Page 22 of Old Girls Behaving Badly

‘I meant every word, you know. I think we can help each other,’ she said.

I was about to ask her how she planned to help me, but some of the others’ voices were within earshot again, so I took her hand, gave it a squeeze, and tried not to think about the task before me that was far greater than getting us out of this maze.

I then pulled my phone from my pocket and opened my maps app, zoomed in on our location and, watching the flashing blue dot move, I pulled Dorothy gently to the left.

‘Here,’ I said. ‘We don’t need Leonard’s terrible clues to reach the middle; we have technology!’

The middle of the maze was surprisingly large, and the entire group were already there, proving that Leonard’s clues were hardly tricky at all. His staff had managed to navigate the labyrinth of hedging and deliver a table laden with food and drinks. There were more plastic rose trees and I remembered the game of croquet earlier. Leonard liked a theme; that was for sure.

A huge glass bowl of something that looked like punch sat on one end of the table with a sign next to it – Drink me! Platters of meat and cheese, bread, cakes and fruit covered the rest with the obligatory sign – Eat me! Juliet was crowing over the fact that she had worked out all the clues and wanted to know what her prize was because it couldn’t possibly just be dinner. Leonard smiled, indulgently, and handed her a twenty-pound note from his wallet. She looked surprised at his change in attitude, but then pocketed the money.

This was going to be a meal that I couldn’t get out of, I realised as everyone took their seats. Some jazz music began to fill the air around us from hidden speakers and mingled with the sounds of people piling food onto their plates and glasses being filled. If it hadn’t been for what Dorothy had planned for me, this all might be a lovely thing to do on a warm summer evening, but instead my mind was twitchy and preoccupied. I opened my photos on my phone and began to scroll through the pictures I’d taken earlier while Leonard was safely at the other end of the table. There was so much of the house I had yet to see and probably many places that would be completely out of bounds to me. He could have it hanging up in the attic rooms or hidden in a shed or storeroom somewhere; he may have even destroyed it.

I glanced across at Dorothy who was sitting opposite me on the other side of the table. She had helped herself to some food and was nibbling on a chunk of cheese with slices of apple. She looked like she didn’t want to be there much either and I wondered what would happen if I didn’t find the painting. Dorothy had already said she wouldn’t be able to let it go and move on. She would be consumed with anger when she should really be grieving the death of her husband, but then, wasn’t anger one of the many stages?

When my beloved mother Ellen died, I had eventually been angry. Firstly, though, I’d wandered aimlessly through my days in a haze as dark as the smoke that had filled our house on that terrible night. There was a numbness to my existence with the occasional awakening to grief and guilt.

Ellen was a gentle woman, kind and funny, smart and serious when seriousness was needed. She was appreciated for her work, loved by many, admired by more than just my father and, ultimately, fallible.

It had been eighteen months after her death that I met Douglas. The year was 1980 and I was twenty-eight. My friends had dragged me out in some odd celebration after the successful court case, but I couldn’t feel any sort of victory over the man who had started the fire. How could I possibly? Douglas had been drinking with a few of his own friends and as the pub filled and we had to start sharing tables, I found myself talking to him. To this day I can’t remember what was said – I don’t recall much about that time at all – but I must have thought him nice and friendly, because I married him and had his children. I wouldn’t have guessed that a man who would see me through that terrible time with care and compassion would be able to discard me so easily over forty years later.

I felt a determination settle over me. I would find the painting or certainly find out if Leonard was responsible; then Dorothy could move on with her life.

Harry had arrived and was spooning ladles of the punch into glasses and they were being passed around the table. I declined his offer as he handed one to me, but Leonard had other ideas.

‘Gina, you are more than Dot’s carer here and I’d very much like you to enjoy your time the same as everyone else.’

With all eyes expectantly on me, I took the glass. Then I took a breath and a sip of the drink that Harry handed me, unfortunately at the same time, and as the liquid hit the back of my throat I coughed.

‘Bit strong for you?’ said a voice and I looked up into the eyes of Harry, who wasn’t smiling, but actually, at that moment as the sun made me blink, he looked a little intimidating.

‘A bit strong for everyone, I would imagine,’ I said, attempting a laugh, once I’d stopped coughing. Instinctively I took another mouthful to soothe the tickle that remained in my throat and this time, as the cool liquid flowed down to my stomach and began to flood my system, I got a taste for how potent it really was. Not just fruit punch then. Harry was hovering and put out his hand to take the glass away, but I held it firmly. Everyone else was drinking, apart from Juliet, and I would just have this one. It might help me to relax a bit and perhaps I may have some sort of epiphany about where that painting might be.

For the next couple of hours Leonard held court at the end of the table with stories of his trips abroad. He’d travelled the Trans-Siberian Express and the Orient Express, stayed in lavish hotels and dined in the best restaurants around the world. He’d skied in first-class resorts and sailed on exclusive boats. Everyone was rapt by his tales and, despite myself, even my attention was caught. I’d usually find this sort of bragging incredibly tedious, but for some reason, that evening I didn’t. I drank and ate along with the rest, joined in animated conversations and felt completely relaxed and safe.

As the sun went down and we finally vacated the middle of the maze, Leonard escorted us back towards the house. I stumbled on a tree root poking out onto the path as we walked past the orangery and realised that I must be a little drunk, but no one seemed to notice. I thought back to all that had been discussed that evening, feeling as if I’d missed something vitally important, but my brain couldn’t seem to remember anything that had been spoken about. My relaxed state had evaporated and now I just felt disconcerted.

I saw Dorothy up to her room, but as I headed back to my own, I couldn’t remember whether I’d even said goodnight. One thing I did see before I closed my door, though, was Harry watching me from the far end of the landing where he raised a hand in a funny sort of farewell gesture and then disappeared behind his own bedroom door.

11

DOROTHY

Dorothy opened her newspaper and turned straight to the crossword, her hand poised, pen clutched, ready to storm the first clue. She read it once, twice and then a third time before she folded the paper back and laid the pen down on top. She reached for her library book and read four pages, not really taking in a word before she closed that too and leaned back in her chair. She was thinking about Gina.

She sensed that Gina was holding on to some deep-rooted pain that went further than an imminent divorce. Dorothy was trying to convince herself that by asking Gina to find the painting, she was giving her some sort of validation of her stronger self, but really, she knew she was using her and it wasn’t sitting very well this morning. The trouble was, this meant so much to Dorothy, she was probably going to keep persuading her regardless. What she needed to do was find a way to help the woman and that had to go further than payment for a week of companionship. She liked her, she liked her a lot, and she’d like her even more if she could find that blessed painting.

There was a knock at the door then and Gina appeared with a tray of breakfast things.

‘Morning,’ Gina said brightly.

This surprised Dorothy because if she wasn’t mistaken Gina had been a bit drunk the night before. She walked across the room and Dorothy moved the newspaper and library book so that Gina could lay the tray on the table.

‘You don’t look well at all,’ Dorothy told her as Gina sat down heavily in the chair opposite.

‘I’m not feeling that wonderful to be honest. Whatever was in that drink hit me quite hard. I should never have drunk it. It was very unprofessional of me. God knows what your family thought of the help getting tipsy.’

Dorothy laughed and began pouring the tea from the pot into the two cups. Then she added a lump of sugar to Gina’s and handed it to her.