A Man Called Darius Read online

  “I’ve been made up for the past two-and-a-half years and I’m passing through your fair city of London on my way to the Eternal City of Rome, but what’s more important at this moment is....why are you crying?”

  I dabbed my eyes and threw back my hair.

  “Nothing really Garry... every married woman has a little regret at some time or another. Take no notice.”

  I gave him a smile of reassurance, but I don’t think he was convinced, however, I forgot my own problems for a few moments to congratulate him further and to hear more news about his intended visit to Rome.

  “Why, that’s wonderful news Garry... oh dear, will I still be able to call you Garry... now that you’re ‘promoted’?”

  He laughed again, but it had a hollow ring as he helped himself to another biscuit.

  “Are you sure you’re alright Frannie ? I’d rather you tell me if you’re not... That’s what friends are for, you know.”

  He stretched out his hand and took hold of mine.

  “You can always call me Garry... you know that, “ he said softly as he touched the promotional purple with his fingers, “This makes no difference and besides, they haven’t made me Pope yet, so my name is just as it was... plain Garry Gillespie, with a bit more purple than he should have, that’s all. I don’t feel, nor want to feel any different. I’m just a priest, after all and that’s all I’ll ever be, whatever medals they pin on my chest ...These cookies are lovely Frannie.”

  I offered him more tea but he waved his hand.

  “No thank you Frannie.” he said and looked at me with what I had always felt was his philosophical look or was it his ‘theological one’ ? I could never quite be sure, but whichever one it was, he had it that day when he visited me at the flat in Belgravia.

  “I wish you’d talk to me Frannie... I’d be an idiot to think that you were happy in your marriage and it might just be that I could help.” he said softly and his eyes were kind. I swept my hair back from my forehead and played with my ear-ring, but I avoided those kind and gentle eyes. They were too much for me in the mood I was in by this time and for the thoughts that were flying about in my head.

  “It’s a long, long story Garry... and not a very pleasant one. Will you? Oh my God, I sound so pathetic, don’t I?”

  He ignored my protestations as he put his cup down on the coffee table.

  “Will I what, Frannie? What do you want me to do for you?”

  I plucked the earring from my ear and dropped it into the palm of my hand.

  “Will you pray for me Father... please, when you get to that Eternal City?”

  Garry took a small leather notecase from his inside pocket.

  “Of course I will... but only on condition that you promise to pray for me, d’ya understand? Now here is my address where I’ll be staying in Rome. I’ll only be there for a couple of weeks, but if you need me....” he lowered his head... “I don’t expect lengthy letters or anything like that, but a card will find me, if you need me for any reason, Frannie.”

  He scribbled hastily on a page in the notecase, tore it out and handed it to me, but I didn’t want to take it. I felt ashamed to burden him with my worries... they were so trivial, when I considered the life he led and the problems he must encounter as a priest of God. He dropped it onto the coffee table, near his cup.

  “I haven’t got any business cards printed yet... oh dear... doesn’t that sound pompous? Now I can’t be too long. I didn’t realize it was so late and I have to say Mass at St. Ethelburga’s at 6.0am tomorrow. It’s an early rise for yours truly but I have to be away early. Goodnight Frannie and I wish you everything you could wish for yourself and thanks again for the tea... it was lovely.”

  It was already dark outside when I looked out of the window and Garry stood by my shoulder.

  “It’s very high up here. I didn’t think I had come up higher than two floors when I came up in the elevator,” he said.

  “It is deceptive, isn’t it? Look! “

  I opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony and he followed me.

  “People look like flies down there...” he said, “Look at that guy just lighting his fag in the corner by that street lamp?”

  Garry was surprised at the height from our flat to the pavement... or the sidewalk as he called it. I know it looked deceptive, especially at night.

  “I guess he’s some important chap, like a tax inspector or a plain clothes policeman,” he mused, “Look at the trilby; look at the poise... yeah, I guess he must be one important guy down there... a spy perhaps, eh?”

  We laughed together as we stepped back indoors and I went to the door to see him off.

  “I think you’ve been reading too many Agatha Christie’s, Garry,” I said as I walked him to the elevator in the hall, despite my scanty dress.

  “I’m sorry you have to go so soon Father ...perhaps you might be able to call again, on your way back from Rome?”

  He pulled a scarf from his coat pocket and wrapped it round his neck.

  “Shouldn’t think so, my love. I fly from Rome to Valladolid and from there back to the ‘Ole coral’ in the good ole U.S. of A., but ya never know... ya never know, kid.”

  “It has been lovely seeing you again Garry. It really has,” I said and he pulled a face.

  “You look after yourself now, d’ya hear me?”

  I wanted to hug him again, but the sudden thought of him being a Bishop made me think twice... however I shouldn’t have worried.

  “Are ya gonna do somethin’ to this kisser of mine, or do I have to stand here all night waitin’ an’ hopin’?” he pleaded with a grin from ear to ear and I put my arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.

  “I’d like to write to you soon Garry... very soon and then maybe I’ll give you a few problems to sort out, eh?”

  “Any time Frannie. God bless you and try to be happy... as happy as you can. Life’s too short to take worries on board if you can just ditch them in the sea instead... Bye Frannie, Bye.”

  As I watched him go into the elevator and the door close behind him, my heart seemed to miss a lazy beat as I watched the red light move to the street level and then go out again.

  ‘If you can ditch them into the sea....’

  ‘If you can ditch them into the sea....’

  Garry’s words reverberated in my ears as I returned to the flat. I went in and closed the door and stood with my back against it, watching the lace curtains blowing in the cold night air from the French doors that I had forgotten to close. I walked over to look down into the street again and I began to cry. A sudden gust of wind blew against my hair, throwing it everywhere across my face as I stood there, looking down. Just looking blindly, swaying and wondering what it would be like... just to let myself go. I hated my thoughts. I hated myself... I hated that flat ...I hated everything …

  “Bye Frannie... Bye.”

  Garry called out to me from the street below and I was aroused from my sense of despondency as I waved back at him and blew him a kiss. He was such a good person. So sound in his judgement and I sighed as I dried my tears and closed the French doors….and then I went to bed....

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The latest present Monty brought me from Paris was a gold bracelet, obviously very expensive and encrusted with tiny seed pearls and the first thing that sprang to my mind was the impression that this thing would make in a divorce court. It hardly savoured of any kind of cruelty, did it?

  I could just hear the voices in my head...

  “Her husband smothers her in affection, my dear and brings her expensive... and I mean... expensive presents from all over the world. He obviously must adore her. He travels extensively and never forgets her. What the hell is this dame thinking about?”

  ***

  He leered at
me as he opened the clasp and held the thing up to my face.

  “Pearls are made for you my darling. Look how they glow to match your beautiful eyes.”

  He grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him with the usual arrogant possessiveness that I hated. Pearls are for tears, I thought... and went limp in his arms. I’ll never know why he did things like that. He seemed to have a perverse sense of generosity; a quality he could never have possessed if he were a poor man. All his power and self-esteem stemmed from his wealth, for without that, he would have had no character. There was only a shell, without feeling or shame... or conscience. Yes, it was money, or the abuse of it, that made Montague Blythe-Summers the man he was... the man he had always striven to be and yet in my eyes, he was no more than a fool and you know what they say, don’t you? ‘There’s no fool like an old fool..’

  I shuddered as he touched me and tried to pull away, but he grabbed me back again and slipped the bracelet around my wrist, kissing my palm as he did so.

  “You’re never very grateful, my sweet. are you? Come on, give your own little Monty a kiss,” he said in his usual sensual way and I thought of the blonde with the whip...

  He pulled my face around harshly to look into my eyes as he kissed me and I bit his lip. He pulled away angrily and touched his mouth with his immaculately manicured fingernails.

  “You vixen... what the hell was that all about?”

  He dabbed his mouth with his handkerchief and a sadistic grin crept over his face.

  “You mustn’t get me annoyed my dear... You know what that means... when you do....” he said and I felt sick in my stomach.

  “I want a divorce,” I screamed and the words seemed to come involuntarily. Words I had never dared use before, but there was no going back now and he walked away from me slowly. I studied his back... his broad shoulders as he went and then he stopped as he spotted the torn-out leaf from Garry’s notebook on the coffee table. He picked it up and studied the writing…and fear clutched my heart.

  “He has a nice hand... your friend,” he said as he held the note up towards the light from the window and ran his tongue across his teeth “Expensive paper... Rome of all places... “ he murmured and then he turned towards me savagely. “Who is he? Is this the reason why you are making this ridiculous request? Divorce indeed. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  I did not dare tell him that I had already approached a solicitor and that the application had already been filed.

  “I want a divorce,” I repeated and found it easier to say it the second time.

  “Are you seeing this man? Is that it …whose telephone number is this…?”

  He crossed the room and lifted the telephone from the bureau, but I dashed forward and crashed my hand down on the exchange button.

  “I don’t want you to phone anyone. That number... it is a friend of mine. I don’t telephone all your friends... DO I? “ I shouted but he only sneered at me and his eyes held a strange look as he lifted the little note above his head and tore it into little pieces.

  “I hope you have a good memory for numbers, my sweet... I don’t,” he sneered as he spoke and I watched the tiny fragments of Garry’s telephone number as they fell to the carpet and my heart sank. I had not made a mental note of the number and I hated myself for being so foolish as to leave it on the coffee table in the first place. Monty licked his lips and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “I thought it was this bloody Jeremy whatsisname, that you were knocking about with, but I see I was wrong. He wouldn’t need to leave you his number, would he? “

  He threw his head back and laughed loudly before he started to cough and a startled look came into his eyes... but just for a moment.

  “Mind you, I wouldn’t worry if it was this Jeremy fellow. Wouldn’t need to, would I? We all know what he’s like, don’t we my lovely... Not worth a tuppenny wank, is that one,” he leered and I was infuriated by his remarks about Jeremy.

  “You’re mad,” I screamed, “You’re absolutely stark, raving mad.”

  I knew I should have controlled my temper but I’d had enough and I didn’t care any more about the consequences. It was too late for any after-thoughts anyway and I don’t remember any pain at that precise moment when the telephone was smashed into my face; nor much else for that matter, until I woke up on the floor of the flat, unable to move for the agony of pain that was in my chest and back. I could only barely see through one eye, but I knew it was Monty’s figure that stood above me with his legs astride my chest.

  “I’ll forgive you this time, but don’t ever let it happen again... do you hear me?” he snapped and I felt the tip of his shoe as he kicked me on my left side and I wished I could have passed out again as the pain was so excruciating, but he went on talking and I thought I could see him straightening his tie, in my blurred vision.

  “Never, never again.” he snarled,” You are my wife and you must learn to live with that fact... There will be no divorce....” He rubbed his shoe on my blouse as he went on talking. “I shall be home around 6.30 this evening and I expect dinner ready without having to be kept waiting. Do I make myself understood, DARLING?” he snapped and spat his endearment into my ear before he slapped my face. I waited for more, but within a few seconds I heard him leave the flat, slamming the door behind him ...and then everything went blank.

  I don’t know how long I had been lying there before I tried to get up from the floor but I couldn’t and I lay there panting... trying to breathe lightly to avoid the agony that lay in my chest; wishing I could see myself in a mirror to know the extent of the damage to my face. The grandfather clock in the hall struck seven ...it was morning... and he had left me lying there on the lounge floor, unconscious … all night...

  It was nearly an hour before I could get myself moving sufficiently to telephone Jeremy, by crawling into the bedroom to use the phone there. The telephone in the lounge lay in pieces and I sat back exhausted against the settee, with a wet towel over my face to await the arrival of Jeremy. I waited and waited for what seemed hours, with my key in my hand, ready to pass it through the letterbox to allow Jeremy to get in. He arrived at 8.30am and I cried with relief when I saw him. He raced towards me and held me in his arms... and being Jeremy... he cried with me. I felt as though I needed oxygen... in fact I was sure that was what I needed, but that is not the usual commodity of a West End flat.

  “Frannie... Frannie.” cried Jeremy and his voice shook with emotion,” Whatever has happened? My God, whatever has he done to you? Oh Frannie ! !”

  I tried to answer, but the voice wouldn’t come. All I could produce were gasps of air and some funny wheezing noises. I pointed to a biro on the bureau and he passed it to me with a pad, as he helped me up to sit on the settee.

  “I’ve fallen down the stairs again,” I wrote and Jeremy tore the note up angrily. I signalled towards the bedroom and what I wanted was for him to help me into bed and just let me lie there for a couple of hours, but he ignored all my pleadings and telephoned for an ambulance. Surprisingly, when the ambulance man asked what had happened. Jeremy gave them the same explanation that I had given him and which he knew to be rubbish

  “She fell down the stairs... must have tripped on her heel I guess. I found her down there and brought her up here to her flat, but I think it may be more serious than I first thought. Can you get her to hospital quickly, please?”

  At least, that explanation would allay further detailed interrogation until I could get on my feet again and I was in hospital for only three days. Two of my ribs had been broken and they had first feared that my right lung had been punctured, but the X-Rays proved them to be wrong. There was extensive bruising to my side and my left eye was completely closed, but the bruising appeared worse than the damage and I could see again in about thirty-six hours, but I got a shock when one of the nurses gave me a mirror. I looked like a
prize boxer …the one who had lost his fight...

  Monty visited me every day and brought me fresh flowers on each occasion, together with black grapes... and he held my hand... most tenderly as he sighed and breathed heavily in anguish of my injuries.

  “Oh my darling... you must be more careful in future. We don’t want anything like this to happen to you again now... do we?” He said repeatedly and most sympathetically... within earshot of the nursing staff and to crown it all, when I was eventually discharged, he arrived in a Daimler to take me home bringing with him a huge box of chocolates and a spray of large tea roses to the nurses, in appreciation of the care and attention shown to his dear wife. They were left in awe and admiration of his devotion ...and I could see my divorce going down the pan.

  As we drove away from the hospital, I could just catch a glimpse of Jeremy as he was going into the large front entrance to visit me. I waved and banged on the car window and fortunately he caught sight of me. He waved back, but there was fear and apprehension in his eyes as I am sure he must have seen Monty driving the car and I watched him slowly walk away from the hospital gates, trying to hide his meagre poesy behind his back. Poor Jeremy... I think now, on reflection that he was feeling the beatings more than I. He was very sensitive and he worried about things that other ‘normal men’ might consider unimportant.

  ***

  When we got ‘home’ Monty made me a cup of tea that tasted like chlorinated water. I might have considered that he was trying to poison me, but that would have been too easily detected and was not the style for the clever Mr. Blythe-Summers. He could tear you apart... and smile as he did it. Rip your skin from your bones... and laugh... but it would have to be something that would heal quickly... so that he could do it again... and again... and again. The finale of death was no answer for him. The word was not in his dictionary Like the cat with the mouse, he would taunt and probe and push it about until it died from sheer fear and exhaustion …but I was no mouse and I wasn’t ready to die... not yet...