The Madman's Room

Francis and his sister looked surprised, in a different way from Paula. Sarah put down her glass and rushed to embrace the newcomer:

‘Well, we certainly didn’t expect this,’ she said, her eyes sparkling.

Francis, who had come over to shake Patrick’s hand, said with a wink:

‘You old rogue. You kept it to yourself the last time we met.’

‘Bessie and I had decided to keep it a secret,’ said Patrick lamely.

Francis looked enquiringly at Bessie:

‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Several months… but I seem to remember telling you about it.’

‘That’s right,’ he acknowledged. He turned to Paula, who was still rooted to the spot. ‘Darling, aren’t you going to congratulate your old chum? Don’t just stand there.’

‘It’s — It’s the emotion,’ she stammered, trying to recover from the shock of seeing Patrick.

Her mind was a mass of contradictory feelings. She saw Patrick coming towards her, relaxed and smiling and nearly slapped him when he said:

‘Paula… how long has it been since we met? One year? Two? Let me think…Yes, it must be two years since you left Padstow.’

It was all she could do not to bite him, a sentiment which increased as he leant towards her in a falsely fraternal embrace. And the comedy continued:

‘Let me look at you… You haven’t changed a bit.’

Whereupon, Francis introduced Patrick to Brian and Meadows — the latter tight lipped, for he had not appreciated the way Sarah had rushed to greet him — and explained how he and his sister had come to know Patrick.

Half an hour later, the evening was in full swing, thanks in no small part to the punch which had coloured everyone’s cheeks. White Camellia had got a grip of herself and presented the happy face of one glad to have met a childhood friend again. Bessie, holding tightly to her fiancé’s arm, smiled frequently at Meadows, who smiled back tensely. The doctor, who seemed to be lacking his customary verve, seemed to have been taken aback by events. Patrick was undoubtedly the centre of attention and Sarah, who seemed transformed, hung on his every word, reliving the good old days of the Padstow cove as if a breath of youth and gaiety had brushed the dark thoughts from her mind. The same change had seemed to come over Brian, who found in Patrick an attentive listener.

Needless to say, Paula was asking herself a thousand questions, notably whether Blue Reed’s visit to Hatton was entirely a matter of chance. Nevertheless, she played the game.

‘It’s incredible, Patrick, I can hardly believe it,’ she prattled, her fluttering eyelashes only partly concealing her malicious stare. ‘Incredible. Are you planning to stay a while?’

Patrick cleared his throat and was about to answer when Bessie interrupted:

‘Mother and I will be taking care of him for three weeks,’ she declared, with a radiant smile. ‘Maybe four. Isn’t that so, darling?’

Sensing White Camellia’s eyes upon him, Blue Reed agreed with a distinctly embarrassed air.

16

Bessie and her fiancé were invited to a bridge party two days later, but only Patrick turned up, Bessie having come down with a cold. The early October evening was cold and wet and he entered quickly when Mostyn opened the door for him.

The manor’s game room was vast and full of heavy furniture. Only the chandelier above the large central table was lit, leaving the billiard table in semi-darkness. Near the fireplace where a cheerful fire was crackling stood three armchairs, probably for players awaiting their turn.

The cut of the cards paired Blue Reed and White Camellia, Sarah and Mike Meadows, and Brian and Francis — a fairly balanced result, given that Francis was an experienced player and Brian, despite his Tarot expertise, was a neophyte. Ordinarily, he only participated to make up the numbers — and then only if pressed to do so — for he believed that cards had a higher purpose. That evening, curiously enough, he’d turned up voluntarily and raring to play.

Whilst the first four were taking their place at the table, Francis and Brian sat by the fire while the expert gave the novice some advice. It must have paid off, because two hours later they had a handsome lead over the other pairs. Patrick claimed it was only because they’d had good luck with the cards. Meadows agreed:

‘When Francis is on one of his lucky streaks, it’s best to be his partner.’

Patrick gave a sympathetic smile, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Brian seemed happy, but he seemed to be the only one. Francis, looking thoughtful, dealt the cards, while Paula sat quietly with her head down. Meadows, after looking at his watch, went over to the fireplace to join Sarah. He murmured some words in her ear, but she sat motionless in her armchair staring into the distance. Patrick found her unrecognisable: he’d never seen her like that. With her haggard appearance, empty stare and deathly white complexion, she looked as if she belonged in Madame Tussaud’s.