Wychwood Day Eight

Keeping his head low, Sandy boarded the helicopter and strapped himself into a seat. The engine kicked into life with a teeth-grinding whine as the rotors spun faster and faster, and the helicopter jerked off the ground, as if unsticking itself from quicksand. Through the window, he saw the rooks rise angrily from their trees, annoyed by the disturbance. It rose smoothly and effortlessly into the air, then the helicopter’s nose dropped in a stomach-churning swoop, levelled off, and accelerated towards the horizon. He turned his head to watch as Wychwood dwindled in size before disappearing. He sat back and wondered if he would ever see it again.

The previous evening, Sandy had asked to meet Overstrand before dinner. He had pleaded with Samantha to find him something remotely gender-neutral. She had huffed and puffed about how much of a waste it was, given all the lovely outfits Sandy could wear. He felt a pang of guilt for not telling her what he was planning, but he needed answers to so many questions. She eventually came up with a pair of narrow-legged black trousers, a matching bolero jacket, a white blouse, and black ankle boots. The tiny pair of black silk La Perla knickers didn’t help his confidence, and when Sandy looked at himself in the mirror, it was a long way from neutral, but it would have to do. He had put his hair into a ponytail, and Samantha had made him put it up high on the back of his head, instead of low down as he usually did.

Overstrand was in his study, and Sandy’s nerves unravelled as he climbed the stairs to Overstrand’s suite. He stood outside the door, almost turning and fleeing. Despite everything Annabelle had told him, he was terrified it had all been a trick and that Overstrand would take one look at what he was wearing and throw him out. He took several deep breaths and told himself this was what he must do.

He knocked on the door, expecting to hear ‘Come in,’ only to find it pulled open and Overstrand standing in front of him. Startled, Sandy closed his eyes and braced himself, still half expecting to face Overstrand’s fury.

Instead, he heard Overstrand say, “Sandy, it’s wonderful to see you up and about. How are you feeling? You’re looking great, by the way. Come in, come in.”

Sandy squeezed one eye open to see Overstrand smiling and holding the door. Relief flooded through him as Overstrand stepped back and ushered him inside. Overstrand wore a tight white T-shirt, faded blue jeans and boat shoes, and Sandy had to fight the urge to throw his arms around him.

“Oh, thank you, Robert,” he managed to squeak. In a way, Overstrand’s reaction made it all the more important for Sandy to ask his questions.

Sandy had never been inside the study, but he had imagined a dark room with a huge mahogany desk, furnished in the style of Overstrand’s London Club. Yet again, Overstrand surprised him. The study was light and airy, with one of those desks at its centre that can be raised or lowered for standing or seated use. It was fully raised, holding three computer monitors, a keyboard, and a smartphone on a stand. Directly in front was a widescreen TV showing various news programmes, the sound muted. A piece of classical music played softly in the background.

Black-and-white photographs of Venice lined one wall, whilst a painting of a large yacht under full sail caught Sandy’s eye. Overstrand saw him looking. “Magnificent, isn’t she? A Dufour 61. A proper blue-water cruiser.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable. “She’s called Scirocco after the wind. Eleanor and I used to get away from it all on her.” Sandy heard a catch in Overstrand’s voice before he recovered. “Have you done any sailing, Sandy?”

“Only some small boat stuff, nothing like that, Robert” Sandy’s initial anxiety was melting away.

“That’s okay; everyone starts somewhere. Would you like to come with me sometime? She’s in Corsica at the moment on a charter. Easy enough to arrange a trip.”

Sandy felt himself falling under Overstrand’s spell, and he had to shake himself; this wasn’t what he came for. But, before he could say anything, Overstrand went on.

“How are you feeling, Sandy? It must have been a terrible experience. I heard you were the absolute hero. You don’t know how glad I am it turned out the way it did. I wouldn’t have wanted anything to happen to you.”

Sandy felt his face go pink. “I don’t feel like a hero, Robert. I was terrified and took the only chance I had.”

Overstrand touched Sandy’s arm, and the all-too-familiar thrill ran through him. “I know Annabelle and Fleur think you’re a hero, and that’s good enough for me.”

Overstrand walked over to a table and pulled out a chair for Sandy. “Come and sit down, and we can talk. Would you like something to drink? I can get Mhairi to bring up tea or coffee. I have water here, or something stronger?”

Sandy thought he would love a brandy to steady his nerves, but he needed to keep a clear head. “Water would be lovely, please.”

Overstrand reached over the table to where glasses and bottles of water stood. He poured each of them a glass and sat down facing Sandy. “Sandy, I believe you wanted to talk to me about something?”

Sandy took a long gulp of water and then looked Overstrand in the eye.

“Robert, you have been so kind to me, and I will never forget that, but I have so many questions that need answers.”

Overstrand looked puzzled, but said, “Okay, fire away.”

Sandy took a deep breath before saying, “First of all, why am I here?”

“That’s easy, Sandy. To translate the diary, of course.”

“Robert, I may be naive, but I’m not stupid. There’s far more going on than translating the diary, so please be honest with me. After last night, I think I deserve the truth. For example, why did you choose me to translate the diary? There are others better placed to do it, so there must be another reason. And how did I end up looking like this? There have been so many weird things going on here that I don’t understand, and I don’t mean last night either.”

Overstrand interrupted him. “Weird things?”

“I’ll come to those, but Annabelle earlier told me some things that made me question what exactly has been going on. She also said there were questions only you could answer. Tell me the truth, please.”

Overstrand was impassive, his blue eyes fixed on Sandy, who couldn’t read anything into his gaze. With a shrug, Overstrand finally spoke. “Siri, hold my calls.”

“Calls held for 60 minutes, Robert,” Siri replied in what sounded like Annabelle’s voice.

Sandy looked quizzically at Overstrand, who shook his head. “Don’t. She did it as a joke, but I’ve grown used to it. Yes, you’re right. You deserve to know the whole story. But first, I need a drink.”

He stood and walked to the wall, where he pressed a hidden panel. A door opened, revealing a wine fridge and a small bar. He poured himself a brandy before returning to the table.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything, Sandy?”

Sandy shook his head, and Overstrand sat down. “The moment I first saw you at that University talk, I was taken aback.”

“But why?” Sandy couldn’t help butting in.

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“People keep saying that, and I’m really tired of it,” snapped Sandy.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” Overstrand held up his hand and fetched his phone from his desk. He opened the photo library, searched briefly, and then smiled as he handed Sandy the phone and said, “That’s Eleanor.”

Sandy felt his heart miss a beat as he stared at the picture on his phone. His hand flew to his mouth, stifling a gasp. For a second, he thought he was looking at a picture of himself. It wasn’t, of course, but the resemblance was uncanny. Eleanor Overstrand had the same auburn hair and green eyes as Sandy. She was smiling at the camera, squinting into the sun. Sandy felt his heart race as he took it all in, and he looked wide-eyed at Overstrand, who smiled at his reaction.

“When I saw you walking towards me, I had to pinch myself. Your hair colour, your eyes, your face, had such a resemblance to Eleanor that I was utterly stunned.”

Sandy remembered the look of surprise that had flicked across Overstrand’s face when he caught sight of him. “Robert, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. But you seemed so in control.”

Overstrand smiled. “The first rule of business is to keep your game face on at all times. My first thought was that it might be a set-up, someone trying to get close to me by mimicking Eleanor. Even down to the mistake on the name badge. You remember, it read Alessandra, Eleanor’s middle name. I’ve had journalists try so many dirty tricks to get at me that I couldn’t rule it out.”

“So that’s why you wanted my number and left. I thought it was to get rid of me.”

“Partly right. I was still shaken after meeting you, and I wanted to get myself together and, to be honest, get you checked out. I couldn’t afford to be caught in a honeytrap.”

“You really thought I was a honeytrap? That’s crazy.”

“Not crazy, Sandy. I know Annabelle told you I’m bi, although I think you already knew. If someone knew it, then it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to set it up.”

“Is that when you asked Annabelle to vet me?”

“Yes, and it was blindingly obvious that you were exactly who you said you were. Some aspects of the report did fascinate me.”

Sandy felt heat rise to his face as he realised what Overstrand was talking about.

Overstrand didn’t seem to notice and carried on. “But a report can only tell you so much about someone, so I decided to meet you to see what kind of person you really were.”

He paused to take another sip of brandy.

“I was astounded to get the invitation, Robert. I was so nervous about meeting you. I had no idea why you wanted to meet me.”

“You were sweet and charming, Sandy, and I felt we had a connection that I would enjoy exploring. Do you know the moment I knew that?”

Sandy shook his head.

“When you told that odious little actor what you would do to him. That was the moment I knew we would be friends.”

Despite himself, Sandy smiled. “I enjoyed doing that. But why did you offer me the translation job? Many more people could have done it.”

“Sandy, have you ever had the feeling that at a given moment the stars align perfectly?”

“Maybe, once or twice.”

“Well, that happened that day. I had recently secured the Franco diary; I needed someone to translate it, and there you were. Someone I liked, and hoped had the skills and patience to do the job. Sometimes in life, you have to take an opportunity when it’s there, because it might not be there forever. I made a decision then and there, and I have not regretted it for a second.”

“Thank you for being so honest, Robert. But that doesn’t even begin to explain what happened when I arrived at Wychwood. So many strange things have happened. Was it a set-up because I looked like Eleanor? I need to know the truth.”

For the first time, Overstrand’s eyes dropped away, and Sandy knew he was right.

“Sandy,” Overstrand began, and Sandy thought he caught a tremor in Overstrand’s voice. “When I read Annabelle’s report, I sensed there was someone confused about who they were. That was reinforced when I met you. I saw someone trying to find their way, but lacking the opportunity and means to do so. I wanted to offer you a chance to explore something. Not to force you, but to let you make your choice, if you wanted to. I had the means to make that happen. But to answer your question, yes, I was fascinated by how much you looked like Eleanor.”

Sandy rocked back in his chair, angry and hurt. “Did you want to make me look like Eleanor? Was I just a pawn in your weird fucking mind game?” he spat the words.

Overstrand recoiled at Sandy’s words and held his hands up. “No, no, that wasn’t it at all.”

“What was it then, for God’s sake?” Sandy fired back.

“Sandy, I meant no harm. I didn’t know if you would go along with it all. You could have chosen not to, after all.”

Sandy smacked his head with his hand as he finally realised what had happened.

“How could I have been so dumb?” he said, shaking his head. “It was all in front of me. My pyjamas going missing. Sam must have taken them, so I had to wear the ones she pulled from Eleanor’s closet. My clothes getting stuck in the washing machine. The way Sam, Mhairi and Annabelle didn’t bat an eyelid at what I was wearing. They were all in on it, of course. Annabelle almost blurted out how much I looked like someone. She meant Eleanor. And the clothes. They always seemed to be new; why did I not connect the dots? Thinking back, I did wonder at different times, but I let it happen. It was like that story about a lobster. Throw a lobster in a pan of boiling water, and it jumps out. Put it in cold water, turn up the heat, and it stays there. I did wonder why you asked me to translate the diary when others could have done it. It didn’t help that I had an enormous crush on you, which you must have known. I was too star-struck and bowled over even to ask.”

Sandy sank back into his seat.

“Sandy, I meant no harm. I wanted to give you the chance to explore your identity. If you took it, you would learn something about yourself; if you didn’t, no harm done.”

Sandy glowered at Overstrand. “In other words, I was a pet project, to be observed and studied.”

Overstrand shook his head. “I’m sorry you think of it like that, Sandy. I liked you, and yes, I took a risk that you could handle the translation, but I was right about that.”

Sandy sat bolt upright as something came to him. “What about the messages on my laptop and the voice in the night? Did you arrange that too?”

A look of consternation crossed Overstrand’s face. “Sandy, what voice, what messages? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sandy looked at the expression on Overstrand’s face and, with a jolt, realised he was telling the truth. Whatever had happened wasn’t part of Overstrand’s plans, and he thought he ran the risk of sounding mad.

“No matter. There have been too many things going on in this house for me to stay. I’m sorry, Robert. I have to leave.” Sandy spoke with a certainty he didn’t really feel.

Overstrand didn’t respond straight away. He stared at Sandy as if trying to decide whether to persuade him to change his mind. He shook his head and said, “I can see you’ve made your mind up, Sandy. I won’t try to change it, so here’s what will happen. I’ll pay the agreed fee for the translation and arrange for the helicopter to take you back to London tomorrow morning. I have to remind you that you signed an NDA, so you cannot tell anyone what happened during your time here. I am sorry that it has ended this way, but I wish you all the best in whatever you do next.” He stood to signal that the meeting was over. Sandy stood and walked, unsteady on his legs, to the door. As he opened it, he turned and looked back at Overstrand. He was standing with a look on his face that Sandy couldn’t decipher.

“Robert, I’m sorry, but I have to do this. If it’s any consolation, what happened here has made up my mind about one thing.”

He closed the door behind him and leant back against it, eyes closed and heart racing. He had expected to feel relieved that it was over. Instead, he felt empty and very scared.

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