THE HIGH LIFE [Part 4]

 THE HIGH LIFE    [Part 4]

By Richard Banks        

         The front door opens and shuts and Neville enters the hall and continues up the stairs, followed twenty minutes later by Mildred who’s looking less than pleased to be back. She too ascends the stairs and for a moment the sound of their voices can be heard as she enters their bedroom.

         It’s only half an hour until dinner so I await their arrival in the dining room where the servants are preparing the long table that this evening has only two place settings, one at both ends.  When I was around, Mildred sat in the middle which was very useful for passing the condiments. Today they both have a set each, plus a bottle of claret for Neville. As there’s no glass at Mildred’s end she is evidently on the wagon in the runup to the big day. They arrive in full evening dress and take their seats without exchanging a word. They are definitely not getting on. Could their consciences be troubling them? I do hope so; it's unusual for marital bliss to be fading this soon.

         For now the chances of them saying anything about me while the servants are in the room is next to nil. Their conversation, about the places they have gone and people met, is stilted, an unconvincing attempt to give the impression that all is well; it would be bad form to do otherwise in front of the servants. Coffee is served along with a bottle of brandy for Neville. The servants withdraw. Left to themselves they are even less talkative than before. Neville stares down the table at Mildred and enquires after the baby. On receiving the reply that, “it’s OK, why shouldn’t it be OK,” his face bristles with annoyance.

         “Haven’t been overdoing it, have you?” he asks in a tone of voice that suggests he would rather Mildred had stayed at home.

         “Don’t worry about me,” snaps Mildred, “but then you never do. All you care about is yourself and the baby, and if that turns out to be a girl she’ll get the Gatehouse treatment like the rest of them. And how’s your other sprog, the one you’ve started with that whore at the kennel club. When is that due, five, six months? Well don’t think you’re going to get rid of me as easy as you did   Maddie. I’ll see you in prison before that happens!”  

         Neville looks anxiously towards the door. “What’s the matter with you? Do you want to spend the rest of your life in Holloway, because that’s where you’ll be going if you carry on like this.” He abandons his seat for one further down the table, and speaks in a quieter voice. “No one must know about that, it’s our secret, and as long as it stays that way, and you do what you’re told, the worse thing coming your way will be divorce and a decent settlement. That’s what I offered your sister. If that ever happens I trust you’ll be more sensible than she was.”

         Mildred looks scared out of her wits and I’m almost sorry for her. She signifies her compliance with a terse nod of her head and announces she’s off to bed. She lingers only long enough to say that if Neville intends finishing the bottle she would rather he slept in one of the other bedrooms. Neville replies that it’s all the same to him and watches her leave the room. He returns to his end of the table and pours himself another brandy.

         “Fool!” I say without meaning to, and his head and shoulders shake like they’ve just had an electric shock.

         “No!” he stutters, “it was nothing, you heard nothing. Get a grip, you’re getting as bad as Mildred.” He downs his drink and takes a deep breath before refilling his glass. He’s already the worse for wear. By the time he finishes the bottle, as no doubt he will, he may be too drunk to get up the stairs. Perhaps the same thought has found its way into his addled brain for after a few minutes he snatches up the bottle and staggers out into the hall where he stands at the foot of the Grand Stairway like a mountaineer about to undertake a perilous ascent. With one hand clutching the brandy and the other tight on the bannister he reaches base camp on the first floor landing, but, instead of turning into one of the bedrooms, he continues along the corridor to his study. I follow him in.

         I have always wondered what he did in his study. Not studying, that’s for sure, unless it’s the Racing News; as for estate business, that’s handled by the office staff in one of the cottages. So, now the great mystery is to be revealed. But mysteries, once known are usually disappointing and the sight of girly magazines on his desk are no more than I expected. However, he hardly glances at them, so that’s not why he’s here. Behind his desk is a sideboard on which he leans before reaching up to the painting above it depicting a number of under clad nymphs cavorting by a waterfall. A first I think he’s trying to grope the one left of centre, but then he steadies himself, takes a firm grip on the frame and swings it and the picture away from the wall to reveal a safe. It has a dial which he twiddles back and forth, and, after a good deal of cursing, the safe is opened. It’s full of money, fifty pound notes, and a metal box which he takes back to his desk. Inside there’s more diamonds than days in a month. These are good quality diamonds and I should know; being a former Lady Frampton I’ve seen plenty, both around my neck and those of other titled Ladies.

         So why are they here instead of in the office safe where my own jewels are kept? Could they be connected to Neville’s trips to South Africa? His explanation that he visits an old school friend was never very convincing, especially when friend Kevin sometimes became a Keith after a drink too many. He’s definitely up to something and, as Neville thinks that the normal rules of life don’t apply to him that ‘something’ is likely to be on the wrong side of the law. He separates out five stones and places them in a small, linen bag that he puts in the briefcase he takes to London.

         All this is giving me food for thought. I have the glimmer of a plan but if Neville’s off to London tomorrow he’ll be missing until Sunday evening. But no matter, that still leaves me two days to do what I must. He will get everything he deserves but Mildred, I’m not so sure. The bitch is as guilty as Neville, but she is my sister, my flesh and blood, and what’s more she’s expecting a baby who’s never done me any harm. Suddenly, a few days thinking time and two for ‘the doing’ seem about right.

           Neville returns the rest of the diamonds to the safe which he closes and locks by scrambling the dial. He puts back the picture while leering drunkenly at the nymphs. Then he’s off, along the corridor and into one of the guest rooms.

         I leave him to it and visit my darling girls in the Gatehouse. They’re asleep of course and I watch their shallow breathing until I too fall asleep. Being a spirit, especially one on a mission, is a tiring business and by the time I’m awake they’re up and being readied for school. I watch them go and want to follow but can’t; there’s an invisible barrier I can’t breach. I have the run of Frampton and its grounds but not one step beyond.

         So its back to the house where Neville and Mildred are having breakfast during which he announces that he’s off to London and will be staying at his club. Mildred asks if he will be taking his whore with him and Neville says don’t be ridiculous and that he will be back on Sunday. Mildred says she can’t wait, and on gulping back her coffee hurries out of the room. She’s scared, no doubt about that, but also jealous, and if she’s not feeling guilty about what happened to me she darn well should be! As she passes my picture on the stairs she shudders and almost stops before hurrying up the last few steps that right-turn into the first floor corridor. She’s in tears. Too late for that, I’m thinking. She must be punished, she deserves to be punished, indeed her punishment seems to have already begun. But I won’t feel sorry for her, it’s not just my life she has blighted.

        

[To be Continued]

 

Copyright Richard Banks