“Don’t we have a spell for that?”
“Probably better off with Savlon.” She said sourly, “Although,” she added, “I hope your tetanus injections are up to date.” Someone, probably Roland, cleared their throat behind us and at the same time I realised two things; firstly how childish and spiteful I sounded and secondly, however senseless this seemed, it was a situation in which I was embedded right up to my neck and to deal with it and get the hell out, I needed to get it sorted as much as I could.
“You should probably,” she said, “Consider last night a warning.” I nodded slowly,
“OK, consider me warned.” She twisted a lip in a brief smile without warmth, as I continued,
“But, forgive me pointing out an obvious fact, nothing you’ve told me changes the current dire financial situation. Unless you start getting paying guests in and out, presumably you can’t afford to keep this place on. Unless, of course, there’s any way all your hokery-pokery can be used more constructively?”
“Not sure hokery-pokery’s actually on the business course curriculum” muttered Bella. Etty glared at her and then, without breaking stride, back at me.
“What we know and what we do.” She said, “Is of little immediate practical use in supporting a family, although it is of course fine for cheap stage tricks or making magic youth elixirs which don’t last.” I was impressed. With one swipe, on her way to squashing me, she’d comprehensively knocked Bella and Ophie over too.
“OK then,” I said, “So, we’re at a bit of a crossroads, aren’t we. Either you throw in the towel, cut your losses, put this place on the market, see what you can get for it and move on. Or we give what I’ve got in mind a go, see if you can turn it into a going concern – at the same time,” I added, “As convincing anyone it may concern, that the last thing you’ve got in mind is some kind of a – what did you call it – a ‘gathering’? They have to be convinced there’s no need for any action. I presume that thing that pitched up last night…”
“A Malignum. It was a Malignum” I turned in surprise to look at Mimi, she’d been so quiet I’d almost forgotten she was there.
“Which is?”
“Not good.” She pursed her lips and shook her head firmly.
“Right, well I think I got that,” I said, and my shoulder throbbed in agreement. “But whatever it was, wherever it came from, it didn’t do too much damage, and probably did us a favour in the long run. “So,” I looked around at each of them in turn, although I knew where the decision had to come from. “What’s it to be. Do we throw in the towel or continue with plan A?”
“This is our home, and family stay together.” Said Etty. In any other group, this pronouncement might have brought a tear to the eye and a group hug. As it was, there were merely a couple of nods. Etty stood, shaking off Roland’s hand as he rose to help her and turning to me.
“Do what you think you need to do, I trust you,” she said, although before I could get a lump in the throat, she continued, “Not to make too much of a pig’s ear of it all.” She moved briskly towards the door, just as it opened and a black knitted hat popped cheerfully round it.
“Oh goodie, goodie.” Said Charley, “I know I’m not due until Monday, but I’ve just popped in on the off-chance, no rest for the wicked eh? Would now be a good time for a bit of a pow-wowy sort of a thingy with you Sandra, on how all this documentary thing is going to work?”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“Hi Murray, look things have got a bit more complicated here.” I said.
“Things have got bloody complicated here an’ all. I’m telling you Sandy, my girl, Adam’s right out of control and that Sasha, she’s a conniving little so and so, for all she’s so young. Let me tell you, she’s been round the block more than a time or two, that one. She’s got her eye on the main chance, no mistake. He’s talking divorce.” I swallowed, this wasn’t good, this wasn’t good at all, but I had more on my mind than just the domestic crisis and as always in a difficult situation, I needed to talk to Murray.
“That’s terrible,” I said. “I don’t know what to tell you, other than I’m working on getting things sorted as fast as I can, so I can haul Ophie back where she needs to be, but listen Murray…”
“Well, you’d best get your skates on sharpish and pull a rabbit out the hat.” Murray never met a metaphor he couldn’t mix. “I’m telling you…” he said. I interrupted him sharply,
“Murray, for God’s sake, can you just shut up a minute and listen to me.” I was leaning on a wall in the corridor between the kitchen and reception, it was the one place nobody else seemed to be, but as I jerked in agitation, I knocked my sore shoulder – it hurt, far more than I thought it should, maybe it really was infected. I didn’t really want to think about that, nor about what had bitten me. Murray heard the wobble in my voice and immediately switched into Mother hen mode,
“Sandy, what’s the matter, you not well? What’s been happening down there? Anything wrong?” I bit back a giggle, which had more of it’s share of shrill than was healthy, where indeed to start?
“Murray,” I said. “Do you believe in witches?”
A master of melodrama on his own account, Murray was nevertheless a paradigm of practicality and pragmatism when it came to problems I presented. Once I’d finally grabbed his attention, he listened carefully and without interruption to my probably rather garbled summary, and I could picture him, rubbing the toe of one shoe up and down the back of the opposite trouser leg as he concentrated. There was an uncharacteristic pause while he digested what I’d said, before he conceded there’d always been a touch of the odd about Ophelia, no denying it, he’d seen too many things he couldn’t explain. And if that was the case, he pointed out, it stood to reason, now that this family had come to light, they were likely to be a bit blooming odd as well.
“But,” he said thoughtfully, and I could hear him choosing his words carefully, “Whatever they want to call it, does it really matter? People always want explanations, to be able to stick things in one drawer or another, sometimes those are the right drawers with the right labels, other times they’re not.” I had to laugh at his unknowing echoing of Etty, “I hope,” he said, “I’ve brought you up to not always believe the evidence of your eyes – we’ve both seen far too much stuff on stage to do that – but when there’s no logical explanation, sometimes you just got to swallow that too. I reckon some of the things you’ve seen down there and that thing that hurt you last night, all come under that heading.”
“But what about me, Murray?”
“What about you?” He said. I hesitated, then plunged.
“Do you think I’m one too?” He didn’t bother pretending he didn’t know what I was talking about, which was his usual way of dealing with unpleasant stuff. He was taking this dead seriously – I wasn’t sure whether I was pleased or peeved by that.
“Listen to me.” He said. “And listen good. Whatever this bunch want to call ‘emselves, you said yourself it’s all about knowledge passed down, right? Well, think about it Sandy, for Gawd’s sake, your Ma wouldn’t even talk to you about it – let alone pass anything down, so don’t you go imagining all sorts.”
“But, Murray,” I protested, “I have to find out more don’t I, especially if things look as if they’re turning nasty,” He humphed irritably.
“Listen, my thinking’s you should get on with doing what you do best, bossing everyone around and getting things sorted with this blooming hotel thing they’re trying to run. Don’t go sticking that busy little nose of yours where it doesn’t rightly belong, you hear me?” He was again unconsciously echoing Etty. I nodded, as if he could see me.
“OK.” I said slowly, “Point taken.” And I had taken his point, I just didn’t altogether agree with it. As we said goodbye and I promised I’d call him back later, it seemed I’d been up for hours, but in fact it was only now
coming up for 10.00 a.m. He was right in many ways though, however much I’d turned my back, all my life on what I didn’t want to see, it had always been there, giving it a name shouldn’t really make any difference one way or another. And nothing had really changed, well apart from something trying to take a chunk out of my shoulder, which was I felt the sort of happening probably best avoided, going forward. The practical problems however were still the same – Ophelia’s late-developed conscience and her intractable determination to act on it, clearly wasn’t going to let us go anywhere until things were running more smoothly, and nothing was going to run more smoothly unless I oiled the wheels. I felt a new list coming on, took my notebook and pen out of my pocket and began to jot.
“Pssssssst.” I jumped and whirled round, clapping my hand to my chest in the universal shock position. Gladys was right behind me in the corridor, looking if anything even more anxious and disarrayed than usual.
“What?” I snapped, she’d nearly finished me off and honestly who actually said Pssssst any more? She grabbed my arm, pulling me towards the kitchen.
“Gladys, what is it, for Pete’s sake, use your words.” I said in exasperation, automatically pulling back from her frantic grasp, but it appeared words had, for the moment, temporarily deserted our Glad. When I got into the kitchen I could see why.
Alfred and Elizabeth were close together in one corner, while on the other side of the room, near the back door was a chap standing in an unnaturally rigid position, his head bent forward at what must have been a most uncomfortable angle. Alfred and Elizabeth looked up as Gladys and I barreled in, the man didn’t move.
“It’s Cyril.” Said Elizabeth grimly, with an inclination of her head.
“Cyril?” My mind was a blank.
“One of the men watching Bella,” supplied Alfred “You know, from the pharmaceutical company.”
“Well, what does he want?” I asked impatiently, then realised how silly that was and addressed him directly, “Uh, Cyril, hello there. What can we do for you?” There was another pause, as if my words were taking their time getting through to him. Then he suddenly moved a couple of faltering paces forward and looked up. I automatically took a step back at what I saw. Unfortunately, Gladys was standing a lot closer to me than I thought. I trod hard on her toe and she yelped.
He began to speak, his words oddly dragged out as he continued to move slowly forward. For a few seconds, I didn’t listen to what he was saying, taken aback as I was by what had happened to his eyes. They had rolled upwards in his head, so what was staring at me were two sockets of ghastly blank whiteness. Then I began to make out the words he was intoning over and over, which didn’t make me feel any better.
“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” He was muttering. I’d backed as far into the corner as the wall and Gladys would allow, and was debating what might be a sensible next move when the back door opened, letting in the chill wind from outside and Bella. She paused in mid-bustle and took in the situation at a glance. She tutted, moved forward, grabbed Cyril by an arm, swung him briskly round to face her and clapped her hands once in front of his face.
“Stop it now,” she said sharply. “Cyril, snap out of it.” I could only see his back now, so had no idea what was happening eye-wise, although he was straightening up into a far more natural stance, looking around slowly as if he didn’t know where he was.
“Where am I?” He said, proving how observant I was.
“Well, where do you think you are, you daft so and so?” Said Bella, shoving a kitchen chair behind his knees, so he had no choice but to sit.
“What happened to him?” I asked. “Some kind of a seizure?” Bella shook her head decisively.
“Befazed.” She said. I looked at her, probably as blankly as Cyril and she shrugged. “You know – entranced, hypnotised. They used to call it bewitched, but we don’t like that for obvious reasons. Haven’t you ever?”
“Ever what?”
“Done it to anyone?” She said. I shook my head,
“Why would I?” I asked. Bella shrugged again,
“Well, it’s just something we can do isn’t it?” I moved over to another kitchen chair, the opposite side of the table from Cyril who was now looking more normal, if somewhat vague. On reflection, I suppose there might have been times, in intense conversation with someone that they had come over rather glazed, but I’d just assumed it was because I was being boring. I said as much and Bella laughed, puncturing the tension in the room.
“You probably were, but didn’t Ophelia ever show you…?” I shook my head at the unfinished question and she tsked again,
“No I suppose she wouldn’t have done.” Alfred and Elizabeth had recovered their equilibrium remarkably swiftly. Elizabeth was getting on with some washing up, which I presumed was what she’d been doing when Cyril had made his unscheduled appearance and Alfred was making himself busy, I was glad to see, with the kettle and coffee. I felt I needed a little something round about now and even under this set of circumstances, it seemed a bit early to be hitting the wine. I looked around to make sure Gladys and her toe were all right, but she was just disappearing inside the walk-in larder.
“Look.” Said Bella, “They’re only out to frighten you.”
“Well they’re flipping well succeeding.” I said. “And who are ‘they’ anyway? And did you hear what he was saying?” She nodded, frowning. I realised we were talking over Cyril as if he wasn’t there, but he didn’t appear to be paying much attention, so maybe it didn’t matter.
“I presume they’re the ‘they’ responsible for that thing last night.” I said. I rubbed my shoulder and it throbbed back at me.
“Mmm,” she said, “Have to admit, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen anything like that – not nice was it? But sweetheart,” she added slowly, “I honestly don’t think it’s anything to worry about, it’s all bangs, flashes and trickery – bit like the stuff your parents do all the time, you should be used to it. It’s just to put the wind up us.” She nodded thanks to Alfred as he handed us mugs of coffee. He put another one in front of Cyril, who looked at it as if he had no idea what it was.
I was watching Bella closely. I didn’t know her that well, but well enough to know that I didn’t entirely believe what she was saying, and she didn’t either. Underneath all the brisk and businesslike, she was acutely uneasy. Uneasy and baffled. She looked up, met my eye, took a couple of long gulps of coffee, an avoidance tactic if ever I saw one and got up to leave.
“Oh no, you don’t.” I said, reaching across and grabbing her wrist. “Couple of questions.” She sat again reluctantly, reaching with her left hand into the right side of her white tunic to find and restore a bra strap which had slipped.
“I don’t know what you want to know.” She said.
“Oddly enough, I don’t really know either. But there’s no doubt, things over the last couple of days have turned more than a bit unpleasant.” We both looked at Cyril who was still gazing vacantly into the middle distance. “Will he be all right?” I asked.
“Yes,” she waved her hand dismissively. “He’ll be fine, he won’t remember a thing about it.”
“OK. First things first.” I said, “I’m assuming Alfred and Elizabeth are um, like the family?” Bella chuckled and Elizabeth turned to glare at me, I was starting to realise that what she heard and what she didn’t hear, depended more on inclination than anything else.
“Not bloody likely.” She said. “Don’t you go tarring me with that brush. I don’t hold with any of this stuff, I’m a God-fearing woman me, and none of this has got anything to do with us. I just work here and turn a blind eye.”
“And Gladys?” I said, “Is she…?” Bella laughed, “No, of course not, she’s just common or garden bats, nothing beyond that.” At that point, Gladys emerged from the larder, carrying a load of ingredients for goo
dness knows what. She saw me watching and smiled happily,
“Breakfast went really well, earlier.” She said, “Jamie and I whipped up a smashing healthy buffet, just like that – bish, bash, bosh. Lovely it was.”
“Right,” said Bella taking advantage of the interruption. “Appointments; sorry, must dash.” I put out my hand again,
“And Roland?” I asked. “Can he… ?” She looked at me as if it was a really stupid question.
“No, not really, he’s a man isn’t he, they’ve never really been any good at picking it up. Occasionally, you get one that does, but no, not Roland – think that’s why he became such a practical joker, felt he was never getting his share of attention unless he made his own spotlight. Look I’ve really got to go.” She’d been sitting the same side of the table as Cyril, and my attention had been on her rather than him, which was why I hadn’t noticed that he’d picked up some viciously sharp scissors which had been lying on the table, next to a bunch of roses from the garden.
As Bella stood, so did he. Her hair, piled as usual atop her head, provided an instant hand-hold and wrapping his fingers into the dark mass, he pulled her swiftly backwards and in towards him, forcing her head sideways into an awkwardly cricked angle. The point of the scissors was digging into her neck, around about where I thought her carotid artery might be. The lethally sharp tip of the blades had already broken the skin and there was a thin trickle of blood running down. It found a home in the collar revere of her white tunic, where it spread in that alarming way blood does and I saw, with apprehension that Cyril’s eyes had headed due north again. For a moment, I think we all froze, as if we were auditioning for Madame Tussauds, then Bella shifted slightly and started to try and say something, but the scissors dug a little deeper and she shut up.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“Well, this is a little awkward, isn’t it?” Said Ophelia, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to see anyone in my life.
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