Сергей Редькин – Hide-and-Seek (страница 7)
“Very good, sir,” Harry said and left the library thoughtfully leaving the tray with the crystal whiskey pitcher on the table.
All right. The wheels were in motion, so to speak. I would have one more drink and then I’d be ready to see it. One more drink.
***
We had a large basement under Maple Grove House. It matched the floor space of the levels above. Since it supported the weight of the house, its walls were built to extend the foundations, making them much thicker than the walls above. There were two entrances: one from inside the house, from the kitchen, and one from the backyard. Both led to passageways with storage spaces, wine and whisky cellars, and pantries on either side.
The basement had a secret exit, disguised as a dead-end, next to the farthest cellar, which led into the escape tunnel. Ezekiel Montague had included this in the design of the house in case he needed to flee the property. The exit was hidden in a maple grove about fifty meters from the house. That led us, the descendants, to believe that he still had a few skeletons in his closet that had been troubling him.
Over the years, the tunnel proved to be an extremely useful addition for those who knew where the exit (or entrance) was and wished to enter the house unnoticed. These were mostly male family members returning from some debauchery late at night. In fact, it got so out of hand that at some point, my great-grandfather ordered it to be sealed. After that, no one used the tunnel much – well, no one who didn’t want to be seen using it.
The basement was off-limits to us when we were children, but we managed to sneak in from time to time, with the staff who were down there getting groceries from the pantries, fetching old and dusty wine bottles from the cellars, or moving ancient items from one storage area to another.
I was following Benny through the kitchen to the basement door and my heart started to beat faster. I tried not to think what I might see down there, but I was determined to get this crazy thing over with as soon as possible.
“How long have you been working here, Benny?” I asked just to fill the silence with some chat.
“Going on twenty-seven years, sir,” he said, opening the door and entering the basement.
“Gosh, has it been that long?” I asked, following him down the stairs.
“Time flies, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly does.”
We passed a couple of storage spaces on the left side and former pantries on the right when Benny turned right around a corner.
“I thought
“Oh, that’s a wine cellar and we had to lock it up a long time ago because of the rats if I remember correctly. Some of those furry bastards, pardon my language, died in there. The smell was unbearable. We threw some chemicals in and sealed the door,” Benny said. “I don’t reckon we’ve opened it ever since.”
One of the footmen had explained to me at the time which storage area they had put the chest in, and I had made one attempt to get to it after it was moved down here to get my stuff out, but they told me to wait until the rodent problem got resolved. Later, we were too busy searching for Charlie, and I had neither the time nor opportunity to come down here again.
We approached another door, and he opened it with one of the countless keys on the huge ring he was carrying.
“Here we are,” he said. “Let me switch on the light.”
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 on. Luckily, there was a cardboard box next to the chest that looked sturdy 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 getting emotional over nothing.
How could I fall for that? My brother couldn’t possibly have been in that thing. I was so stupid for 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 one day we would see him again or, at least, know his fate.
Hope was a dangerous thing. It could drive a person mad.
Once I was able to gather my wits, I began to think. What had happened to my stash? It couldn’t have just evaporated along with the bag it was in. Had the staff 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 so 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 large 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 passed away. 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, as it would create 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 that 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 since I was already 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 knew that I hadn’t visited the place in years and had become extremely excited about the opportunity to finally see it. I told her there would be another chance and promised to take her out when I was back in town. She didn’t say much, but I sensed she was disappointed.
I saw that 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 wasn’t sure how to explain why I had come to Maple Grove House. I wasn’t in the mood to make up excuses, so I 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 inspecting the spot I had intended for my construction project. The park, with its old trees, wooden benches, and neatly mown grass, was as splendid as I remembered. For a brief moment, it almost made me reconsider what I was planning to do with a sizeable chunk of it. It also reminded me of the time we were searching for Charlie, and I felt a twinge of hostility towards the place, as if it were somehow to blame for my brother’s disappearance.
In the end, I felt that bringing more people to this park would breathe new life into it and bring positive energy. It had been deserted long enough. But I wondered what my predecessors would think of all this. Would they turn in their graves, over in the family cemetery on the other side of the park? The thought made me smile.
Perhaps, for the heir I was bound to become one day, the right thing to do would be to preserve the place as it was, as it had been shaped by generations before me. Somehow, though, I didn’t feel enough connection to the past for it to stand in the way of my decision. Did that make me a bad owner or simply a pragmatic businessman? One had to let go of the past in order to build a future, I’d read on some street poster somewhere. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.
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.