The Philanthropist's Danse (20 page)

“Do you think your friend Mr. Thurwell might have been my Charlie Wells? It was so long ago. I had almost forgotten Charlie. Almost.”

She said it with a quietness that made Larry look twice. She had a naturally kind expression, but there was something else there now. He could investigate later. First, he had to find out if the Canadian man she remembered was Johnston Thurwell. “Do you remember what he looked like? Was he tall or short? What color were his eyes? Tell me what you remember, tell me all of it.”

Winnie nodded, took a sip of a tall glass of water, closed her eyes and started to talk. “He was a good-looking young fellow, quite tall as I recall. I think he might have been a bit shorter than you, but not by a lot. I’m short myself, so anyone taller than 5’6” looks big to me.

Larry squeezed her hand to encourage her. “He had lovely eyes. Light blue, like cornflowers. He was pretty scratched and bruised, but had a good, strong face. He looked healthy, you know. At least I thought he looked healthy enough for a young man that fell off his motorcycle.”

Larry nodded, so far nothing she had said had ruled out Charlie Wells from being Johnston Thurwell. He felt his own excitement grow. “Was he a large man, or slight?”

“Oh, he wasn’t a big man like my Albert was. Not at all. But then I imagine he hadn’t worked the land all his life. He looked fit. He had meat on his bones, as we say in the country.”

Larry was happy with everything he heard. His old friend would have been twenty-nine and facing thirty in 1965. He recalled Johnston had been upset at the approach of his hallmark birthday, so much so that he left his young wife and took off to Europe.

Johnston had told no one about his trip. Larry had only discovered he was gone when he arrived at his friend’s house for a surprise visit and found Julie alone. That was the visit he first allowed himself to get too close to his friend’s wife. That spark would later lead to their affair and her divorce. Johnston never spoke about where he had gone or what he had been doing in his time away. It was a topic those close to him soon learned to avoid if they wished to be spared his temper.

“Did Charlie Wells talk about his wife, or any details of his life back in America?”

“You mean Canada, Mr. MacLean. Remember he told me that he was from Toronto. Not that it mattered, Toronto meant as much to me as Timbuktu. I never traveled. Until I came here, I never even rode in an airplane before.”

He prodded her to answer his question. “I don’t think Charlie was married. He never mentioned a wife and didn’t strike me as the kind of man to have ties. He was a bit wild I think.”

Larry saw the odd look on her face again and did some quick mental arithmetic. Winnie Tremethick had to be in her late seventies, so when she met Charlie Wells she would have been in her early to mid-thirties. It wasn’t impossible something could have happened between them.

“Did your children meet Charlie?”

She shook her head. “My kids left home before ‘65 and my husband died the previous autumn. There wasn’t anyone left but me. Charlie kept to himself. He wouldn’t come to Church on Sundays, never wanted to see anyone. He was quiet. He never even went to the pub of an evening.”

Larry realized she must have had her children when she herself was only a girl. She was living alone on a farm when a mysterious Canadian fell, literally by accident, into her life.

“How long was he with you, Mrs. Tremethick?”

She looked at Larry and her eyes narrowed. “You think your friend and me got friendly do you, Mr. MacLean?” He flushed, it was hard to imagine the elderly woman next to him as a sexual creature forty years ago and he felt embarrassed to have asked. But she was still talking, unaware of Larry. “And what if we did? Would it matter? He was hurt, and I was alone. It’s not so wrong for two people to find some comfort with each other, is it?”

MacLean shook his head, she was right. But if Charlie Wells was Johnston Thurwell, he had been married while he was with the Englishwoman. At the same time, Larry had begun his slow seduction of his friend’s wife. “Tell me what happened, Mrs. Tremethick. When did he leave? I know when Johnston came home but when did he leave you?”

She looked at him with deep sadness. “I drove him away. I felt guilty about falling for another man so soon after Arnold died. I didn’t know what I’d tell the kids if they came home and found another man in their father’s house. He stayed with me until the end of the summer and then we fell apart. It was lovely, but it wasn’t meant to last. He was too young in his heart and country life was too slow. He never said so, but I saw the look in his eyes when we walked the cliffs in the evenings.

“We look out over the Atlantic, Mr. MacLean, but I could see Charlie wasn’t looking at the sea, like I was. He was looking over it, at where he belonged. He was gentlemanly enough to ask if I’d return to Toronto with him, but it wasn’t for me. I had my chickens and the farm. I was born in the village, and I’ll probably die there. It’s all I ever needed.

“I was the wrong girl for him to go adventuring with. One night, right around the start of September, we had some words and then Charlie was gone. There was a tramp steamer in port that week, from France, I think it was. It was gone the next morning, and so was Charlie. I think he just climbed aboard and sailed away.”

She dabbed her eyes with an old handkerchief as Larry watched her and felt the depth of her emotions as she remembered. She looked at him, her eyes red and with a shy smile on her face. “Look at me, a silly old woman crying over something like that. It was a lifetime ago, and it never would have worked. If my Charlie is your friend Mr. Thurwell, I wouldn’t have fit in his world.”

Larry nodded, but wondered if Johnston’s life would have taken the same direction if Winnie had returned to North America with him. Perhaps the man that made a fortune would have made a different life with this simple, honest woman. “Johnston returned home in late November that year. He never said anything about where he spent his time. His wife stopped asking when she realized she didn’t want to know the answer.”

He caught the sharp look from the old woman. “Yes he was married. I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “It was a long time ago. There’s no harm in it now.” He took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Johnston was different after that trip. He was focused, driven. He quit his job before he took off in 1965 and when he returned he started his business and never looked back.”

Larry wondered if that last part was true, his friend had been decidedly different after he came back to his life and his wife. It was time to find out for certain if Charlie Wells was Johnston Thurwell. Larry reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an old black and white photograph he’d found in the library. Pictured were two young men laughing on the dock at the MacLean’s lake house. They had just climbed out of the water, and the camera had captured a pure, happy moment.

It was taken in 1962, it would be close enough for Winnie to recognize if the fellow next to Larry was the man she had met, or not. He saw she was looking at him with nervous anticipation. “Is that a picture of him? May I see it?”

She pulled her reading glasses from her handbag and slipped them on as Larry passed her the photograph. She looked at it for a long time. She said nothing but stared into the picture. Larry was bursting for her to confirm it, but he already knew from her expression that she was looking at Charlie Wells.

Eventually, Winnie looked at Larry as she gripped the image tightly in her aged fingers and whispered. “That’s my Charlie. That’s him, no doubt about it. May I keep this, please?” She traced her finger over the smiling face in the photograph. “I forgot how handsome he was. You both are, two young men in their prime. Oh Charlie.”

She hugged the picture to her breast and tears flowed down her cheeks. Larry was suddenly uncomfortable, unsure if he should try to hug her or hold her hand. He was saved from making a decision by a sharp knock at the door.

Jeremy stood in the hallway with a waiter. Larry had quite forgotten he asked for lunch to be brought up. He stood aside to let the two men in, putting a finger over his lips to indicate they should be quiet. Jeremy understood immediately, as always, and took the tray from the other man and sent him out. He quietly placed the tray on the table and poured a cup of tea for the old lady. He handed it to her without a word, and she took it with a grateful “Bless you, love” and then he was gone.

Larry marveled at the major-domo’s ability to do everything exactly right, every time. He had done the one thing Winnie needed most. He delivered the ancient salve to all English hurts, a hot cup of sweet tea. He watched as she sipped her drink and held the picture of Johnston next to her heart. She was lost in her thoughts, and Larry, having helped her discover her secret, left her in peace.

W
illiam finished a sandwich and looked at the antique clock on his desk. It was time to get the group back together. He hoped the final three would not take long to tell their stories, but he feared it was a vain hope. He knew what Bethany and Philip would say and that it would be unpleasant, but he had no idea what the group’s reaction to what Mrs. Tremethick had to tell would be.

He telephoned Jeremy to gather everyone back in the conference room in five minutes. He picked up his laptop and papers and headed there to prepare for what was to come. He saw no one else on his walk to the conference room. There was a dull drone of conversation from the dining room, but it was nothing like the celebratory sounds he had heard at breakfast.

His guests drifted back into the room. Freddie arrived with Janice and Dennis Elliot, the three of them talking quietly. Junior arrived solo, as did the Judge and Larry MacLean. The others arrived with serious faces. They all wanted the ordeal over with. There was a pause while the guest’s took their seats. William saw Winnie Tremethick’s seat was still vacant.

He was about to ask if anyone knew of her whereabouts when she appeared on Jeremy’s arm. The major-domo helped her into her seat, whispered something in her ear that made her smile, and left. Silence settled as William swirled the remaining three pieces of paper around and picked one out.

“Bethany Thurwell. Beth, it’s your turn.” When he looked at her, she seemed as if she was in physical pain, and he worried about her health. She sat still, not moving, not talking. Everyone waited for her to start and she felt the unbearable weight of every pair of judging eyes on her.

“I can’t do this. It’s not right, I can’t do it.” She blurted the words, her mind frozen with fear. Philip tried to help. “You have to tell us, sis. You have to, or you lose your share. Come on.” She looked at her younger brother. He loved her, she knew. Would he still love her after she shared her secret? Did it matter? She had not loved herself for a long time. What difference did it make that others might not?

William cleared his throat. “Bethany, please. You have to share your secret, or I will remove you.” She looked at the lawyer and knew he meant it. She took a deep breath and told herself the humiliation would pass. She needed her inheritance. It was hers, no matter what her father had thought of her at the end.

Bethany summoned her courage. “It’s not a long story, although the path to how it happened is a long one. I was in a relationship, and it became serious.” Bethany looked at her brothers. They had met and liked Anton.

“Anton asked me to marry him, but I refused. More than once. My father did not care for him and made his opinion very clear. I don’t know why I just didn’t defy him and marry the man I loved, but my courage failed me. Anton asked a third time, and I refused for the last time. I think I broke his heart, he was gone within a few days. He did not return my calls or emails. I sent a gift that was returned unopened.”

Bethany stopped to wipe a hot tear from the corner of her eye. Her hurt was real again and with it came an old anger. “I became angry. Not at Anton, but at father. I should have been angry with myself, but it was easier to be angry at him.

“It wasn’t long after Anton left that I realized I was pregnant. I didn’t know what to do, Anton would not respond to any of my attempts to contact him. The doorman at his building turned me away. I heard he left New York to be with his family in Moscow. I was so angry with father I couldn’t even talk to him about it. So I got rid of the baby.”

Junior and Philip gasped, unable to believe what they heard. Her brothers knew Johnston Thurwell had yearned for a grandchild. He was also a staunch supporter of pro-life groups through his philanthropy. Neither Junior nor Philip shared their father’s views, but understood he would have seen Bethany’s abortion as a cold betrayal. She had aborted his grandchild, the one thing in the world he had desired but could not buy.

Larry looked at Bethany in a new light. He shared his dead friend’s views and felt the same shock that must have torn Johnston Thurwell apart when he learned of it. He saw Beth looking at him, but he didn’t know what to say. She had something she wanted to say, however. “It was his own fault Larry, he never thought Anton was good enough for me, and I lost the man I loved. Why would Anton’s child be good enough, if the father was not?

“It was quid pro quo, Larry. I lost my love, father lost his grandchild. But I ran out of courage and couldn’t tell him. When I next saw him, my anger had passed, and I felt empty and drained. I decided it would be my secret alone. Until this morning, I believed I had kept it safe. I was wrong. When William told us that we each had a secret to share, I knew father had found me out. It’s the only reason I can think of that would make him reject me at the end of his days.”

Even those who listened with sympathy looked at Bethany with discomfort. She had aborted her baby to punish her father. Winnie Tremethick lowered her head and whispered a prayer for Bethany. She believed the girl had mortally sinned and prayed for her soul. Judge Freeman did the same and sat with his eyes closed, deep in contemplation.

Junior was shaken by his sister’s admission. He realized his thoughts on the matter were filtered through his father’s own strong feelings. Now he was faced with the harsh truth of his sister’s actions, he found he couldn’t condemn her out of hand. “You’re right, Beth. The Old Man cut you out of his life for what you did. You know it, and I know it. So now we know why he didn’t want you at his bedside. Me too, I guess. We both betrayed him.”

Bethany looked at him, her eyes filled with tears, but he held up a finger to stop her saying anything. “Wait, Beth. I’m figuring this out. I’m not judging you, I’m not saying anything about what you did, or why. I never will.”

He shrugged as he finished, but Bethany knew it was as close to a selfless act as Junior was capable of and she smiled through her tears, grateful for his words. She looked at Philip, who shrugged. “We’re cool, sis. Just remember that, okay? Forgiveness is important.” She smiled, but didn’t understand what he meant. That would come soon enough.

William decided it was time to move on. He was not interested in hosting a debate on morality or religion. He had business to manage and brought everyone back to the job at hand. “Thank you, Bethany, you will continue. We only have two people left, Mrs. Tremethick and Philip. Once we’ve heard their secrets you may return to the business of dividing the fortune.”

He looked up and was satisfied their lust for a share of the money overrode any moral outrage they might feel, with the sole exception of Winnie. She looked like she had plenty left to say, but William acted to cut her off before things turned ugly. He reached into the pitcher and pulled a name out with a dramatic flourish.

He read Philip Thurwell’s name, but decided he needed to divert the old lady in case she was planning on making a scene.

“Winnie Tremethick. Mrs. Tremethick, it’s your turn.” Winnie looked dazed, as if she had not understood. “Mrs. Tremethick? Do you have any idea yet about your connection to Mr. Thurwell?”

She looked at the lawyer, he had always been friendly, but now seemed stern and businesslike. “Yes, I think so. Mr. MacLean helped me, and we’re sure that we’ve discovered my connection to Mr. Thurwell.” A flutter of excitement went around the table as they leaned forward to better hear the old lady. William was pleased that he had moved the group beyond Beth’s explosive secret. They were all eager to hear the story of the old lady and the dead philanthropist.

“I met Mr. Thurwell in the spring of 1965, by accident. He was traveling through the south of England under a different name, which is why I never heard of your Mr. Thurwell. Mr. MacLean helped me figure it out, he gave me some dates when he and his friend were out of touch and for most of 1965 they never saw each other. Right Mr. MacLean?”

“That’s right. Johnston took off without a word. He told Julie he was going to Europe and left. He just quit his job and went. He returned home at the end of the year, but never talked about where he had been or what he had done. It quite upset your mother, Junior, as you might imagine.”

Junior was silent. He hadn’t even been conceived in 1965, and it was odd to hear about his parents in a time when he wasn’t even a thought. He shot a look of contempt at Larry. He did not want him to mention his mother’s name with such familiarity. Instead, he looked at Winnie. “You said my father was traveling under a different name? Why?”

“I can’t say why. I knew your father as Charlie Wells. I only learned that he was really Johnston Thurwell in the past hour. I can’t explain something I wasn’t aware of, not forty years after it happened.”

William paid close attention to the conversation. In his safe was a yellow envelope with a name written on it,
Charlie Wells
. He would need to look at the contents of that envelope as soon as the next break came. He made a quick note to himself and then leaned in to hear the rest of the old lady’s story.

“I said I met Charlie by accident and that is exactly true. He crashed his motorcycle near my farm, and I found him in a very sorry state the next morning. I rescued him, patched him up pretty good, and he stayed with me until he was healed.”

“So he stayed with you and your family? Is that what you’re saying?”

Winnie looked at Junior, she knew the reason he wanted to know, and she knew she would disappoint him with her answer. She studied him, looking for any family resemblance, but she didn’t see it. Charlie had possessed a strong face with kind eyes and a manly frame. His son looked mean and weak, not at all like his father. “Charlie. Your father, I mean. He stayed at the farm. I was alone, my husband had died, and my children had already left home. I had them young. We didn’t used to hang around, like women do today.”

She shot a sharp look toward Bethany, but Junior interrupted and spoiled her chance to say something. “So you were alone with him? For how long?”

Winnie sighed, she guessed Junior would not care for the truth, but since he was insistent, she’d give it to him. “He stayed through the summer. As he healed and grew stronger, he started to help me out on the farm. I didn’t mind a strong back around the place, and he was good company. If you’re asking if there was more to it, the answer is yes, there was.”

She looked at Junior with unwavering eyes, and he dropped his gaze. His father had cheated on his mother even before he was conceived. It hurt, even though it was ancient history. Larry asked Winnie a question, one she had not fully answered in their time together. “How close were you and Charlie, Mrs. Tremethick?”

She looked at MacLean. She had been shocked at his flirtation and later affair with Thurwell’s wife, only to learn she’d committed the same sin, albeit unwittingly. Still, she liked Larry. He had been a gentleman to her. “Charlie asked me to go to Canada with him. I said I couldn’t and we parted soon after.”

She paused and remembered a late-summer evening on a cliff top. “Actually, that’s not quite accurate. Charlie asked me to marry him and go to Canada. But I had been widowed less than a year, and I had two children out in the world. I couldn’t just pick up and leave. He couldn’t understand why I had to stay, and he was angry when he left. We both said some things we didn’t really mean and they were the last words we said to each other, to my regret. I never saw or heard of him again, until this week.”

Larry whistled and Junior sat back, shocked. The others tried to imagine the old Englishwoman forty years earlier, having an affair with a man that would become one of the richest in the world. It seemed an incongruous match. Junior needed clarification. “You say my father asked you to marry him? But he was already married, to my mother.”

Winnie looked pained. “Yes. I’m sorry, dear. I had no idea he was already married. I didn’t even know he was American, he told me he was from Canada. I’m sorry. I never suspected there was a different truth to what Charlie told me.”

Junior was upset, but it was hard to be angry with the old lady. His father had been the problem. His father had always been the problem. He had abandoned his wife for almost a full year, carried on an affair with a farmer’s widow in England and returned without explanation to start a family. What kind of man had his father been? Junior realized he didn’t know his father, his friends or his siblings as he thought he had.
We’ve all been hiding
, he thought,
none of us are who we seem to be
.

“Is there anything else, Mrs. Tremethick?”

The lawyer asked the question as his own mind tried to absorb the new facts about his dead client. “No, dear. Unless you want me to tell you the details about his accident, I told it all to Mr. MacLean earlier though.”

William decided the details could wait, even though he was intrigued by the details of her story. “Not now, you’ve done what you needed to. We should move on.”

$

William looked at the sole piece of paper in the pitcher. He knew the name on it was Winnie Tremethick’s, but only Philip remained, so he left the paper where it was and invited Philip to speak.

Philip took a long look at Ron Freeman. Philip had already heard everyone else’s secret, but only one had anything in common with his own. He glanced at Camille, his new half-sister. He hoped her confession would be judged worse than his when all was said and done. It was time to find out. “Judge Freeman already told some of my story. He got caught up in it and is sitting at this table now, looking to profit from his involvement. Billy Bird was involved too, weren’t you Billy.” He sneered at the lawyer, who looked back with a blank expression.

“See, the thing is, I did kill a guy. I hit him with my Porsche, and he died. I used my phone call to call Dad, and he called Billy. Billy flew down to see the Judge, and I was sprung and life went on. That’s right, isn’t it, Bill?” Bird made no acknowledgement. He was puzzled and wondered where Philip was going with his story.

“There was only one detail you clever legal minds missed. I know Dad sent you to get me out of a jam Billy, and that was nice of you to get the Judge to see it your way. I don’t know what you said or did, but I appreciate it. The problem is, you keep calling it an accident. It wasn’t. I killed the motherfucker on purpose.”