A Place of Hiding

“I’ll do that with the police,” Ruth said. “If he’s taken something—”

“You’ll make excuses for him,” Margaret said bitterly. “Of course you will. You make excuses for everyone. It’s a way of life for you, Ruth.”

“We can talk later. If there’s more to say.”

“You’re not keeping me out of there. You can’t.”

“That’s true. But the police can. And they will.”

Margaret’s back stiffened. Ruth could see that she knew she was defeated in this but was searching for a final comment that would illustrate everything she had suffered and was continuing to suffer at the hands of the contemptible Brouards. Not finding it, however, she turned abruptly. Ruth waited till she heard her sister-in-law’s footsteps on the stairs. When she joined the two constables and Paul Fielder in the morning room, she gave the boy a tender smile. She said, “Sit down, dear,” and to the constables, “Please,” and she indicated two chairs and the sofa. Paul chose the sofa, and she joined him on it. She patted his hand and murmured, “I’m terribly sorry. She gets over-excited, I’m afraid.”

“See here. This boy’s been accused of stealing—”

Ruth held up her hand to stop the constable. She said, “I expect that’s a figment of my sister-in-law’s feverish imagination. If something’s missing, I don’t know what it is. I’d trust this boy anywhere in my house at any time. With all my possessions.” To prove her point, she returned the rucksack unopened to the boy, saying, “I’m only sorry for the inconvenience to everyone. Margaret’s terribly upset by my brother’s death. She’s not acting rationally just now.”

She thought that would put an end to everything, but she was wrong. Paul pushed the rucksack back at her, and when she said “Why, Paul, I don’t quite understand,” he unfastened its clasps and pulled out a cylindrical object: something that rolled into itself. Ruth looked from it to him, puzzled. Both of the constables got to their feet. Paul pressed the offering into Ruth’s hands and when she didn’t quite know what to do with it, he did it for her. He unrolled what he had and spread it upon her knees.

She looked at it. She said, “Oh my dear God,” and suddenly understood. Her vision blurred, and in an instant she forgave her brother everything: the secrets he’d kept and the lies he’d told. The uses to which he’d put other people. The need to be virile. The compulsion to seduce. Once again she was that little girl whose hand had been clutched in her elder brother’s. “N’aie pas peur,” he had said. “N’aie jamais peur. On rentrera à lamaison.”

One of the constables was speaking, and only dimly was Ruth aware of his voice. She dismissed a thousand memories from her mind and managed to say, “Paul didn’t steal this. He was keeping it for me. He meant me to have it all along. I dare say he was holding it till my birthday. Guy would have wanted to keep it safe. He would’ve known Paul would do that for him. I expect that’s what happened.”

More than that, she couldn’t say. She found she was overcome by emotion, staggered by the significance of what her brother had done—and the unimaginable trouble he had gone to—to honour her, their family, and its heritage. She murmured to the constables, “We’ve caused you great trouble. I apologise for that.” It was enough to encourage them to take their leave.

She remained on the sofa with Paul. He eased over next to her. He pointed to the building that the painter had depicted, to the tiny workmen who were labouring on it, to the ethereal woman who sat in the foreground, her eyes lowered to the enormous book in her lap. Her gown spread round her in folds of blue. Her hair swept back as if touched by a breeze. She was every bit as lovely as she’d been when Ruth had last seen her more than sixty years ago: ageless and untouched, frozen in time.

Ruth felt for Paul and took his hand in hers. She was shaking now, and she couldn’t speak. But she could act, and that was what she did. She brought his hand to her lips and then got to her feet. She motioned for him to come with her. She would take him upstairs so that he might see for himself and completely understand the nature of the extraordinary gift he’d just given her.