Hide-and-Seek
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When the light was on, I found myself in a room full of countless things covered with dust that had clearly been here for a long time.
“The chest’s right there,” Benny said and pointed to the corner. It was the chest all right.
“Do you mind if I look around here myself, Benny?”
“No problem, sir. I’ll just be around the corner.”
After he left, I came closer to the chest. There was no lock on it. I opened it.
It was empty.
My knees became weak, and I had to find something to sit down on. Luckily, there was a carton box next to the chest that looked strong enough to bear my weight. It was also dusty, but I didn’t care. I sat down and tried to breathe evenly. I didn’t want Benny to see me being emotional over nothing.
How could I fall into that? My brother couldn’t possibly have been in that thing. I was so stupid coming all the way to this place. Was this all because of “the lack of closure on Charlie’s disappearance” as my therapist had once put it? My family and I had always hoped that we would see him again one day or, at least, know his fate. Hope was a dangerous thing. It could drive one mad.
Once I was able to gather my wits, I started to think. What had happened to my stash? It couldn’t have just evaporated with the bag it was in. Was it the staff that had over time helped themselves to some recreational drugs at my expense? Perhaps it had been the rodents that got to it after all. Well, I hoped those furry bastards, as Benny had eloquently put it, had died high.
Chapter 8
Back in the library, I was having another drink, still feeling stupid but relieved at the same time.
“Do you also think I’m a fool?” I asked the fox. It didn’t dignify me with an answer but kept staring at me. “It’s the stupid legal high. That’s what it was.” More unanswered staring.
Well, I could focus on making money again.
Like many families with big estates, we went through some tough times, but we did our best to hold on to our land for as long as we could. It took me a while to convince my parents, especially my father, who still lived in France, to consider the housing project, after our tenant who ran the pig farm died. The land had belonged to his side of the family for a few generations. The idea of having cottages full of strangers on our land didn’t sit well with my father at first, but he reluctantly agreed when I told him that it would be for the good of the local community because it would create some long-term jobs for the locals. I suspected, though, that the real reason was that they had given up on me getting into a meaningful relationship that could lead to forming a family and having children. Ergo, no need for a lot of land which wasn’t making any money.
Harry came in.
“Did you find what you were looking for, sir?” he asked.
“Yes, Harry,” I said, standing up. “I think I did.”
“Would you like to have some dinner, sir?” Harry asked, picking up the tray with the whiskey pitcher and my glass.
“I would actually. Could we make a sandwich or something?”
“I think we could do better than a sandwich, sir.”
“Sounds amazing. Will you join me, Harry?”
“If you wish, sir. I’m afraid the dining room is empty at the moment, though.”
“The kitchen will do just fine,” I said.
***
I decided to stay at the house for the rest of the weekend. I figured that once I was there, I might as well do something useful. I received a few inquisitive phone calls from Natasha who had tried to invite herself to the house. She had known that I had not visited the place in years and had gotten extremely excited at the opportunity to finally see the place. I had told her that there would be another chance and had promised to take her out when I was back in town. She hadn’t said much, but I had sensed that she had been disappointed.
I saw my mother was trying to call me but decided not to answer. I hadn’t been in touch with her for some time and I didn’t know how to explain why I had come to Maple Grove House. I wasn’t in the mood to make up some excuses and decided to call her back in a few days.
I spent most of my time walking in the park reminiscing about the good old days and checking the place I had intended to use for my construction project. The park with its old trees, wooden benches and neatly mown grass was as splendid as I remembered it. It almost made me reconsider for a minute what I was going to do with a sizable chunk of it. It also reminded me of the time when we were looking for Charlie and I felt a twinge of hostility towards it as if it was its fault that my brother had disappeared. In the end, I felt that bringing more people to this place would bring new life and positive energy. It had been deserted long enough. I wondered what my predecessors would think about all that, though. Would they turn over in their graves on the other side of the park? The thought made me smile. Perhaps for the heir who I was going to become one day, the right thing to do was to keep the place intact as it had been created by the previous generations. Somehow, I didn’t feel enough connection with the past for it to be an obstacle in my decision-making. Did that make me a bad owner or a pragmatic businessman? If one wanted to create a future, one had to let go of the past. I had read that on some street poster somewhere. I thought it wasn’t such a bad idea.
As for the house, it felt empty and cold without the people and things I remembered as being part of my childhood and adolescence. To feel a bit more comfortable, I asked Harry to have some of my clothes and toiletries delivered from town, and once I’d purchased some wine in the village, it almost felt like I was having a weekend out in the country. I almost felt like calling Natasha and inviting her over but decided against that.
Harry and Danny kept me company during meals. I could sense that they felt a bit awkward dining with me – it wasn’t what they were used to – but they were the remnants of the past that wasn’t there anymore. The life that was gone and would never be again. So I imagine I just wanted to get that feeling back, even if it was only with the butler-custodian and the footman-maintenance man.
The subject of my brother never came up and was deliberately avoided whenever we were dangerously close to the dreadful event while talking about the past. Harry and Benny loved Charlie, but they didn’t want to bring it up, to avoid upsetting me. I was still wondering about what had happened to my vanished product and decided to ask them during our last meal on Sunday.
The weather was nice, and I asked Harry to set up a table outside. Benny found some old long torches that we had used for outside dinners and set those up around our improvised dining area near The Giant. I thought that some barbequed salmon would be nice for the occasion and volunteered to make it myself despite Harry’s attempts to do everything. Salmon is a meaty fish, and since I intended to grill it, I decided that a bottle of Pinot Noir would be an appropriate match. Harry arranged that and added a dry Pinot Gris, just in case we changed our mind and went with a white. Benny turned out to be quite a skillful salad maker and made a large bowl of succulent-looking green salad with God knows how many ingredients inside. Unexpectedly, the mood was rather festive, and we were sitting at the table enjoying our food and drinks.
“I say, Harry,” I started after the fish course. “The chest that was moved to the cellar. It’s empty. I seem to remember there were some old things in it. Do you happen to know what happened to the contents?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say that I do, sir,” he said, frowning as if trying to remember. “It’s been twenty-six years and we’ve moved quite a few things around the house, sir.”
“Do you remember where my father’s chest is? Had it been moved to France? I can’t seem to remember seeing it there.”
“Mr. Deschamps, your father’s late valet, was in charge of sending Mr. Montague’s belongings. I’m sure he took care of that. Should I look into it?
“He was quite old, Mr. Deschamps, and could have forgotten to do it,” Benny said thoughtfully.
“Highly unlikely. Still sharp as a tack he was,” Harry said defensively.
I waved my hand. “No matter, really.”
Perhaps it was a sign to leave this whole business in the past and move forward. However, there was one more thing I could refresh my memory on. “Do you remember Susan the cook?” I asked.