turned around to find him crossing the room toward her.
‘I’m sorry, my dear. This wasn’t what I had in mind for our evening,’ he said, taking Vanessa’s hand and leading her over to the sofa where Katya had been lying prostrate a few minutes before.
‘Is she all right? She seemed ill, Titus, really ill. Shouldn’t she go to hospital?’ Vanessa spoke in a rush. It was as if she hadn’t realized until now how much Katya’s sudden appearance and collapse had upset her.
‘No, she’s fine now. She’ll sleep through until morning. She’s had a sedative. Katya’s her own worst enemy, you know. She won’t eat; she won’t sleep. She could be back to her old self if she just tried a little, but she won’t. As I said before, it’s like something snapped inside her after Ethan died and now she’s determined to go the same way. Except that I won’t let her,’ Titus added defiantly.
Vanessa squeezed Titus’s hand, unsure of what to say. She wasn’t used to him opening up to her like this. She felt the pain in his voice, his vulnerability, and her heart ached in sympathy. The last thing she wanted to do was to upset him further, but she felt she had no choice. Certainly it seemed far-fetched that Franz or anyone else was plotting to murder the girl behind Titus’s back, but Titus deserved to be told what his niece had said. But then, just as she was about to speak, Titus forestalled her.
‘When Katya was down here did she say anything, Vanessa, you know, before she passed out?’
Vanessa didn’t answer immediately, taken aback by the apparent telepathy between them. It was uncanny the way their minds seemed to be moving in tandem.
‘I only ask because I have to know what she’s planning to do. I’m the only one stopping her from going back on the streets. And I don’t think she’d survive another relapse.’
‘She said: “They’re trying to kill me.” She didn’t say who. But she really meant it. I could see that. It cost her a lot to get the words out.’
‘Did she say anything else?’
‘No, just that. But who did she mean, Titus?’ Vanessa asked, suddenly urgent. ‘Could it be your brother-in-law’s doing something to her without you knowing? I don’t like the way he looks at me sometimes. It’s like he hates me for some reason.’
Vanessa gripped Titus’s hand as she spoke. She’d kept a lid on her aversion to Franz Claes for too long and now it suddenly erupted into the open. She felt Titus stiffen beside her, taken aback by the intensity of her emotion. He didn’t reply at first but instead released her hand gently, picked up her glass and his own, and went over to the sideboard, where he methodically mixed them two more drinks, standing with his back to her. Then, picking up one of her hands, he wrapped it around her glass.
‘Drink,’ he said. ‘You need it. We both do.’
Vanessa did as he asked. The alcohol did make her feel better, but she continued to look up at Titus expectantly.
‘Two questions, Vanessa, which both need answers,’ said Titus. He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. ‘As to the first one, no, no one in this house is trying to kill my niece, least of all Franz. And yet it doesn’t surprise me to hear that this is what she believes. She is being kept in this house against her will, and without the drugs that she craves, she has to use her mind and think, which is terrible for her.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she is what you English call highly strung and her thoughts are full of pain – the death of her parents in the war, the loss of her home, the murder of Ethan, her guilt over his death.’
‘Why should she feel guilty? It wasn’t her fault that that man Swain went crazy.’
‘No, but she thinks it is. And I can understand why she feels responsible. If she’d not started a relationship with Ethan, then Ethan would still be alive today.’
‘But that makes no sense. We’re not Hindus. People have to be allowed to decide who they want to be with.’
‘Like you and me,’ said Titus with a half smile. ‘I wonder what your husband would have to say about that.’
‘He doesn’t like it – of course he doesn’t – but that doesn’t mean he thinks people shouldn’t be free to choose.’
‘Even when they’re married?’
‘Yes, even when they’re married. And your niece wasn’t,’ Vanessa added pointedly.
‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Titus with a sigh. ‘Katya shouldn’t feel guilty, but that doesn’t change the fact that she does. I just wish I could get her to see things differently. As I said, she’s her own worst enemy.’
‘Well, what about getting someone else to talk to her? Maybe a psychiatrist could help?’
‘Don’t you think I’ve tried?’ said Titus bitterly. ‘She won’t speak to anyone.’
‘There must be something you can do.’
‘Only what we are doing. Giving her our love and keeping her out of harm’s way. And hoping that time will heal her wounds, of course. I’m a great believer in that.’
Titus was silent, lost in his troubles, but Vanessa stayed quiet, certain that he had more to say. It was unusual for him to talk about himself and she didn’t want to interrupt his train of thought. And yet when he spoke again it was to change the subject.
‘You asked me about Franz,’ he said. ‘I am sorry you don’t like him. He’s not an easy person, I know. And he’s not at his best with women. But it’s not because he doesn’t like them or doesn’t like you. I assure you of that. It’s rather that he feels uncomfortable because he doesn’t know what to say. You see, his mother died when he was very young and his father was away, and it was really left to his older sister, Jana, to bring him up. She did her best, but she couldn’t be his mother – if nothing else she was too young. And then afterward he was in the army . . .’
‘The Belgian army?’
‘Yes. For ten years before the war. He did well, but it left its mark. I suppose you could say he has all the virtues and the vices of the well-trained military man. He can be awkward in company, especially with the opposite sex, and he tends to see everything in – how do you say? – in black and white. But he is loyal and true; a man of honour. And there is nothing he would not do for me, Vanessa.’
‘Why?’
‘Because years ago I was able to help him when he needed help, because once upon a time I was married to his sister, because . . .’
Titus broke off in midsentence as if turning away from an unwanted memory. Vanessa couldn’t remember how she had first heard that Titus was a widower, but she’d known it for as long as she’d known him. And yet his dead wife had always been an invisible presence. There were no family photographs in the house that she’d ever seen and he’d never mentioned her until now.
‘What was her name?’ Vanessa asked. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and she felt for a moment like a child pushing open a forbidden door.
‘Amélie.’
‘Was she beautiful?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you miss her?’
‘Sometimes. My child too. But it is painful and so I try not to think about them.’
‘Your child! I never knew you had a child.’ Vanessa was rigid with astonishment.
‘Yes, a son like you, but younger. It is part of what draws me to you, I think, Vanessa. That we have both suffered, both lost what was dear to us. Life is never the same after that.’
‘But why didn’t you tell me before? When I told you about Joe?’
‘Because that conversation was about you, not me. I wanted to