Read A Hallowed Place Online

Authors: Caro Fraser

Tags: #Fiction, #Literary

A Hallowed Place (32 page)

BOOK: A Hallowed Place
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‘Yes. And I said some things to them which might not have helped, if we’re being honest. But I’ve done a good deal of thinking since Sunday and I think Oliver
needs you just as much as he needs me.’

‘Thank you,’ said Leo, his voice light with relief and happiness. ‘Really, thank you.’

When she put the phone down, Rachel felt lifted by the fact of having made the decision, but was conscious of a sense of loss, too. Still, Oliver would only be away for one night every two weeks, she told herself. And perhaps she had been unfair on Charles recently, by not taking him into account in all this. Maybe he did need more of her love and attention than she’d been prepared to give him. An idea suddenly came to her. Tomorrow was the day of her mother’s funeral and after that ordeal was over there were four more days until Charles got home on Sunday. She had told Nichols & Co. that she wouldn’t be back until next week. Why shouldn’t she just leave Margaret in charge of Oliver, and fly out to spend the last couple of days with Charles? She would have to start getting used to being away from Oliver for brief spells, after all. It would be good for all of them, all three of them. With a smile she picked up the phone to enquire about flights to Romania.

Leo came downstairs. He dropped a brief on Henry’s desk and glanced at his gloomy face. ‘Thinking about Felicity?’ he asked.

‘Yes. I’m going along to see how she is once I’ve finished here.’

‘Good idea,’ said Leo. ‘Give her my best. I’m very glad I talked her into taking out private health cover a few months ago. You never know when something rotten is going to happen.’ He slung his scarf around his neck, about to leave,
then paused. ‘By the way,’ he added, ‘I’m sorry if I rather dropped you in it over the past couple of weeks.’

‘That’s all right,’ replied Henry quickly. ‘We all need a bit of time off now and again.’

‘Yes …’ Leo paused. ‘Rather interestingly, I stopped shaving while I was away. It’s only the second time in my life I’ve ever done that. Grown a beard, I mean. It was amusing while it lasted, but I’m rather glad to be rid of it. Facial hair’s a bit of a transitory novelty, don’t you think?’

Henry flushed slightly. Was Leo having a go at him? All right, he knew his moustache hadn’t been the success he’d hoped, but still … He resisted the temptation to put his hand up to his mouth. ‘You could be right, Mr Davies,’ he replied stiffly.

‘Night.’

‘Night.’

When he had finished, Henry went into the little downstairs lavatory and stared at his face. Then he went back to the clerks’ room and fished out Felicity’s nail scissors from her drawer, and the electric razor he kept in his own desk, and went back to the mirror. Carefully he clipped away most of the length of the moustache, then shaved off the bristles. He stared at the result. Better. Much better. In fact, it was a real relief to be without it. He gave himself a smile, rinsed the hairs out of the washbasin and went off to lock up.

Melissa wrapped herself in a long towelling bathrobe after her shower and lay down on the bed. She closed her eyes and drew her hands idly, sensuously across her body and
thought of Leo. Sexual fantasy had taken on a whole new dimension where he was concerned. It had been astonishing to discover how pure loathing failed to eclipse desire, but, in fact, ignited new and stranger passions! Passions which needed to be satisfied in their own ways. The very creation of those emails had been in itself a voluptuous and pleasurably obscene act, and sending them, envisaging Leo’s repulsion and fear on receiving them, had been deliriously vindictive. There was something almost sexual in the participatory nature of it, sharing in her imagination his reactions, probing his vulnerability, reaching to the very core of him. She shivered with pleasure as she thought of it and the movements of her fingers quickened. That was the black and secret pleasure of it - reaching him, touching him. A very intimate revenge. The phone calls, the sound of his voice, at first assured and then slightly hesitant, talking into the void, while she remained silent at the other end, had been particularly satisfying, but she would make no more of those. They were too risky.

After a moment she sighed and drew her robe together. She opened her eyes. In an hour she would see him. The fact that she still wanted him after the memory of that disastrous evening together no longer surprised her. It was desire of a very different flavour, after all. What she now felt, this mixture of lust and hatred, made her previous infatuation seem quite innocuous - almost innocent. These new feelings were lubricious, intoxicating. She gave a little shudder of pleasure at the thought that she had yet to explore all the different and decadent ways in which she could torment him and satisfy her cravings. She rose
from the bed with a smile and began to dress herself in readiness, trembling like a girl at the prospect of seeing him again.

Leo drove to Shoreditch. Anthony had said the meeting was at seven, and that he would come along later after he had finished what he suspected would be a lengthy con at 4 Essex Court.

Work on the museum had progressed considerably since Leo’s last visit. The renovations were now complete and the whole place had an exciting, airy feel to it, a showplace just waiting for its exhibits. It looked as though Chay’s hopes of having the opening around Christmas would be realised. He walked through the empty, echoing galleries to the meeting room and found everyone already there. Chay gave his customary peace sign greeting and came over. ‘Glad you’re here. I was a bit worried you might not make it. Anthony said you’d been away.’

‘I took a couple of weeks off, that’s all. I hope Anthony reassured you about the sculpture. It’s on its way from Paris, plus a few other rather interesting items. I’m afraid I didn’t have time to run them past the rest of the committee, but I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.’

Leo took his place at the table and said good evening to the rest of the trustees, meeting Melissa’s cool gaze with a faint nervousness. He didn’t care to remember the embarrassment of that last encounter. The sole resulting benefit, he hoped, was that she was probably now disinclined to continue her amatory pursuit of him.

The meeting got under way. Chay ran through the
list of works which had been accumulated over the past months, and there was discussion as to where and how they would be exhibited. Leo made a few contributions, but mainly listened. He was conscious of Melissa studying him covertly. ‘So now, finally, we come to the matter of the open space,’ announced Chay. ‘I’m pleased to say that Melissa’s come up with some very exciting plans. I’ll let her tell you all about them.’

Melissa smiled and glanced round the table. ‘I don’t really deserve any credit. That belongs to the people who have come up with the ideas. They’re a women’s collective called Beaver - well, it’s actually spelt with a ‘u’ at the end, and it stands for “beautification of the environment and visual urban regeneration”. Their field of work is urban environmental projects, with a particular focus on bringing rural values to inner-city sites, utilising their essential drabness to accentuate the textual contrasts of city and countryside.’

‘Lovely, but I wish you’d get to the point, Melissa,’ interrupted Derek Harvey dryly. ‘What exactly is going to go into the open space?’

‘I was about to tell you, Derek,’ replied Melissa tartly. ‘As I say, the idea is to juxtapose nature and the urban setting. What they’ve done so far is to break up the ground and turf it. Unfortunately it’s dark now, and there isn’t an awful lot to see, as it’s still at the formative stage. Now, when the turf has grown - and unfortunately some of it seems to have died, but then, it’s not the optimum time of year to start this kind of project - anyway, when it’s grown, the idea is that it will be long and lush, giving the feel of a
country meadow, but it’s the anarchic context which will give it its real impact. And in this meadow area the women are going to build a sheep pen, and in the pen will be sheep, cropping the grass. Around the green area they’re going to erect a series of television monitors, on which will be shown - and this, I think, is one of the most exciting aspects of the whole thing - continuous film of rolling countryside. In addition, they’re planning the use of reflective material to mirror the urban decay that surrounds the museum and heighten the contrast.’

Derek, chin on hand, stared at her. ‘Who’s going to look after the sheep? An inner-city shepherd?’

Melissa accepted the suggestion with serious thoughtfulness. ‘That could be a rather good idea. It would add the perfect touch of irony, wouldn’t it? Anyway, to continue. The sheep pen will be moved around the green site, so that different parts are cropped. The idea is to create a kind of grass sculpture. And the sheep will be belled, so that their movement and sound will produce a symphonic, gentle contrast to the basic environment. I’m in the process of getting a costs breakdown from the collective, and I’ll let you all have details as soon as they’re ready.’

Derek shook his head, too bemused to pass the remotest criticism. The others shifted slightly in their chairs and a few sighed.

‘Well, I like it,’ said Chay. ‘It’s organic, interactive, totally visual. Just what we need. It’s naturally a pity that it won’t be operative when the museum opens, but in the nature of open space projects, it takes the right weather,
and so on.’ He smiled round at the assembled trustees. ‘I take it we’re all in favour of going ahead?’

‘I think we should look at the costs breakdown first,’ said Tony Gear. ‘Make sure that it’s realistic.’ There was a murmur of agreement.

‘Yes - yes, I suppose that’s right,’ said Chay. ‘In any event, I think that just about concludes the business for this evening.’

People rose from their chairs. ‘Personally,’ murmured Derek to Leo, ‘I think that woman is totally bonkers.’ He hitched his shabby raincoat round his shoulders. ‘My one hope is that a few of her sheep fall foul of the local organic urban Rottweilers. Beaver, my arse.’ He moved off.

Leo slipped on his coat and headed for the door, hoping to avoid any contact with Melissa. But she waylaid him, laying a thin, insistent hand upon his sleeve. His heart sank as their eyes met. He had so hoped that their drunken evening together would be the end of it. But her lips were forming a smile.

‘Don’t you think you’ve behaved in a rather ungentlemanly way?’ The smile was one of steel, almost a leer. ‘The least I expected was a phone call.’

There was something so disturbing about her expression, and about the unwarranted pressure of her fingers on his arm, that Leo was moved to rudeness. ‘A phone call? Why on earth should I phone you?’

The distaste in his voice made her shrink, but she managed a light shrug. ‘Well, we’d both had a little too much to drink, but it had been an enjoyable evening in its way - hadn’t it? And it could have been even more enjoyable.’ She felt her
hatred slacken. Here, in his presence, his flesh beneath her hand, she was still willing to have him on ordinary terms, without malice. Her voice was low and breathy. ‘I thought you might see that, under other circumstances, we could have been very good together. Very good. I thought you might still want that.’

Leo stared at her, aware of mild revulsion. There was something oddly disjointed about her features, as though their expression might fragment with the force of whatever emotions bubbled within her. Perhaps Derek was right - perhaps she was mildly unhinged. He regretted now ever having given her a lift home that first night. He shook his arm free. ‘Melissa, let us be clear about one thing. That evening was a mistake. There are no circumstances, apart from these trustee meetings, when I would ever wish to see you. Forgive my bluntness, but I want there to be no future misunderstandings.’ Turning to go, he added, ‘And if you feel an apology is due for my behaviour that evening, please accept one.’

He reached the door and collided with Anthony coming in.

‘Have I missed the entire meeting?’ asked Anthony. ‘I thought Henry Runcimore was never going to shut up.’

‘I’m afraid so,’ replied Leo. ‘Not to worry. Let’s go for a drink and I’ll fill you in on the important bits, especially the open space project. You’ll like that.’

Melissa stood by the table, the fingers which had held Leo’s arm opening and closing. What a mistake he had made. He had had a chance, and he had thrown it away in ignorance. He deserved everything that might
happen. The thought of exacting her revenge now spread like fire through her mind with a sensual, anticipatory warmth.

Cautiously Henry pushed open the door of the hospital room and put his head round. The room was lit only by a small lamp by the bed, where Felicity lay, eyes closed. She opened them and saw Henry, who smiled.

‘How are you?’ he asked, sitting down in a chair next to the bed.

‘Bloody awful,’ sighed Felicity. She looked pale, her eyes weary with dejection.

‘I’m really sorry about the baby,’ said Henry, and put a hand over hers.

‘Ow!’ said Felicity. ‘That’s my bad wrist. I must have bashed it when I fell down, along with every other bit of me. Here, have the other.’ She slipped her other hand into Henry’s and he stroked it. To his alarm, he saw large tears suddenly well up in Felicity’s eyes, and her shoulders began to shake.

‘Hey, come on, it’ll be all right,’ he said soothingly, and tried clumsily to pat her shoulder. It wasn’t really possible to give her a hug from the chair.

‘Oh, Henry,’ said Felicity through her weeping, ‘it’s like the worst time ever. I can’t believe how wrong everything’s going. It’s not just losing the baby. My mum was in a couple of hours ago. That boy that Vince was in the fight with. He died.’

‘Oh, God,’ said Henry. ‘Oh, God.’

‘And they’ve got Vince in custody. They reckon he’ll be charged with murder.’

‘No,’ said Henry. ‘From what you’ve told me, Vince didn’t murder anyone. Don’t worry. That’s just what the police have to charge him with. The CPS will bring it down.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ sobbed Felicity. ‘He’ll go to prison. I know he will. And it’s partly my fault. I was going on at him, that’s why he went out on the bike—’

‘It’s not your fault,’ interrupted Henry. ‘It’s just all a horrible piece of bad luck.’

BOOK: A Hallowed Place
7.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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