“Your turn,” she announced ten minutes later, returning to the bedroom. “How was the first witness?”
“Quite informative and surprisingly ready to talk.”
“She probably hopes you’ll find her a job in television! What did she say?”
“That Patsy, the dead girl, had some kind of running feud with the gypsies. One of them does odd jobs around the village and it seems she caught him nicking something. Sharon wasn’t too clear on the details.”
“Sharon?” Tania raised her eyebrows.
“My informant. But the tie-up with the gypsies is interesting, wouldn’t you say?”
“You reckon it was them what done her in, Guvnor?”
“Give me a chance! At least they’re a common denominator, as is the stone circle. And I’m afraid you’ll have to be a brave girl, because that will be our first port of call in the morning.”
Anita Barlow looked up as someone came pushing through the swing-doors.
“Matthew! I didn’t expect to see you this evening!”
“Why not? I usually drop in on a Saturday.”
“But this weekend there’s considerable competition. Haven’t you heard who’s staying at the Lakeside? None other than Mr and Mrs Jason Quinn!”
Matthew stopped abruptly and stared across at her. “You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure! I was talking to Sally on the phone earlier.”
“My God!” he said softly. “What’s he doing up here?”
“Having a holiday, I should think, like everyone else.”
But Matthew’s mind had gone back to the note he had so unwisely sent some nine months previously. Could it have any connection with Jason Quinn’s arrival? It hardly seemed likely that he would pay much attention to it, but perhaps Patsy’s death had jogged his memory. There were a lot of sensation-seekers among the holiday crowds at the moment.
“Not seeing Madeleine tonight?” Anita asked, as he did not speak.
He pulled his mind back to the present. “She’s gone home for the weekend.”
“Where’s Philip, then?”
“He said something about a game of golf with Dick Willoughby.”
Anita made no comment. She and Eve had noticed over the last few months that the Selbys weren’t as inseparable as before. Shrewdly she wondered if Madeleine were the reason behind it.
“I think if you don’t mind,” Matthew was saying, “I will desert you after all. I’d be most interested to see Jason Quinn in person.”
“If you speak to him, be careful what you say. He has a mind like a rapier, that one.”
Matthew smiled. “Relax, love. My mind’s a match for anyone!”
The cocktail lounge was crowded. Jason and Tania, a pleasant meal behind them, were relaxing at a table by the window with coffee and liqueurs.
“I don’t believe,” Jason commented, “that you’ve heard a single word I said.”
“Sorry, darling. There’s a gorgeous man at the bar who hasn’t taken his eyes off me since he came in. It’s a little distracting.”
“You should be used to it by now.”
“It depends who’s doing the looking; this is the sexiest guy I’ve seen in a long while.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re always so good for my morale.” Jason turned his head, met the eyes of the man at the bar – strange eyes, browny-green, with a disconcertingly penetrating gaze – and turned back to Tania. “I dislike extremely good-looking men on principle. They’re usually narcissistic.”
“I was – my God! What’s in this drink?”
Heads were turning all over the lounge as Philip Selby joined his brother. “Anita said I’d find you here. Have you sighted the quarry?”
“Over by the window. I think you might say we’ve made contact.”
“His wife’s a corker, isn’t she?”
“A bit too obvious for my taste. She’s been giving me the come-on.”
“Has his lordship deigned to look round?”
“Twice. Once for you and once for me. She must have said something.”
Philip reached for his glass. “I hope he won’t poke his nose where it’s not wanted.”
“If he does, he’ll get more than he bargains for. I think we should keep tabs on him for a while – see where he goes and who he approaches. If he’s genuinely only up on holiday it’ll soon become obvious and we can relax.”
“It was a damn nuisance about that girl,” Philip said broodingly. “It’s drawn attention to the village just when we could least afford it.”
Matthew did not reply. He had never mentioned the note he’d sent Jason Quinn, but privately he felt that it was the lure of a Macbeth prophecy rather than recent headlines which accounted for his presence among them.
Philip drained his glass and put it down on the counter. “If you’ve finished your drink, let’s go. I promised Anita we’d call back to report, and enjoyable though it is being ogled by the delectable Mrs Quinn, I don’t want to risk antagonizing her husband.”
Tania watched with regret as the two men left the room, became aware of her husband’s sardonic eyes on her, and smiled unrepentantly. “Relax, lover. It’s good for my image to indulge in a little long-distance flirting!”
“If that comment masquerades as apology, don’t bother. I’ve been quite content watching the boats on the lake. It must be extremely peaceful here out of season.”
“Or dull!”
“Poor love, you miss the bright lights already don’t you, and we’ve been here only a few hours! Never mind, you know the value of personal appearances. There’s a man over there who’s been trying for some time to pluck up the courage to ask for your autograph. Shall we give him another few minutes or are you ready for bed?”
As she bent to retrieve her handbag the man in question finally made his move, confounding both of them by approaching Jason instead of Tania, who had difficulty in concealing her annoyance.
“For my wife, Mr Quinn,” the stranger murmured. “She always enjoys your programmes.”
“Long may she do so,” Jason said smoothly, scrawling his signature on the back of the proffered business card.
“The fool doesn’t even know who I am!” Tania said under her breath.
“Never mind, liebling. It’ll dawn on him one day, and then he’ll regret the one that got away!”
But the incident had soured her mood and she prepared for bed in sulky silence which Jason, tired by the day’s travelling, made no attempt to break down.
He was at the window in his dressing-gown when the morning tea arrived, and took the tray from the girl with his best smile.
“Tell me about the local school, Sharon. What age group does it cater for?”
“Only up to eleven, sir, then they go to Barrowick.”
“I see. That’s very interesting. Thank you.”
“What’s very interesting?” Tania enquired, levering herself up in bed as the girl left the room.
“The fact that there’s no child over eleven there. Since I can’t believe an eleven-year-old would have written that note, we’re left with the interesting probability that it came from a member of staff. Which gives it added importance. I wonder how many there are.”
“Ask Sharon!” said Tania nastily.
After a leisurely breakfast they set off to walk up to the stone circle. The early morning sunshine had disappeared and a wind was whipping up the water of the lake. Tania pointedly turned up the collar of her jacket.
“Which way do we go?”
“Up the High Street initially.”
“It’s not far, is it?”
“Not more than a couple of miles.”
“A couple of miles? Jason, I’m not walking that far!”
“We’ve little choice if we’re to see the stones. Look at that staircase up the outside of the cottage – and there’s a little cobbled square through the archway. It really is a most attractive village. It’d be interesting to learn something of its history. I wonder if ther
e’s a local guide.”
He turned into a stationer’s shop, meeting the owner in the doorway. “We’re just about to close, sir. Only open till eleven on Sundays.”
“I shan’t keep you a moment. Have you any information about the village?”
“There’s an illustrated guide, yes, sir, with a street plan.”
Jason emerged triumphant. “We might as well know what we’re passing,” he commented, flicking through the pages. “It seems some of these buildings date from the fifteenth century, but the place is Norse in origin.”
“So are these pavements, by the look of them. I nearly twisted my ankle just now.”
“Are those what you consider walking shoes?”
“They’re the flattest I have. I didn’t know we were going hiking!”
The sound of an organ reached them from the squat stone church. “We’ll have a look in there tomorrow, when it’s empty. I didn’t realize this was such a fascinating place – it’s quite a bonus.”
Tania paused to get her breath, looking apprehensively up the steeply rising path ahead of her. “How long is this street?”
“According to the plan it goes up to the top of the village and loops round, turning itself into Upper Fell Lane and then Fell Lane on the way down the other side.”
“But how far up do we turn off for the stones?”
“At the top. We’re here now, by the church. I should think we’ve come about half way.”
“And when we get to the top, how far do we have to walk to reach the Circle?”
“A spot of exercise will do you good!”
Since she was patently not interested, he made no further comments on the bow-fronted shops, the pillars and stone steps, the colour-washed houses with their grey slate roofs. She was obviously going to be a liability when it came to exploring the village, as he found himself increasingly eager to do. Damn the girl: if she was going to complain all the time, he’d be better without her. Pity he hadn’t let her go straight to France.
This exasperated thought took him by surprise, implying as it did that her departure would cause him no heart-searchings. Nor, he realized with gratified surprise, would the knowledge that she was in the company of Derek Paterson. If he was prepared to put up with her sulks and silences, he was welcome to her.
At the top of the High Street and a few yards short of the Ancient Monument sign, the smell of fresh coffee stole out to greet them and Tania stopped thankfully outside a small café.
“Praise heaven!” she said devoutly. “If you’re set on going on to the Circle, lover, you’ll travel alone. I’ll wait for you here over a cup of coffee.”
“Fair enough. Can’t say how long I’ll be, though.”
“If I’m sitting down, I shan’t care! Leave me that guide to look at.”
A few spots of rain were falling as he turned into the steep alleyway leading up the hill. He glanced apprehensively at the sky, but it was clear over to the east and probably the rain wouldn’t amount to anything. In any event, he had no intention of being diverted from his goal now that he was almost within sight of it.
A group of tourists was just ahead of him, anoraked against the uncertainties of the weather, and when he reached the Circle there were several other people moving round between the stones. Was it the monument that interested them, he wondered uncharitably, or the recent death?
Because of the tourists he did not immediately attach importance to the two boys squatting at the base of a stone. Only as he strolled towards them and they glanced up, did he register the two identical faces and with a jolt concluded that he had come upon Ted’s twins. He stopped and they eyed him uncertainly, seemingly wondering whether to make a run for it.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly. They nodded acknowledgment.
“Is it going to rain, do you think?”
“Nobbut a little,” vouchsafed one.
“You live in Crowthorpe?”
“Aye.” Caution returned.
“If I were you, I shouldn’t play around here, after what happened to Patsy Lennard.”
There was a flicker in the dark eyes but neither boy answered. Suddenly, one of them raised his head, frowning slightly, as though he were listening to something. When his eyes returned to Jason, they were frankly suspicious. There was obviously nothing to be gained here. With what he hoped was a casual nod, Jason moved away.
“He was quizzing the boys,” Philip said tightly.
“But only about the murder,” Eve protested. “Nothing unusual in that – all the visitors are talking about it. Let’s not get paranoid. There’s no reason to think he’s interested in us. If you ask me, he’s genuinely here on holiday. In two weeks he’ll go home, and that will be that.”
But there she was wrong. As the days passed, Jason became progressively more interested in the village for its own sake. The good weather had returned, and each morning he left Tania sunbathing by the hotel pool and set off to wander in and out of the mews courtyards, down the twisting alleyways with their overhead arches, and into the dark recesses of the old churches. It was all so picturesque, so steeped in history. And how much easier it would be to settle down to write here, rather than in the hurlyburly of London, where friends and business contacts frequently interrupted him with their invitations and telephone calls.
By the middle of the second week he had made up his mind. There remained the task of informing Tania, and her reaction was much as he’d expected.
“Stay here? All summer? You don’t imagine I’m going to bury myself up here indefinitely?”
“I’m not asking you to. You came for two weeks, as we agreed, and I shan’t persuade you to stay if you don’t want to. In any case I’m hoping to write, and as you know, I’m not much company then.”
“But at least in London there are things for me to do and people to see.”
“Well, go home, then. Françoise will look after you.”
“I’m not staying there by myself! You know how I hate being alone.”
“You’ll be in France for at least some of the time,” he reminded her.
“Is that what this is all about? To punish me for going to France?” She sounded close to tears. “What’s the attraction of this place, anyway? You must have examined every nook and cranny already, judging by the time I’ve spent by myself.”
“That was your choice. I’d have been happy to have you with me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You knew I wouldn’t stay, didn’t you? You don’t want me to.”
“Let’s not make an issue of it, Tania. It’s not as though we’re used to living in each other’s pockets.”
She spun the wheel of her lighter, ignoring the flame he held out for her. “If I’m lonely, I might find someone else to keep me company.”
“That’s up to you.”
She flung down her cigarette. “Damn it, you could at least pretend to mind!”
“Oh, I did at first – quite a lot, in fact, but I realized that I’d brought it on myself, by pressing you to marry me in the first place.”
“Which you now regret?”
He looked at her beautiful, flushed face and wide, angry eyes. “It hasn’t been a resounding success, has it?”
“Damn you, Jason!” Her voice shook.
“Still, we don’t need to go into all that now. For the moment I’m just staying up here to write. That’s reasonable, surely, and an acceptable explanation for my absence, if that’s what’s worrying you. You can come for weekends whenever you like. I’ll make sure I find somewhere with enough room to entertain you.”
“You won’t be staying on here?”
“Hell, no. In any case, the room will be booked to the end of the season.”
“Where will you go?”
“I’ll have to make some enquiries, but I wanted to discuss it with you first.”
“Discuss!” She gave a bitter laugh.
“Somewhere quiet, that’s the main requirement.”
“So you’re really onl
y staying on to write? You’re not going to bother any more about Ted’s story or that letter you received?”
“On the contrary, indeed I am. They could well form the nucleus of the plot, but I’ll have to move slowly and win people’s confidence before they’ll talk to me.” He stood up. “Now we’re agreed on that, I’ll see if the receptionist here has any suggestions.”
“What kind of accommodation are you looking for, sir?”
“Somewhere I can be alone, but have meals provided.
My wife won’t be staying and I don’t want to fend for myself.”
“I really don’t know what to suggest. There are only three hotels here and I know they’re all fully booked. So, I should think, are most of the boarding houses.”
“A boarding house isn’t quite what I’m after.”
“Perhaps Barrowick might be easier? It’s bigger, and –”
“No,” he said firmly, “it must be in Crowthorpe.”
“Well, Mrs Staveley lets out the bungalow at the bottom of her garden, but that’s on a self-catering basis. I suppose you could try her.”
Mrs Staveley, when he called on her that afternoon, was plainly overwhelmed by his enquiry.
“Oh Mr Quinn, if only I’d known! It’s let, I’m afraid, for the next fortnight. There’s a gap then, though, because I had two cancellations, one after the other. Right in the middle of the season – it was quite a let-down.”
“Which might perhaps be to my advantage?”
“Well, yes, if you could wait that long. Would you like to see it? I’d have to ask –”
“It’s not necessary. Just tell me what the accommodation is.”
“There’s two bedrooms, a nice living-cum-dining-room, kitchen and bathroom. All electric and very comfortable, though I say it myself. We had it built ten years ago when my parents were too old to live at any distance from us, but they’ve both passed away now. It’s well equipped, with a nice modern cooker –”
“Ah, I was just coming to that, Mrs Staveley. Would it be possible for you to provide an evening meal? I can just about manage breakfast, and if I’m writing I don’t stop for lunch anyway, but one good meal a day is essential.”
The Macbeth Prophecy Page 13