The Inheritance Powder

Part Two: Summer

Roger and Julia

The evening sun began to slip down behind the hills. The air was heavy and oppressive. There was no breeze to stir the dusty foliage of the trees. It had been an exceptionally hot day and had exceeded record temperatures. The newspapers and the TV were full of speculation about the weather. People were dying of the heat in France and Italy. Really quite bizarre. Everything in the garden was wilting except the lavender and Rosemary borders. The purple flowers were smothered with bees and the scent of Rosemary wafted in through the open conservatory windows. It really did have quite a mediterranean feel.

The last rays of the sun lit up the surrounding hills painting them a delicate rose pink and casting long shadows in the meadows in the valley below. The heat rose up from the scorched earth and wrapped the house in a steamy warmth.

Julia sat staring listlessly into her into her dressing table mirror. Downstairs, a telephone was ringing somewhere in the house but she didn't seem to hear it. A small television sat on the bedside table with the sound turned down. Fast moving images flickered across the screen. An angry, contorted face with pale, watery blue eyes loomed in close up. The mouth gaping wide showing crooked teeth. Then a group of mounted policeman charged their horses into the crowd, swinging their batons right and left.
Men fell to the ground clutching their heads, blood streaming down their faces. Julia remained oblivious to these terrible scenes of violence. She leaned towards the mirror and her small blue eyes examined her face with studied care. She ran a finger down her rather large nose thoughtfully and then patted her newly peroxided hair. Perspiration beaded her upper lip. A bottle of Gordon's gin and a glass stood on the dressing table. She carefully poured a small amount of the liquor into the glass and sipped it reflectively.

Roger was late. That must have been him ringing just now. He was probably drunk and wanted her to come and pick him up fom the White Hart. Roger's drinking was beginning to intrude on their lives. The pub was becoming a second home. Perhaps the business wasn't going so well. She couldn't tell. Roger never discussed the business with her. Not that she cared one iota as long as she had free rein with her credit card. Drunk with the power of spending, she adored staggering out of the department stores, weighted down with numerous bags looped round her fingers, her face flushed with pleasure. Besides, if anything happened to Roger (perish the thought), she got everything. He was heavily insured.

Julia had always enjoyed receiving gifts and in the early days Roger had been especially generous and had showered her with expensive gifts. She was not personally familiar with the act of giving to please others. It was more in her nature to receive.

When she was a child her father always brought home some little trifle for her delight. She remembered the china doll with golden hair that opened and closed her deep blue eyes and cried, 'Mama' when it was turned over. Then there was the little bracelet, glinting gold, with opals flashing their mystyical green fire. Her eyes darkened as she recalled the puppy he had brought home for her sister when their mother was in hospital. It had been a little golden labrador with huge eyes of velvet brown. She had never been comfortable with animals. They always needed something. Feeding or taking for a walk or stroking. Sometimes she had forgotten to feed it. Her father was busy at the hospital with her mother and her sister was rehearsing for an important concert. So when the puppy fell into the fish pond one winter's day and got tangled up in the netting used for catching the falling leaves, Julia could only watch its futile struggles and whimperings as it tried to scramble up out of the icy water. When its useless scrabblings and whining ceased, Julia stared curiously as the small body released its hold on life and floated out, belly up, into the middle of the pond. She let out a great sigh and blew on her freezing fingers. Then she turned and ran towards the house, scuffling through the dead leaves in her pretty fur lined boots.

She found her sister in the music room practising a song with Miss De Miele, the music teacher. She sat listening politely as her sister's voice flew around the room like a swallow, dipping and soaring and finally coming to rest, vibrating on the low notes. It was a song full of tenderness and sadness and made Julia think about the puppy whose stiff little body had sunk into the waving tendrils of the underwater plants. She felt her face grow hot momentarily with guilt and shame, but then her her discomfort quickly receded at the thought of the presents her father might be bringing home that evening. Without waiting for her sister to finish her music lesson she skipped into the hall and ran up the stairs two at a time.


* * * * * *

They were going to be late for dinner with the Huntington-Smythes. Julia rose and walked over to her wardrobe. It was stuffed with dresses and outfits for every conceivable ocassion, some with the labels still attached. Rack after rack of shoes was revealed in another cupboard. Laid out neatly in gleaming rows. 'Imelda Marcos eat your heart out', she murmured out loud.

She finally selected a close fitting black velvet dress with a low neck line and matching black velvet shoes with a strap across the instep. She sat down at her dressing table and began to rifle impatiently through her jewllery box, sifting through the pearl necklaces, the amethyst, opal, emerald and aquamarine rings. She finally extracted a black satin choker with a large stone that glittered like a diamond. She put it on then leaned back to admire her reflection. Just a dash of red lipstick and a wave of her mascara wand and she was ready. The telephone began trilling again, but this time it was answered by the housekeeper.

'Mrs Harding' she called, 'Mr Harding's on the phone. He'd like to speak to you'

Julia sighed exasperatedly. 'All right! I'll take it up here'

She picked up the receiver of the white telephone on the bedside table.

'Roger! Where the hell are you? You know we're going to dinner with the Huntington-Smythes. They're expecting us at eight'

'Yes, I know that old girl, no need to panic' slurred Roger good naturedly. 'Just been having a few bevvies with Godfrey in the White Heart. I don't suppose you remember Godfrey Palmer. We were at at prep school together actually.'

'Your drunk!' hissed Julia. 'How predictable!'

'Yes, I s'pose I am old thing', chuckled Roger aimiably. 'Come and get me there's a good girl. We can drive directly over to the Smythes. Should be a barrel of laughs', he said drily. 'At least I've got a head start'.

'Oh for goodness sake!' snorted Julia. 'Just stay where you are and I'll meet you in about twenty minutes'

Roger giggled, 'That's my girl'. The receiver clattered in her ear, then suddenly purred in monotonous silence.

She replaced the receiver and glanced at her watch. It was 7.30. She ran downstairs, snatching up her mobile and car keys from the hall table. Outside the air felt stuffy. She got into her little blue Volkswagen polo, and scattering gravel over the flowerbeds, she drove off down the road.


* * * * * * *

As Julia drove along she glanced at the evening sky. Wisps of dark grey cloud began to from into billowy thunderheads. The air became torpid and heavy. Lightning flashed across the glowering sky.

'That's all I need ' Julia fumed inwardly. She pressed her Manolo Blahnik on the accelerator and the little car shot forward obligingly. The heavens opened just as she pulled into the car park of the White Heart pub. She stopped at the front entrance and peered through the windscreen. Through the curtains of rain she could see Roger weaving around unsteadily in the doorway. She leaned across and opened the passenger door.

'For heaven's sake get in the car!'

Roger flopped into the seat like a landed trout.

'Can't do the seat belt up' he muttered.

Julia sighed impatiently and grudgingly helped him with the belt.

'Just look at you ' she snapped. 'You look as though you've been dragged through a hedge backwards. You knew we were invited to the Huntington-Smythes' she wailed, her voice ending on a perilously high note.

'Oh bugger the Huntington-Smythes! Terrible snobs! Haven't got a personality between 'em let alone a brain!' snorted Roger. 'Anyway, I've got the mother and father of a headache. Had it all day as a matter fact. Can't seem to shift it!'

'I'm not surprised ' she flashed him a look.

'Have you got any aspirins in your bag?'

She started the car and drove on through the now torrential rain.

'You're such a fool Roger' Julia said, ignoring his request. 'Bertie could put a lot of business your way if you played your cards right.'

'Bertie made his money from dodgy arms deals in South Africa. I've never been interested that kind of 'business'.'

'Ooooh! Aren't you the moral one' she sneered.

'Well at least I can sleep at night'

Roger leant forward and fumbled with the glove compartment

'What are you looking for?' She asked

'I'm looking for those bloody aspirins. This headache's getting worse!'

'Well, if you will insist on heavy drinking sessions in the middle of the day.............'

'Ever the sympathetic one eh old girl' chuckled Roger, his good humour returning.

Thunder reverberated round the hills and crackled in the valleys. Visibility was almost nil as the rain created a wall of water and Julia strained forward to see through the windscreen. Her knuckles gleamed white as her grip tightened on the steering wheel. A squally wind came out of nowhere and began to buffet the car.

Over the noise of the storm Julia became aware of strange liquid sounds filling the interior of the car. She realised they were coming from Roger.

'What on earth's the matter with you?' There was no answer. She looked at him quickly and saw that his face was grey and twisted into an uncharacteristic grimace.

'Oh my God!' she gasped.

But no human sound came from Roger's quivering, slobbering , open mouth. Only a snoring, chuckling. His face had now changed to a dark mottled purple. Peering through the gloom she saw a lay- by up ahead and pulled over. The road was deserted. Rain bounced noisily on the bonnet of the car. She undid her safety belt and turned to Roger. She touched his hand gingerly and drew back as if she had been burned. His hand was ice cold and his fingernails were purply blue. A sudden flash of lightning lit up his face. She hardly recognised the once familiar face now contorted, twitching and drooling.

With remarkably steady hands, Julia reached for her mobile. She must ring an ambulance. They must have a doctor. They must get Roger to hospital............ it was a matter of life or death........ he could die......he could....... Then, her mind teeming with thoughts suddenly emptied and she became calm. She stared at Roger with a certain detached concentration. She had never seen anything die before. Only that useless little dog daddy once bought for her when she was a child. As she continued to look at him his eyes flew open and fixed on her face. He couldn't move or speak but those watery blue eyes begged and pleaded for help. No words of comfort came from Julia. She did not speak. Only Roger's supplicating eyes sparked the silence. As she continued to watch him, tears slipped down his frozen cheeks. His eyes never left her face. Precious minutes ticked by. He seemed to be weakening. There were long pauses between the greedy, gobbling, gasps for air. His face had now taken on a very dark purplish hue. The immobile hands lay lifelessly by his side. Julia slowly picked up her mobile phone and keyed in the numbers.

'Emergency, which service please?' The quiet, flat tones of the operator spoke into her ear.

'Hello! Hello! I need an ambulance quickly. My husband has collapsed. I think he's had a heart attack!'

'Is he breathing?' asked the disembodied voice.

'I think so. But he's very blue and cold'

'Can you feel his pulse?'

'Yes...no.....Oh I don't know!! Just a moment. Yes, it's very faint though. Oh please come quickly. We're in the lay-by on the dual carriage way. Just about a mile from the White Heart pub in Hillsfroome.'

'Try not to panic. Loosen his clothing. The paramedics will be with you as soon as they can'

Julia put down her mobile and turned to Roger. He was slumped awkwardly in his seat. He lay there quietly now. His face seemed twisted to one side. The frantic noises had stopped. She undid his shirt buttons and put her head to his chest. No sound or movement came from that stilled heart. She rummaged in her bag for a mirror and held it to his open mouth. No mist appeared. Then, with a shuddering sigh, she sat back in her seat in the eerie silence and watched the rain pour relentlessly down the windscreen.

To Be Continued.......