Taken at the Flood Read online

  “I don’t know. I’m frightened. I’m bleeding.”

  Her tearful eyes looked up at me, set in a face as white as the marble under my feet.

  “I’ll ring Lucas,” I said, rushing to the phone in the bedroom.

  Lucas answered and, after I’d explained, said, “I’ll be right there. Make sure she keeps her feet up. Don’t let her get out of bed. Try not to worry, it might be nothing.”

  I carried Evelyn back to bed, made a hot drink because I didn’t know what else to do, and waited for Lucas to arrive. The five minutes he took seemed like hours during which neither of us spoke, afraid to say the words that might make it real.

  I opened the door and Lucas took the stairs two at a time, ahead of me, saying, “Make yourself a stiff drink. You look as though you could do with it. I’ll see to Evelyn. I’ll call if I need you.”

  The brandy hit the back of my throat and thawed out the numb feeling creeping through my body. After what seemed like forever, I heard footsteps on the stairs. His face told me all I needed to know. The sympathetic expression he gave to his more unfortunate patients was there, this time for me.

  “How is she?” I asked, the futility of the question hitting me as soon as the words left my lips.

  “Not good, I’m afraid. She wants to see you. Phone me if you need anything.”

  He was holding a zipped plastic bag.

  “I’ll send this to histology for examination but I doubt they’ll find anything. There’s usually no recognisable reason why these things happen. Sometimes it’s nature’s way of sorting out problems which might occur later in the pregnancy.” He patted my arm, his manner at once professional and detached. “I know it’s of no consolation to you now but believe me I’ve seen this happen many times and it in no way hinders patients from producing trouble free pregnancies in the future. I’ll leave you to comfort your wife and, as I said before, you know where to find me.”

  I thanked him mechanically and when he’d gone, I stopped at the foot of the stairs and drew in a deep breath. What could I say to my wife that would make it better? I knew there was nothing. Dragging my feet up the staircase, I somehow reached the top and our bedroom door. She lay in bed, her face as ghostly white as the pillowslip beneath her dark hair. Damp curls clung to her forehead. Lucas had given her a sedative and she looked at me though heavy- lidded eyes as I sat beside her and held her hand in my own.

  “I’m so sorry.” The tears squeezed from under her closed lids and slipped down her cheeks as silent sobs racked her whole body. I climbed onto the bed and cradled her in my arms. We wept together, our tears mingling as they fell onto the bed cover.

  Exhausted by grief and aided by the sedatives, she finally slept. I waited to follow but lay staring at the ceiling, listening to Evelyn’s breathing until dawn crept feebly through the blinds.

  It was midsummer; two months had passed since the miscarriage. I’d thrown myself into work but I was worried about Evelyn, as she didn’t seem to be able to move on with her life. She never smiled, hardly ever left the house, however much I coaxed, and to make matters worse Leonora had not returned from Italy. She had written to express her deep sympathy at our loss but explained, as her aunt was not at all well, she didn’t think it would be possible to come home for a while.

  I was in the bedroom dressing one morning when I heard the telephone ring and reaching for it, realised Evelyn had picked up the extension in the kitchen. I should have replaced the receiver but hesitated and to my shame listened to the conversation. I argued that it was because I was worried about her.

  “It’s kind of you, Josie, but I don’t think so.”

  I heard my wife replying to her friend’s invitation. I sighed and quietly put down the phone. It was no use, Josie was trying to help but I had the distinct impression the only person Evelyn wanted to see was Leonora.

  It was odd, because the day after I had eavesdropped on Evelyn and Josie’s telephone conversation, Leonora returned from Tuscany. It was a beautiful summer’s evening. We were sitting in the garden, a table bearing a bottle of wine and two glasses standing between us. Her glass was virtually untouched. I lay back in the lounger and closed my eyes. The summer scents were all around us. In the distance we could hear the hum of a motorboat making its way up river and the sound of laughter from an on-board party in full swing. I opened my eyes and looked at my wife. She was staring into the distance in the direction of the woodland, which was now green with thick foliage. Suddenly her expressionless face broke into a wide grin and she stood up, more animated than I’d seen her for months. I had a glimpse then of the old Evelyn and it warmed my heart.

  “Leo!” she shrieked.

  Leonora emerged from the trees, at the bottom of the garden, looking tanned and lovely in a white cotton dress, her long fair hair hanging loose about her shoulders. Tinker, who had been lying under my chair, growled.

  “Down boy. It’s only Leonora,” I patted his head but he would not be still. He bounded off down the lawn followed by Evelyn. They both reached Leonora at the same time. The women hugged each other, as Tinker prowled around them sniffing at the interloper in a proprietary manner.

  I went into the kitchen to fetch another wineglass and, when I returned, saw they were in deep conversation and oblivious of my presence.

  “How is your aunt, Leonora?” I asked, as I filled her glass. She looked up at me, a guarded expression in her pale blue eyes. “Well at present, thank you.”

  “What exactly is the matter with her?” I persisted and glimpsed a flash of annoyance on Evelyn’s face.

  “Difficult to explain exactly,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands, which were resting in her lap. “She is old and gets frightened. I feel I have to go to her at these times.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I expect having a doctor in the family helps. Lucas must be a great comfort to her.”

  She hesitated before replying. “My aunt does not encourage visitors. She sees no one but me. Lucas understands.” She turned away in a dismissive manner and I could see she did not welcome any further attempt at conversation from me.

  Soon after, I left them, explaining that I had some work to catch up on in my study. I looked back through the French doors leading into the garden. They were sitting together like naughty schoolchildren intent on some devious plan. The impression lingered, long after Leonora had left. She’d insisted on walking home through the woods alone. I tried to dissuade her but she assured me she had a torch and could see perfectly well. Evelyn and I stood at the edge of the lawn and watched her go. She refused my offer to walk with her, kissed Evelyn and said she would see her in the morning. From our bedroom window I watched the pinpricks of light flashing through the trees as she followed the river path.

  Later, when Evelyn had showered, she joined me in bed but my attempts at conversation were met with a cold shoulder both metaphorically and physically as she turned her back towards me. It became obvious that I was unable to break the close bond, which had developed between my wife and Leonora. Part of me did not wish to try, as it pleased me to think at least she was starting to enjoy herself. My only sorrow was that she had completely excluded me from sharing in her renewed happiness.

  Throughout the summer, Leonora was a frequent visitor at River House and as I was busy developing the basis for Gorgon’s successor I hardly noticed how much time my wife and she spent together. In some ways, it took the pressure, of keeping Evelyn happy, from my shoulders but during the times we shared together, I noticed her conversation was strained and she seemed unable to look directly at me, without her eyes brimming with unshed tears. I began to dread seeing that look so buried myself even deeper in my work.

  “Darling!”

  I was staring at the screen unable to believe the programme I’d been working on was at last a viable proposition. It was an additional component to some software Softcell had sold to a German company some years before. They had requested an update with some additional features, which, I
gave assurances, would be no problem. But, for weeks, the picture on my screen had disintegrated before my eyes as the programme refused to remain stable. However, success was within my grasp, the commands were responding, the picture remained static repeatedly without crashing.

  “Darling!” exasperation dripped like ice from her tongue.

  Evelyn was standing in the doorway. The September weather had turned cold and she was dressed in a cream wool coat and high brown leather boots. I thought she looked adorable.

  “I’m just letting you know, I’ll be spending the day in town with Leo.”

  I tried to hide my surprise. She hadn’t been to town since the miscarriage, in fact she’d hardly left the house or its grounds.

  “Excellent idea. Don’t hurry back, enjoy yourself.” I crossed the room and kissed her gently on her cheek, avoiding her newly painted mouth.

  I watched from the window as she drove out of sight. Then I rang Alan Henderson and told him to get in contact with Dieter in Germany to let him know we were ready to update his system. As I put the phone down, the front doorbell rang. It was Josie.

  “Come in, good to see you,” I said.

  “I don’t want to distract you from your work but needed some fresh air and, as I haven’t seen you both for some time, the walk took me in your direction and bingo! Henry is in town today and so I thought it a good opportunity to come and see you. Although I must admit the fresh air is a little fresher than I’d anticipated.”

  I assured her she was a welcome interruption and besides I’d finished work for the day adding, “Evelyn’s not about, I’m afraid. She’s in town with Leonora.”

  I showed her into the conservatory then poured coffee for us both and sat opposite her. A fine mist was rising from the surface of the river and creeping up the lawn towards the house. Outside, the trees were starting to turn colour in preparation for the winter. Soon we would be able to see the rooftops of the two neighbouring properties through the trees. I noticed Josie was frowning into her cup.

  “It’s good to see Evelyn has started to go out again. Her condition has been very worrying. Henry and I felt for you, seeing her in such a state couldn’t have been easy. I have tried to get her to come over.”

  She looked across the mist-covered lawn and I took her hand in mine. “I know you have Josie and I appreciate it but it would seem that it has to come from her, no amount of coaxing from me has made the slightest difference. It has been very frustrating for us all.”

  She was immediately sympathetic, making all the right kind of responses. We talked about mutual friends, holidays and the weather and, as she rose to leave, said, “Now Evelyn is feeling better maybe we could have a night out together, the four of us, perhaps a meal in town or the theatre?”

  I noticed there was no mention of the Bennetts in Josie’s invitation. “Yes I’d like that. I’ll get her to give you a ring.”

  Evelyn never did ring Josie. For some reason the invitation did not appeal to her. I made some excuse to Josie and Henry, which sounded lame even to my ears.

  Sometime later, Dieter Brandt requested I visit him in person to discuss the adaptation to their software. He worked for a large hospital complex in Munich. He said, if Evelyn and I would like to spend a few days with him and his wife, we would be more than welcome.

  She was brushing her dark curls, her reflection in the dressing table mirror looking back at me, as I lay propped up on the pillows with my address book open on the coverlet.

  “You know I spoke to Dieter, yesterday, darling? Well, he asked if we would like to spend a short holiday with him and Gerda. I need to see him about some software updates anyway. What do you think?”

  She turned towards me, her face expressionless. I continued, not waiting for her reply. “I know it’s work for me but it shouldn’t take long, it’s very straightforward and then we could spend some of the time sightseeing, perhaps take a trip to Innsbruck to do some shopping.”

  “It’s too soon. You go. I don’t feel up to travelling yet.”

  Swinging her legs around, she continued to brush her hair leaving me looking at her reflection once more.

  Anger and frustration boiled up inside me. “We have to get on with our lives. There is nothing to stop us trying for another baby. It will help to put all this behind us - to make a new start.”

  Slowly she replaced the hairbrush in the silver tray on the dressing table. Her shoulders drooped and I could see tears glistening on her cheek reflected in the mirror. To my shame and sorrow, I could not go to her. I could not comfort her, my own grief and unhappiness intervening and preventing me from giving her the compassion I would have shown to a stranger and yet could not give to my wife. The painful memory still slices through me. If I had only known then that the future for us both was already mapped out and there was nothing we could do to stop it from happening.

  Chapter 11

  Dieter and his wife Gerda were perfect hosts and expressed genuine concern that Evelyn’s health had not allowed her to visit them. The morning after I arrived in Munich, Dieter drove me to a nursing home on the outskirts of the city where his firm had installed the computer hardware.

  The road out of the city gradually climbed upwards and I could smell the freshness in the air as we left the pollutants of the city far below us.

  Evergreen trees, their tops dusted with a light sprinkling of frost, lined the roadside as we drove to the nursing home. In the distance, I could see the outline of red pan tiles covering the roof of the building, and I understood the benefit of positioning it in such a location, for as we drove in through the wrought iron gates at the end of the drive, a spectacular vista opened out before us. Above, snow-capped mountains rose majestically forming a semi-circle beneath which the ground fell away in slopes of rolling green pastures towards a village nestling in the foothills. The whole place spoke of luxury and I rightly assumed that the fees for recuperating in such a place would be steep.

  The previous evening, Dieter and I had gone over the details of the update and now all that remained was to put it into practice and hope it would perform on the hardware he’d previously installed in the nursing home. As I’d anticipated there was no problem, the whole operation took a little under two hours to complete and we had the rest of the day to spend at our leisure. Dieter suggested we drive down into the village, where he knew of a tavern that held a fine selection of German beers.

  Inside the tavern, the air smelt of hops and fresh sawdust. Behind the bar, a ruddy-faced barman with a large belly raised his hand. “Herr Dieter, good to see you again.”

  He spoke in English, no doubt as a courtesy to me.

  “Fritz, this is Mr Hope. He would like to sample a selection of your finest beers, if you please,” Dieter said, as we sat at a table near the bar.

  Two hours later, full of Fritz’s beer and a lamb stew cooked by his wife, we left the tavern. I admit I was more than a little unsteady on my feet but noticed that Dieter was suffering from no such malady as we walked to the end of the narrow street on the corner of which stood a small jewellery shop.

  “Won’t be a moment,” I mumbled and disappeared inside the shop. Behind the counter sat a thin middle-aged woman wearing half-moon spectacles. I pointed to a tray in the window not knowing whether she spoke English or not.

  “This one, sir?” she asked, her perfectly rounded vowels making me feel foolish.

  The rings were of the type known as eternity rings. Impulsively I chose a gold one studded with diamonds at intervals around its band.

  “A wise choice if I may say so,” the woman said, packing the ring in a small box and tying it with a gold ribbon.

  I smiled. She’d made a very lucrative sale with the aid of Fritz’s beer, I thought, as I left the shop and joined a bemused Dieter.

  That evening, after dinner, Gerda left us to drink our brandies and chat about old times. When we were younger, our paths had crossed at a conference, where one topic for discussion was the benefit, the new generatio
n of computer systems could provide, in the workplace. We’d carried on discussing the merits of one system over another in the bar afterwards and had stayed in touch after the conference had finished. Our friendship proved to be beneficial in many ways, including the formation of strong financial and social bonds, which had been mutually satisfying.

  “We were sorry to hear your sad news,” Dieter said, pouring the golden liquid into a crystal brandy bowl.

  I smiled ruefully. “Thank you. We are trying to put it behind us and move on but unfortunately Evelyn is finding it difficult.”

  “You mentioned she is starting to go out again with this friend of hers?”

  Dieter sat in the leather armchair opposite me, concern tracing fine lines on his fair skin.

  “Leonora. Yes, though confidentially, that is part of the problem. I don’t quite know what to make of Leonora. On the surface she has been good for Evelyn but I have this niggling doubt that her influence over my wife is not an altogether healthy one.”

  Dieter lit a cigar and offered me one, which I declined. He knew I’d given up the habit some years ago but was uncertain whether my resolve had weakened.

  “What makes you say that?” he asked blowing perfect smoke rings high into the air.

  “When I put it into words it sounds ridiculous. But lately, I’ve begun feel Evelyn is slipping away from me. I know the miscarriage unsettled us both but somehow I feel she is growing closer to Leonora at the expense of our relationship. She has even ditched her best friend Josie, for no particular reason, other than Leonora does not appear to like her.”

  Dieter frowned and tapped his cigar ash into the silver ashtray at his side. “I’d been about to say it sounded very much like jealousy on your part, my friend, but changed my mind when you mentioned she has dropped her friendship with her close companion. I’m not a psychologist but it does rather look as if this Leonora is exerting some sort of hold over your wife.”