‘And when I said to her she was good with kiddies and should have some of her own, she looked terrified and couldn’t leave quick enough. Why do you think she did that? You don’t think she’s had a baby do you and had it…?’
‘Alison Benedict? No, never! But I’d be prepared to bet, from what you’ve just said and what our Wayne told you, that perhaps something or someone’s really upset her at some time.’
‘You mean she could be frightened of men?’ Michelle asked, wide-eyed.
‘Or frightened at the thought of what they might do to her.’
‘Oh!’ replied Michelle numbly.
Letting her imagination run riot at what could have possibly happened to Alison in the past, to leave her feeling and reacting as she did, Michelle found her attention distracted by her husband’s cold hand, creeping beneath her nightdress.
‘Then Alison’s not like you, Michelle.’
Michelle giggled. ‘What are you getting at?’
‘You’ve never been afraid of men, or at least afraid of me. Now how about a little snog or would you rather I said kiss and cuddle? Although, if I remember correctly, we never called it that either when we were parked in my van at the back of the golf course!’
Dispelling any further thoughts of Alison from her mind, Michelle cast a cursory glimpse at the bedroom door to make sure it was firmly shut, switched off her favourite lamp – designed to look like a crinoline lady – and turned eagerly to face her husband.
*
Hurtling through the woods at full pelt, calling out, ‘Gee-up Jasper,’ Rosie kicked her way merrily through sweeping drifts of leaf mould.
‘Don’t go too fast, Rosie,’ Alison panted. ‘You have to remember I can’t run as fast as you.’
Alison stopped and rubbed her leg. Whether it was pure coincidence or the early November dampness causing the problem, she didn’t know. What she did know however, was last night and this morning, she’d been in agony.
In fact if it hadn’t been because of her earlier promise to Rosie, she wouldn’t be here at all, struggling to keep up with the miniature Clint Eastwood wearing the ubiquitous serape. Managing a smile, Alison forced herself forwards and found child and dog waiting for her by a gnarled tree stump. Rosie was studying a neighbouring tree.
‘That would be a good tree for hanging someone.’
‘Rosie! That’s not very nice.’
‘Well, it would. See that branch just there? You could tie the rope and... whoosh, they’d be a gonna. That is unless Clint was there, an’ he was your friend an’ he came to your rescue, shot thought the rope an’ got you down.’
Picking up a forked twig, Rosie aimed at the direction of the ‘hanging branch,’ made the appropriate sound of a gunshot and watched the imaginary friend fall to the ground. Then she called to the same imaginary body with a ‘Now, let’s get the hell out of here,’ patted Jasper on his rump with her hand, and rode off into the sunset.
An hour later an extremely tired and bedraggled trio dragged an assortment of dead branches back to Keeper’s Cottage.
‘My goodness, you have been busy,’ Bunty called from the garden. ‘I take it that’s for the bonfire.’
‘Yep. Sure is,’ Rosie continued in Western vein. ‘We’re sure gonna have a mighty fine bonfire, ma’am, an’ we’re fair wore out.’
Bunty suppressed a smile. ‘Then I suggest you’d better come inside.’
Placing steaming mugs of hot chocolate and home-made biscuits on the kitchen table, Bunty turned anxiously in Alison’s direction.
‘How’s the leg? I noticed you were limping when you came across the field.’
‘Who’s got a bad leg?’ Rosie asked, her face full of alarm.
‘I have, today.’ Alison replied, not wishing to arouse too much concern. ‘Sometimes the old scar from an accident...’
‘Can I see? Did you have lots of stitches and did it bleed a lot?’ Rosie demanded, anxious for all the gory details.
Realizing she wasn’t going to get any peace until she’d shown Rosie the offending scar, Alison unzipped her jeans and revealed her upper thigh.
‘Wow! What happened - did you get shot?’
‘No,’ smiled Alison warmly, refastening her zip. ‘I got hit by a car.’
‘But you know what the safety hedgehog says, Al’son? STOP, LOOK AND LISTEN! Didn’t you remember your Green Cross Code?’
Alison looked knowingly across the table in Bunty’s direction. ‘No, I’m afraid I didn’t. At the time I suppose I must have forgotten.’
‘Oh, Al-i-son!’ came the gasped reply. ‘Fancy you forgettin’. Granddad says you must always look both ways before you cross the road. He also says you must never play with fireworks. He told Wayne off last night, because his friends were throwin’ bangers about.’
‘That really is dangerous!’ Bunty announced, angrily.
Anxious to turn Rosie’s attention away from her leg, Alison passed her the plate of biscuits and asked about the forthcoming Bonfire Night.
‘Will you be making a guy, Rosie?’
Munching into her biscuit, Rosie shook her head sadly. ‘I wanted to, but Wayne says Donna wants to make it this year - she’s his soppy girlfriend.’
‘Perhaps you can help too?’
‘Dunno, I might. Only Donna said she din’t want granddad’s old jacket, it was too scruffy.’
‘It’s only going on the bonfire,’ Bunty broke in. ‘Guy Fawkes doesn’t have to wear smart clothes.’ Sensing Rosie wasn’t too keen to discuss the matter further, Alison walked to the kitchen dresser and placed the brand new scrapbook on the table.
‘There, that’s for your leaves. Perhaps, if you’re ready to go home now, you can stick them in this afternoon. There’s some glue too. Why don’t you ask your mummy and daddy to help you?’
Rosie gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Mum’s goin’ shopping with Gran - and Dad’ll be watching football on the telly.’
‘Why don’t you leave the scrap book here?’ Bunty said, coming to the rescue. ‘Perhaps Alison can meet you from school one afternoon next week and you can stick the leaves in it then.’
‘Brilliant!’ came the reply.
‘Sorry about that,’ Bunty murmured, as Alison prepared to take Rosie home.
‘Don’t worry about it, Bunty. I don’t mind at all. In fact I really enjoy her company. She’s such a character, and I know Max and even Nigel - although he met her only briefly - were extremely fond of her.’
Mention of Max for the first time in days caused the now familiar stirring in Alison’s stomach. She wondered where he was and what he was doing. He still hadn’t been seen in Church Haywood since that fateful night in September, yet someone had been convinced they’d seen him in the vicinity of the Stables.
Certainly something was taking place at Craven’s Stables. A JCB had edged its way through the tangled mass of what had once been the original driveway, and a man with surveyor’s instruments had been spotted amidst the blackthorn and briar hedgerow at the far end of the boundary.
Perhaps he’ll come back for the bonfire supper, Alison thought wistfully. She knew Connie had every intention of inviting him… that was if she could find out where he was staying.
As if reading her mind, Rosie buttoned her coat and looked pensively in Alison’s direction.
‘Al’son... do you... do you think Max will come to the bonfire party? Only, if you see him, please will you ask him?’
‘Yes, I’ll ask him Rosie,’ Alison whispered, blinking back a tear.
Chapter 18
With an air of excitement and expectancy, Rosie leapt about the garden waving a sparkler in the air.
‘Look!’ she cried. ‘If I wave it like this - in a circle - it looks like a lassoo!’
‘Gracious, will that child never stop thinking about cowboys!’ An exasperated voice called from inside the kitchen.
To make matters worse, Wayne Jennings appeared whistling the theme tune from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.
; ‘Don’t you start, Wayne!’ Michelle snapped. ‘It’s because of your obsession with spaghetti westerns, I can’t ever get Rosie into a dress. Heaven knows it’s been bad enough trying to get through tea without you winding her up further. I’ve already had my own fair share of dealing with the good, the bad and the ugly today.’
Wayne made no comment as Michelle studied the faces of her family, eagerly waiting to leave for the Bonfire Night celebrations. Though quite who would fall into which particular category, she wasn’t exactly sure at that moment.
Discarding her dying sparkler, Rosie ran towards her brother. ‘Where’s the guy? You said you’d bring it so I could see it.’
‘You’ll have to wait, titch. It’s goin’ to be a surprise.’
‘That’s not fair, Wayne.’ Michelle broke in. ‘You promised Rosie you’d let her see the guy before taking it to the village green.’
Wayne shrugged his shoulders. ‘She’ll just have to wait, won’t she? Donna says it will be more of a surprise if she doesn’t see it till it’s on the bonfire. Anyway, it’s not here. Donna’s brother’s takin’ it up in his van.’
Michelle reached for her anorak. ‘Oh, dear. That’s a shame. Then I suppose we’ll all have to wait.’
The pervading smell of wood smoke and spent gunpowder filled the air when Bunty and Alison arrived on the scene.
‘What a shame. It looks as if they’ve already begun,’ Bunty said, edging forward.
‘I think that’s only the smaller fire and display they have for the little ones,’ Alison corrected. ‘Oh, look there’s Rosie.’
Alison waved in Rosie’s direction, but the familiar serape-clad figure was too busy watching the movement in the back of an old Bedford van. Seeing Wayne and Donna’s guy was completely covered by a blanket, she lost interest and ran back towards her grandfather.
‘Granddad, those big boys are throwin’ bangers again.’
‘I know they are, Rosie, and if I get my hands on them I’ll... What the...! Michelle! Have you seen what Donna and Wayne have put on their guy?’
All eyes from the Jennings family turned in the direction of the bonfire, where Wayne swiftly removed the blanket and lit a match.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Michelle cried out, as Rosie, turning to look at what the fuss was all about, saw what she took to be Great-grannie going up in smoke!
Open-mouthed, she gasped in horror. ‘It’s Great-grannie! But you told me she’d been buried in the ground, you said you weren’t goin’ to have her grimated. You said...’
The shock of seeing ‘great-grannie’ in her best floral dress and black straw hat was all too much for Rosie. Watching the flames leap towards the upper part of the newspaper-stuffed torso, with its rubber mask and lurid features, Rosie screamed and fled through the crowds. Moments later there was the sound of more stray bangers, a child’s piercing scream and the sound of someone calling for an ambulance…
*
‘You bloody fool, Wayne! What a stupid thing to go and do!’ Michelle Jennings took a swipe at her son’s head. ‘You know just how fond Rosie was of Great-gran, and you go and do a bloody stupid thing like that!’
‘It was only a joke, Mum! How was I to know Rosie would think it was really Great-gran up there on the bonfire. I didn’t think...’
‘No!’ Michelle snapped angrily. ‘That’s half your trouble, you don’t think!’
‘But...’ Wayne interrupted, only Michelle wouldn’t let him finish.
‘Don’t think is right! And I can only thank God your gran wasn’t there to see it. Though Lord knows it was bad enough for your poor granddad seeing his mother’s double go up in flames!’
‘But it wasn’t really meant to be Great-gran. Surely you realized that, Mum! You know I…’
‘All I do know,’ Michelle cried bitterly, ‘is that thanks to you, your sister is now in hospital with a firework stuck in her leg.’
‘It’s not exactly stuck in her leg,’ Wayne mumbled.
‘It might just as well be! And that’s probably thanks to your bloody stupid friends as well. Do you realize Rosie will probably have to have plastic surgery on her leg?’
Sensing there was little he could do or say, Wayne shuffled uncomfortably to the stairs.
‘Yes,’ Michelle called after him, ‘I suggest you go upstairs to your room and wait. Though God knows what you father and granddad will have to say to you when they get back from the hospital.’
Michelle reached for a cigarette and paced the floor. ‘My poor Rosie,’ she cried, ‘my poor little girl.’ Picking up Rosie’s latest school photo, she sighed, ‘I should be with you. I should be with you at the hospital, lovey, but I’ve got to stay here and look after Jamie and the others. When you come home we’ll...’
There was a pregnant pause while Michelle racked her brains. What could they could do for Rosie on her return from hospital?
‘We’ll get Great-grans’ room all nicely decorated for you...’ she said brightly, ‘with pretty flowery wallpaper and... yes... you can even have my crinoline lady lamp.’
Michelle sniffed and blew her nose. Yes, that was it, they’d make Great-gran’s room into a proper little girl’s bedroom. She’d discuss it with her husband when he came home and tell Rosie at visiting tomorrow.
*
‘How is she?’ Alison asked, as she followed the young nurse to Rosie’s bedside.
‘She’s had a good night and appears much more comfortable than before, though she’s still in shock of course.’
‘I’m not surprised. It must have been dreadful for her seeing that guy dressed in her great-grannie’s clothes... and when that grotesque mask started to melt.’
Putting her finger to her lips, the nurse motioned in Rosie’s direction and stopping at the foot of the bed, announced cheerily. ‘Here you are, Rosie. You see, I told you I’d get hold of Alison for you.’
Turning to leave, the nurse remarked, ‘She’s talked about you non-stop and also someone called Max. Do you happen to know who that might be?’
Alison merely nodded and watched the nurse walk away.
‘Hello, Al’son,’ a tiny voice whispered.
‘Hello, Rosie. I would have come sooner, but they thought you ought to rest for a while. Still I’m here now.’ Alison sat on the bed and held Rosie’s tiny hand in her own. ‘Bunty sends her love. She’s made you some biscuits and Jasper barked and wagged his tail when I told him I was coming to see you.’
A faint flicker of a smile appeared on Rosie’s face. ‘I’ve got a bad leg like you now. They’re going to put plastic on it.’
‘Oh, you mean plastic surgery. Well, that is good. That means they’ll make your leg look like new again.’
Towards the end of visiting, having consumed half of Bunty’s biscuits and a glass of Ribena, Rosie’s spirits brightened. ‘Al’son,’ she asked eagerly, ‘does Max know I’m in hospital?’
‘I doubt it, Rosie. I think he’s still away.’
‘Then will you ring him and tell him? Tell him I’d like him to come and see me. Tell him I don’t expect a present... I’d just like to see him, that’s all.’
Choking back tears, Alison looked at the pale face, propped against the pillows. ‘Yes,’ she said without thinking. ‘I’ll ring him and tell him to come, Rosie. I promise.’
*
Replacing the phone, Alison shook her head in Bunty’s direction
‘Still no luck?’ Bunty queried.
‘No. All I get is, "I’m very sorry Mr Craven isn’t in the London office anymore and Mr Painton is with a client".’
‘Not exactly helpful, then?’
‘No... but if I could only speak to Nigel personally. I feel sure he must know where Max is.’
‘Can’t you leave a message, asking Nigel to ring you when he comes out of his meeting?’
‘I don’t know, Bunty. He might think it’s simply a ploy on Connie’s behalf, trying to find out where Max has been hiding.’
‘But it’s not on Connie’s behalf, is
it. It’s for Rosie! You must be able to think of some way of getting past that dragon of a receptionist at Craven and Painton? I thought you and Nigel got on well together.’
‘We did. In fact he always used to call me his sea-sprite - remember? The weekend he came to stay and Rosie fell over and cut her leg.’
Alison’s hand reached hurriedly for the phone again. ‘Of course! That’s it! Why didn’t I think of that before? He can’t know too many sea-sprites, can he? And certainly not sea-sprites with little girls called Clint in tow! This time I’m going to make sure I get through!’
Bunty nodded approvingly as she listened to Alison stating quite clearly that, Mr Painton was to ring his sea-sprite. It was extremely important. Clint had had an accident on Bonfire Night and she was now in hospital.
‘Now, is that perfectly clear?’ Alison demanded down the phone.
‘Clear but not understood,’ Mandy whispered into the now silent earpiece.
‘Any messages?’ Nigel called later, coming into reception.
‘Well… there has been a woman ringing all afternoon for Mr Craven.’
‘Probably Max’s sister,’ Nigel offered. ‘I hope you didn’t tell her anything?’
‘No, just said what you always tell me to say.’
‘Good girl, Mandy. I expect Connie will give up ringing sooner or later. Although, who knows in time Max may want to...’
‘The thing is,’ Mandy broke in with a puzzled frown, ‘it didn’t sound like Mr Craven’s sister somehow. I’d swear it was a younger woman. It could have been the same young woman who rang you, too. The one who left that funny message.’
‘What funny message?’
‘The one I put on your desk with all the others. Only I particularly remember it because it was so peculiar.’
‘But I wasn’t aware of any peculiar message. Mind you, to be honest, I didn’t really take too much notice. Vanessa and I are off to the theatre this evening. I thought what’s there could possibly wait until morning.’
Nigel was walking to the main exit, when Mandy called after him. ‘Probably just a nutter anyway. I mean you don’t really know any sea-sprites, do you?’
Secrets From The Past Page 19