The Twisted Way (26 page)

Felicity was still in contact with her old friend in the village whom she would invite for morning coffee on at least one day a week. Muffled conversation filtered through the lounge door when the friend came but Joyce found it difficult to interpret what they were saying though she tried. She sometimes pressed an ear against the wooden panels in the hope of hearing something of interest but was always disappointed. She had an idea that the friend had a daughter who worked in Mrs Lacey’s financial adviser’s office and that bothered her. She thought that it was not a healthy situation.

Jeremy took a holiday in France early in January and returned refreshed, at least he said he felt better for the break, though he was without doubt still drinking too much. He had spent far too much money as usual and admitted that he had consumed a lot of cheap French wine, some of which he brought home with him, so that his once pale face now began to exhibit red and blotchy patches and his beer belly protruded in an unpleasant manner which made Felicity think that he looked about nine months pregnant.

‘Old fool,’ she muttered behind his back, but almost cheered when she thought about the possible damage the man was doing to his liver.

Matthew hired a new young male solicitor to help him in the office.

‘The load is too much for one person Dad. Timothy is worth every penny I pay him.’

Jeremy thought the new boy looked as though he was a ‘pansy’, a word he used to label men with homosexual tendencies. He felt a definite repugnance when he was near him, cold and deep in his gut, but it was Matthew’s business now and he could not interfere.

‘Queer chap, literally, that one,’ he commented to Matthew one morning over breakfast whilst piling a bowl high with cornflakes and fruit and patting the silver flask of brandy he kept in his inner jacket pocket. The anticipation of taking a sip of the contents as soon as Matthew left the room was more interesting than Timothy. The craving for his morning fix of alcohol was growing.

Matthew smiled. ‘He’s a good worker Dad, that’s the most important thing,’ he said and quickly changed the subject. He thought about Timothy and his heart raced. They were growing closer. It was only a matter of time. He is a lovely young man, he mused, so slim and lively with a mop of curly reddish-brown hair and stunning green eyes framed with long reddish-blond lashes. There was no doubt he was receptive to Matthew’s charms. They had brushed hands a few times and he had noted the heightened colour on Tim’s face. It would be sensible to wait a while, not too long though, and invite Timothy to spend a weekend with him in London, or some other place where they would not be recognised. It was imperative to fool his father and the locals about their relationship which was a pity but he knew that Jeremy would be horrified if he knew the truth about his potential liaison with Timothy and no doubt some of his best clients would take their business elsewhere. The latter he certainly did not want to happen. The firm could not afford that. He knew that he would have to exercise caution for some time yet where this possible relationship was concerned but a relationship he determined it should be. The firm’s mounting debts were going to be difficult to resolve, thanks to Jeremy’s careless habits, and he needed to improve their financial prospects before he took any chances.

Matthew and Tim had, however, started to walk by the river bank together most days during their lunch hour.

‘It will do us good to have a breath of fresh air,’ Matthew said to Tim. ‘It will blow away the cobwebs before we’re stifled by the central heating in the office during the afternoon.’

One day during one of their walks they stopped at a fisherman’s platform which was low and protruded into the river. It was not easy to be observed there by passers-by and in any case at that time of year there were very few walkers venturing along the muddy path next to the river. The river was swollen and fierce and the current quite fast which was a contrast to the lazy pace it maintained during the summer. Huge willows dipped their branches down towards the water’s edge and provided some, though limited, screening for the two friends. They chatted amicably as usual and were conscious that their relationship and feelings for each other were strengthening. The wind whistled through the branches of the trees above their heads and it was not easy to talk in a quiet tone.

‘Will you join me for a weekend break in Devon next week Tim?’ Matthew at last plucked up courage at to ask. ‘The hotel is comfortable and is situated in a lovely spot. The views are excellent, food good and it’s quiet there. The change will do us good since we have been working hard and deserve a rest. I would appreciate your company Tim.’ He glanced at his companion and smiled warmly. ‘We can travel separately, nobody should be the wiser.’

He stretched out a tentative arm to touch Tim. His heart beat so strongly he felt as though it might burst out of his chest. Tim moved closer, put his arms round his friend and kissed him upon the lips. They clung together in ecstatic joy for a few moments and savoured the idea of future delights.

‘I’ll look forward to it my darling,’ Tim answered, ‘but we mustn’t be seen embracing by the villagers. I have to deliver some papers to old Mrs Brownlow who lives near the pub. She’s expecting me and I’d better get going but I’ll see you back in the office in about half an hour.’

He had not officially ‘come out’ either and was fearful of prejudice which could harm his career and offend his family. Matthew was more concerned that a liaison with Tim could hurt the Mace family firm and its struggle to keep its head above water and any scandal he realized could be disastrous. It was imperative to exercise caution, a least for the time being. Dear Tim. He sighed with pleasure.

Tim turned away, a satisfied smile lingering at the corners of his mouth, and walked swiftly towards the far end of the village which could, shortly after leaving the river bank, be reached by a narrow footpath across a field about three minutes’ walk away. They had reached their meeting place after walking up the road that passed by Primrose House and Matthew planned to return that way, unobserved, he hoped by any nosy old village busybodies and he considered that there were plenty of those around. The village was full of oldies who liked to stroll with their dogs along the river bank most days then chat about what they had seen in the local shop. The bad weather had that day deterred the majority of them, a fact which he thought was fortunate.

Matthew stood still and gazed at the brown and murky water for a moment. Happiness welled up in his chest. He had found a companion of his own choice at last, a beautiful young man too. He was overjoyed.

Felicity too had decided to take a breath of fresh air that day. She longed to get away from Auntie and Joyce Skillet’s prying eyes if only for a short time. She donned her new expensive green Barbour mackintosh and wellington boots, grabbed a stout walking stick from the hall stand, and set off on the path from Primrose House to the river. As she neared a large clump of willow trees she set eyes on Matthew. He was not alone. There was a young man she did not recognize, fair and effeminate, with his arms twined around Matthew and, horror of horrors, they were kissing. She felt violently sick. Nausea passed through her body in unrelenting waves. ‘A homo, oh heavens!’ she muttered to herself. What a fool she had been to fancy him. What a waste of an attractive man. She stood still for a moment and watched.

Tim moved away and after a loving glance at Matthew and what she construed as a sickly smile he walked along the towpath towards the far end of the village.

A clandestine meeting indeed Felicity, thought. We will see about that.

She approached the unsuspecting Matthew quietly, her wellington boots making no sound in the long soft wet grass. She tapped him on the shoulder with her walking stick. Matthew was startled and jumped.

‘Meeting a lover?’ Felicity spat out and hissed like a cat about to pounce.

‘You don’t know what you are talking about,’ he retorted. ‘Tim is a colleague. We were discussing business and he has gone ahead to deliver some papers to a client. I really don’t know what it has got to do with you anyway!’

He scowled at Felicity, his lips curling down at the corners with disdain. What a ghastly woman, trust her to turn up like this.

‘A few people would like to know about it,’ said Felicity, thinking quickly in her usual devious way. ‘It will cost you something for me to keep quiet.’

‘What do you mean?’ Matthew retorted scathingly. ‘You are going to blackmail me?’

‘I want to know if Auntie has made another will since the nineteen eighties. Tell me the truth and I will forget about your vile liaison.’

Matthew stepped backwards further on to the wooden fisherman’s perch and smiled, a malicious expression spreading over his face. What a ghastly woman, who did she think she was? She was not going to get the better of him.

Felicity took a step towards him. ‘Keep back!’ he uttered in a warning tone and lifted an arm as if to strike her.

Felicity smiled with a feral look upon her face that reminded him of a wild mountain cat.

The next moment Matthew’s feet slipped on a patch of the thick oozing mud that coated the surface of the fisherman’s platform and he slid backwards into the swift and swollen river. It was almost freezing and he cried out in fear.

‘Help ... help me.’ Long arms flailed wildly. He was a poor swimmer and his thick woollen coat soaked up the water like blotting paper and the dirty river water trickled with surprising speed into his strong leather boots, threatening to force him with alarming swiftness into its murky depths. The only sound he could hear was the roaring of the water in his ears. Gasping for air he flung his arms upwards once again in a desperate bid for help. Help was not forthcoming. The water was deep, and drowning – his worst dread since he had been forced to endure swimming lessons when he was a schoolboy – threatened to become reality. As he gasped for air his mouth filled with foul dirty liquid, gritty spiteful stuff that scratched and made its way down the back of his throat. He tried to speak but could make no sound. There was no doubt now in his mind that he was going to drown and a feeling of sheer panic engulfed him.

Felicity laughed like a banshee and ran along the bank waving her stick. This was fun and in her view Matthew deserved a cold ducking. He was a nasty arrogant man.

‘Grab this,’ she shrieked holding out her stick but he could not reach it. She did not think he could and that suited her. If they had been observed she could always say she had tried to save him. She knew that she should report the accident but did not want to become involved in any rescue attempts or be asked any awkward questions.

Matthew’s body was flung by the force of the water towards the nearest bank as the river curved slightly downstream. His muscles flexed and he stretched out to clutch a long spindly branch of a willow tree but the current swung him round viciously and he felt a sharp pain which travelled down his arms as his fingers slid off the slippery wet branch. Vicious cold wind whipped the surface of the water which sprayed like coarse sand on to his face. Almost immediately another much thicker tree trunk collided with his head. As Matthew slipped into unconsciousness his last thought was that the evil and ugly Felicity had 
won.

Felicity’s only concern was that she had lost her chance to find out the information she wanted about the will but didn’t think that she could do anything to save Matthew even if she wanted to. She could no longer see any sign of him, or anybody else. She glanced round furtively, all clear, not a soul in sight. She turned away from the river and returned to Primrose House with a spring in her step. She looked forward to smoked salmon sandwiches and chocolate cake. It was nearly time for afternoon tea and that thought took precedence. If Matthew was rescued, and that was a big if, she was sure he would not want her to tell anyone about their meeting. There was no point in worrying about him, after all she could do nothing to help the man and his drowning was not going to trouble her conscience.

At the time of the accident Timothy had vaguely heard some voices as he made his way along the path and ducked under the branches of another willow tree surrounded by hawthorns for a few moments. His heart started to beat fiercely. He prayed that they had not been seen. A strong gust of wind whistled swiftly through the branches above his head for a few minutes then everything seemed eerily quiet until the wind rose again. His face blanched as he thought about the possibility that that someone had seen them kissing. A woman appeared and stopped in front of him. She too was strolling along the path towards Enderly and Primrose House from the other end of the village where he was heading.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Fine,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m just catching my breath, this wind is vicious.’

The woman, though not convinced, turned away to continue her walk along the path that would eventually take her back to the village past Primrose House. ‘It’s busy today,’ she muttered. ‘I thought I saw a woman ahead of me just now in a green Barbour but I must have imagined it. There is nobody around now.’ She turned once again to Timothy. ‘Did you see her?’

Timothy replied, ‘No, I haven’t seen anyone else today.’ His voice sounded strained and threatened to spiral upwards and end almost in a shriek. That was a close shave, he thought. We must be more careful. A drop of sweat trickled down his back despite the cold and the muscles in his shoulders knotted.

Felicity felt smug. I wonder if Matthew got out of that icy water, she thought whilst sitting in Janet’s warm lounge and tucking into a large piece of chocolate cake. She smiled and struggled to stop herself laughing out loud. The Mace family had now been nicely diminished. She had been pleased to note that Jeremy was still drinking heavily and although he called at Primrose House some afternoons to see Janet, as his father had done before him, Felicity was satisfied that he would not live too long which would save her the trouble of pushing him down any steps or having to think up any other way to get rid of him. Jeremy’s face was now an overall beetroot red and purple veins stood out with startling clarity at the base of his temples whilst small puffy bags hung in a revolting manner from beneath his watery blue flecked eyes and odd arched eyebrows. He was suffering from vague chest pains and, although he had been warned by his doctor to take care, he liked his wine and cigars and he would not give those up in a hurry even if they did lessen his expectation of living to a ripe old age. There could soon be another funeral, or perhaps two, to attend, Felicity ruminated with interest. What a pity the Mace family offer such poor quality wine at their wakes!