House of Silence (29 page)

Marek woke with a jolt, flinging a hand in the
direction of the alarm. Lying on his back, still half-asleep, he
felt confused, oppressed by a great weight on his chest. As memory
returned, he lifted an exploratory hand and found the weight was
Gwen’s head. Her hair was spread out over his naked chest and he
lay for a moment, luxuriating in the feeling and the realisation
that her body lay along the length of his, pressed against him, as
she clung to him even in sleep.

He moved his other hand and laid it gently
on the curve of her waist, then ran his palm down over her hip and
thigh. He thought of his cello and smiled into the darkness. His
smile faded when he remembered Alfie. Marek had a lot to feel
guilty about, but until now, sleeping with another man’s woman had
not been one of his sins. Whoever Alfie was, he’d known him for
five years and had nothing against the man, even if he didn’t
particularly like him. Marek had always thought there was something
insincere about Alfie, but he’d put it down to the superficiality
of actors.

Apart from kissing Gwen in the car on
Christmas Eve, Marek had made no attempt to seduce her. His
conscience was clear about that. Even last night, when she’d
indicated she didn’t want to leave, he hadn’t touched her. But he’d
waited to be touched, knew that she would touch him. Whatever it
was between them was strong and it had been strong from the very
start. He could see why, now he knew more about her. She appeared
to be an independent young woman. (How young? He didn’t even know
how old she was.) But that was only half the story. The other half
was the way she held him now, like someone shipwrecked, clinging to
a piece of flotsam (yes, that was a good word to describe him) as
she struggled to stay afloat.

Gwen shifted in her sleep and he felt her
breasts move against his ribcage, her thigh slide against his. He
tried to ignore the stirring in his groin and turned his head to
look at the illuminated display on the clock: 05.30. He should get
her back to Creake Hall before Viv organised a search party. He
twisted so that her head rolled away and he eased himself out from
under her. As she woke, she murmured and clutched at him. He
thought afterwards that he’d rarely shown more self-restraint than
in that moment, when his body had longed to take her again,
half-sleeping. Instead, he stroked her hair and said her name
softly.

‘We need to get up. You have to go back.
Someone will be up soon.’

She moaned and rolled towards him, but he
anticipated her move and shifted across the bed. He switched on the
bedside light and she groaned again, shielding her eyes. He sat up
and looked down at her: her hair tangled; her eyes puffy with
sleep; her forehead furrowed against the light. She was beautiful.
A thought ambushed him:
I don’t get this lucky.
He pushed it
away and bent his head to kiss her.

‘Thank you for my Christmas present.’

She smiled sleepily and stroked the silky
black hair on his chest. ‘You’re very welcome.’

‘I hope it’s not going to be like one of
those single-use cameras. Christmas Day only.’

‘Oh, no. Hours of fun guaranteed. But some
small parts,’ she said, pulling him down towards her, ‘are not
suitable for children under three...’

Gwen

I lay in bed and watched as Marek dressed,
admiring the loose, long-limbed elegance that his work clothes
completely obscured. He caught me watching him and raised an
eyebrow.

‘That’s an appraising look.’

‘I’m a wardrobe mistress. I’m estimating
your inside leg measurement. Force of habit.’

‘Do you want breakfast before you
shower?’

‘No, thanks. I’ll have to do breakfast when
I get back to Creake Hall. I’ll eat some of Hattie’s porridge as an
act of contrition.’ Marek sat down on the edge of the bed and
appeared to study me. I pulled a face. ‘And
that’s
an
appraising look.’

‘I’m a psychiatrist. Force of habit.’ He
leaned forward and kissed me, then said, ‘Gwen... all this has
happened very fast. You might want some time to take stock. I know
you think it’s all over with Alfie and I understand why, but...
well, you might not want to get into something else straight
away.’

I laid a hand on his thigh. ‘I think I
already did.’

‘I’m saying you can back off. I think you’ll
have to, until you’ve dealt with Alfie. And I assume you won’t do
that in Norfolk.’

‘Not unless I have to.’

‘When are you leaving?’

‘Alfie said the day after Boxing Day.’

‘Tomorrow, then.’

‘Is it? I’ve lost track. I know he was keen
to get away as soon as possible. So am I now. All the women in that
family seem devoted to him and that doesn’t seem to be an act. Once
they realise I’ve finished with Alfie, I don’t think I’ll be Miss
Popular any more. It’s not even as if I can tell them why it’s
over.’

‘You’re referring to the false identity
thing, not me?’

‘Yes. It wasn’t really anything to do with
you, Marek. You’re just an added complication.’

‘Give it to me straight, Gwen. Don’t feel
you have to protect my fragile male ego.’

I slid the hand that rested on his thigh
high enough to deter interruptions and continued. ‘It was over
between Alfie and me as soon as I realised he was a fake. I mean, I
don’t expect perfection in a guy, but pretending to be someone
you’re not? I don’t care what the reason is, it’s not OK. And what
reason could there be, but money? You know, I could almost
understand if it was just a part he played at Christmas, to keep
some rich old lady happy. There
is
something of the tart
about Alfie, now I come to think about it. And he’d be the first to
admit it.’

‘That might not be the cause. It could be
the effect of spending your life rôle-playing.’

‘I suppose so... I do like him. I mean, I
did
. We got on really well. But now that I know... Well, the
whole thing just gives me the creeps. I don’t think I could bear
for him to touch me now. Am I over-reacting?’

‘I don’t think so. You’re responding to a
betrayal of trust. And there’s a great deal of trust implicit in a
sexual relationship.’

‘Is that why you told me about your
past?’

‘My past is me. You needed to know.’

‘And Alfie’s past is... completely
unknown.’

‘Not completely. We know that there was
something about his past that made him abandon it altogether for a
past that wasn’t his. A better version, presumably.’

‘Couldn’t he be doing it just for money?
Rae’s seriously rich, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, he could, but I think there’s probably
more to it than that. Is money what Alfie’s about?’

‘No, not really.’

‘What does he want most in the world?’

I thought for a moment, then said,
‘Recognition. To be taken seriously as an actor. As a
good
actor.’

‘Is he good?’

‘Well, he fooled me! And he’s fooled the
world for at least eleven years. So, yes, I’d say he was bloody
good.’

‘So it’s not likely to be about money,
then.’

‘But what else could it be?’

‘There are three motives for human
behaviour.’

‘Only three?’

‘Basically, yes.’

‘And they are?’

‘Love. Loathing. And lucre. If you don’t
think Alfie’s doing it for the money—’

‘Well, maybe he did to begin with, but he
doesn’t need to now. He doesn’t much like the type of work he gets,
but he earns a decent living and he doesn’t have an expensive
lifestyle.’

‘Could he be doing it for love?’

‘Love of whom? Rae? Hattie? Why would he
love them when they aren’t even his family? Anyway, I know he
doesn’t love them. He treats them quite badly really. Hattie’s the
only one he seems fond of. He shows none of them any
affection.’

‘That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s no
love.’

‘I think it does with Alfie. He’s quite an
affectionate person. Demonstrative. In fact, that was one of the
first things I noticed when we got here - how cold he was towards
his sisters. It just wasn’t like him. He didn’t even go through the
motions of brotherly love.’

‘Well, that leaves loathing, then.’

‘As his motive? But who does he loathe?
Frances is a pain in the arse, but he actually seems to like her.
The others are all so kind... and
grateful
to him. And Rae
obviously dotes on him, whether she knows who he is or not. So why
would he loathe any of them?’

‘You’re forgetting someone.’

‘Someone Alfie loathes?’

Marek shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

‘Who?’

‘Himself.’

Marek made tea while I got dressed. I
struggled into my damp shoes and put on my coat and scarf. He
insisted on accompanying me back to Creake Hall with a flashlight.
As it was still dark outside, I didn’t protest.

I followed him down the flights of stairs to
the front door and stood watching while he put on his coat. ‘You’re
coming for lunch later today, right?’

‘That’s the plan.’

‘And when you do, we haven’t seen each other
since I took you home with the cello after the concert.’

‘OK.’

‘I’m feeling horribly guilty. Like a
conspirator.’

‘Gwen, we’ll be the only people at Creake
Hall who
aren’t
party to a massive conspiracy! Are you
ready?’

I lifted a long scarf from a peg and looped
it over his head, then wound it round his neck several times.

He grinned at me. ‘I liked it better the
other way.’

‘You’d better not smile at me like that, or
our cover will be completely blown.’

As he unlocked the front door I suddenly
remembered the first time he’d opened it to me, on Christmas Eve.
As we stood on the top step and he closed the door behind us, I
turned to him and said, ‘Can I give you a word of advice?’

‘ “Out of the mouth of babes and
sucklings...” How old
are
you, Gwen?’

‘You should never ask a woman her age,’ I
replied, following him down the steps.

‘Is that the advice?’

‘No.’ I took his arm and we picked our way
through the snow onto the road where it was clearer. ‘How old do
you think I am?’

‘Older than you look. Younger than you
sound.’

‘I’m twenty-six.’

He whistled. ‘Jesus... I’m
cradle-snatching.’

‘But you have to admit, I’m a very mature
twenty-six.’

‘To the extent that you give advice to men
old enough to be your father.’

‘For all I know, you
are
my
father.’

‘Now there’s a Freudian thought... I make it
a rule never to sleep with people whose names I don’t know.’

‘What a good idea. I think I shall do that
in future.’

‘What was your mother called?’

‘Sasha.’

Marek thought for a moment, then said, ‘No,
I never slept with a Sasha. I’d remember a name like that.’

‘In which case, I can give you my piece of
advice.’

‘Go ahead. I’m braced.’

‘Don’t answer the door to women in your
pyjamas.’

‘I’m
sorry
?’

‘It just isn’t fair. And you can see where
it all leads.’

‘Those grey things? They’re ancient! And
completely shapeless.’

‘But you, Marek,
aren’t
. Just bear it
in mind. You get some very odd people knocking on doors these
days.’

‘In the middle of the night.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Thanks for the warning.’

‘You’re welcome. And about those fingerless
mittens—’

‘Too provocative?’

I nodded. ‘Bit of a double message. Possibly
not one you intend.’

‘It never crossed my mind... It’s a
minefield, isn’t it?’ He was thoughtful for a moment, then said, ‘I
can see a relationship with a wardrobe mistress could have
wide-reaching repercussions.’

‘ “Clothes make the man. Naked people have
little or no influence on society.” ’

‘Who said that?’

‘Mark Twain.’

‘Well, you can’t argue with that.’

As we approached Creake Hall, I started to
feel uneasy. As if reading my mind, Marek said, ‘I’ll come in with
you. Just to check everything’s OK,’ he added vaguely. ‘You’ve got
a key?’

‘I put it in my coat pocket when I
left.’

We stood at the back door and stamped snow
off our shoes. I unlocked the door and we walked into the lobby. As
we wiped our feet, Marek laid a hand on my arm and pointed to a
light under the kitchen door. ‘Someone’s up,’ he whispered.

‘No, I must have left the light on. I was in
an awful state when I left the house.’ His arm went round my waist
and he pulled me against him in a protective gesture. I held on to
him for a moment, then opened the door to the kitchen, blinking
against the light. As my eyes adjusted, I was horrified to see
Hattie asleep at the kitchen table, her head pillowed on her arms.
I turned round quickly to send Marek away but she was already
stirring. ‘Gwen! Where’ve you
been
? I was so worried about
you.’ She sat upright, sweeping her long curls away from her face,
then smiled uncertainly. ‘Tyler! What on earth are
you
doing
here so early?’

He didn’t answer and I watched Hattie’s face
as she reached her own conclusions. It wasn’t a comfortable
experience, for her or for me. Shocked and clearly unhappy, she
said, ‘Does Alfie know? About you two?’

‘There was nothing to know until last
night... I went to see Tyler -
Marek
- because I was very
upset.’

‘I know. I heard you crying when I went to
the bathroom. I thought maybe you’d rung Alfie and had a row. Then
I heard you get up. I didn’t know whether to come and find you or
not. I never know what to do when someone cries. Some people like
to be left alone, don’t they?’ I didn’t answer her question and
Hattie went on. ‘I came down to check up on you, but by the time I
got to the kitchen, you’d gone. The light was on, so I thought you
must have gone out for some fresh air or something. But I was
worried, so I waited... I must have fallen asleep. What time is it
now?’