The Butterfly Man by Heather Rose

Author:Heather Rose [Rose, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780702248979
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

INTO THE UNKNOWN

ONCE I HAD RECOVERED FROM the surgery and my face was no longer bruised and swollen, I made my way to a hunting lodge near the Zambian border to allow myself time to adapt to my new circumstances.

It was the rainy season and there were few guests. A group of Americans stayed for a week or two, there was a waspish Belgian woman and her husband who showed only the barest civility, and there was a British doctor and his wife, both middle-aged, who arrived after a month or so. It was upon them I practised my new identity.

Max Marshall (my newly acquired name) was suffering from an illness (vaguely terminal I decided) but had always wanted to see the wilds of Africa. Marshall clearly had means and ample time. It worked too well. They were solicitous but not inquisitive. The doctor clearly had no interest in talking shop and my condition meant I was not expected to be out walking and shooting from dawn till dusk. What I did have was a camera and they thought me something of a nature enthusiast. It was all too easy.

One evening I could no longer resist the temptation and in some foolish attempt to prove my cleverness, to trade on the thrill of my notoriety or, perhaps, because inside I was morbidly lonely being someone I was not, I confessed my true identity. The doctor had heard little of the case, having been in India at the time, but his wife was deeply shocked. She took some time to fathom that beneath the new visage was indeed the old face she knew too well from endless press reports. The face of the man who had sought to deprive his children of their mother but killed the nanny instead. She made an early departure from the table and insisted her husband accompany her.

But it was that night which saved me.

After they had left, and the sitting room was all but empty of guests, a voice spoke from behind me.

‘My, you are determined to ruin yourself, aren’t you?’

‘I do beg your pardon,’ I said, ‘are you addressing me, sir?’

‘Young man,’ he returned, ‘following your most revealing conversation with the good doctor and his wife, you may have only days, perhaps hours, before your whole world collapses. Have you any idea of the discomfort you would experience in prison? I suspect the pistol on the table may be preferable to a life sentence. But you won’t have that choice if you are caught. I’m surprised you have survived this far. Good God, John, come and sit by me. I haven’t seen you in thirty years.’

He was an elderly man with a perfectly bald head and a very beautiful smoking jacket. Age may have dwindled his frame but not his character. Despite a slight stoop, he had about him the air of a man of impressive height and strength.

‘I was unaware I was being overheard,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Limited powers of perception are normal for your sort.

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