Slow Poison

by Helen Slavin

  They had to backtrack then and as the small lane loomed into view once more Charlie barked instruction.

  “Turn here.”

  The van lurched into the lane.

  The stable block was a buzz of activity. There were several cars parked up and so Jack had to back the van into an awkward space under the trees nearest the house.

  They loaded the first of the five casks onto the trolley and trundled it through the arch into the courtyard.

  The stables were, it must be admitted, verging on derelict, albeit in an appealing and romantic way. Today they looked rustically festive. There was a sound of hammering and quantities of homemade bunting were being tangled into the trees as Charlie headed inside the large space of the Fore Barn.

  The ceremony was to be held in the Owl Barn, the slightly squatter brother to this space and already there had been some confusion about which chairs went where. Men had been drafted in to shift the metal chairs into the Owl Barn for the ceremony and were clashing terribly with the wooden chairs that were destined for the tables in the Fore Barn.

  “So where do you want the beer casks?” Charlie asked the harassed looking woman with a reporter’s notebook in her hand. The woman, who had not introduced herself, checked her top list and then flicked a few pages back through the notebook.

  “Sorry about this, my tablet crashed and it’s a total effing nightmare.” By the time she had reached the word ‘nightmare’ her voice was a thin high screech and three men had approached her other side and were asking three separate questions regarding flowers, tablecloths, and Portaloos.

  “Wait,” she barked, flicking through more pages of the notebook as if it was a novel she had to get to the end of. “Wait.”

  “Jack, if you unload that just here and then go back for the rest…” Charlie instructed as the woman began to make an odd little keening sound.

  “Flowers.” She didn’t look up from the page. The man asking about the flowers held up his hand, possibly in surrender to the battlefield that was this wedding. “No. First. Beer. Beer. Okay. Can you put the casks in the end of the stable block? Micky and Mike should be there already setting up the bar.” She pointed to the last door in the stable block. Charlie moved swiftly to catch up with Jack and they rolled the first two casks across the stable yard and through the doorway.

  There was no one in the end stable unless you counted the pigeons in the rafters.

  “You sure this is where they want them?” Jack asked. Charlie nodded.

  “That’s what her reporter’s notebook told her. The bar is being set up in here.” They headed back to the van, Jack rolling the other casks into the stable block as Charlie approached the hassled woman again for a signature on their paperwork.

  “What am I signing for?” she asked as she scribbled a signature.

  “The beer. Drawbridge Brewery.” Charlie tore off the top copy and handed it to the woman.

  In the distance there was a sudden brittle chinking and Charlie glanced up. In the Fore Barn the tower of champagne glasses had toppled over; the woman with the notebook gave a deathly whimper.

  Charlie felt sorry for her. Jack tooted the horn impatiently and as the woman stormed off to inspect the damage, Charlie headed back to the van.

  * * *

  The afternoon teas were just finishing as Charlie waded through a large party of tourists who were milling out of the Castle Inn along the pavement towards their waiting coach. There was a greasy smell of diesel from the running engine and it coughed out a black cloud that misted everyone for a moment. Charlie coughed and as she stepped aside to let three of the tourists pass her, cameras clicking at the view above of the castle, she saw, written into the cracks in the pavement, a map of Hartfield Hall, and the stable block blinked into her brain and made her pause. What was it about this map? She glanced over the cracks once more and knew she’d lost it, the map had vanished. It was an irritation to her. She tried once again to recall the brief mental flicker and failed. It had been a long day.

  “I need tea. Possibly as much as a bucket,” she said to Casey as she took up a seat near the kitchen door.

  “Plastic or galvanised?” Casey asked with a poker face. “I’ll tell her you’re here…” and with a smile she pushed through the doors into the kitchen.

  It was relaxing in the Castle Inn. Charlie liked the tea room particularly; it seemed to her that the low beams bounced back the coolness of the white damask table cloths and lent both light and air to the room. It civilised you. She glanced down at the tablecloth where a blob of red jam and a smear of cream sat alongside a roundel of tea stain. Charlie looked at the marks for several moments as if trying to find meaning in them. The conclusion she came to was that she quite fancied a cream tea.

  Anna was looking pink-faced as she approached. She’d taken her pinny off and sat down.

  “How’s it going?” she asked. Charlie shrugged.

  “Fine. Bit of wedding beer hassle at Hartfield, nothing drastic.” Charlie’s expression did not lighten.

  “But?” Anna pushed. Charlie took in a deep breath.

  “I think we should head home. Talk to Ailith some more.” Charlie heard the heaviness in her voice. Anna nodded.

  “We were too polite.”

  “Yeah. Grandma was never too polite. Still, we’re learning.” Charlie looked lighter already.

  “I’m finished here until half five, that gives us a couple of hours.” The sisters, decided and united, stood up in unison. As they did so Charlie found the words tumbling out.

  “We have no idea what we’re doing with this do we?” She looked to her sister for reassurance.

  “Nope,” Anna smiled. “We just have to busk it.”

  * * *

  At Prickles Visitor Centre, Emz was tilling up and looking forward to the walk home when the door to reception opened and Charlie and Anna stepped in.

  “Hey.” Emz was glad to see them. The edgy feeling she’d had today fell away a little; instead of buzzing at her, it hummed a little.

  “Hey. You nearly finished?” Charlie was, Emz could see, in her practical mode, the car keys in her hand and her fleece zipped up. You could sometimes tell how hard Charlie was thinking by how high up her fleece was zipped. Tonight, it was almost all the way to the top. Her left hand fiddled with the zipper toggle.

  “Yes. I just have to finish the till.” Emz was sorting the coins into little plastic bank bags which were then put into the big red canvas bag. It was very rare that there was anything to put in this bag but this afternoon’s school trip had shifted a lot of souvenir pencils and the sweets selection was looking bare.

  “We’ve got a sort of plan,” Anna began as she helped bag up the pennies. Charlie stood on the opposite side of the counter, leaned in.

  “We thought we’d try and push Ailith a bit tonight. Not back off like we did last night. Go in.”

  “Go in?” Emz pulled a face. “That sounds harsh.”

  “Not harsh. But we need to try hard. Or at least harder than last night.” Anna said.

  “She’s got over her trip. Now she has to tell us the truth.” Charlie put her hand on the counter as if to seal Ailith’s fate. Emz looked up at them both.

  “She told us a lot last night.” Emz recalled the slightly bloodthirsty story, told in a quiet and weary voice which somehow made it even more horrible. She stopped short of shuddering.

  “She told us the circumstances of why she left,” Anna said. “She told us almost nothing about herself or why she’s come to Havoc.”

  “It’s that head. Got to be about that surely?” Charlie was settled on this. “You don’t just wander about with a random bloke’s head in your handbag.”

  “You might do in Havoc,” Emz mused as she picked up the big red money bag and nodded to the back door. The three sisters moved into the kitchen.

  “Emz is right. Anything is possible,” Anna sighed.

  “She’s here for our help. Isn’t she?” Emz shoved the big red bag of change into
the microwave and shut the door on it.

  “Is she?” Charlie asked with a shrug. “She’s a fugitive. I get that. But we can’t just blindly trust her.”

  “Not blindly. Instinctively.”

  “There’s something off about her.” Charlie wrinkled her nose as if sniffing a bad smell.

  “Fear,” Emz stated. “Which is why I think she needs our help.”

  “Help doing what, Emz?” Anna asked. “D’you think she’s here for sanctuary?”

  “And if so how long might she stay?” Charlie put in. They were heading out along the back lane. Winn, chugging towards them in the Land Rover, gave a toot on the horn and a breezy wave which they returned as they stood in the ditch to avoid being run over.

  “If she’s a fugitive maybe someone’s chasing her. Maybe someone is after her. After all they chopped off this warrior bloke’s head, I mean from what she said last night it sounded like terrorists. What if they want to kill her? What if they show up in Havoc?” Emz stepped back out of the ditch and turned to her sisters. They were staring up at her, Anna looking pale, Charlie rather cross.

  “What if they want to kill her because she’s the bad guy?” Charlie said.

  * * *

  Ailith had enough experience to see that while the Way sisters were preparing food, while they were all chatting to her and smiling, there was a background tension. You could, if you listened at all, hear it, like wires humming above everyone’s heads. For most of her life, when Ailith had heard this sort of sound she had been quick to get out of its way. But that was then, and this was now, and now she was in Cob Cottage and they were the Gamekeepers.

  Ailith was uncertain of them. She understood their situation, but she also understood her own. She had come to Havoc Wood with good reason. She needed help.

  “So. Ailith,” Charlie Way began, offering a bowl of green beans that were scented with lemon and some luscious and savoury oil that Ailith had not eaten before. Anna leapt into the conversation before Charlie could continue.

  “We hope we didn’t give you too terrible a welcome. We were caught a little off guard last night.”

  “We weren’t expecting you.” Charlie gave the words weight. Ailith watched her hands as she tore at her hunk of bread. They were working hands, she noted, and that made her feel a connection to this sister. She looked at Anna’s hands as they placed a bowl of rosemary scented carrots onto the table and shifted aside some cutlery. Her hands were well worked too and yes, here was the littlest one, slight and slim and her hands looked the most worked of all. She had forgotten what this one did. A scholar was it?

  “I am sorry for that. Word was not sent, I know, but there was no chance. No time.” Ailith was reminded of the times, few and much treasured, when she had left off her work and sat opposite Lordship at the squares game.

  “That’s understandable.” Anna offered round the herby chicken and gave Charlie a pointed look. Emz watched them both for a moment.

  “Your welcome was kind.”

  “What are you doing here?” Charlie blurted out. Anna held her breath but Emz watched Ailith.

  “I came to bring the warrior home.” She tore at the bread a little to give herself time to bring her thoughts together.

  “Oh.” Charlie thought about it. “Home to Woodcastle? To the castle you mean?”

  “Or are you on your way elsewhere after this? Is his home in another place?” Anna prodded with a smile. Ailith’s mind recalled the tale she’d told herself to help her keep her dancing thoughts in step.

  “The castle. I have brought the warrior home for his Bone Resting.”

  The sisters relaxed a little. This seemed a simpler matter.

  “Bone Resting?” Charlie pulled a puzzled face. Anna furrowed her brow but Emz buzzed with enlightenment.

  “Oh! Like a burial you mean… like burying your heart somewhere… like Thomas Hardy’s heart in a cake tin in Dorset?”

  The two other sisters looked at Emz with varying expressions of puzzled amusement.

  “They buried him at Westminster Abbey, but they cut his heart out…” Emz tried to explain. Ailith felt a little bit ill at that thought and yet there was all this food. Vegetables scented with the earth they’d just been pulled from. Like home. No, not like home.

  “I was sent here for the Bone Resting. To rest him, safe. At the castle. That is the task.” Ailith was focusing on the very smallest details and being careful. She thought once more of the squares game, of the movement of the carved pieces, the horse and rider here, the holy man there. Chess. That was the game. Like this. Be mindful, never be cornered.

  “Of course. A funeral, that makes sense.” Anna’s voice softened and Ailith sensed her thoughts drift.

  “Is there a particular way you have to do the Bone Resting? Like a church service? A ritual?” Charlie asked. Inside Ailith the worm of worry that she carried chewed a little more, was unceasing. This was the reason she was here, and they knew nothing of it. She cut the food, forked a tasty morsel into her mouth. It tasted like dirt, poisoned with fear.

  She retired to bed, no longer hungry.

  * * *

  The Ways, wrapped in various blankets and nursing a hot chocolate, a coffee, and a tea respectively, sat out on the porch.

  “What do you both think? Is she telling us the truth?” Emz asked and looked at Charlie who blew across her hot chocolate although it was already cooled in the chilly October air. She had watched the way Ailith tore the bread roll into small pieces and then did not eat a single one.

  “You’re the one who can tell if someone’s lying, Charlie,” Emz insisted, her gaze not shifting. Anna spoke up.

  “She’s telling the truth.” Anna was serious and formal. “We touched hands by mistake this morning and I was flickerbooked.” Anna sipped at her tea as Emz and Charlie stared at her, Charlie’s eyebrows rising into her hairline.

  “Flickerbooked,” Emz said the word over. “You haven’t said that in… not since I was…” a smile hovered uncertainly at her mouth, she looked down to hide it.

  “Flickerbooked?” Charlie’s grip tightened on her mug. Emz took in a pleased breath, put a hand over her mouth now because she couldn’t stop the smile. Charlie glared.

  “Oh. Right, okay. We’re being open about the… the…” Charlie struggled with the word, even when Anna’s eyes lifted from her cup and she nodded.

  “Magic,” Emz whispered the word behind her hand, as if it belonged only to her, a secret, safe.

  “Okay. Okay.” Charlie held up her hand as if to silence Emz then took in a deep thoughtful breath as she turned to Anna. “What did you see in the flickerbook moment?”

  “The story, pretty much as she told it. More raw if anything.” Anna shivered a little, pulled her blanket tighter as the memory of Ailith’s flickerbooked memories riffled and shuffled once more. “Something happened to her. She is genuine.”

  “She’s like us, isn’t she?” Emz suggested. “Unsure of herself.”

  Charlie let out a snort of laughter.

  “Unsure? Ha. That’s one way of putting it.” Charlie’s voice was raw; only Anna picked up on it where Emz was carried away with the openness.

  “It’s true. This is all new to us. Only our second job as Gamekeepers. It’s probs the first time she’s done this, you know, couriered a head to Havoc Wood,” Emz contributed through a mouthful of marshmallows.

  “Yes. That’s a good way of seeing it. She’s a courier.” Anna sipped more tea.

  “Or an undertaker,” Charlie sealed it.

  “Do we have to do the Bone Resting, d’you think?” Emz asked. “I can’t remember any time when Grandma Hettie mentioned a Bone Resting.”

  “Perhaps someone will come. Like a priest.” Anna looked out across the lake as if the answers might be there. Charlie gave a grumpy sigh.

  “At least she didn’t say anyone is coming for vengeance. It sounds like the battle’s done. No terrorists.” She looked pointedly at Emz. Emz was off on her own tangent, her
eyes glittering in the porch light with a keen enthusiasm.

  “So, if this is some sort of funeral… then are there going to be other guests? You know, paying their respects?” she asked.

  Anna and Charlie looked at each other.

  “You don’t make this easy, do you?” Charlie was bothered; Anna and Emz could see it in the way she was folded into her blanket, the corners pinned under her legs.

  “Emz is right. Let’s give it a couple of days, keep a low-level lookout. See who might arrive.” Anna was convincing.

  Charlie’s eyes were skirting the darker edges of Pike Lake, watchful.

  “For Pete’s sake,” she muttered, her hand clenching the handle of her mug so that Emz was convinced she could hear it cracking.

  “This is Gamekeeping,” Emz suggested, trying to sound light. Charlie put down her mug and tugged her blanket tighter still, her eyes continuing to scan the lakeshore.

  “Ha. Well, let’s hope someone turns up with instructions on how to do a Bone Resting,” she said.

  “We did all right for Grandma Hettie,” Anna said quietly. The words dandled in the air for a moment, each sister recalling their coffin heist. Charlie released some of the tension on her blanket and stood up. She picked up her mug, looked at Anna and then Emz.

  “Yes. We did.” She gave a brief smile as she chinked their mugs in a toast.

  As they finished up and moved back inside Cob Cottage, the clouds covered over the silver sliver of the new moon and the night grew a little darker. Anna stopped herself from thinking that this was significant in any way. It was just clouds; it was only the weather.

  9

  Invitation to the Wedding

  Seren Lake had a mouth full of pins and was working very quickly on the last adjustments to the bridal gown. Her new shop was only just open, and this was her first completed commission. She felt on edge, after all she wanted it to be perfect for the bride, and her own uneasiness was mixing with the general wedding nerves of bride, mother and bridesmaids. The room felt hot and small and filled with too many hats and elbows.