Duplicity (20 page)

It was while she was having a cup of tea - she couldn’t face any lunch - that it dawned on her. Of course. The police must have
been
after him. That was why they’d had to move from - damn it! If only she could remember where they had lived before. Rising, she swilled out the cup, gave her face a splash with cold water and put on her coat and shoes. She was going to visit Dilly first, but wouldn’t have to stay long, otherwise she would be late in collecting Roddy from school.

On her way to the hospital, she was praying that her daughter had improved at least a little, and was most relieved when the little girl smiled at her as soon as she entered the ward. ‘Mummy.’ The word was little more than a whisper, but it gave Roselle the boost she needed.

‘Oh, Dilly, darling, I’m so glad you’re able to speak to me. You were still very ill when Daddy and I came to see you yesterday, and we were so worried about you.’

The ten minutes she sat holding the small girl’s hand, seemed to be enough. Dilly’s eyes had closed, her face had lost what little colour it had before, so she eased her grip slowly and left. On her way along the corridor, the sister came out of her little sanctum and said, ‘I’m sure you must be delighted with Dyllis’s progress, Mrs Lewis. She is doing well, but is very easily tired.’

‘Yes, she fell asleep a few minutes after I saw her, but she did know I was there.’

‘It may take some time, but we’re sure she will make a full recovery.’

Her mind easier now, Roselle’s thoughts returned to the strange utterance her husband had made during those first terrible few hours, but no matter how hard she tried, she had found no explanation by the time she arrived at the school. Almost immediately, Roddy came bounding out amongst a horde of other children. Only the Primary Ones, of course, because they didn’t have to stay a whole day until after Christmas. The boy didn’t stop chattering all the way home, describing all that he had done in the classroom, all the toys he had played with, what his teacher had said, and in spite of herself, she felt her spirits lifting.

Home once again, she kept Roddy up until Brian came in, knowing that his father would want to hear about this first, important, day at school, but at last, their son safely asleep upstairs, their evening meal over, she decided to beard the lion in his den - not that that was an apt description of the situation, but nevertheless …

‘I’ve been thinking about that awful time we spent in the hospital,’ she began, ‘waiting to learn what was wrong with Dilly. Remember?’

‘How could I ever forget? They were the worst few hours I’ve ever lived through.’

‘I know, I prayed silently, but I heard you …’ ‘You heard me? You never said.’

‘I didn’t really take it in, not then, but I’ve had time to think about it. Brian, what crimes did you commit?’

‘I don’t know what you’re on about.’

‘You said God was punishing you for the crimes you committed, and you promised never to go off the rails again if He let Dilly recover.’

‘It was nothing really. Honest, Roselle. I stole some money from the bank, but nobody knew. It wasn’t much, just … a hundred or two.’

She could scarcely believe this. ‘You stole … how many hundreds?’

‘I don’t know, exactly. A little here, a little there. I didn’t count it and I didn’t really worry about it until the auditors were due.’

‘And that’s when you moved us out? In case they discovered what you’d done?’

‘You make it sound so bad, Roselle, but I was doing it for us. Truly. I had banked it in a London bank, so we could have a better life. You, me and the kids.’

‘Did you never intend to pay it back?’ Her voice was quite chilly.

‘I don’t know what I thought. Something happened, something I had nothing to do with. I know you don’t remember, and I don’t want to remind you, but it meant that everything was destroyed. All the computer systems. All the records. It was an ideal opportunity and I took it.

Nobody can ever find out. Please, Roselle, don’t misjudge me. It wasn’t for myself, I swear. It was for you and the kids and nobody’s been hurt by it. I’m sure the bank’s insurance companies would have reimbursed all those people involved - I only took from those with high balances, nobody who would suffer because of what I was doing. You’re not thinking of reporting me, are you?’

‘I should. I know I should, but … oh, I don’t know.’

He grabbed her hand now. ‘Please, darling, I did it because I love you; because I wanted to give you a better life. And nobody’s been hurt, I guarantee that.’

‘You’re sure it wasn’t a huge amount of money?’

‘Absolutely sure. It was less than two hundred, anyway. Nothing at all, nowadays.’

‘And you promise never to do anything like that again?’

‘I promise. Oh, Roselle, you’d break the family up if you …’

‘I realise that, and it’s the only reason I’m going to say nothing. I feel awful about it, especially now Dilly’s beginning to get better, but surely God will understand.’

‘I’m sure He will.’

‘I hope so. Well, that’s it. I’ll never mention it again.’

In bed that night, Brian went over their conversation in his mind, hardly able to believe that he had got off so lightly. The money he had embezzled had amounted to much more than one or two hundred pounds - not even one or two thousands, more like tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, he hadn’t kept a note of it all - but he had told the truth about his motive. It had been for her and the kids, though he might never have had the courage to make the break if Fate hadn’t stepped in to give him a hand. The opportunity had been handed to him on a plate and he had just taken it. No time to think, no time for doubts. It had been a case of Now or Never. He hadn’t once regretted it, and as long as Roselle kept her promise to say nothing, he never would.

Thankfully, Dyllis’s recovery progressed steadily, even Roddy observing after one visit, ‘She’s like my Dilly again.’

Roselle had a good weep at that, and Helen, on the verge of tears herself, took the young woman in her arms. ‘You know this, Frank?’ she observed to her husband afterwards. ‘I don’t know how you feel about them, but I love those kids like they were our grandchildren, and Roselle - well, she’s the daughter we never had.’

‘I know what you mean.’ The obstruction in his throat made his voice husky. ‘But Helen, don’t forget, they won’t always be living next door. Brian’s an ambitious man, and they’re still only renting that house, so he’s intending to move on.’

‘Ach, you,’ his wife sniffed. ‘You had to go and spoil it, hadn’t you?’

Frank was well aware that she wasn’t really angry at him; she had never been really angry in all the years they’d been married - it must be nearly twenty-five. She’d been cross with him at times, had said things she didn’t mean in the heat of the moment, but they had both been devastated when their girl baby was stillborn. They had been so close then, each finding consolation through the other, but even the son they had three years later had not compensated for the loss.

Oh, they’d loved Andrew, had made sure that he had a good education, let him make his own choice of career and hadn’t stopped him from joining the police, and what did he do? He went on holiday to Ireland one year and decided to stay there. He wasn’t a good correspondent, and the letters he sent had dwindled over the years until the only communication he sent was a Christmas card. Helen had been heartbroken about that, and he’d had one hell of a job getting her to understand that parents shouldn’t expect their children to return the love that had been bestowed on them, that she should be thankful that Andrew at least kept in touch. As a loving husband, he would have to keep a strict eye on her if, when, the Lewises moved away.

Chapter Three

Although Roselle had been worried that Dyllis’s illness would affect her education, the little girl surprised them all when she was released from hospital by begging Roddy every afternoon to tell her what he had been taught that day. She even did all the little exercises that he had been set, learning all her letters and studying the reading books he brought home, and she was never happy until she could read the few words below the picture on each page. By the time she was allowed to go to school, she was as fluent as he was.

‘Miss Adams says Dilly’s really bright,’ Roselle had told Helen Milne, proudly. ‘She says she can’t get over how well she can read and write.’

‘They’re both clever,’ Helen smiled. ‘I’ve known that since they began to talk.’

As the years passed, it became more and more evident that there was a degree of competition between the two children; not a rivalry exactly, more a friendly desire to keep up with each other.

By the time they were nine, they were both avid readers, forsaking comics for such books as
Black Beauty, Heidi, Swallows and Amazons, Alice in Wonderland
and other well-known titles available in the school library, as well as those they received as gifts.

‘Of course, you and Brian are bookworms, too,’ Helen pointed out one day. ‘It makes a difference if the parents are readers.’

‘I suppose it does,’ Roselle nodded.

‘Well, you don’t think it’s a waste to buy good books for their birthday and Christmas. Some people would never dream of doing that.’

‘I always think you can learn so much from books. They give a far wider view of things.’

The two women were sitting, as they often did in an afternoon, Helen knitting jumpers for the twins, Roselle doing some intricate embroidery. They generally talked about current affairs, or, failing that, any titbits of local gossip that interested them. Today, however, Helen had received a letter from her son, which, because it was quite an unusual event, was to be the topic for that day.

‘Andrew’s never been one for writing,’ she began now. ‘He’s thirty now, but we’ve never really been close. We usually just send Christmas cards, so when I saw his writing on the envelope, I knew there must be something he needed to tell me.’

‘And was there?’

‘Oh yes. We all thought he was a confirmed bachelor, but he’s actually getting married.’ ‘So that’s good news?’

‘Yes, it is. I’m happy for him. He’s a hard worker - in the police force in Northern Ireland, so he hasn’t had it easy.’ Noticing that her friend’s expression had changed, Helen asked, ‘Is something wrong, Roselle? Are you feeling sick or something?’

‘I’m all right. It’s just - a queer feeling came over me when you mentioned Northern Ireland.’

Helen had given up some time ago in trying to find out about Roselle’s past, but this could be a breakthrough. ‘You know something about Northern Ireland? Belfast? That’s where Andrew is.’

‘Belfast? No, I’m wrong.’ How could she admit that she couldn’t remember?

Her worried face smote at the older woman’s conscience. It wasn’t fair to keep on at her. Whatever had happened to her, she didn’t want to talk about it, and that was her right, wasn’t it? It might do more harm than good. ‘Never mind just now, dear. I’m sure it’ll come to you when you’re least expecting it.’

‘I wish I knew what had happened to her,’ she observed to Frank later.

‘Maybe she’s lost her memory,’ Frank suggested.

‘But it’s been such a long time,’ she countered. ‘It must be wearing on for ten years now.’

He smiled. ‘That’s nothing. My mother used to tell us about a soldier who went missing in the First World War and everybody thought he’d been killed, but he turned up nearly thirty years later. He’d lost his memory and had started a new life from the day a French farmer found him wandering about and took pity on him. After a while, he married the man’s daughter and had been very happy until he started remembering things about his old life.’

Intrigued, Helen asked, ‘What happened then? After he went home again, I mean. Was there a happy ending?’

Hesitating, Frank said, doubtfully, ‘I don’t know. Mother thought he’d split up with his wife - his French wife - and was reunited with his real wife, but whether that was a happy ending or not, she never told us.’

‘It couldn’t have been happy for his French wife.’

‘No, it couldn’t have been.’ He regretted having repeated the story and went back to the previous topic. ‘I wish you would just let her be. Don’t say anything. Let it all come from her. If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you. Brian never speaks about their early life, either, not even to me, so we’ll have to respect their privacy.’

‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’

When Brian was told, he, too, frowned. ‘I always knew Helen was desperate to know more about us, but I’m telling you, darling, it’s better that you don’t remember. It was so long ago - and we’re happy the way we are … aren’t we? We don’t want bad old memories interfering with that.’

‘Yes, I suppose you’re right, but it’s just … well, I sometimes feel I would like to know. I’m not … um … comfortable thinking there’s something hanging over my head that might crash down on me any minute.’

‘Oh, my darling, darling.’ He took her in his arms and held her close. ‘Nothing’s going to crash down on you. Everything’s all right. What happened will never happen again - can’t ever happen again.’

His assurances did seem to satisfy his wife, but the episode had unsettled him. He had believed that Helen Milne had stopped prying, but she obviously hadn’t. If she mentioned any of this to her son, the policeman in Belfast, the shit would hit the fan with a vengeance. Even after nine long years. Yes, he would have to do something to prevent it.

After puzzling over it - agonising over it - all night, he had only come up with one solution. They would have to move away from the Milnes; and leave no clue as to where they were going. It would take some arranging, and it would have to be done asap if not sooner.

From the extensive list he received from an estate agent, it didn’t take Brian long to find alternative accommodation. It was a case of taking his pick, and he settled on a rented house in Cruden Bay, almost two hundred miles farther north. He was truly thankful that he had never bought the house in Grangemouth. They would have no furniture to pack, only their personal gear and that was it. Even better, he had managed to wangle a transfer to one of the bank’s branches in Aberdeen. That would be just twenty-odd miles to travel every day - no distance at all nowadays.