from apologetic.

I felt Finn’s hand on my shoulder. ‘Lili, c’mon, just leave it…’

I ignored him and picked up a dog-eared, beer-stained leaflet from the bar: Fox and Grapes – Room Rate’s.  I began to read.

‘You going to order or what, love?’

I let him wait for another minute, then reached into my pocket and pushed five carefully folded twenty pound notes across the bar. ‘There.  One private room for the rest of the day.’ I gave the corpulent man a frigid smile. ‘With waiter service, according to your classy, beautifully punctuated little brochure here.’  I picked up half of Finn’s load of bags. ‘So that’s a double vodka and tonic for me, a pint of Stella for him,’ I nodded at Finn, ‘and a large vodka martini for James Bond there.  Whenever you’re ready.’  I threw down another twenty.  ‘That should cover it.’

Before the landlord’s jaw had time to drop, I followed Finn and Henry out of the oppressive bar and into the hallowed ‘Private Room’ that was just a little larger than my Santa Marita bathroom. 

‘That was amazing!’ Henry exclaimed as the dark oak door thudded behind us.  ‘I’ve never seen that old goat lost for words before.’ He sat down on a worn red velour banquette and gave me an impish smile.  ‘Vodka martini indeed.  I shall be drunk in charge of a boat if I’m not careful.’

Finn gave me a wry glance. ‘Way to keep a low profile, Lilith. Shovin’ more money at the fat oaf than he takes all week.’

I dumped the bags by our table. ‘I know, I know. And that thing about ‘Don’t antagonise the natives’.  Sorry.’

Finn threw his own collection of bags on top of mine.  A feeble excuse for a log fire smouldered to its death in a soot-encrusted hearth and he gravitated towards it.  ‘Ah, what the fuck.  Suppose it was only the fellas that know to keep their mouths shut anyway.  When it gets back to Blaine I’ll just say old lard-arse behind the bar started it.’

‘It will get back then?’

‘Oh yes,’ Finn and Henry replied in unison.

I saw Finn gingerly touch his shoulders.  ‘Right, wait here for mein host.  I’ll be back in five minutes.’