11
The Blue Door
There was a perceptible change in the weather as the year took a steep nosedive into autumn. The field in which Devereux Towers stood had been scraped bare, the trees and hedgerows fringing the field beginning to turn amber. Despite a log fire crackling energetically in the large grate of the stone Tudor fireplace, the room could not quite shoulder away the growing cold of the evening.
The dining room was large, originally fitted out to resemble some kind of medieval baronial hall, but Laura had attempted to temper the effects of bleak stone with patterned wallpaper, uplifting pictures, thick rugs and functional contemporary furniture that sat uncomfortably in the room. They were sitting on chrome-framed chairs with cushions of brown corduroy, seated at a large oval smoked-glass table mounted on tubular chrome legs, as far from medieval as it was possible to get.
‘I rarely use this room,’ Laura confided. ‘When you’re in it on your own it makes you feel so small, so I usually take my meals elsewhere.’
‘I’m honoured you opened it up for me,’ said Casper, raising a glass of wine. ‘Makes me feel like a regular king. The meal was lovely, Laura.’
‘Now you’re being facetious,’ she said, glancing down at her plate.
‘No, really, I love sausage and chips. How was the cod?’
‘I told you I can’t cook. I was never taught how to.’ Her face looked despondent and her eyes about to fill with tears. ‘I’m sorry, I must be a real disappointment to you.’
‘I’ve told you, I don’t care,’ Casper said. ‘I’m more than pleased that you feel able to let me into Devereux Towers. Sausage and chips was the icing on the cake!’ He wiped his mouth on a napkin and looked about him. ‘It’s very grand. Your father must have poured an awful lot of money into this place.’
She nodded. ‘Too much, one might say. He loved it, but as you can see it is an impractical old thing really. Too cold in winter and costs a small fortune to keep heated. The upkeep of Devereux Towers is quite something, what with all the repairs and what not. That is partly why I only use a small number of rooms; and the fact that I feel I rattle around the place like a marble in a can.’
‘So why not simply sell it?’ he asked. ‘It must be worth a small fortune to the right buyer. Buy yourself something smaller.’
She shook her head vigorously. ‘Oh no, I couldn’t do that, ever. I don’t want to live anywhere else.’
‘But you can’t afford to keep paying out for the old girl, surely?’
‘I have more than enough to live on. There are no worries on that score.’
He nodded thoughtfully. ‘That’s reassuring. Still, if you ever get desperate you can always sell the family silver, eh?’
‘I won’t ever be desperate, Casper.’ She set down her knife and fork. ‘You haven’t really spoken about your wife, even after all this time.’
His expression fell sullen. ‘I’d rather not. It is still extremely painful. You do understand, don’t you? When the time is right, I promise. But tonight is about us, about the future not the past. As they say, the past is a library, not a living-room. I have not pushed for details of your past,’ he added.
‘Forgive me, Casper. It is insensitive of me. And you are correct; tonight is about you and me. When you have finished your meal I must show you around the rest of Devereux Towers. After all, one day you will live here with me.’
He blinked. ‘You know, I never really thought about that. I suppose I will. I rather fancy myself as lord of the manor!’ he said, grinning over his glass of wine.
‘We haven’t discussed a date for the wedding yet,’ she put forward speculatively. ‘I would like to begin to make plans. That is, if it is alright to think along such lines…’ she said. ‘If I am not being too forward…’
‘My dear Laura, if that is bothering you why not say June? You could be a blushing June bride. How does that suit?’
‘Really?’ she said, her eyes lighting up. ‘June next year?’
‘You would prefer sooner?’
‘No, June would be wonderful!’ she burst. ‘June would be just perfect!’
‘There, that’s all sorted then. We’ll make a list of what we need to get arranged.’ He rose from the table. ‘My congratulations to the chef,’ he said, picking up his plate. ‘I never thought chardonnay went with sausage, but now I try it, I find it makes perfect sense!’
‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking this to the kitchen so I can wash up. I take it there are no servants to do that kind of thing,’ he said, glancing theatrically around the room. ‘No, only me, it seems!’
‘You’re my guest. I will see to those.’
He shook his head firmly. ‘I insist,’ he said, collecting Laura’s crockery on the way. He paused. ‘Except I don’t know the way.’
She laughed and led him to the kitchen. ‘Come, put those things down and I’ll take you on a tour.’ She linked her arm through his.
She led him through the many rooms in the main part of the house, most of them being little used, made obvious by the great many dust sheets over furniture. She casually pointed out paintings on the walls, starchy portraits of other people’s ancestors, telling him that she’d no idea who any of them were. Her father had constructed something of an imaginary past, a long line of nameless dukes and nobles who bore no relation to her family but, over the years, Laura said she’d become so accustomed to seeing them that they felt almost like distant friends or relatives. He also collected a good many other things, like vases or fancy pieces of furniture, almost as if he’d been on the Grand Tour himself. He was particularly proud of his collection of tribal artefacts.
Casper was intrigued, so she took him to her father’s study. Even the electric light failed to wash away the dark shadows or inherent gloom of the place. He admired the collection of weapons.
‘Are they really old?’ he asked.
‘Oh yes, some of them extremely old. I don’t like any of it. The masks scare me, the statues are grotesque and devilish, and I hate the spears and the clubs. They were made to kill and hurt people. I sometimes imagine I can still see dried blood on them.’ Casper picked up a long wooden club carved all over with strange creatures and abstract forms. ‘That is a Fijian warrior’s war club, called a bati,’ she explained.
‘I’ll bet this could do some real damage,’ he said, testing its weight and balance.
She gently took it off him and placed it back where it belonged. ‘I’m sure it could.’
‘Why not sell them, if they are so horrible? I’m told such things are beginning to get very valuable.’
‘I couldn’t do that,’ she said with finality. ‘They belonged to my father.’
‘Tell me about him. You never speak about you father.’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I don’t want to. Come, there are more places to see.’
‘All this stuff, it must be worth a small fortune,’ he speculated. ‘He must have been quite well-to-do, to have been able to indulge his passion to such a degree.’
‘Yes, he was. We were. I am.’
She looked at him, expecting some kind of reaction, but she felt heartened when Casper said he knew nothing about antiques or their value, and hadn’t the faintest interest in money. After all, there were far more important things in life than money. What point was there in collecting things when they’d all be given away to strangers when you were dead and gone? Nothing is ever really yours, he said. Even the skin over your bones has to be given up at some point. She said she agreed, but even so one day she must get a valuer in to go over things, if only from an insurance point of view. Yes, he said, being practical that would be a good thing.
‘I mainly live in the tower,’ Laura said, having come to the end of the guided tour of the rest of the building. She took him through a large arched door and up a circular staircase to the first floor. ‘Father always called it Laura’s Tower, after me,’ she said, but there wasn’t a hint of fondness in her voice, just a bald statement of fact. ‘This room belonged to my sister,’ she said, opening and pushing at a door. All the furniture, bed included, was covered in dust sheets. ‘It’s not been used in a long, long time. Not since she died.’
It felt cold, damp and dispiriting thought Casper. ‘I was thinking of wedding guests,’ he said. He saw her stiffen. ‘Who will you invite from your side of the family?’
‘I don’t have any family,’ she said.
‘Not a single person?’
She came to him, touched his arm tenderly. ‘I thought it might be just you and I.’
‘What, no one else? A wedding without guests?’ He shrugged. ‘I guess I never really gave it much thought before. But what about my parents, my brothers?’
‘You didn’t tell me you had brothers.’
‘I’m the better looking!’ he quipped. He saw how agitated she was becoming. ‘Look, let’s talk about that some other time. If you want it to be limited to the two of us, that’s fine by me. Anything to please you.’
Laura closed the door, avoiding his gaze. They passed another door on the landing, painted in blue. Casper paused and pointed. ‘So what’s behind here?’ he said, putting a hand on the handle. It was locked.
‘Oh no, you can’t go in there,’ she said harshly, pulling his hand away. ‘No one goes in there.’
He looked surprised. ‘Sorry, Laura. What have you got in there, dear? A dead body or two?’ He laughed but her frosty expression didn’t melt.
‘No one goes in there,’ she repeated, almost under her breath. ‘It’s not used at all. It’s just a boring, empty old room,’ she said, dragging him away. They ascended the stairs at the end of the landing, to the next floor, Casper casting a last, inquisitive glance back at the door. ‘This room is mine,’ indicating a door but not opening it. ‘And this room is where you will be staying tonight. It used to belong to my mother and father. I always thought it was a little too masculine in its décor for mother, but she never complained at all the dark furniture and drapery or anything. But it will suit you, I feel.’
‘Oh yes, I will feel quite the noble sleeping in here,’ he said upon seeing it. ‘It’s really very nice of you to invite me to stay over like this.’
She looked faintly embarrassed. ‘The bathroom is over there.’ She pointed out yet another door further down the short corridor. ‘It’s basic but serviceable. The hot water is a little temperamental because the old boiler needs replacing. That’s Devereux Towers for you.’
He took hold of her hands, which he noticed were trembling. ‘I know how much it has taken for you to invite me into your home like this, Laura, and I really appreciate it. But if you would rather me leave because it all makes you feel uncomfortable then you only have to say the word and I will leave at once.’
‘Please don’t go!’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’re here. You’ve made me so happy when I thought I would never be happy again.’
He smiled warmly, gave her lips a peck. ‘Good, I am glad to hear it.’
Now it was his turn to look troubled and she read it immediately in his deepening frown. ‘What’s wrong? Have I upset you?’
Casper shook his head. ‘This is hard for me, Laura, because I have something to tell you. Something I have meaning to let you know for a long time now.’
‘I understand. You don’t want to marry me…’ she said.
He squeezed her hand. ‘Not at all! It’s not that. Of course I still want to marry you. Look, there is no easy way to say this so I will have to say it straight. I have been having trouble with a lump.’ He prodded his chest. ‘They say it’s lung cancer. Please, Laura, don’t look like that. Really, it’s nothing. They can work wonders these days and they were quite hopeful for me. I have an appointment at the hospital tomorrow morning to pick up the results of a few tests they’ve been carrying out. I’ll be up and leaving early tomorrow so I could be gone before you’re up.’
Laura’s face had drained of colour. ‘Casper, why didn’t you tell me? That’s awful!’ She suddenly felt very faint, as if her legs had turned to weak rubber and were unable to take her weight.
‘I didn’t want to say anything to trouble you, dear,’ he said, holding her close to him. ‘Not when you look so happy. Don’t worry about good old Casper Younge; I’m built like an ox. I just need to get tomorrow over and done with, that’s all. It’s been preying on my mind somewhat.’
She wanted to collapse and burst into tears, but he made light of the entire thing. It bothered her the remainder of the evening, even though it wasn’t mentioned again. They paused on the landing a few hours later and he kissed her lightly before tramping along the landing to his own room.
‘Please wake me tomorrow if I am not up to see you go. I want to see you go,’ she said.
‘Don’t you go worrying your pretty little head over me. I promise I’ll come straight back after my appointment and let you know the lie of the land.’
He blew her a kiss and closed the door on her troubled face. The room was cool and cheerless, just like everything else about Devereux Towers, he thought. He went over to the long, arched window and looked out. Through the darkness he could see the twinkling of Langbridge’s street lights in the far distance, but little else. A light wind whirled around the tower like a forlorn spirit.
Casper got ready for bed and lay there for a few hours, listening to the eerie noises old houses make at night. Disconcerting clicking, scrapings and scuttling sounds. Eventually he looked at his watch. It was way past midnight. He slipped out of bed, crept to the door and opened it quietly, listening intently. All was still. He padded softly across the landing, paused once to look at Laura’s room, and then went down the flight of stairs to the blue-painted door. He tried the door handle again and it was still locked, as he’d expected. What on earth was in there, he thought? He bent down to the keyhole to see if he could see anything at all.
‘What are you doing?’ Laura said crisply from behind him.
He started at the sound of her voice, looking round to see her black, shadowy form looming over him, the details of her face lost in the dark. ‘Sorry, Laura,’ he stammered, ‘I was looking for the dratted bathroom. I felt sure you said it was down this way.’
‘That’s not the bathroom door,’ she said coldly. ‘The bathroom is that way.’
He passed her sheepishly. ‘Sorry,’ he said again. ‘The old memory is playing up.’ He was conscious she was watching him all the way up the stairs to the bathroom door. ‘I thought you must be asleep,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’
‘I hardly sleep,’ she said, her voice as monochrome as the gloom. ‘I don’t much like the night time.’
* * * *