Page 53 of Old Girls Behaving Badly

While his eyes were closed, I took a moment to look at him. He had dark shadows under his eyes, and what could have been loosely called designer stubble yesterday had gone beyond that and his fingernails were bitten down to nothing.

‘I spoke to Harry. I think he’s on the brink of doing the right thing. Well, he’s on the brink of leaving.’

‘That might well be the best thing for Harry to do. Leonard would never send him on his way with a reference anyway, so maybe disappearing and starting over is as much as can be expected. I wish him all the luck.’

‘Are you okay, Peter?’ I asked sitting down next to him. The metal bench was cool on my back through my blouse and with the garden being sunken and shaded from the sun, it was welcome.

‘I’m tired,’ he said. ‘I’m very tired.’

‘Just got tomorrow to get through and then can you take a break, a holiday perhaps? Is there a Mrs Vicar?’

Peter laughed then, a dry hollow sound that came out through closed lips.

‘A holiday and a Mrs Vicar. How wonderful those two things sound, but sadly I have neither time nor inclination.’

I wondered which he didn’t have time for and which he didn’t have inclination for, but I brushed it aside as none of my business. I was about to tell him about Leonard’s secret room and how I felt we were only a coastal scene away from justice, when Leonard himself appeared in front of us, walking down the steps into the garden.

‘Well, this looks cosy,’ he said.

He had a glass of champagne in his hand and appeared a little drunk as he slurred his words and swayed on the bottom step.

‘A companion who never seems to be by the side of her ward and a vicar who likes⁠—’

‘Leonard, are you okay, old chap?’ Peter said standing up and moving forward to the steps. He caught hold of Leonard’s arm and steered him towards the bench. ‘Sit down before you fall down. I think the sun has got to you.’

Leonard did as he was told, but poured the remaining liquid down his throat before dropping the glass to the ground where it broke in two.

‘Gina, do you think you could get something to put the glass in, my dear? I don’t want any of the children here to hurt themselves,’ Peter said.

‘Of course,’ I said, quickly walking back towards the steps. When I reached the top I glanced back and could see that Leonard had his head in his hands and Peter was standing over him, actually towering over him. He was saying something that I couldn’t hear, but the tone was urgent and angry. Peter no longer looked tired; he was animated.

By the time I came back with some newspaper I’d found in a kitchen cupboard and a dustpan and brush, Leonard and Peter had gone. I cleared up the glass then sat back down on the bench. I had so many thoughts swirling around my head, but couldn’t get a grip on any one of them. What was Rufus involved in and who was blackmailing whom? Who was with Leonard in his compromising video? My mind automatically went straight to sex, but really it could be images of theft. Perhaps there were compromising CCTV images of Leonard and Harry, stealing.

I decided that it was time to go and get those tissues that Dorothy requested.

A team of catering staff had arrived to get the food out for the garden party. Harry had already done a lot of the work, but it was too much for one person to do completely. Now there were about fifteen staff hurrying back and forth from the kitchen and out to an area set up for serving. It was basically a long trestle table covered in white linen and under the shade of another gazebo. There were bain-maries to keep the vegetables warm and portable ovens for the salmon en croûte.

For now, people were still walking around the gardens, drinking and chatting. They weren’t quite ready for lunch as waiting staff with sliver trays of canapés were still circulating. Dorothy was where I had left her, still in her seat, but now talking to a couple. Yvonne and her pink hat had disappeared. I raised a hand to Dorothy and she waved back and then offered me a thumbs up. Leonard could just be seen quaffing more champagne, surrounded by guests all seemingly enraptured by whatever he was saying. He wasn’t swaying now, but only because he had his back against a hedge. Peter was nowhere to be seen.

I walked quickly around to the main entrance, through the front door and straight up the ornate staircase. I was into Dorothy’s room in moments and with the packet of tissues in my pocket, I was across the landing and up towards Leonard’s personal staircase. I felt a sense of liberation at last. Leonard was too drunk to get here anytime soon and everyone else was enjoying themselves in the garden. Besides, I wasn’t sure how much I cared now. Let someone challenge me on what I was doing. I was only one secret oak panel away from my own challenge. Let the house of cards fall where they may.

I stopped in Leonard’s bedroom doorway and stared at his perfectly made bed. Unwanted images of him in so-called compromising positions came unbidden into my head, but I laughed them off. One thing Leonard was, was a grown man and his sex life – as long as it was consensual – was absolutely nothing to do with me.

I took my time to scan the room. The last time I had been in here, I was flustered and felt under pressure to look and then leave as quickly as possible. Now, though, I just looked. My eyes moved across his bed and that beautiful crewel-work embroidery, over his wardrobe, his chest of drawers, the paintings on the walls, those huge drapes and back to the Chinese cabinet.

Walking over to it, I pulled the handles the same as I had last time and the same as before, it was locked. Then I began to really rummage. I opened his bedside drawers, slid my hand under his pillow, crouched down and looked under the bed. I checked his bathroom cabinet, lifted vases to rattle them, picked through trinket dishes with coins and rings. I stopped and stood still again. I let my eyes roam once more and then they fell upon one of the paintings with an unsympathetic frame around it. The picture was a modern print of a coastal path. Nothing like the one I was looking for, but the frame was odd. It was an overly large, ornate, gilt frame, which didn’t at all go with the picture. But more than that, the bottom of the frame looked slightly deeper than the top. I walked over to the window and looked outside. Leonard had a perfect view of most of the parterre garden from here and I could see him still talking to the group.

Back in front of the picture, I ran my fingers along the frame. The left-hand side felt different to the right and as I fiddled with that edge something popped under my touch and a slice of the frame fell into my hand. Behind it was a tiny key, stuck into the recess. A tiny key that likely opened an antique door on an old piece of furniture.

Without much thought, I pulled it away and walked back to the Chinese cabinet, stood for a second at the side of Leonard’s bed, looking at the door, my heart now pumping faster. I leaned over his covers, pushed the key into the lock and turned. I held my breath as I pulled open the two doors and peered inside. What was inside made me jump. A stuffed bird stared back at me with one beady eye; the other was missing. It was the worst case of taxidermy I’d ever seen. There was nothing else, no painting, and I allowed myself a full minute for the utter disappointment to flow through me as I stared at that ugly, bloody bird and the terrible job someone had done on it. Then I closed and locked the doors, returned the key, slid the piece of frame back into place and left Leonard’s bedroom.

I walked back down the landing so lost in my despondency that I almost didn’t hear the noise coming from Leonard’s office. I hesitated outside the door, listening to the definite sound of drawers opening and closing, and of rummaging. I knew the sound very well after my own exploits for the last ten minutes. I knew Leonard was still in the garden – I’d just seen him – so I decided to open the door and catch whoever was in there. It went against everything I knew to be right and sane, but let’s be honest, that ship had sailed at the beginning of the week when I first started invading Leonard’s privacy.

The handle was cold under my grip, but as quietly as I could, I turned it, pushed the door open and found Peter with his hands in Leonard’s drawers.

‘Peter!’ I said, completely surprised to see him there.

‘Gina, thank goodness it’s you. This is not what it looks like,’ he said. ‘Actually, who am I trying to kid, it’s exactly what it looks like. Leonard has something of mine and I’m trying to find it.’