The Twisted Way (40 page)

‘Marianne would have me, she has offered,’ Felicity lied, ‘but her spare room is so small, there is not enough room for all my belongings.’

She persuaded Robbie to allow her to cook their evening meal at least twice a week.

‘It’s much cheaper than those meals in the pub,’ she said. ‘There is nothing like home-made food, Robbie. The fried food in the pub is too greasy. I have a lovely Italian lasagne recipe, really authentic, which I made for Roberto in Canada,’ and he had to admit that she was right, she was a good cook. Felicity was aware that he still liked to meet Old Pat and a few other acquaintances in the pub and chat over a pint of his favourite cider, but convinced herself that he would soon prefer her company. They were after all only a group of scruffy old yokels who had little in common with the academic Robbie. She was reading a few of his books and expanding her knowledge. She told herself that she would soon develop into a suitable companion for the clever man.

Enderly Bridge Club continued to flourish and Patsy and John Elk were the epitome of the happy couple.

‘It is nice to see such a well-matched pair,’ Felicity said to Robbie. ‘They are perfect together and suit each other so well. It’s good to have such pleasant companionship, I miss the closeness I enjoyed with Roberto and our many friends in Canada.’ She did not in any way miss Roberto or any friends in Canada but hoped to press Robbie into admitting that he enjoyed her company and needed her. Her wheedling was still falling upon barren ground but she was determined to win and would not stop until she got her own way. She was not aware of the tension and conflicting emotions that plagued him.

He would miss me if I left now, she told herself.

An opportunity presented itself a few months after John and Patsy were married. John Elk called at Robbie’s cottage one evening. He looked very sheepish and nervous. He looked down at his hands and large clumsy feet and stuttered.

‘Patsy is going to have a baby ... er ... we thought it was too late, we’re no longer young, but it’s just been confirmed.’

‘Congratulations,’ Robbie said, beaming. ‘I am really happy for you both.’

‘It does mean,’ John continued, one side of his face twitching nervously, ‘that she wants to give up the post of secretary of the Enderly club, as soon as possible, after all she did say that she would only do it for one year. She has not felt too well and we don’t want to take any chances. She will be an older mother, you know.’

‘Of course, I’ll ask around,’ Robbie replied, his heart sinking. Good secretaries were hard to find; the job could prove more onerous than many members realised. A person would have to be keen to take undertake the position.

‘She’d also like to play with me in Little Brinton club, if you wouldn’t mind. She would try and find you another partner ...’

Felicity had been listening. She had been pottering in the kitchen, feigning tact whilst preparing some coffee and sandwiches for the visitor. She emerged quickly.

‘I couldn’t help overhearing,’ she said. ‘Robbie could play with me. I’d love to join Little Brinton Bridge Club.’

Robbie was so alarmed that he couldn’t speak for a moment but John Elk responded with alacrity.

‘That would be marvellous,’ he said. ‘Would that be all right with you Robbie?’

Robbie blanched. He felt stiff and cold and gave them a quelling look but neither noticed. They were too busy congratulating themselves on the solution which would suit them both.

‘Oh, well ... if you are sure Felicity ...’ ‘Wonderful,’ Felicity gushed. ‘It’s so satisfying to be able to help my good friends. Robbie and I will play well together. It will be a really good partnership.’ She placed an arm with a possessive gesture around Robbie’s shoulders. He cringed as she gave him an affectionate squeeze. He bit back a rejoinder and remained silent. She didn’t notice that his bearing was stiff, almost rigid.

‘I don’t doubt it,’ he mumbled. She reached into Robbie’s bureau drawer for some convention cards. ‘Now tell me what you play,’ she continued with obvious mounting excitement.

He was caught in her net. This really was the final straw - the nail in his coffin! Resentment reared its ugly head and he found it difficult to speak.

She was right, she told herself. What a wonderful opportunity. We are both experienced players. We will grow closer and be able to put any past misunderstandings behind us. She was like an excited child.

‘I would be happy to be Secretary of Enderly Bridge Club too,’ she continued. ‘I would like to help you in any way I can, dear Robbie. You’ve been so kind to me, taking me in when my inheritance went against me and letting me make my home in your lovely little cottage.’

I am trapped he thought. He no longer had the strength to fight. The woman will never leave now unless I lift her up bodily and shove her outside onto the pavement with her bulging cases of clothes and lock the door after her, but I no longer have the willpower or strength to do that.

Following his meeting with Alistair Anderson Robbie had promised himself that he would read some books about Attention Deficit Disorder and at long last he made the effort to scan the internet for information about the latest theories and ideas about ADD. It was something about which he, together with many other people, knew little. He began to understand Felicity’s unpredictable behaviour through reading extensively on the subject but still had no clear idea how he could help her or perhaps himself. It did seem to him that she might suffer from the condition, though he realized that he was not qualified to decide that with certainty. ADD was hereditary, he read, and, although a professional opinion was desirable, he doubted whether she would agree to visit a psychiatrist and he did not want to suggest that she should. Felicity appeared to be happier than when he first met her; indeed she did not appear to be the same person. He concluded that it was probably best now to let sleeping dogs lie. He was surprised that she had been able to play bridge so well. The game needed concentration, which in many aspects Felicity had demonstrated was for her limited, but it was a competitive game and no doubt enabled her to use a little of her excess energy to her advantage. Some understanding on his part was, however, a start. It could make living with her more tolerable. He regretted not reading more about ADD before though was intelligent enough to realise that a little knowledge, especially of amateur psychology, was often a dangerous thing and his interpretation of her condition required caution.

Felicity rearranged some of the cottage furniture, though she was careful to make the changes without haste, and the cottage began to acquire a feminine touch which Robbie had to admit he liked. He longed for a peaceful life and, although he found it difficult to admit, he discovered that he was beginning to enjoy having her around. He thought, in the same way that Janet had, that she was quite reasonable company, perhaps better than none, although he had been happy on his own and he found it difficult to acknowledge that his dependency upon her was deepening. She not only made his breakfast and tea and cooked the odd evening meal but also cleared away the crockery, and washed up or filled his dishwasher with an expert hand. He acknowledged that they had both changed their attitude towards each other. Even Mrs Connolly had come to accept her and acknowledged that Felicity had made her cleaning job easier. Robbie feared that Felicity now had her eye on his money but that was currently willed in a way that would surprise her even more than Janet’s will.

‘She’s not a bad woman that one,’ Mrs Connolly pronounced after Felicity had been in the cottage for a few months. ‘Is she here for the long haul, Mr Barker?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Robbie stuttered, amazed at Mrs Connolly’s acceptance of Felicity. She was more often than not choosy and difficult with regard to the people she liked.

Felicity could not understand why she felt so protective towards Robbie, the man she had tried to hunt down when she was looking for Tom Hands in what she now acknowledged was a futile effort to eliminate him from Auntie’s will. His share of the legacy was small anyway. It had been foolish. She had for the first time in her life grown fond of someone. She had depended on Roberto when she was down on her luck in Canada but it was not quite the same thing. Felicity became aware that something had happened to change her personality when her brother had tried to murder her. The result was that she had made an effort to change and although that was difficult she felt that she was making some progress. She still had no conscience about the fact that she had used Janet’s credit card with indiscriminate abandon; in her view her actions were justifiable at the time and were now entrenched in the past. She had a capacity for forgetting things that were unpleasant, burying them in her subconscious, a habit developed over many years, and she did not think about them again unless absolutely essential. She tried to convince herself that her brother had exaggerated her bad behaviour. The revelations, however, still surfaced in a few unguarded moments and were tinged with a fresh element of surprise and disbelief. She remembered what she wanted to, for example the few happy moments they had shared as very young children before their mother died. When he told her that she had been so cruel to him it had been devastating and she told herself that he was mentally unstable and was not responsible for his actions, though she knew in her heart that what he had said held elements of unpalatable truth.

Felicity partnered Robbie in Little Brinton Bridge Club and to his surprise they played together without any friction.

‘We suit each other very well, came top two weeks running,’ she said with pride after they had played together several times.

‘Well, yes ...’ Robbie agreed with some hesitation. He could hardly believe it but he was actually enjoying playing with the woman. He even agreed to enter some County competitions with her. Was he getting weak in the head?

Robbie’s health was deteriorating and he found himself to his chagrin depending even more on Felicity. She was delighted to run round him and attend to his needs. She fussed over him and he, against his better judgement, found himself warming towards her. He was surprised to discover that she was reading his books with such eagerness and noted that her conversation skills had improved. The timbre and pitch of her voice began to soften and to his relief the odd strident Canadian accent, which he had at one time found grating, had mellowed, too.

Joyce Skillet called to see him and ask about his health. ‘I really miss Mrs Lacey,’ she told him. ‘Primrose House has been sold and Rosalie Butterfield has returned to Yorkshire. She’s a lovely woman, how Mrs Lacey would have enjoyed having her with her, and her granddaughter and great granddaughter. What a tragedy that they couldn’t have got together earlier. I helped to sort out the furniture and other goods, which are all now sold. The new owners should move in soon. They’re a nice family from Hampshire and should fit easily into village life.’

She’d realized that a few things were missing, for example the silver-backed brushes, but decided not to mention them.

‘I miss Janet Lacey too,’ Robbie admitted. ‘I was her mother’s evacuee, I never told her, of course, but I think she guessed at the end.’ Robbie told her how he had first met Alicia Merryweather. She did not seem surprised and he wondered how much she already knew or had guessed.

Joyce was taken aback, however, when a meek Felicity brought in the tea. It was good quality Indian tea and scones with her own home-made strawberry jam and fresh cream.

Felicity set the tray on a small dining table and waited on the guest as though she was royalty. For a moment Joyce could not speak. Had the woman changed that much? She was suspicious. The thought that she was interested in inheriting Robbie’s money occurred to her.

Nine months after Felicity had moved in with Robbie Marianne paid them a visit. ‘I have a proposition for Felicity,’ she announced, thinking Robbie, as well as Felicity, would be delighted. ‘I have been left a little money by an old relative from London I didn’t know still existed. Not a lot but enough to enable me to renovate my cottage. I can afford to install a new bathroom next to the spare bedroom on the first floor, a second bedroom there could be turned into a sitting room and I can then let it. I would let it for a very reasonable rent to a friend like you Felicity, would you be interested? I would love to have your company.’

Felicity remained silent. It was the last thing she wanted to hear. Robbie too was quiet. He had longed for this moment but now was experiencing a feeling of reluctance.

‘I’m ... I ’m not ... sure ...’ Felicity said, taken aback. Her hands shook and a nerve twitched on the side of her face. She was lost for words. ‘I would ... er ... like to think about it.’

‘Of course, dear,’ Marianne responded. She was puzzled. She had expected both Felicity and Robbie to jump with delight at the prospect.

‘I’m well settled here now,’ Felicity bumbled on. ‘Robbie is not well and I’m looking after him. It suits us both.’

To Robbie’s surprise he found himself mentally agreeing. He would miss her, the woman he had at one time disliked with intense fervour. He had found her morals and greed abhorrent. What had occurred that was prompting him to consider asking her to stay? She had become an important part of his life, he admitted to himself with some trepidation. The woman he had considered ignorant and repulsive had proved to be a good companion. Indeed he now depended on her. She was his partner and not just in the bridge room. He had been surprised when she had read some of his books and others from the county library. She was far more intelligent than he had imagined. They had discussed her views about some of his books and she had shown surprising insight. Until that time he had considered her to be quite clueless. Although he realised that she had some difficulty in concentrating she was very much more relaxed and happier than she had been when they first met. Her improved peace of mind had allowed her to sustain her enjoyment of reading. They had a common background, they were both children brought up in London for a few of their formative years and they would chat about those days and share memories. His mind rambled on ... he no longer wanted her to leave. He still had grave doubts about the part she had played in the death of Matthew Mace, or the accident that it most likely was, but was willing to forget that now. It was no longer important. Were his principles slipping? Life was now too short, yes that was the explanation. He felt uncomfortable and broke out into a slight sweat as he thought about Matthew’s death.