Those Left Behind - 22. Prison visit & Hansi appears

It had all happened far quicker than Ludo had expected, and part of him still rebelled at the idea of any sort of contact. But, but, but...

Jackie wanted to see Damian. And Damian? Was furious, still, and resentful of the way his Mother had disturbed their settled life. Not that it was settled, of course, Ludo himself had disturbed it too; but the way that Jackie had absented herself for work and for what Ludo still thought of as her and Andreas’ project had left Damian feeling that she had abandoned him. Ludo and Arthur had had numerous ‘what if’ discussions. Never reaching a conclusion, but there was an alarming alternative scenario where Jackie became the wronged wife as Ludo created the disruption by falling for Arthur. Far-fetched? Perhaps, but they both felt that a creative barrister might be able to paint that picture in court. It left a level of uncertainty that meant Ludo felt obliged to be more positive than he felt. So, here they were.

The building didn’t look much like a prison, just a bland modern warehouse or office, with a skin of yellow bricks over a prefabricated frame, plus a few darker coloured bricks for décor. Damian was pale and tense. They had had an argument over the visit. When it was simply an idea, the boy had been lukewarm positive, but when it became a certainty then Damian announced that he didn’t want to go, didn’t want to see his Mother. Ludo had tried the tack that their life was not quite as settled as Damian believed; even though he was in the clear, people, the authorities, still didn’t quite trust him. If Ludo did anything wrong, there was a danger that they might take Damian away. They didn’t want that did they?

The boy had nodded, but he still didn’t like it. There was security and procedures to go through, before they could get in, and ordinarily Damian would have found this exciting, even laughed. There was a social care woman to look after Damian, during his visit to see his Mum whilst Ludo kept out of it. But the boy said no; his Dad had to come. The woman, middle-aged with her hair in a flyaway bun, had looked at Ludo, cocking one, experienced eye. Ludo could face a fight here; one he didn’t really want. He said yes, effectively agreeing to the meeting he had been hoping to avoid. The plan had been that he would deliver Damian and then retire to the waiting area and not have to meet Jackie.

Oh well. Shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was he going to say to her? There were so many questions, yet he dreaded what the answers might be.

Some effort had been made to create a homely atmosphere in the meeting room, and there were kids’ toys in the corner. But it was still rather grim. Jackie was there, looking drawn, the corners and lines of her face stronger, more deeply etched, sharper. She was still able to use makeup, Ludo noted, though the blouse and skirt looked positively dowdy by her usual standards.

She gave a clipped, ‘Ludovic’ obviously as pleased to see him as he was her. She greeted Damian warmly, but the boy stood there, glaring, silent, mulish. Ludo glanced at his wife and unwittingly they exchanged a look, not perhaps of sympathy but of shared experience and knowledge. All those other temper tantrums they’d dealt with in the past. Ludo squatted down and whispered in Damian’s ear, ‘Be nice. Remember what we said?’ Damian nodded, fiercely, and walked forward. Ludo cocked one eye at his wife, who gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

He went to stand by the window, trying to tune the conversation out. Stuart at work reckoned he could tune his wife out even if she was shouting in his ear. Ludo wasn’t so sure he could do that, but thankfully Jackie kept her voice low. He could hear Damian though, a lot of ‘but why’ and ‘Dad’ and such.

Finally, she hugged the boy and sent him to read the books and comics piled next to the toys in the corner and came over to stand by Ludo. Side by side, looking at a truly boring and bleak courtyard.

“The thing with Arthur, is it real?”

The question surprised him, but it shouldn’t have, he supposed. Damian had mentioned Arthur’s name a couple of times in his discussion with his Mother, and if she’d done any digging at all about Damian’s regular life at the moment, the boy was bound to have mentioned Arthur.

“Yes, I looked into his eyes and fell in love.”

“Oh Ludo! How very romantic. Very unlike you.” She was almost making fun of him.

“It wasn’t. Shit scaring if you must know, the idea of wanting a relationship with a guy.”

She wrinkled her brow, “Oh come on. Surely you had an inkling?”

“I noticed guys but never imagined…” He wasn’t going to admit that he’d experimented, and after all, none of those experiments had been anything to write home about. Arthur was different, and he wasn’t going to talk about that either.

She gave a derisive ‘Hmm’ in response.

“Is this the best time to talk about this?”

She glared at him, blazing now, “And when the hell do you think would be a good time? Was there ever a good time?”

“The thing with Arthur, I doubt it would have happened if we’d been… If we’d had…”

She cocked an eye at him, “A normal relationship?”

He stared at her, “I don’t think I have the energy for this. It’s long past the time when we should have talked.”

There was silence, but she didn’t move away. Finally, “I wasn’t planning on abandoning you?”

“Well, it certainly looked like that. Those photos.”

“Andreas’ idea. Put the police off the scent, we could leave, set up new identities and you could join us later.”

“Us?”

She gave a snort, ‘Christ, nothing like that. Purely a business venture, he’s devoted to that hausfrau of his.”

“But the police wouldn’t trust me. Still don’t, I think. Not really.”

“I know. It never occurred to me. It seemed a brilliant idea, it all did. But you had your own plans.”

“It wasn’t planned, me and Arthur. It happened, and I didn’t want it to stop.”

“Would you have told me, if things had been different?”

“If you were there. We rarely saw you, and there never seemed a moment. You were so wrapped up in that fucking project. It wasn’t just about you, Damian and I put things on hold until you were finished. He was so looking forward to that fucking holiday.”

She snorted again, “Christ, that Arboretum.” She sighed, “It seemed such a brilliant idea, it all did. We only did it because we could. It felt so good, to put one over on the shits who control the bank. It was the challenge of doing it.”

How very like Jackie, the thrill of the chase and not to worry about the goal or the collateral damage.

“You want a divorce” It was a statement, not a question, said in a monotone.

Ludo looked at his wife, “I’ve talked to a lawyer, but I wasn’t aware of anything being said.”

She gave a dry laugh, “No. Don’t worry, nothing has been said. But I’ve done the maths. You two, Arthur and you, I figure your cosy suburban idyll includes marriage?”

“Yes”, it came out rather sharply; Jackie was being her old self again.

“Sorry, that came out worse than I intended. I so wanted that suburban idyll, the house, the nice garden, green spaces and a high street with proper shops, decent schools.”

“And we got it.”

“Don’t wish for your dreams, they might come true. I’m sorry Ludo. In the words of the old cliché, it wasn’t you, it was me. I got bored. I tried, but…”

“I know. I was aware of it” She stared at him. “You’d come to the end of a project, be great with Damian, with us, for a few weeks and then things’d slide.”

“Another exciting project”, she shook herself, “The divorce. I won’t make a fuss. I’ve already told my solicitor that. I want to, need to, rebuild my relationship with Damian. God knows how, but I must, and I haven’t the energy to try and do that whilst fighting you in the divorce courts. OK?”

Ludo nodded, not sure where this might go in the end.

The warder came in, they’d had their time. Jackie said goodbye, gave a hug to a very stiff Damian and then walked away, no backward glances.

Once back in the car, Ludo turned to his son, “What now?” They were a two-hour drive away from home, but it was only midday (though it felt far, far later), and Ludo felt honour bound to offer Damian some sort of treat after the prison.

The boy looked at his Dad, “The Arboretum. I’d like to have lunch there, and see what’s in flower, and check out some things.” The boy then proceeded to list a series of plants he wanted to check up on. Ludo simply nodded, where did all this come from? But it was a pleasant treat, and Ludo wanted to encourage the boy’s interests.

The Arboretum was an old estate that some Edwardian magnate had bought, re-built the house in best Arts & Crafts style, created a Chinese garden, and collected trees. As you do if you’ve more money than sense. Miraculously it was still going strong, despite something of a lapse as a result of the downturn after the Second War. The house, still private, bizarrely marooned in a sea of trees that were owned by the trust that managed the Arboretum.

Damian loved it, and Ludo did rather too. The café was awful, but there was a hut that sold barbeque stuff and baked goods. They bought a picnic and sat under the trees to eat it. Damian, in between and during mouthfuls, examined his Father, wanting to know what was going on.

The lad was ten, his Mother was in prison. Granted, it was an open one but still. And goodness knows what might come out at the trial. Jackie had tried to be conciliatory to Damian, explaining that she’d planned to send for him. But Ludo could tell that it was going to take a lot more than that to break the boy’s barriers.

What the devil to do? They had what Ludo hoped was a positive discussion, but there was little doubt that there would need to be lots more done on whatever relationship Damian had with his Mother. The rest of the visit to the Arboretum was an excuse to forget, and both Father and son took full advantage. It helped clear the brain, walking in the fresh air amongst the trees, a cliché but true. And Ludo paid attention, dragged information from the back of his brain and generally tried to be an informed and interested parent, as Damian talked about the trees. In the bookshop, the boy found a reference book; it was expensive, but what the hell.

It was only much later that Ludo had chance to talk things through with Arthur.

“The problem is that Damian already resents his Mother’s behaviour. And frankly, she deserves it.”

“Or seems to, you don’t know what was going on behind the scenes.”

They were sitting in the garden, with a glass of wine. It was late, and the last of the sun created a lovely glow. The boys were, supposedly, getting ready for bed.

“But she’s not said a thing about it to him. Just that postcard and the visit today. He’s furious.”

“As only a ten-year-old can be!”

“As far as I see it, either I become Jackie’s apologist, or he resents her for life.”

“You’ve always been straight with him?”

Ludo waggled his head, “Straight-ish. Suppressio veri rather than suggestio falsi. I don’t feel I can, or should, now invent stuff.” He laughed, “Besides, I’ve no idea what I’d invent!”

“Then don’t. Be straight, let him talk and… Find a therapist.”

“A therapist!” Ludo’s comment was almost an explosion. Lesley’s suggestion had not gone down well with Ludo, and the idea had been let rest.

Arthur held up his hands. “Lesley was right, what the boy needs to do is talk, and a specialist would be best, someone outside the family.”

Ludo sighed. “We’ve barely needed the doctor, now a bloody therapist.” He stared at Arthur, “But you’re right, she’s right. I’ll message her and find out if she’s come up with any possible names.”

Arthur moved his head to one side, “And it might get worse. The trial and that.”

“What might come out?”

“Yeah. And the press. They might not be nice.”

“Fucking hell.”

***

Quite how Jackie might rebuild her relationship with Damian, Ludo was unclear. After the visit, Damian had continued to alternate moods, and had more difficult, awkward, angry periods. Yet there’d be time when he was simply a little boy who missed his Mum.

The letter, when it came, was hand-written. Jackie’s script had always been lovely. Damian was both excited and worried as he opened it, after all he didn’t get many letters at all, and this was from his Mum. Inside the envelope there was a letter from Jackie, two sides, hand-written and three photographs. She was doing a photography project at the prison and had taken pictures of a tree in the yard. It was an old tree; it had been there when the old Victorian house (that had preceded the prison) was built.

Ludo had forgotten how good Jackie could be at telling stories. When he put Damian to bed as a youngster, Ludo read to the boy but when Jackie did it, she made up stories for him. And in the car, on long drives, she could wind long yarns around the things that they saw on the way.

The letter was about the tree, its history, and the photographs. It must have taken some effort; it was funny and engaging. Damian did not say that much, but he read it more than once and insisted on having some things explained and looked up the history of the old house online. The letter and photos disappeared into his box, a strange old thing that an uncle had brought back from the East and given to Jackie when she was a girl.

It wasn’t a miracle, but it was a start. And of course, Ludo had rather to nag Damian to write a reply. But when he did so, he did it properly and there was even a drawing of one of the trees in the garden.

***

“There’s a car!” Arthur peered through the bay window, “German plates by the look of things.”

By the time a middle-aged woman got out of the car, both he and Ludo were watching. She was quite stylish, well-groomed hair and some sort of highly coloured smock. She walked up to the house whilst struggling with a large shoulder bag. She was what might be called handsome, a substantial figure, certainly not the young woman that the rather sporty car and style of clothes led you to imagine. Yet, she looked intriguing. They were still staring when she rang the doorbell. She was tanned too; a robust but nervous smile pinned onto her face.

“Mr Ludovic Wilson?”

“Yes?”

“Hansi Huber, Andreas is my husband, your wife’s co-conspirator.” They stared. She didn’t look like the hausfrau that Jackie had referred to.

“Please come in.”

“I drive over to see my husband. I try and support him. But it is a long drive. I think”, she smiled, somewhat nervously but it illuminated her face. In other circumstances Hansi looked as if she’d be engaging company. “I think perhaps Ludovic and I have this in common.”

They were stood awkwardly in the hallway.

“Look, would you like a coffee?”

She smiled again, briefly, “I love a coffee. You make it strong? Coffee in the hotel is terrible.”

Ludo looked at Arthur who nodded and went off to the kitchen whilst Ludo led Hansi into the garden. They made small talk; you have a nice house; how did you travel from Germany; you live here long. Finally, Arthur appeared with the coffee; he placed a cup in front of Hansi, who sipped it, smiled, and said ‘Good’.

“I visit my husband in prison and think, no-one in my family and friends has done this. I am alone. Then I think of Jackie, she has a husband.” She bent down and scrabbled in her bag and produced a page of newspaper, folded, but the picture was visible.

“I read the article, and I think to myself, why not? I do not tell anyone that I am coming.”

“How did you find us?”

“Ach, my husband is very organised. He has Jackie’s address and the name of her husband and her son. He meet you, met you last year. Sorry, my English is a little faulty.”

“Not at all, and it’s better than my German.” They laughed.

“We are delighted to meet you. And yes, you and I are in a similar position. When... When Jackie disappeared so suddenly and the police arrived, it was a complete shock.”

“Ach, it is terrible. My husband, he is an idiot. We have a nice house, I have a good business, he like his job. And now! It is stupid.”

“I think Jackie was bored, it was a challenge for her, fool the authorities.”

Hansi shook her head, “Andreas has stupid fantasy. Steal lots of money and we retire to Panama or somewhere. Panama! Why would I live in Panama! We have beautiful home. In the Eifel Mountains. And is not so much money, there is Andreas, Hansi, Jackie, Ludo, and Damian. Five people. We are hiding, everything costs more, money soon gone.” She shook her head.

“I am not sure about being five people. Jackie said that she planned for Damian and me to join her, but…”

Ludo stopped and it was Arthur who continued, “Apart from a cryptic letter, there was no contact, no message. Damian still has not forgiven his Mother. And the police found pictures that suggested that they might have been planning to frame Ludo and one of Jackie’s work colleagues.”

“Ach, that is terrible. Can this really be true, can they have planned this?”

“We only know what the police have found. No doubt more details will come out during the trial.”

“The trial. It will not be pleasant for anyone.” She shook her head, “Your son, Damian, he lives here with you?”

“Yes, he and Arthur’s son Adam are good friends.”

“That is good. We never had children; Andreas always wanted it. I think he is disappointed, perhaps this stupid thing is a replacement.”

They spent the next hour swapping stories. It was indeed good to talk to someone who was in the same position. They exchanged contact details and learned more about Hansi’s business. From the outset, she made it clear that it was her business alone. Holiday cottages in the Eifel Mountains, lots of mountains, lakes, and forests. It sounded idyllic and almost her last words were that they must come and stay. Really?

Hansi Huber could never become a friend, but the shared experience was something and Ludo could see that in the coming year, there might be other occasions when meeting up with her for coffee (and oh boy, did she like her coffee strong) would be a pleasant relief. To talk to one of the few people who knew exactly what they were experiencing.