Nancy stalked
through the foyer, passing the oak desk and found herself within a meeting room.
Terracotta floor tiles glimmered at the foot of a large recessed fireplace
fashioned from, she reckoned, the stones of the original chapel. In the centre,
two leather corner suites enclosed a glass coffee table. Nancy half-expected to
see ropes skirting the walled areas. But no, she was free to gaze at and to
touch modern art credited to weird names such as de Kooning, Chagall and
Albers. Brash colours, knotted figures and symbols. She didn’t like them
perhaps because she didn’t understand.
Through
an Edwardian-style window, she spotted Henry strimming a box hedge. A hiss of
air caused Nancy to turn. The pinnied housekeeper drew a cloth in large sweeps across
the glass top. A student perhaps or a traveler paying for board. She busied in
her task taking pains not to engage. Nancy could see herself in the housekeeper:
young and unaware. He had tracked his
finger along her arms, her waist, at her throat. At the crease, Nancy, it’s all
about the crease.
Nancy
broke the spell. ‘Er…excuse me.
The
housekeeper’s jade eyes flicked towards her in surprise.
‘I
don’t mean to disturb you. I’m Mr. Jonas’ nurse. Do you happen to know where
the keys are kept?’
The
housekeeper gazed upon her from a cloud of guilt. She reminded Nancy of a bird.
‘The keys?…er...’
The
cosmopolitan cadence; French, Nancy decided. Nancy attempted to put her at ease
with a small smile. ‘I’m rearranging Mr. Jonas’ room. My name is Nora Clements.
I am the appointed nurse here.’
The
housekeeper’s mirroring smile emerged bemused. ‘I am Naomi Siddoux.’ She
pointed to a door adjacent to the fireplace. ‘The keys…they are in the kitchen,
beneath the pantry. The box is usually locked but I think Henry has left it
open while he does the lawns.’
Nancy
nodded. ‘Naomi, do you work on daily shifts?’
Naomi
straightened herself. ‘Weekdays, yes. Judith does the laundry on Fridays.’
Nancy
adopted a tone she would have believed herself. ‘You may be aware that Mr.
Jonas will be away in a few days time. He has left it to me to oversee things
here, so you might as well take a week or so off. I would like you to convey
this message to Judith.’
Naomi’s
finely-shaped brows lifted. ‘Oh.’
‘Once
you have finished your task here, you may as well go home.’
Naomi’s
expression brightened as the news sunk in. ‘Yes, thank you, Nora…Miss.
Clements.’
‘Please,
it’s Nora. Have a lovely weekend.’
Naomi’s
dusting hand geared up a notch on resuming her task. ‘Yes. You too, Miss…Nora.’
Nancy
took a tour into the kitchen and remembered she had left her satchel bag
upstairs. A spacious square room bearing a grand chimneybreast and lintel forming
the reverse side of the meeting room’s fireplace, the kitchen would have suited
any celebrity chef. A large circular window overlooked lawns sloping to a pond
nestled within a copse. Distressed pine chairs enclosed a block of Venetian
marble with overhead hob. Cabinets boasted wine, spices and condiments of every
description. A Rayburn stove provided a warm glow for the occupant of a nearby
rocker.
Nancy
strode across the oak floor to find a recess on the other side of the chimneybreast.
She glanced at the window just in time to see Henry move to the rear of the box
hedge with his strimmer.
A
grey metallic box hung from a panel. Her fingers did a meander of the bronze
cuts; FF room 1, FF room 2, FF room 3 and FF room 4. First Floor? Nancy
unhooked all four keys and put them in her pocket. An overhead utility light
buzzed on; motion-sensored, likely.
Before
her, the passage opened out into a wide nook. A fisheye view of Lime Tree Drive
lit up the gloom. Next to it, a patch of grass at the foot of the Vince’s mighty
gates. A view of a Lakestone garage and lastly the lawns looking down to the
copse completed a two-by-two grid composite image. Nancy approached the monitor
presenting these four views. Nancy could picture herself within the upper left waiting,
her satchel bag swinging at her side and cogitating over tea and biscuits. Amy
must have been spinning on her swivel seat at the sight.
On
the wall facing the desk, she noticed a security panel bearing a grid of
numbers and a speakerphone. Nancy tracked the raised buttons with her index
finger which came to rest upon a silver square. She guessed the button would
either open the gates or open communications with the person outside. Either
way, she couldn’t determine yet. All four views appeared motionless, which was
what Amy no doubt preferred. A star-shaped green button drew her eye: ‘gate
override/ gate automatic.’ Her brows drew together at this obscurity and the
tip of her index finger did a few circuits before depressing. A red light
came on. Nancy quickly depressed and the red light went off.
Within
a palpitation surge, her hands grew hot. She unfastened the top button of her
mandarin collar which suddenly felt tight. She closed her eyes and took a
breath. An afterimage of the four-square composite pressed upon her eyeballs. On
the lower right, she saw the huge Cycloptic bin-liner resting upon Vince’s lawn
waiting to take her back to the night side of the train station. She shouldn’t
be here. Vince had not recognized her. She shouldn’t be here. She could no longer
recognize herself. Nancy pushed the chair from beneath her and a whimper
escaped from deep within her throat.
To
her right, she noticed a door. In desperation, she stepped towards it,
simultaneously depressing the handle. A cool breeze wafted over her face on
finding herself back in Vince’s foyer. She stepped through and allowed the door
to drift back towards its moorings and clicking shut. No doubt, Amy would have
taken this access point beneath Vince’s stairs in her surveillance duties.
Nancy
straightened her collar and walked towards the foot of the stairs. She could
see herself pressing that little green button when it suited her. Nancy
ascended the stairs once again. She returned to Vince’s door. FF2 had turned
out to be the missing piece. She entered Vince’s room.
