Nora by Charles J Harwood Chapter 28.1
NANCY pulled up outside Vince’s gates
the next day to see a police car sitting on Vince’s driveway. Her fingers
tightened over the steering wheel. No sooner had she set eyes upon it, the
police car cruised into reverse and made an idled a u-turn. The grille made
steady advance at the gates panels. Nancy’s Punto, like herself, remained still
as though caught off guard. As the combustion’s rumble swelled above the DJ’s
prattle, the shadow of two heads within grew clearer. Neither took her much
notice. The gates permitted their exit. Nancy fondled her device.
Nancy
had almost decided against coming today in fear of what she had become. She had
dished out her treatment to the wrong person. She had served her vitriol to the
wrong ears. Her face flushed at how she could mistake a playboy millionaire for
her mother. It was the limo’s fault. She blamed the limo for everything.
But
the Nora still lived inside of her and at this moment, Nora etched out her life
more than anything that awaited her in Glebe Hollow. Nancy keyed MILLIE and her
Punto edged forwards.
Moments
later, she entered the foyer to see Henry loitering at the desk. He glanced up
from apparent paperwork. ‘Good morning, Nora. You’re a little late today.’
Nancy
twitched a small smile. ‘Good morning, Henry. She unsheathed her coat to drape
it over a stand. ‘Why were the police here?’
Henry
flicked a page. ‘They were just making enquiries about the crash.’ He glanced
up. ‘Y’ know.’
Nancy
gave a small nod. ‘Oh.’
‘I
told them Mr. Jonas wasn’t well enough to be taking visitors today, so they
said they would return tomorrow.’
Nancy
dressed up her anguish in formality. ‘I see.’ She moved for the doorway. ‘Well,
I’d best go check on Mr. Jonas.’
‘Nora.’
Nancy
paused, her stomach tightening.
‘They
wanted to come this afternoon, but I told them…well, I told them he was
receiving treatment. I didn’t want anything to get in the way of the care he is
receiving.’
Nancy
pinched the hem of her skirt between finger and thumb, and the Nora came out.
‘I trust you will be working on the elms today, Henry.’ She proceeded to the
kitchen before he could answer and prepared breakfast. With a tray laden with
toast and orange juice, Nancy cut through the surveillance room. She was
relieved to see Henry gone. Once at the top, she rapped softly on Vince’s door.
A
warm draught caressed her face as she entered. She lowered the tray on the
dresser without looking at him. Slowly she tucked her hand into her jacket
pocket. His mobile phone felt cool in her hand. She placed it next to his
beaker on the tray. Her hands flexed at the prospect of turning; her breaths
grew shallow. She did so to encounter a face, damp and sallow in repose upon
the pillow. His lashes all but concealed his pupils; they lurked within,
surveying her. In ruin he looked more handsome than on that first night at the
Nexus. Nancy clasped her fingers at her front. ‘You might need to use you
phone, Mr. Jonas.’ Her eyes brushed against his. ‘If I am still here in an
hour, I shall return to administer your treatment.’
She
left the room.
Many
times, Nancy had evaded the cuffs. She never imagined seeing them in a place as
this, and she had a choice of grand enclosures to meet her fate. Not the music
room, not the kitchen, the meeting room or the foyer. But the drawing room –
the humblest of all. Big Ben’s sky remained blank, but the sky outside cleared
to a sunny afternoon.
The
security light failed to buzz.
Baffled,
Nancy returned to Vince’s bedroom. His shoulders now rested against the
headboard. His profile appeared asleep. The tray beside him displayed an empty
beaker and half-eaten toast. His phone had not been touched. As she moved for
the door, Vince’s eyelids flickered. ‘I’m ready, Nora.’
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