Dangerous Creatures. (2)
Penny and Cenzi watched their father and McDonald walking in the garden from the window of the dining room. Evelyn had retired to the lounge where coffee was to be brought later. "It's as we feared," Cenzi said coldly. "This time he's chosen a complete unknown." "And trying to marrying one of us off in the process," Penny said. "I don't trust this McDonald man. He looks a tricky type." Cenzi screwed her hands up into tight fists and held them at her sides. "Who's going to marry him? Would you?" "No. He's not the type one could tame easily. He'd want to run the whole show once father was dead and out of it." Penny paused. She looked sideways at her sister. Cenzi was glaring out of the window with a tremendous anger. "What shall we do?" she asked. Cenzi closed her eyes and unclenched her hands. She took a deep intake of breath and then released it slowly, opening her eyes at the last breath came out and settled. "He must not be allowed to sign any papers." "What do you suggest: we cut off his hands?" Penny said. "Cut his damned throat for all I care," Cenzi said angrily. "To drastic, Cenzi, dear." Penny took Cenzi's hand and led her away from the window. "We need to think this out carefully. Too rash and we could get careless and be caught." "We could seduce him," Cenzi said. "And then he could meet one of us in secret and then arrange an accident." "Too risky. Two accidents is one thing; three would appear too suspicious." "What do you suggest, then?" Cenzi asked, releasing her sister's hand. "We'll think of something," Penny said calmly. She smiled at Cenzi and there was a bright light somewhere in the darkness of her eyes, which made Cenzi smile too and release her pent up anger in a soft mild laughter. ************************* Donald and Cenzi walked to edge of the Embankment and stared across the river. She wanted his company today to distract her from thinking about the recent event. Penny had gone off for few days with Philip to visit his parents in Hampshire. "I was most surprised at that McDoanld chap committing suicide like he did," Donald said suddenly as if it had just entered his head like a chill. "Wasn't he the one your father was friendly with?" "Yes," Cenzi said. "He was at our house the other week for dinner. I thought him quite clever and seemingly successful." "Fancy hanging yourself. Must have had something on his mind, poor chap." Donald paused. "Sorry, shouldn't have brought it up. Senseless of me." "It's just the shock of it." Cenzi dabbed her eyes with her small handkerchief. "I think he was troubled over something. If only we had known." Donald placed his arm about Cenzi's shoulder. "I'm such an ass. I should have thought before I blabbed my mouth off." He kissed Cenzi on the cheek. She wiped her eyes and placed the handkerchief against her lips. "Penny's most upset. I think she quite liked him." She looked at Donald with her damp eyes." You are a real comfort to me, Donald." She kissed him gently on the lips and then looked away, back at the Thames. Donald was completely undone by the kiss. It had opened him up to her in a way he had not foreseen. Something stirred in him; his slumbering passions slowly awoke; his eyes swept over the Thames like one suddenly finding love as if it were a precious gem discovered amongst dross of the world and he smiled. Cenzi wiped her eyes. It was more than McDonald was worth, but it calmed her mind and set the ghost at rest, at least for a while. ************************ Philip's parents were a strange pair, Penny thought. Mr Kimberly was mildly eccentric having travelled around the world on horseback or camel and then settled to write up all his adventures as he called them. Mrs Kimberly was motherly in a suffocating sort of way pampering Philip as if he were a two-year-old. But Penny quite liked them. Even Mr Kimberly, for all his strangeness, was manageable, she thought. "S-s-shocked to h-h-hear about that M-m-m-McDonald chap hanging himself," Philip said as he and Penny walked in the Kimberly's garden after dinner. "Couldn't b-b-believe it." "Yes," Penny said softly," it came as a shock to us, too. Daddy's most upset as he and Malcolm were quite close." Philip stopped and turned towards Penny. "I w-w-want to asked y-y-you something," he said. Penny stood and tried to give the appearance of being very upset about McDonald. She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, then lowered it and held it between her hands. Philip on seeing her tears became unsettled and unsure of what to say or do. "I'm r-r-really sorry to have brought up about M-m-m-McDonald," Philip stammered. "S-s-should have known b-b-better." "What did you want to ask me?" Penny said quietly. Philip hesitated and for a few minutes looked away from her. Then he looked back at her and took her right hand in his. "I w-w-want to k-k-know if you w-w-will be my w-w-wife," he said. Penny had not expected those words; it had completely taken her by surprise. She had imagined it to be about something less important; something she could have answered straightforwardly without hesitation. But this I did not expect, she mused, feeling Philip caress her hand. What can I say? Daddy won't be happy about it. I can't say yes or no. "I'm unable to say yes or no, Philip. I must allow you to ask my father first." "And if h-h-he says y-y-yes?" Philip squeezed her hand more tightly. "If Daddy says yes, then I will be most happy to be your wife," Penny said. Inwardly she was almost certain her father would not be happy about Philip as a son-in-law, but he'd not say no. She knew he would moan about her choice, but he wouldn't say no when it came down to making such a decision. She gazed at Philip and knew that he'd be no problem as a husband. She could keep him in line with her ambitions and wishes. Yet, she wasn't sure if she actually loved him; wasn't sure how she'd feel about him making love to her. Nonetheless, it was better than any her father would come up with eventually for her and Cenzi to marry. She watched as Philip hesitated; knowing he wanted to kiss her yet not feeling sure if, he should. "You may kiss me if you want," she said softly, clutching her handkerchief against her bosom. Philip leaned towards her and kissed her lips. He felt as if the ground beneath his feet would suddenly open up and swallow him for being so lucky to have kissed such a beauty, let alone marrying her. He breathed in deeply. He hesitated. He wanted to kiss her again, but was unsure if he should take the liberty. "I hope you will kiss me better than that when we are married," Penny said with a small smile. Then she moved towards him, embraced him tightly against her bosom, and kissed his lips. Suddenly she released him and dabbed her eyes. "Should I be so happy, when I feel such unhappiness about Malcolm's death?" she said sadly. Philip stood back. His eyes watered. His mind was uncertain of what words to use or what he should do. The kiss still lingered on in his mind and something stirred within him, but he was not at all sure what it was he should do now; not sure at all. . Penny wiped her eyes and taking his hand again walked with him along the garden further. "Please asked my father soon," she muttered," I want you. I want you." The words lifted away on the air as if they were migrating birds off to a warmer clime and she gripped his hand tightly in hers in case he too should take flight away from her. He'd not escape her now, she mused, he she would have; he she would bring into her web of feelings and ambitions. ************************** David Marlborough was not pleased with the way things were going with his daughters and their choice of partners. He would have preferred them to marry men of business, men who knew something of the business world. These men were civil servants. Desk-bound men who pushed pens all day. Not his type at all. And the Kimberly chap had a blasted stammer. He shook his head in puzzlement. He had given permission for his daughters to marry, but it was given reluctantly; given in a mood of displeasure. He couldn't get McDonald's suicide out of his mind. Why had the chap hanged himself? he mused grimly. Thought he'd have made a good husband for one of the girls, he mused further. He seemed interested in Penny. Damn and blast it all, he muttered to himself, damn and blast it all. He stood up from his chair and went to his study window. Something wasn't right. He sensed tightness about his chest. He found his breathing getting difficult. Then the pain stabbed at him like a knife through the chest. He clutched at the pain as if he thought he could tear it away from him with his bare hands, but it was too much. He slumped backwards in to the growing darkness, his eyes peering in to the disappearing light. Then all was quiet, except for birdsong from the garden from hungry birds. ********************** It was June 1941 and Penny and Cenzi sat at a table of a small restaurant they often frequented, sipping wine. Cenzi wore a red dress; one Donald had acquired for her and Penny a black dress, a colour she favoured most. "I'm in mourning for the world," she often claimed to Philip when he asked her why she wore black. "I can't believe Daddy's been dead nearly ten years now," Penny said, holding her glass just away from her lips. "And we married ten years, too." "Ten years too long," Cenzi said. "Where is Donald now?" Penny asked. "Somewhere in North Africa; no idea where," Cenzi replied, holding her glass between her fingers and staring at it. "Is Philip away still?" "Yes, holed up in some mansion somewhere in England doing hush-hush work he told me, when I saw him last." Penny sipped her wine and gazed at her sister. "Are you still having those nightmares?" Cenzi continued to stare at the glass. "Yes. Frequently." Raising her head, she looked at Penny. "I see a hanging man." "McDonald?" Penny asked softly. Cenzi nodded. "His eyes popping out at me." She sipped some wine and looked around the restaurant. "That psychologist no good I sent you to see?" asked Penny. "I can hardly tell him all, can I," Cenzi said moodily, looking back at Penny. "I have tried to put it out of my mind, but it comes when I least expect it." "I had visions of Chamberlain's face for months and months afterwards," said Penny quietly. "But this is ten years after all that. It should have gone by now," Cenzi said. She sipped more wine and stared at the glass again. "Don't you think about it?" "No. I think of now and tomorrow." Penny moved closer to her sister. "What tomorrow can one have with this damned war on?" Cenzi said stiffly. "Business is doing well. Never thought war could be such a profitable thing," Penny said. "Business is one thing, Penny. What about those poor soldiers who pay with their lives? What about those killed in the blitz?" Cenzi searched for her handkerchief and wiped her eyes. "What about Mummy's death when her house was hit?" "There's always a downside to everything," Penny stated. "It's our birthday, there should be no tears," she said, looking at her sister who was wiping her eyes. "Sorry," Cenzi said. "I shouldn't let it get me down." "Why not come and stay with me while Donald’s away?” Penny said. "And leave the servants behind?" Cenzi said. "Bring them with you. There's only the two of them." Penny suggested attempting to make Cenzi smile. "Could I?" Cenzi said, holding her handkerchief under her chin. "Yes. That's an order, not a request," Penny said, smiling. Cenzi nodded and attempted a small smile. Damn the war, she mused, damn the bloody war and all my nightmares. Damn. Damn. Damn. ************************ It was June 1951 and Penny was sitting in the garden at the rear of her house with Cenzi. The maid had just brought out some tea and was hovering over the cups with the teapot like a navigator on a bombing trip. "Leave it there, Sally, I'll manage," Penny said, giving Sally a nod of her head as if to say you can leave us now, we have important things to discuss. Sally curtsied after a fashion and departed. Cenzi was staring down the garden, her hands folded in her lap, her long brown hair, greying slightly, was swept over her shoulder. She had not noticed the maid place the tea tray down; had not noticed her sister's words. She seemed far away. "Happy birthday, Cenzi," Penny exclaimed in mock cheerfulness. Cenzi hesitated. Her eyes moved away from the garden and settled on her sister. "Birthday?" she said slowly. "Is it our birthday?" "Yes, afraid so. We're forty-one." Penny gazed at Cenzi. There was little response. The bright eyes had gone and been replaced with dull ones which focused on little, except the garden on fine days. Since Donald's death in 1944 and her gradual mental illness, Cenzi had been unable to live on her own. She was only saved from a mental asylum by Penny's influence and money and her sister's care and responsibility. "Donald's late. He should have come home hours ago," Cenzi murmured, looking back at the garden. "No doubt he'll be here soon," Penny replied. She thought it best to play along with her sister's illusions; best to pretend, than let the cold facts drive her sister right over the edge into the dark pit of insanity. "Guy said he'll pop over to see us tomorrow. Said he'll bring Anthony with him." Cenzi made no response. Down the garden, hanging from the old oak tree, she saw McDonald swinging in the late afternoon breeze. She had grown accustomed to his presence now; grown familiar with his popping out eyes and twisted neck. "Mild breeze," she murmured, letting her dull eyes move away from the tree and focus on the teapot and cups. "Is he there again?" Penny asked peering down the garden at the oak tree. She could see nothing, but knew that her sister claimed to see him quite often. "He's swinging slightly." Cenzi said. "Guy coming?" "Yes, tomorrow, he said." Penny poured the tea as Cenzi watched passively. "Chamberlain was at the foot of the stairs this morning," Cenzi informed casually. "Almost tripped over him." Penny placed Cenzi's cup in front of her carefully. "He's quite careless, that Chamberlain. Doesn't care where he lays his head." "And Calflour was in the bath this morning, though Sally never noticed him as she prepared my bath," Cenzi muttered, raising the cup to her lips. "Where's Donald?" "He'll come soon." Penny sipped her tea and gazed at the oak tree. There was little time now to run the business as she wished. She left most of the day-to-day matters to Philip who had become quite accomplished in handling the day-to-day business matters, although Penny still dealt with the fundamental issues with Cenzi's occasional nod or verbal agreement. "Kiss me like you use to," Cenzi said suddenly in a childlike manner. Penny leant over to her sister and kissed her cheek. Cenzi eyes filled with tears. She could see Calflour's face staring up at her from the cup. "Hold me like you use to," she murmured. Penny walked round to her sister's chair and embraced her. She embraced her at night as they slept in the same bed. She kissed her as she did when they were children; held her hand across roads as if time had reversed itself and they were young girls again. "Where's Philip?" Cenzi asked softly over her sister's shoulder as they embraced. "At his club, no doubt," Penny said. "Or seeing his mistress." "Will Daddy be angry with me?" Cenzi murmured into her sister's bosom. "No. He will not be angry with you, Cenzi, he won't be angry anymore." The words brought tears into Penny's eyes and she wiped them away with her hand. This was it, she mused sadly, this was all that was left to her and Cenzi now. This ritual; this pretence; this sad sad daily drama. And she looked down at the oak tree and wondered if McDonald still swung in the breeze or Chamberlain waited at the foot of the stairs to go through his routine like an untiring actor; or if Calflour lay face up in the bath with that hint of a smile lingering there. She imagined they did. She had no way of knowing. It was all a matter of faith and she had none. Only her faith and love for Cenzi. Only for Cenzi. For Cenzi. "We're dangerous creatures," she murmured to her sister, "dangerous creatures." And Cenzi smiled as she stared at the oak tree and the hanging man in the afternoon breeze. x ************************* THE END.
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Copyright © 2006 Terry Collett |