Ursula's Secret (30 page)

“Now, Lexy. Don’t keep her waiting. She’s exhausted.” Robert held the door back for her, glared at her as she squeezed past him. “Go easy.”

“Leave us, Robbie.”

“But Gran, I—”

“Go.”

Evie had never looked frailer and Lexy was torn between compassion and curiosity, guilt and anger. As soon as the door swung shut behind her grandson, Evie closed her eyes again.

“No, Evie. Please. Don’t sleep again.”

“I won’t. I just don’t want to see your face when I tell you … I’m so ashamed, you see. So very angry with myself for letting him manipulate me into giving him exactly what he wanted. Power. The power to harm those I loved. I’d no idea, of course, hadn’t meant … But I did make the mistake of underestimating him, letting him goad me. No one was ever safe from that man. No one.”

It had been nearly two weeks after Helen’s reappearance and Evie’s face ached from keeping it stretched into a polite smile as she pretended to listen attentively to the admiring conversation around her. If she closed her eyes, she might even believe the tale of heroism, love and loss. But her sharp, clear blue eyes were fixed, frozen, on the recipient of this cloying admiration. Cameron.

She had to admit he looked the part. His features held just the right combination of stoic endurance, devastating loss and handsome helplessness. No wonder it seemed the entire female contingent at the consulate soirée was entranced, almost scrambling over each other to stand alongside, place a comforting hand on the muscular arm that had tried so hard to hold on to his wife as the crashing torrent of the storm-swollen water had dragged her from his loving grasp.

Evie felt sick. She knew only too well how those muscular arms had grasped at his petite wife, leaving livid fingerprints embedded in pale flesh for days afterwards. She’d seen her friend wince with pain as spiteful injuries this loving husband had inflicted took their toll.

“Oh my poor, dear Cameron!” Yet another of the young consulate wives joined the group, almost teetering over on her heels in her excitement to clasp the grieving widower’s hand and gaze sympathetically up into his amused, dry eyes.

Evie could take no more. Murmuring an excuse she knew no one would hear, she stepped back from Cameron’s charmed circle, the enthralled women closing ranks around him as if Evie had never been there.

She stood for a moment, undecided. Should she try to sneak away altogether or was there anyone here she needed to speak to? Her practised eyes scanned the room as if casually but in fact noting everyone who was present and rifling through her mental index to match faces and names to roles and responsibilities. Winston Stanley, chief of police, was entertaining a circle of guests with one of his stories, and judging by the burst of startled laughter, she imagined it was one of his more colourful tales. She wondered what he’d have to say if he knew the truth. His men had been so very quick to accept Cameron’s story and she had to wonder if money had changed hands.

Poor Winston. He tried so hard to stamp out bribery and corruption in his ranks, but she feared he was fighting a losing battle. He certainly was the only chief of police she’d known in all her time in Malawi who still lived in a modest bungalow and whose children went to Mission schools. The only one whose surname wasn’t Chakanaya, although he’d married one. He was a good man, though, and she was tempted to ask for his help. But it wasn’t her place. Helen had made it clear that no one, absolutely no one, was to know.

“Evelyn – how lovely!” Fredi appeared at her side, his appearance as precise and elegant as his command of the English language.

“Fredi, darling!” Evie was genuinely pleased to see the handsome Dane.

“Enjoying yourself, Evie, my dear?” Fredi enquired, a hint of humour just detectable in his soft voice as he leant in to kiss her lightly on the cheek. Evie’s raised eyebrows said it all. “Hmm. Thought not. Come with me.”

With one hand cupping her elbow and the other clearing a path through the chattering masses, he led her over to a pair of chairs sheltered from the worst of the hordes by an ornamental Chinese screen.

He helped settle her into one of them and then beckoned a waiter over.

“Champagne, Evelyn. Never fails to make the truly tedious just about bearable.” Nodding a thank you to the waiter, he took the other seat and raised his glass to her. “To the most intelligent woman here tonight, and the most glamorous.”

Despite herself, Evie smiled. “Fredi, dear, you’re quite ridiculous and a hopeless flatterer. I was a minister’s daughter and am now a doctor’s widow. Glamour is what you’ll find over there.” Her head flicked briefly in the direction of Cameron’s circle.

“Ah yes, the heartbroken Cameron and his coterie.” Fredi’s eyes followed in the direction she’d indicated. “If that’s glamour, I want none of it. But intelligence, wit, charm – I have that in abundance right here.”

“Kind of you, Fredi. But I fear I’m a little under par this evening.”

“I’m not surprised. You must be missing her. You and Helen were such very good friends.”

“Yes. Yes, we were.”

“And Ursula too. In the old days. How the three of you could make even a young man like me blush!”

“We never made you blush, Fredi.” Evie laughed.

“Oh, but you did, I just hid it well. You were quite formidable.” Fredi rolled his eyes and Evie felt her spirits lifting a little.

“Were we? I suppose perhaps we were. Young women never really understand the power they have.”

“Well, that certainly doesn’t stop them using it with devastating effect on a fellow.” Fredi was warming to his theme. “You had us all running around like quicksilver.”

“I’m sure we never did …”

“There was that time you and Ursula—”

A chiming of metal against crystal stopped Fredi’s reminiscences and a hush settled over the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I interrupt your evening for just a few moments, please.” The consul general’s booming voice easily filled the large space. Evie and Fredi stood, straining to see him over the heads of the assembled company. Evie’s breath caught sharply as she saw Cameron beside him. Fredi heard her and took his arm in hers, gently patting her hand in reassurance.

“A few weeks ago one of the worst storms this country has ever seen carved a path of chaos through our lives, and we have all been busy trying to recover and to repair the damage it caused. That night was one few of us will forget easily and one which has left us all more than a little shocked. Not least because of the tragic loss of one of the best-loved members of our tightly knit community, our lovely Helen Buchanan-Munro, and two of her children. Nothing, of course, will ease the pain of the family she leaves behind, but, Cameron, I want you to know that I’m sure I speak for all of us when we say we admire your courage, not only in the heroic attempt to save your family, which put your own life at risk, but also the fortitude with which you are bearing her loss and caring for your boy. Good man. And I’m sure again that I speak for all of us when I say that if there’s anything at all any of us can do to help you and little David through this awful time, we will do it gladly. Helen was always the first to offer help to a friend in need. It’s the least any of us can do.”

Murmurs of “hear hear” filled the room and Cameron, jaw clenched as if to contain his grief, looked up from the floor, nodded and mouthed a thank you as the consul general shook him by the hand and clapped him stoutly on the shoulder.

“May I … could I say a few words perhaps?”

“Of course, Cameron, dear fellow. Of course.”

The room fell completely silent again, expectant faces turned toward the handsome widower.

“I can’t tell you how much it means to me to … to have your support at a time … like this.” Cameron’s voice was taut with emotion, clipped and precise. “Helen meant the world to me, and the children …”

Evie couldn’t help herself. “Oh! How—” Fredi coughed to drown her words as a few people turned to look in their direction.

“I know, Evie, I know. But not now,” he murmured softly, squeezing her hand. She nodded tersely.

Cameron was still speaking. “I will never forget the horror of that night. But it has shown me the strength of the community we have here in Blantyre. The value of good friends and the importance of supporting each other …” His voice cracked. “Thank you.”

The guests clapped loudly as the consul general’s wife stepped in and led the broken man away to a quiet corner. The room was positively humming with the drama of it all.

“A marvellous performance,” Fredi remarked wryly. “He’s in quite the wrong profession.”

“It’s all lies, absolute lies.” Evie’s voice was low and vehement.

“I know, Evie.” Fredi turned to look at her carefully. “I know.”

Her stomach lurched. Fredi
knew
? How could he? She stared at him and waited for him to say more.

“A few of us do, in fact.”

“Really? Know what exactly?” Evie forced herself to keep calm, although her pulse was racing. They’d been so careful.

“How he treated her. The bruises. She didn’t always manage to conceal them completely.”

“Oh. Oh those.” Evie realised her relief that this seemed to be
all
he knew was making her sound dismissive. “Dreadful. Yes, of course. Absolutely dreadful. She wouldn’t say, of course, but one knew.”

“Did she ever—”

“Fredi, darling? Would you mind? I’ve really had enough this evening and would like to go home.”

“Poor darling. Of course. You must be feeling awful, and having to listen to that little display can’t have helped. How thoughtless of me. Shall I take you?”

“Oh, no need for that. I’ll get—”

“I insist. Did you have a wrap? Wait here and I’ll fetch it for you when I ask the desk to send my car round.”

Evie stood by the open verandah door with her back to the throng. She shouldn’t have come. She really wasn’t in the mood for socialising, and had she thought for one moment Cameron would have been parading his “grief” like a medal of honour she’d have turned down the invitation point-blank.

She stepped through onto the quiet terrace, and froze. Cameron was bending over one of the younger consular women and was whispering in her ear, that lascivious look Evie hated on his face. The girl giggled and put a pretty, manicured hand up to her mouth. Blowing Cameron a kiss, she wriggled away, looking back over her shoulder at him before she traipsed back into the reception room through the doors at the far end. Cameron watched her go, then turned to look out over the gardens and saw Evie watching from the other end of the terrace.

“Evie. Watching over me, are you? Been there long?”

“Long enough.”

“We’ve not had a chance to talk this evening, have we? And we, the two people in the world who loved her best, should really be comforting each other, shouldn’t we, at this dreadful time?”

“Should we, Cameron? Looks to me as if you’re not short of comfort this evening.”

“I know. Wonderful isn’t it? Everyone’s being so very, very … kind.” His smile was taunting her and she breathed deeply. She would not give him the pleasure of seeing her irritation.

“Darling Helen. How I’ll miss her.” He placed a hand against his heart, playing the part of mourning husband with blatant insincerity now that his audience had disappeared.

“Really.”

“Oh yes. She was everything to me. To little David. Life simply won’t be the same without her.”

“No, I don’t expect it will.” Evie was seething. How could he? The nerve of the man. Surely he must know that Helen had confided in her? That Evie – and, it seemed, others – had seen the evidence of his brutality.

“Her loyalty, her love. My life will be so empty without it. I can’t bear waking up alone every morning without her there beside me, that beautiful head lying on the pillow, her soft skin touching mine—”

“You make me sick.”

“Evie!” He pouted at her. “Come now, is that any way to talk to a poor grieving—”

“You can drop the act, Cameron. I know. I know exactly how much you loved Helen. Exactly how hard you tried to save her.” Evie hissed as she held him in a steely gaze. He flinched in an exaggerated way, and looked down.

“Oh, I’m hurt! Cut to the very quick! I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do, Cameron. We both do. You didn’t try to save her. In fact, quite the reverse.” Even in the dusky light she could see Cameron’s eyes lose their teasing sparkle and grow dark, but she couldn’t stop herself continuing. “You left her there. And Izzie. Pulled up the gangplank and sailed off to safety. If David hadn’t been down below already, would you have left him there too? Or did you need at least one son and heir to survive? Oh yes, our brave hero. You
really
tried to save her.”

Cameron reached over and pulled Evie towards him, looking intently into her eyes. “How could you possibly—”

“There you are, Evie – got it.” Fredi bustled towards them, waving Evie’s wrap like a flag of surrender over his head. Cameron sprang back from Evie, dipping his head so his face fell into shadow.

“I say, Cameron. Damned sorry, old man.” Fredi nodded briefly in Cameron’s direction as he draped Evie’s wrap around her shoulders. “Shall we leave you in peace? Shouldn’t think you’ll feel too much like socialising. Come on, Evie, old thing. Let’s get you home.” Fredi hustled Evie back towards the nearest doors, leaving Cameron standing silently behind them.

Even with the wrap around her, Evie was chilled. She’d let him goad her and now she could only pray she hadn’t said too much.

Ever since she’d found out that she had, realised the devastating consequences of her indiscretion, she’d lived with the guilt, been unable to forgive herself. Now, lying in her hospital bed, she felt the familiar tears of remorse trickling down her cheeks. She let them run unchecked, grateful for Lexy’s shocked silence, and cursed herself for ever presuming to interfere in the lives of others, and for lacking the courage to confess to Helen that it was she, not Ursula, who betrayed her in the end.

“Miss Shaw? Christopher Chizumu here. Senior partner at Chiz—”