Plausible Deniability

"You forgot your lunch this morning," David said when Mary came home.

"Mmmm," she said, her mind still on other things.

"I took it over."

"You what?" facing him now and paying attention.

"I took your lunch to your work. Well... where you used to work." He paused, waiting for a response. She looked at the floor for a second.

"They said you hadn't worked there in over a month. I felt like a complete idiot, standing there with two rolls and a cupcake."

"A cupcake? Did you make your special cupcakes?"

He sighed. "Yeah, I had time, you know, to get there before lunch. I thought it might be a nice surprise. There are eleven more in the freezer."

"Sorry darling," she said. "That was very thoughtful of you... I suppose you want to know where I was?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, wouldn't you?"

"I wish I could tell you, but I can't, sorry. I know that sounds wrong, but darling you mustn't worry. It's just a job."

"I thought you had a job."

"I did, I do, just a different one, for a short time."

"How long is a short time?"

"I don't know for sure, but not much longer."

"Where is this job, you know, in case you forget lunch again?"

There was a long pause and a grimace.

"You can't say?"

"No, sorry."

"It's not local for sure, you're doing three times the mileage. Are you working for MI6 or something?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh -- stupid question if you were, you wouldn't be able to say. Good excuse. Oh, what the hell I guess it doesn't matter -- I mean about your old job. If you don't work there now, no one will care if your husband looks like an idiot... If you want to lie to me, I suppose that's up to you. You know -- for better, for worse; all that stuff. At least you come home every night. Do you think being made to look like an idiot classifies as 'for worse'?"

"I didn't actually lie to you and I didn't make you an idiot. It was just bad luck, you were being kind, you didn't deserve it backfiring on you."

"But you can't tell me what it's all about?"

"No." She suppressed a sigh. "I wish... I wish I could, but look at it like this if I'd said I wasn't there because I was robbing a bank, would you want to know?"

"Ah, so you're offering me plausible deniability?"

"Exactly. I'm glad you understand. There are reasons... very important reasons. Even if you were an idiot, which you are not, you are a well-meaning one and I love you." She turned to face him.

"I never spoke a lie to you. Just because I have to keep something secret, it doesn't mean I'm lying. Not telling is not lying."

"Mary, come on, even if you didn't lie, you kind of acted a lie."

"I can see that you're upset," she said, stroking the back of his head. "I guess that's understandable, and I wish I could do something. All I can do is remind you that I love you; you know that don't you."

"So you're not leaving me?"

"What? No. Why would I do that?" she said, for the first time sounding shocked.

"I guess it's what guys worry about when it turns out their wife has been misleading them for a month."

"Guys? Other guys might, I suppose," she said. "But you're not other guys are you? Don't let ideas like that get in your head and worry you. Keep on painting, your art is more important than any that job I'm doing. My money will still be coming in. There is nothing to worry about."

"So this new job pays the same?"

"Yeah. In the long run, a bit more I think."

"But you said it stops soon."

"There will be a bonus at the end."

"So is that why you took it?"

"Partly. The rest is what I can't tell you about."

She took off her jacket and started to unbutton her blouse. "Come to bed with me. Make love to me. Believe what my body tells you."

He shrugged, getting to his feet, patiently gazing at her.

"Mary, your body did the lying, your body didn't go to work."

"Not to my old work. No." She suppressed a tiny giggle. "Can we sleep now? It makes me tired."

"What makes you tired?"

"This other work, all that mileage."

"Shall I sleep in the spare room?"

She stopped him, forcing him to look at her. "David Williams stop being paranoid and stupid. Listen to me. There are two truths you must never forget. One, I will always love you. Two, I have a special job for a short while, and there is a very good reason why I can't tell you about it. Do not worry about it. I'm quite safe, we're both safe. The only danger is if I tell you. Now come to bed."

"You're not very good at this secret stuff are you."

"No." A wan smile crept across her face. "No, I'm not, and I hate it, but I'm still not going to tell you."

After a less than perfect night's sleep, David woke to find that Mary had already left. Being told not to worry, is a sure-fire way to spend the day being anything but relaxed, and then it got worse. He found the note.

Darling,

I'm really sorry about last night. We got ourselves in a muddle didn't we and I know I didn't help. Remember what I said. Everything is okay, and it will go on being okay, but for now, I have to do this new job. I think it will be easier if I stay away until this is all done. The job comes with somewhere to stay, and meals are included, you don't need to bring lunch. Enjoy the cupcakes. They are very good, I ate one and stole some to take with me. If I kept coming home you'll keep on asking questions. That won't do either of us any good. It will put you off your work, and I'll hate saying no to you all the time. I will keep in touch."

The next day, forty-seven miles away, in a big, almost empty mansion, she tucked the sheets around the old man and kissed his forehead.

"Marie," he whispered. "Water."

She took three steps away from the bed and took a new jug of iced water from the fridge in the corner of the room. When she returned the old man had closed his eyes. She set the jug on the table and sank back into the armchair. She ticked the last batch of medicines on the chart and settled into another day of waiting.

At two-thirty he had a lucid interval.

"What happened to our baby Marie?"

"She grew up and married a lovely man called David, it was a fairy tale wedding -- I wish you'd been there."

"I always liked fairy tales."

"I know."

He sat up, eyes wide open for the first time in days.

"Why did you leave Marie?" His eyes fixed on her, almost glowing, two small fires in their sunken sockets, set in a sallow grey face.

He still thinks I'm Mum, she thought.

"Because you married Angela."

"Oh," he said, the fire dimming, sinking back into the pillow. "Angela... Angela died." A tear trickled down his cheek.

"I had a letter from her when she got ill," Mary said. "She told me you would need help. That's why I'm here." His eyes closed.

Not quite a lie, she thought. Angela wrote to Mum and it was forwarded to me. She couldn't have known that Marie had died. At least she tried to make it right. The shallow breathing steadied. She sent David a text.

'Left my phone at home -- borrowed this.

NOT LEAVING YOU -- DON'T WORRY

I Love you.'

Four nights later the breathing stopped. Mary called the doctor, closed the old man's eyes, slept for a few hours in the chair, and then set about dealing with the formalities. She arranged the funeral and asked the old man's secretary to make a guest list. A day later she reviewed a long list of former colleagues and other invitees.

"Who's this David Williams?" she said, momentarily focussed.

"His estranged brother's son -- the other surviving relative. They've never been in contact, but it only seems right to invite him. We traced him last year."

"What does he do?"

"He's an artist, That's how we found him, he had a big exhibition a while ago. Hang on, I think we have copies of some of the pictures." She flipped through the file. "Here's one. Talented isn't he. Look at this, that portrait looks a bit like you."

"Mmmm," Mary said, turning away to hide her smile. "I must look him up."

It was two weeks later when David arrived at the funeral. He was guided to a designated seat. On the chair was a programme, with the words of the hymns and a brief biography of John Williams.

David knew some of the story, passed down from his father. The brothers had fallen out years ago, before he was born. David didn't know the whole story -- a woman was involved, both brothers falling for her, his father leaving in disgust at losing Maria, furious with his younger brother for stealing his girl, getting her pregnant and then within a year, abandoning her to marry another woman.

David never knew if the abandoned child was his bastard sister or his bastard cousin. He knew that Marie disappeared and no one knew what became of the child.

The biography contained the briefest mention of the story, concentrating instead on the way that John Williams amassed his fortune. If the text was to be believed, John was a decent man, who treated his workers well, and lived with many regrets about his earlier life.

David also knew that his father never forgave his brother. He came today out of curiosity and an odd sense of family loyalty, showing that he could bury the hatchet -- even if his father never did. He wondered how they had found him, but rich people had means -- money can explain a lot of things, and there must be plenty of that. They sent him ten thousand pounds to cover any cost in travel and disruption so he could attend the funeral. Ten thousand, to drive forty-seven miles. John must have left instructions, never knowing where David was, leaving enough to bring him from anywhere in the world -- or maybe it was guilt money. John must have made a fortune if he could throw ten thousand around on a long forgotten nephew -- rich enough to afford expensive guilt.

There was a big crowd; all those grateful workers, he supposed. David knew no one, but sitting at the back, he always enjoyed people watching. His father, the older brother, didn't draw as big a crowd at his funeral, but he'd been a farmer, a country man, buried in a country church.

One figure caught his eye, a woman who had walked in behind the coffin, dressed in black with a heavy veil. It's a wonder she can see where she's going, he thought. There was something about her, her walk, a familiar feeling, was that the missing child?

When the church had emptied and the crowd dispersed David walked to the grave.

"Uncle John," he said. "If you can hear me, I brought you something."

He pulled the earth aside and pushed an object into the ground, covering it and pressing the grass back into place.

"That's Arthur's wristwatch," he said. "I thought it was time to make peace."

He stood up and as he turned away he found the woman in black standing behind him. She pulled the veil aside.

"I'm glad you came," she said.

"Mary. I knew I recognised that walk. So this is the secret?"

"Mmmm."

"You were caring for him?"

"Yes, for the last months."

"Are you my bastard sister or my bastard cousin?"

"I don't know, do you really want to know?"

He frowned for a second.

"Do you want to stay married," she said. "Now you know what I've been hiding?"

"The end of job bonus was millions, right?"

She nodded.

"Do you know?" he said.

"John thought I was his daughter."

"The way you said that left room for doubt. Did you ask him?"

"It crossed my mind on one of the long nights when he was dying. I decided not to ask. For years he was consumed with guilt about stealing Arthur's girl, if he found that he'd stolen Arthur's child as well, it would have been too much to bear, that's wear the doubt comes from. He would never have admitted that to himself.

"I don't want to know and nor did he. I am happy being me. John left most of his fortune to me, by name, not as his daughter. He is listed as my father on my birth certificate. Whoever I am, I don't have to give the money back."

"So you're not curious?"

"If there's a choice between being your big sister or your wife, I'd rather be your wife."

"Go on."

"Being your wife means giving you my love and devotion. It's a voluntary obligation. Knowing you wanted me is a source of pride for me. Being your big sister is nothing like that. Our marriage would be annulled, and we might both end up marrying someone else. I don't want that. You could get a DNA test any time. It's up to you. I trust you."

"I think," he said, after a moment, "I'll stick with plausible deniability?"

Afterword

If you've read this far, I hope you enjoyed it. In order to add to the mystery, I sketched some of the backstory with few details and left some loose ends. At the moment I have no plans to fill any of those gaps. If the missing pieces are a disappointment, feel free to write them.