Any Other Name (24 page)

She smiled at Morgan despite the aching and headed straight for the stairs up to her room.

“Cathy?”

Will’s voice. She gripped the handrail as her pulse soared. She tried to think of piles of horse dung, dead flies on windowsills and fried eggs, anything to take her mind from the memories he reignited.

“I’m going to have a bath, I’ve had a sod of a day,” she called down, resolutely keeping her gaze on the stairs ahead of her.

“Come to the sitting room. There’s someone you need to meet.”

She sighed. “I’m not up to impressing guests. Can’t it happen another time?”

“No. Sophia is here and she wants to meet you.”

Cathy tried to remember where she’d heard that name, running through the list of wives and notables of the Londinium Court that she’d been given to learn by Dame Iris. It was twice as long as the list Will had given her shortly after they’d arrived.

“My sister,” he added.

The conversation from the night of their first soirée flooded back. The secret child. She peered over the banister and regretted it immediately. His brown hair was slightly tousled like he’d been riding and there was a glow in his cheeks that made him look far too attractive. A flash memory of his hand stroking the curve of her hip as he kissed her throat made her blush and look away from him.

“Cathy? Are you coming down?”

“Why is she here? Are your parents visiting?”

“No. Sophia’s going to stay with us for a little while.” He walked round to the bottom stair, extended a hand towards her. “You’ll love her. I promise.”

“Does she have a nanny?” She didn’t take his hand for fear of throwing herself into a passionate clinch.

“Not yet. I was hoping you could spend time with her when I’m not here. She was being neglected in Aquae Sulis.”

The thought of looking after a child triggered memories of miserable afternoons with Elizabeth throwing tantrums. But those afternoons had been spent in Mundanus. The beginning of a plan formed, involving a day trip to Kew Gardens without the need to hide it from Will. “I’d be happy to play with her in Mundanus, if that’s what she needs.”

Will’s face was made divine by a bright smile. He climbed the stairs between them, slipped a hand around her waist and kissed her firmly on the lips.

The smell of his skin rekindled the memories of the night before. She kissed him back before she realised what she was doing. “Um –” she pulled away slightly “– what about keeping her a secret?”

“I’ve told the staff she’s a distant cousin of mine.”

Hidden in plain sight all of her life and ushered away when anyone visited. Cathy almost wished she’d had the same childhood, free of the pressure of performance.

Then she knew what to paint to satisfy Lord Poppy. She would put Sophia in the painting, but not as the subject and – as in real life – tucked away somewhere unobtrusive. Poppy hadn’t specified that the secret would have to be obvious, or divulged at the point of delivery. In fact, she was certain he would be happier left to wonder what it was, thereby satisfying him without betraying Will’s trust or endangering the child. As long as the Charm arrived on time, there was still hope she could navigate safely through Poppy’s trap.

Will was smiling at her and she realised he was reflecting her own expression. He gently pulled her back and kissed her again. “I like being like this with you. It’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“You weren’t there when I woke up.”

“I’m sorry, my love, I had an early meeting. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Cathy stared at him, processing what he’d called her. She felt giddy and stupid and increasingly annoyed with herself. Why–

“Come on,” Will said, taking her hand and pulling her down the stairs.

“Will, about last night,” she started, but when she reached the bottom he called for Sophia and picked up the pace.

He took her to one of the sitting rooms. Sophia was almost at the door when they arrived, having heard his call. Cathy saw the way she beamed at Will and how it delighted him to sweep the little girl up into his arms and bring her face level with theirs.

“Sophia, this is Cathy.”

“Your Cathy?” she asked him.

“My Cathy,” he smiled and they both looked at her. She could see the resemblance between them instantly.

“Hello,” Sophia said, and, as much as she thought she was immune to cute children, Cathy did find herself warming to her.

“Hello,” Cathy replied. “Will tells me you’re going to stay with us a while.”

Sophia nodded eagerly, making her ringlets bounce. “I missed Will-yum. Will you take me to the park when he has to do grown-up things?”

“Of course I will, I love parks. And there’s one I’ve always wanted to visit where the trees are hundreds of years old. Would you like to go and see them and have ice-cream too?”

Sophia nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, please. Let’s go now!”

“We’ll go first thing tomorrow. I need to work out how to get there first.”

“Oh. Do you want to play dolls with me?”

Cathy wrinkled her nose. “No, thanks. Maybe later we could make paper aeroplanes together.”

“Do princesses make paper aeroplanes?”

“Only the best ones,” Cathy said and it seemed to satisfy Sophia. She was less than five years old and already being programmed into only wanting to do “girly” things. Cathy resolved to present some alternative interests to her.

Will kissed Sophia on the cheek and put her down. She returned to the rug and the three dolls in varying states of disarray. Cathy then felt his eyes on her and looked back at him. His smile was soft and he brushed her hand. “Thank you.”

She knew what he was thinking. There was the beautiful child, quiet and well-behaved. Here was his wife, and soon she would be pregnant and full of the delights of motherhood, especially after having the opportunity to spend time with the sweetest child in Society. There was no way in the Worlds Will wanted to be with her for any reason other than furthering the family line, even without the beautiful Rosa hidden away somewhere. Did he touch Amelia in the same way? Did he kiss his wife like he kissed the rose?

 

21

 

Sam liked to think of himself as a reasonable man, one who could get through life without having to punch anyone to make a point. The concierge was challenging that self-image. Not only did he feel like punching the smartly dressed jobsworth, he also felt like knocking down anyone else who wanted to keep him away from Leanne.

“Look, for the tenth time, it’s a fucking emergency,” he said, slowly losing control of his voice. “She’s my wife, you don’t have the right to stop me from seeing her.”

“I’m sorry,” the man said, no longer calling him “sir”. “Mrs Westonville made it very clear to me that under no circumstances was I permitted to let you see her.”

“That’s because she didn’t know what I know now! If she knew what I know, I know she’d see me in a shot.” He sounded like a lunatic. Sam pressed his hands down on the top of the horseshoe-shaped desk-cum-booth the concierge sat behind, reminding himself not to use them to wallop him. “Look, I know you’re just doing your job, and you might think you’re protecting a vulnerable woman, but I’m trying to protect her and you’re doing more harm than good.”

“If you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police.”

“For what?”

“Trespassing. Breach of the peace. Being a pain in the jacksy. I know divorce is hard, but you don’t live here, she does, so I’m on her side.” He waited for Sam to move. “Right, that’s it.”

The concierge lifted a phone handset from its cradle and Sam patted the air. “I’m going, for fuck’s sake. But if anything happens to her–”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll hold me personally responsible. I’ve seen the same films as you. Now piss off. Sir.”

Sam sucked in a deep lungful of air through his teeth. Now he understood why people flipped out. “Twat,” he said loudly, heading for the door. He’d wait on the pavement outside until she came out. It didn’t matter if he had to stand in a doorway all night, he had to warn her about Neugent.

She’d stopped taking his calls after sending a text saying, “Nothing to say, give me a break for at least a month.” He left a voicemail asking her to call, saying it was urgent. She didn’t. On the train up to London he’d hammered the redial button, thinking that surely she’d get the idea that this was more than just him panicking about a separation. He suspected she wasn’t even using that number any more. That was what she’d do: switch it off, get a new phone and new number and get on with her job. She kept different parts of her life in separate mental boxes. For a long time he’d been in the crappy battered one left in the corner whilst she played with the big shiny work box. Now he felt as if she’d put him into one of his own, one she was soon to throw out altogether.

He rubbed his eyes. As the adrenalin from his confrontation with the concierge ebbed he became aware of the fatigue again. He’d been suffering from varying degrees of panic since the conversation with Max and the gargoyle.

Sam ducked into the doorway of a generic office building out of the concierge’s line of sight and looked at his wedding ring. He still wore it, even after everything that had been said about it. He wasn’t divorced yet. Taking it off seemed too premature, and too final.

At the sound of high heels clipping on the pavement he peered round and saw Leanne, handbag over her shoulder, wearing a brilliant red coat. She’d lost even more weight and her legs were starting to look too thin.

“Leanne!” He stepped out a few metres ahead of her.

“The concierge told me you’d been a pain in the arse.”

“I need to talk to you, Lee, it’s important.”

She started walking again, eyes fixed on a point past his shoulder. “You’ve got until I get to the tube station.”

He fell into step alongside her. “Are you OK? You’ve lost too much weight, you know, you’re wasting away.”

“Good start, Sam, offend me, that’s bound to make me more receptive.”

“Shit. Sorry, I’m just worried about you, that’s all. Look, there’s something wrong with this thing you’ve got with Neugent. A friend looked into the forge and there were other people who made their rings there and ten of them died before their time.”

She frowned at him, not slowing. “Do you realise how pathetic you sound? ‘This thing I’ve got with Neugent’? You mean a career? And what the hell have those people got to do with me?”

“They all worked for Neugent, Lee. It’s a pattern.”

“Oh, right, so after realising what you’ve lost you’ve cooked up some amazingly shit story to try and frighten me into resigning so I’ll move back to Bath? That’s really sad.”

“Are you even listening to me? They died!”

“Of what?”

“Well, different things but–”

“Oh, so you’ve carried out a detailed statistical analysis of all of the people who have ever had any contact with Marcus who happened to make their own wedding rings and concluded that dying is weird? Do you know how many people work for him? Do you know how many people have used that forge? Do you know how statistically unlikely it is that a failed marriage could be repaired by husbands making outlandish claims about their wife’s boss?”

“They all died too young!”

“By whose standards? Thousands of children die every day. Show me your analysis and explain to me which age you define as the correct time to die. Oh, that’s right, it doesn’t exist.”

“I’m trying to protect you, Lee, that’s all. I know you’re in danger.”

“I’m in danger of telling you to fuck off before we get to the station, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m serious. I know I can be a dick sometimes but even I wouldn’t come up with something like this to try and patch things up, would I? I thought we’d just had our time together and I was happy to move on, because I didn’t know there was anything else involved.”

She stopped and looked at him. “What is this about, Sam? Do you need help?”

“I’m trying to tell you,
you
need help! You need to come back to Bath with me. We can talk. No, even better, we’ll go somewhere else… Cornwall… Scotland, wherever you want to go, and we’ll talk it all through and we’ll start again.”

She closed her eyes. He wanted to touch her but she wasn’t giving the impression that would be allowed. “Sam,” she said with a sigh, “you’re assuming we have something to try to save here. We don’t. I’ve changed, you haven’t. I don’t see any point in stringing this along any more. I’ll get in touch with my solicitor, let’s just divorce as quickly and cleanly as we can so we can move on.”

“I don’t want that.”

“Sorry. There’s nothing I can do about that. Let it go. You’ll be happier without me, you really will.”

“No, I won’t.” Sam felt like a child, powerless in the face of a diktat from a parent, something non-negotiable and world-breaking and utterly out of his control.

“I have to go or I’ll be late. Get some help, Sam, talk to a counsellor or something, but don’t try and suck me into this car crash.”

“I’m not your problem anymore, is that it?”

“More that I don’t want to be yours anymore. My solicitor will be in touch.”

She walked off, leaving him standing on a London pavement with people tutting as they had to walk around him. He watched her, not knowing whether to run after her or stop believing all this stuff anyway. Filtered through her it did sound stupid. But he still believed it and he still wanted to protect her, even though she’d made it clear there was nothing she felt for him other than irritation and pity. If he pursued her, she’d get angry again and it wouldn’t achieve anything. He could feel a surge of panic and impotence threatening to make him do something stupid like throw her over his shoulder or burst into tears. Neither was acceptable. He rubbed his eyes as he lost sight of her and decided the only sensible thing to do was go and get pissed.

 

Cathy parked the hire car a short walk away from the house where Miss Rainer worked and twisted round to check on Sophia.

“She’s fast asleep,” Lucy said.

“Thanks for coming to help,” Cathy said, smiling, and felt the nerves catch her breath. “I’ll be as quick as I can, then afterwards we’ll go to Kew Gardens and wake her up. She won’t even know we’ve been here.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her, don’t worry,” Lucy replied. “Go, and good luck!”

Cathy closed the car door as quietly as she could and looked up and down the mundane suburban street. It was lined with trees still clinging to the last of their autumnal leaves and parked cars ready for the daily commute. Bathed in the grey light of the pre-dawn, the silent street made Cathy long for Manchester again and the fresh potential that filled every early morning there.

The painting Charm had arrived late the previous evening, locked in a box, and delivered to the house by a young boy. The key had arrived by Letterboxer soon afterward. Inside the box was a beautiful turquoise bottle made of Venetian glass – she knew the Shopkeeper only used it for the most expensive Charms – with a flame-shaped stopper, along with a tiny sable brush. An accompanying note read;

 

Catherine,
 

 

You are officially the first customer to receive such a rare and expensive Charm without having paid for it first. I trust you will come to see me to discuss the price at your earliest convenience.
 

Should you have need of the Charm before then, you should know this: its effects will last anywhere between twenty-four hours and twenty-four days, depending on how much affinity your own abilities have with one of the critical ingredients. Side-effects include insomnia, mania, depression, hallucinations – auditory and visual – and becoming a bore. I beg you to arrange for private time away from guests and social obligations before you use it.
 

When you have your materials to hand and are ready to create, simply dip the brush into the bottle and paint its contents onto your eyelids, the skin above your heart, the palms of your hands and lastly your fingertips. You may experience the customary tingling associated with powerful magic.
 

I hope it is sufficient for your needs, and look forward to seeing you at the Emporium forthwith.
 

 

Yours sincerely,
 

 

S.
 

 

Cathy was eager to use it but, fearful the side-effects would render her useless in the search for Miss Rainer, she decided to wait until the day was over. Early morning would be the best time to find her. As a scullery maid it would be Rainer’s responsibility to draw the water for the household’s morning routine. In the past that would have involved carrying buckets to a hand pump but now that Mundanus had entered the modern age it meant Miss Rainer would be filling buckets in the anchor property’s kitchen to take through into the Nether reflection of the house.

The thought of her tutor’s brilliant mind being squandered on menial tasks infuriated Cathy. There was no way she would let the Agency continue to treat her this way and if they proved to be a problem then Cathy planned to help Rainer escape into Mundanus too.

The house was a detached Victorian villa on three storeys and was a rather modest anchor property. Cathy didn’t know anyone from the Ranunculus family personally but she knew they weren’t the most successful of the Great Families and were often overlooked. They hadn’t made Dame Iris’s list of important people to know in Londinium and Cathy envied their anonymity.

After one last glance up the street Cathy hurried up the sloped driveway and darted down the side of the house. The kitchen would be at the rear, overlooking the back garden, and out of sight of the neighbours. The side gate was locked but not too high to be climbed over and Cathy dropped onto the other side feeling like an amateur burglar.

There were French doors that led onto the garden but the curtains were still drawn so she couldn’t see into the house. Cathy tiptoed across to crouch beneath the kitchen window and listen for any noises within. Just as she was about to peep over the windowsill there was the muffled clank of a metal bucket being put into the sink and the sound of water splashing into it.

Cathy slowly curled her fingertips over the windowsill and raised herself up to peep over the edge of the window frame, just in case Miss Rainer wasn’t the one drawing the water that morning.

But it was her! Her hair was different, now tied back in a tight bun, and she looked more pale and tired than Cathy remembered but it was definitely Miss Rainer. Cathy straightened up and tapped on the window excitedly. Miss Rainer jumped but didn’t drop the empty bucket she was holding.

Cathy searched for the flash of recognition and the smile she’d imagined receiving upon their reunion but there was nothing of the sort on Rainer’s face. Perhaps it was hard for her to see out into the murky dawn with the lights on inside. Cathy pointed at the back door and Miss Rainer nodded, setting down the bucket to go over and unlock it.

“Miss Rainer!” Cathy whispered as soon as the door opened.

“Can I help you?”

Cathy’s exuberance imploded. “It’s me, Catherine. Your student.”

Miss Rainer’s eyes narrowed and looked up in the way they used to when she was considering the best way to explain a difficult concept. “Catherine? That name’s familiar… did we work at the same house once?”

Cathy struggled to speak as her chest tightened. “You were my governess for over ten years!”

“I’m a scullery maid, Miss Catherine. Do you want me to fetch the governess for you?”

“No! You were mine, don’t you remember?” Cathy wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until Miss Rainer looked and spoke like her old self again. It was like speaking to nothing but a physical copy of her and it was terrifying. “I was called Catherine Rhoeas-Papaver then, we lived in Bath – in Aquae Sulis – don’t you remember?”

“Papaver…” Rainer whispered and Cathy thought she could see something of her governess in her features, just for a moment. “That is familiar…”