by Leo McNeir
“They’re in your camera,” Donovan interjected.
“How did you know that?”
“It’s obvious.”
“Yes. I shot a whole roll of film yesterday to update my records. I’ll take them in to get them processed tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“We have a lab at work – the Imaging Unit – they do all our processing, high quality prints –”
“No,” said Donovan. “You can’t do that. They’ll have been told to hand over anything relating to your work.”
“What else can I do?”
“Where’s your camera?”
“In my bag in the car.”
“What kind of film is it? Colour?”
“No. We use black and white for this kind of job.”
“I can develop it.”
“You?” Rosemary looked at her husband and back at Donovan. “I’m not sure.”
“It’s not the kind of thing you can drop in to Boots like holiday snaps. Trust me.”
*
The dig was winding up for the day when the early evening news programme began at six. Marnie turned on the television in Ralph’s study on Thyrsis and sat in the chair at his desk. Anne and Danny took the armchairs while Donovan sat on the floor between them. Ralph was on his way back from meetings in Oxford, held up in traffic on the by-pass.
With growing impatience they sat through the usual run of depressing items: a minister accused of sleaze, problems with the economy, famine and genocide in Africa. Towards the end of the programme the presenter took on a more cheerful air and announced that the hot weather would be persisting over the weekend. This boded well for the special summer edition of Timeline where at sites all over the country digs were in progress, their topic: witchcraft through the ages. As he spoke, the scene changed to a panorama, a panning shot of a sloping field in a rural setting.
“That’s here!” Danny exclaimed. “Those are our diggers.”
The view cut to a group shot of enthusiastic archaeologists clustered together, one of them holding up a tiny object, a pendant fleur-de-lys. The sun glinted off gold as he held the object against the throat of a girl in the team and the others admired it. The cameo scene concluded with another man, obviously in authority, shaking hands with a young fair-haired man dressed in black. The image froze and became a background picture covering the entire rear wall of the studio as the newscaster wound up. Conspicuous in the centre of the picture stood Donovan, staring out at millions of viewers.
Danny patted his shoulder. “Hey! You’re famous.”
Donovan said nothing. Everyone was smiling, everyone but him.
*
The talk at the dinner table that evening was of the trailer for Timeline and Rosemary’s photographs. It was warm and muggy, and they ate at the table on the bank beside the docking area. Ralph had returned too late to see any of the news programme, and Marnie brought him up to speed on the day’s events in Knightly St John. His reaction to the photographs story surprised them.
“I wonder if Rosemary’s contracts are covered by the Official Secrets Act.”
Ralph suggested they check with Rosemary before going any further. He pointed out that she could find herself in trouble for misappropriating material, as could anyone connected with the last roll of film. The latter was now sitting in a cupboard on Exodos, ready for Donovan to transport it back to his dark room in London.
Donovan was even more quiet than usual during the meal and took himself off for an early night as soon as they had finished eating. Danny remarked on this when she and Anne retired to the attic that night. She could not understand why Donovan was so concerned about having his face plastered on the TV news.
Anne thought back to Donovan’s sudden disappearance the previous summer after the shooting of the far-right political leader, Garth Brandon. It was suspected that the gunman had been one of Brandon’s inner circle, a blackshirt like all his followers. These memories Anne kept to herself.
Chapter 27
Getaway
The door to the office barn swung open on Friday morning and Celia Devere made an entrance. Marnie was bent over her drawing board deep in concentration and did not look up. Anne was adding up a column of figures on the computer and could not take her eyes away for fear of making a mistake.
“What fun!” Celia exclaimed, radiant in the doorway. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Marnie turned slowly, her mind still focused on her hotel project. Anne pressed the Enter key and raised her eyes. Celia was resplendent in a pale blue trouser suit, head tilted at a coquettish angle, arms spread wide, beaming.
“Wonderful?” Marnie repeated. “Oh yes, nice suit.”
“Not the suit, silly.” A girlish laugh. “All the action, the life. Haven’t you been outside this morning?”
Words flashed through Marnie’s mind: No. Believe it or not, some of us have to earn a living, which means doing some actual work, you idle moron! She said, “Er, no, not really. We’ve been rather committed on the work front.”
“Of course you have. I expect you’ve been getting everything ready for the start on my redecoration. Am I right?”
“More or less.” Marnie hoped she sounded convincing.
“Excellent. Well, while you’ve been beavering away, the world and his dog have been beating a path to your door, or rather, to your field. If Anne was out there serving teas, you’d make a fortune.”
Anne dropped a mental curtsy, loaded a mental Kalashnikov, hurled a mental grenade. At that moment, the door was pushed wider and a man walked in, followed by a woman and a teenage boy. They began looking around the office.
“Good morning.” Marnie tried to conceal her irritation. “Can I help you?”
“This the Timeline’s office, then?” The man began walking towards the display board where project plans and photographs were pinned up.
Marnie stood up and placed herself in front of him.
“No, this is the office of Walker and Co, interior designers. The archaeologists are based round the corner.”
Anne leapt to her feet. “I’ll show you. It’s this way.” She led the man to the door and gave directions.
Celia smiled as the visitors trooped out. “I think you have the patience of a saint, Marnie. You’re always so polite to everyone.”
“It’s part of being professional. It can be a strain at times.”
Celia missed the irony. “You do it so well.”
“Thank you.” Marnie tried not to look at Anne, who was grinning in the doorway. “I take it we have sightseers out there?”
Celia took Marnie’s arm. “Come and see for yourself.”
The phone began ringing. It was Molly Appleton from the village shop. She had been inundated with strangers asking directions to the Timeline dig. They were arriving by the minute. Marnie pondered the news for several seconds. She could not work out why Celia found it all so exciting. They walked round to the field with Anne and it immediately became clear.
No sooner had they reached the HQ barn than a small crowd gathered round Celia, identifying her as the glamorous lady seen in the TV trailer. Close up, dressed like the star in a Hollywood epic, she did not disappoint her public. Marnie watched Celia preening herself, basking in the glow of recognition. She suspected it was only a matter of time before autograph books came out.
Anne remarked to one of the students in the HQ barn that Dick Blackwood was nowhere in sight. She, the student, pulled a face in the direction of the crowd and explained that he had left in a hurry. A neighbour in Martyrs Close had warned him that a throng of visitors was milling around Sarah’s grave site, apparently looking for souvenirs among the brambles. Dick had just phoned back to base camp asking for four students to join him at once to mount a guard to keep it safe from desecration.
While Anne was relaying this to Marnie, Danny and Donovan arrived. Danny had been sunbathing by the canal and had called on Donovan for a chat. She came wearing an open shirt over her bikini. Donovan was in
black and grey.
A small group of visitors detached themselves from Celia’s charmed circle to inspect the latest arrivals. Some of them recognised Donovan from the television trailer. He was unsettled to receive so much attention and flashed a concerned look at Anne. So many strangers bothered him.
One of the students in the HQ barn complained about the heat. Anne realised it would soon be break-time. As the crowd round Donovan grew, she walked to the edge of the field, cupped her hands round her mouth and called out.
“Clear up your loose!”
The diggers in the field needed no second urging. They broke all records tidying their trenches and set off for the HQ barn, leaving the visitors stranded where they stood.
Donovan raised a hand to shield his eyes and stared out across the slope. He turned and strode away, momentarily pausing to glance back at Anne with a barely perceptible nod.
*
Half an hour later, Anne slipped out of the office barn and walked through the spinney. Emerging on the other side, she found that Exodos had gone. She was considering what to do next when her mobile sounded.
“It’s me. Are you alone?”
“I’m by the boats looking at your empty space. Where are you, Donovan?”
“Just round the corner to the south. Off-side of the canal. Can you meet me?”
“Give me ten minutes.”
*
Anne was back in the office in less than two. Marnie was at her desk, sorting papers.
“Marnie –”
“I know. It’s impossible to work here with all this going on.”
“Marnie, Donovan’s gone.”
“Already?”
“I think he’s spooked by all the attention. He’s moored out of sight, wants me to go and see him.”
Marnie nodded. “Of course. He thinks the far right might be on to him?”
“My guess is, he thinks he might’ve been recognised on TV last night.”
Marnie stood up. “Maybe we should all go. We can leave one day early.”
“You don’t think it might look odd?”
“No. We’ve already made it clear we can’t work properly with so much disturbance.”
“Should I tell Rob or Suzi?”
“No need. They’ll not notice us going. And if Donovan’s right, the fewer people who know we’ve taken off, the better.”
*
Ralph was warming up the engine on Thyrsis when they reached the docking area. Anne and Danny attended to casting off while Marnie left a message on the Burton’s answerphone in cottage number one, asking them to feed Dolly for the next few days.
They rounded the corner and were lost from view to anyone on Glebe Farm land in less than a minute.
In the late morning heat the diggers were preoccupied with slaking their thirst, the camera crew with setting up their next shots, the trippers with gazing at the spectacle. If one or two visitors were mingling with the crowd and examining everyone connected with the dig at close quarters, no-one noticed them.
Thyrsis drew level with Exodos and deposited Anne and Danny on the counter. After a hasty conference, Donovan disappeared inside, leaving Anne at the tiller while Danny pushed off from the bank before climbing aboard. They cleared the lock at Cosgrove, and the small convoy headed south, observed only by a solitary heron.
Chapter 28
Leighton Buzzard
Much of Saturday morning was spent travelling round Milton Keynes. The previous night the convoy had tied up in the most remote spot they could find. Donovan had offered to give up his sleeping cabin, but Anne and Danny insisted on sharing the convertible dinette. Breakfast was hasty and basic but adequate, and both boats were ready to move off by seven.
The landscape around the self-styled ‘new city’ is as varied as any to be found on the canal system, with no locks to interrupt progress from one end to the other. They passed through housing developments of varying styles, here a picturesque village, there old-established industry, in one sector wooded scenery, in another open moorland; a mixture that often surprised the visitor.
Donovan saw little of it on that journey, but stayed inside, leaving Anne at the tiller. For Danny the trip represented yet another opportunity for sun-worship, and she stretched out in her bikini on folded towels on the roof near the stern where she could chat to Anne as they cruised along.
They had decided to proceed with some distance between the boats so as not to draw attention to themselves. When Exodos approached the first lock of the day at Fenny Stratford, another boat was pulling away from the bank ahead of them, its crew already opening a gate. Seeing the two young women, a man at the lockside waved them to come forward and heaved open the second gate. Exodos had found a new companion for the journey, a hire boat returning to Leighton Buzzard at the end of a holiday afloat.
On Thyrsis, Marnie pulled over to drop Ralph ashore to work the lock and spotted Exodos in the distance following closely behind another boat. As the lead boat turned to take a bend, she recognised the light blue paintwork of a local hire-boat company.
That afternoon, twelve lock-miles later, the blue boat slowed and veered off towards the hire base. The companions went their separate ways and Anne settled down to cruise through her home town.
Rounding the next bend, she became aware of activity on the bank. Three policemen were standing in a group by the wall set back from the towpath. Seeing the boat, they stepped forward, one of them speaking into his lapel radio.
Exodos proceeded unhindered past the policemen. They passed under a bridge and rounded a bend. As soon as they were out of sight, Anne grabbed her mobile.
“Danny, take the tiller. I have to make a call.”
Danny slipped down from the roof while Anne pressed buttons.
“Marnie? Listen, it’s me. Are you in Leighton Buzzard yet?”
“Just approaching. Why?”
“There are police on the towpath looking at the boats going by.”
Marnie sounded puzzled. “So? Can’t have anything to do with us.”
“I know. It’s just, I had a funny feeling.”
“Anne, relax. There’s absolutely no reason why …” She paused. “That’s odd.”
“What is?”
“There’s a policeman waving at us. I think he wants us to stop.”
“What shall I do?”
“You go on. We’ll come when we can, or I’ll be in touch.”
Anne disconnected.
Danny handed back the tiller. “Everything all right?”
“The police have stopped Thyrsis.”
Danny looked alarmed. “Why?”
“No idea.”
“So what now?”
“We carry on. Marnie will keep us posted.”
Danny resumed her place on the roof, sitting cross-legged facing Anne, her expression registering total bewilderment.
“Anne, I don’t get it. We’re handling the boat so Donovan can rest his injured foot, aren’t we?”
“Ye-e-s.”
“And we came on the trip to get away from all the interruptions to your work. This is just a mini-cruise, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why are the police stopping Ralph’s boat?”
Donovan peered out from the doorway.
“Good question.”
*
The policeman pointed at Marnie and waved her down. Throwing Thyrsis into reverse gear, she came to a halt beside him.
“Hi. What can I do for you?”
“Can you pull over?”
“There’s no space just here.”
He stepped onto the gunwale. Ralph had been inside, changing the film in his camera, and he emerged onto the counter to find the policeman staring at him.
“Good afternoon.” Ralph smiled pleasantly. “Are you a hitch-hiker?”
The constable seemed unsure how to take this.
“We need to moor the boat so we can talk properly,” he said.
Marnie raised a hand. “Where do yo
u suggest?” she asked in an even tone, wondering what talk properly meant.
The young officer looked in all directions. All the moorings were occupied as far as he could see. Ralph made a suggestion.
“Why don’t we make Thyrsis secure alongside one of these moored boats and go inside to talk properly, as you put it?”
The constable signalled to another officer to join them while Marnie and Ralph tied the boat at bow and stern. Inside, they sat in the study.
“So,” Ralph began. “What can we do for you?”
“You are Mrs Marnie Walker and Professor Ralph Lombard?”
“We are,” said Ralph.
“You live at Glebe Farm, Knightly St John, Northamptonshire?”
“Correct.”
“I must ask you to accompany us back to Glebe Farm.”
“Now?” said Marnie.
“Yes, miss.”
“Why?”
“The bodies have been discovered and you’re wanted for questioning, both of you.”
“Bodies?” Ralph said. “You mean archaeological remains, up on the dig site?”
“No, sir.” The policeman looked steadily at Ralph. “Two bodies have been found at Glebe Farm … in shallow graves.”
*
Anne steered Exodos round the bends south of Leighton Buzzard and pulled over to the bank once they were clear of the town. All three of them stood on the steerer’s counter, staring back the way they had come. Donovan checked his watch.
“How long do we wait here?” Danny asked.
Anne wondered if she was getting spooked again. “Hard to tell. We’ll stay a while. Marnie said she’d phone when she could.”
“What do the police want them for?”
Anne reached forward and turned off the engine.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
*
Within half an hour of leaving Leighton Buzzard, Marnie and Ralph were back at Glebe Farm. They had taken the next available mooring by the supermarket, much to the annoyance of a boat-owner who thought he had seen it first. The police waved him on and Marnie guided Thyrsis back into the slot. The officers allowed them to retrieve their belongings and heave overnight bags into the boot of an unmarked police car before whisking them off.