“Later, eh?” He said, then to Mimi, “Could we just have a quick, heat-of-the-moment quote?”
“I think not.” Said Roland firmly then, turning to Murray, “I’m sorry, who are you exactly?” And I realised, in all the excitement, I’d forgotten my manners.
“Murray.” I said. “This is Roland, he’s my Uncle and Mimi here is my Grandmother.” Murray nodded as if it all made perfect sense, although I could see he was as stunned as I’d originally been at this sudden influx of near and dear.
“And Roland; Murray is…” I paused, how to describe him – the nearest thing I’d had to family before you lot turned up. My Father swept forward just then, interrupting me, he’d been out of the limelight too long.
“You were beyond magnificent, my darling.” He said to me, “I have no idea how you managed to scare them off like that, you were amazingly brave and then to Roland, “Adam Adamovitch.” The two nodded at each other and I was glad I couldn’t see what either was thinking.
Etty had also come to the front doors, accompanied by the solicitor. She stopped Roland and Murray as they reached the steps, and gently angled Mimi’s face up to look at the head wound.
“A & E d’you think?” She asked.
“No,” said Murray, with years of experience of slipped saws, hammered thumbs and people falling off high things. “Don’t think so, looks pretty surface to me, don’t think it needs stitches, heads always bleed a lot don’t they? Probably a nip of brandy couldn’t hurt mind, for shock.” Etty and Roland both nodded agreement.
“Ophelia.” Etty turned to my Mother who’d appeared behind her, “Take her into the kitchen, it’s warmer in there and Elizabeth’s got a first aid kit.” My Mother looked horrified.
“I really don’t think… , “ she murmured, Etty interrupted,
“I didn’t ask you to think,” she snapped, I asked you to see to your Mother.” Having dealt with that, she looked at me as I followed them up the uneven stone steps and pursed her lips.
“Do you want to talk?”
“No. Thank you,” I said primly. I wasn’t, at that point in time, sure of a great deal, but on a couple of things I was rock solid, not only did I not want to talk – I didn’t even want to think!
***
“What in the name of sweet frigging Fanny Adams, have you gone and got yourself into Sandy?” As the rest of them trailed inside, Murray grabbed me by the elbow and held me firmly back. He’d regained a little of his normal ruddy colour but he was pretty shaken, he’d been a lot nearer than anyone else and had therefore had a front row seat for Mimi and the Birds.
As often happens, an adrenaline-fueled incident, led to a bit of an anti-climax. Roland and Ophelia had taken Mimi, Rostropovich close at their heels, to the kitchen and the ministrations of Elizabeth although I hoped, not Gladys. The tv team had beaten tracks upstairs to look at ‘what they had’ and to get Ffion to ‘put some things down’. I wasn’t sure precisely what all that added up to, but decided I’d tackle censorship issues tomorrow.
Etty said acerbically that if I could manage to keep an eye on things for just a short while, without further chaos ensuing, she was resuming her meeting and stalked off, followed by the Heywood chap, both pointedly ignoring odd noises coming from the library, which I could only assume was the Psychic Society ‘setting up’.
My Father, Sasha remaining attached limpet-like, said they’d probably better revert to plan and push off now and he’d come over to talk to Ophelia tomorrow. They took off for the car at a faster pace than normal, and not without a lot of apprehensive upward glances at the surrounding trees and sky.
“Well? I’m waiting.” Hissed Murray, still holding my arm and shaking it hard in his agitation. “What in hell’s name is going on here and what were you playing at back there, who do you think you are, flaming Harry Potter?” I removed myself gently, pushing my hair back and away from my eyes with my hands. I saw they were liberally blood spattered, whether it was Mimi’s or the wolf’s I had no idea. Murray followed my glance and grimaced. “You need to go and get cleaned up, are you hurt anywhere, did the little buggers get you?”
“Don’t think so, don’t think they touched me.”
“No,” he said slowly, “They didn’t, did they? So, what was all that… that business with the hand?”
“You know what Murray,” I said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. In fact, I don’t believe it either. So no, I don’t know what I’ve got myself into, other than a right royal mess.”
“Can see that much. Blimey O’Reilly, what a cockamamie set up!” He said. I sighed, he didn’t know the half of it.
“Murray, hey Murray, what are you faffing about up there for?” My Father was leaning out impatiently from the passenger seat of the Jag. “Get your arse over here and get us back, I need a drink.” Murray looked at me,
“Look, I’ll be driving him and,” he added with ire, “Her too I expect, over again tomorrow, we’ll grab a bit of time then, you and me, and talk properly. Right? Or,” he paused, “Do you want to come back with us now?” I shook my head,
“Can’t leave now, you know me, job half done and all that.” He nodded reluctantly,
“I do know you,” he grumbled. “And didn’t expect anything different. But listen, I was worried sick about you before we got down here and now,” he turned his mouth down. “I’m worried sicker!” I gave him a long hug, thinking not for the first time, what would I do without him. He held me for a minute then humphed himself free.
“Come on Murray.” Bellowed my Father, who I noted without surprise, didn’t appear to be worried about me in the slightest. “Or I’ll bloody well drive myself.”
“Right, and then we’ll really be up shit creek.” Murray grunted and with a last squeeze of my arm, he turned and hurried over to the car. My Father’s driving was notable – and not in a good way.
CHAPTER FIFTY
“Of course, we mustn’t forget about poor Polly, must we?” Stated Charley firmly, the following morning. I looked at her blankly. “Polly Malone, the girl who, you know…” she held her fist above her cocked-to-one-side head, crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out, too graphic by half, especially so soon after my hurried breakfast. Gladys had insisted on making me eggs again and they were still uneasily lurking, somewhere just south of my ribs.
“Goodness, no, not for one moment.” I agreed, although poor old Polly had rather slipped my mind, what with everything else going on. I guiltily recalled the ghost recording equipment in the library – ‘very unobtrusive’, I’d been earnestly assured by Harold Hugheson. Morwenna had nodded enthusiastically – she didn’t seem to be one for talking, but was an enthusiastic nodder. They hadn’t finished the setting up until about 10.00 yesterday evening and said they’d give it a couple of days before a return visit, to see if anything had been set off. I definitely needed to organise a little something, to justify their time and trouble and make sure our haunted reputation was enhanced. I really mustn’t allow myself to be distracted from the main aims for the hotel’s forward progress.
Last night had, after the varied ups and downs of the day, been a quieter affair, and as far as I knew, everyone had slept, other than me. I’d been so exasperated after a brief conversation with Ophelia, that even after both she and Ink were snoring in harmony, I’d tossed and turned for hours, having an animated if silent discussion with myself on the complete perverseness of my Mother; a level of unreasonableness rivalled only, as I knew from past experience, by my Father’s.
“Ma,” I’d said, broaching the subject cautiously. “You’re going to have to talk to him you know, now he’s come down here.”
“Only if I choose to.” She said, creaming off her make-up and surveying her face critically in the dubious light of a table lamp she’d moved on to the dressing table. “And then only if he doesn’t have that little cow hanging
off his arm.” I could see her point.
“Well, of course not.” I said, “That’s fair enough, but maybe you should hear his side of the story.” She snorted,
“His side? His side? He hasn’t got a side.”
“But think of all the years you’re throwing away, so much time, all those shared experiences. Not to mention your career.” I said. She gave a half snort half laugh,
“My darling, he’s throwing away far, far more than I am. And, if he’s deluded enough to think the act can go on without me, he’s more of a fool than I thought.” She suddenly changed the subject,
“Has Etty spoken to you?”
“About?”
“You know damn well, don’t be obtuse.”
“She has.”
“And… ?”
“And what?” I said. Ophelia shrugged.
“You probably think I should have told you more, over the years.” She said. “But to be honest, sweetie, you never really seemed to want to know anything very much, so what would have been the point?” She wasn’t wrong, I’d known what I’d known and hadn’t wanted to know any more. “Anyway,” she went on, “I left here so as not to have anything to do with it all.”
“But you didn’t,” I said. “Not have anything to do with it – you used it, as and when you wanted.” She looked at me as if I was crazy,
“Well of course I did, why wouldn’t I?” I gave up and brought the conversation back to where it had been originally,
“Look, you and Pa have to be reasonable, there’s too much at stake to make decisions in a temper.” She tightened her lips and turned away and I could see, to my intense frustration, I probably wasn’t going to get anything else out of her, nobody tightened their lips quite as finally as my Mother.
***
Charley snapped me back to the present by unexpectedly grabbing my wrist, I yelped and nearly jumped out of my skin, I was obviously more on edge than I thought. We were sitting on one of the uncomfortably slippery, leather sofas while we waited for Max to finish a ‘terribly, terribly important’ phone call which he’d taken out into the hall. He and I had already had a frank and at times, slightly heated exchange about what I would and wouldn’t agree to going in the documentary. I just needed to make sure he and Charley had that completely straight and there was no room for misunderstanding, misunderstandings being in my experience, the root of most problems.
“I’ve just thought,” she said breathlessly, “Those dreadful birds, yesterday, they couldn’t have had anything to do with her – Polly, I mean – could they?” I shook my head,
“Course not, just one of those freaks of nature things that happen – you know, like it raining fish. Or Sahara sand.” I added vaguely. I was keen on giving the hotel a high profile, but felt random wild-life attacks weren’t quite what we were aiming for.
“Still,” she said. “Dead scary and really, really weird, wasn’t it?”
“Weird indeed.” I agreed. I realised I was having a bit of a problem keeping track of things I thought I’d arranged and differentiating them from those I hadn’t. I definitely needed more than ever, to get my house in order.
“And the wolf.” Charley wasn’t to be deterred, her voice rising more than ever at the end of every sentence. “Just how cool was that – wow, I mean seriously wow, we got some wonderful shots of the whole thing, start to finish, didn’t we Max?” Max who’d just come back in, nodded reluctantly, I could clearly see he wished Charley would put a sock in it. He met my querying eyebrow with an exaggerated sigh and shrug,
“No, Sandra, please don’t look at me like that, we’ve already agreed you can see an edit.” But he couldn’t resist a snide addendum as he sat down to go through some stuff with Charley. “Although this is a documentary you know, and that’s what we’re doing – documenting.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
“We’re worried, Mimi’s acting oddly.” Said Bella, cornering me as I came out into the hall. I was planning who or what I was going to tackle next, but couldn’t help commenting,
“How can you tell?”
“That head wound’s still looking pretty nasty,” Bella hadn’t smiled back. “She must have been rammed pretty hard. We’re worried she might have a concussion or worse. I think she should get checked out, but Roland’s in court today and left early. Could you take her? Nearest A&E’s about twenty minutes away.” I sighed, contemplating a day spent hanging around in a noisy, blue-curtained cubicle, while my task list burnt a hole in my pocket. Additionally, I didn’t know what time my Father was planning on putting in an appearance, and I did feel I needed to be around for whatever fireworks might ensue; my parents in full flow were not for the faint hearted.
“Well?” Bella had been rushing and was breathing heavily, I hoped the buttons on the tight white tunic weren’t going to give up the ghost. I could see though that she was indeed worried.
“OK.” I said ungraciously, “If there’s no-one else who can do it.”
“Thank you sweetie, honestly I’d come with you if I could, but I’ve two clients booked in, one after the other, and it’s too late to phone and cancel. Maybe Ophelia?” We both thought about that for a second then dismissed it. Ophelia would be less use than a sick headache in a thunderstorm.
“Where is Mimi now?” I asked, extracting my car keys from the reception desk drawer where I’d left them.
“Upstairs, if you just bring your car up to the door, I’ll get Devorah to bring her down.”
“Will do,” I said, “Oh, and ask Devorah to pop into my room and grab my handbag, so I’ve got some cash on me – it’s on the bed.” Bella was already on her way up, raising a hand in acknowledgment as she went.
It was par for the course, that my car wouldn’t start. I cursed and kept re-turning the key, the way you do even when the thing’s so obviously deader than a dodo. I cursed some more, it had been fine when we drove down. I gave it a hard slap on the roof as I slammed the door. I knew that wouldn’t do any good either, but I was fed up.
I could see Devorah had brought Mimi down and they were waiting at the top of the steps – she didn’t look so hot even from that distance, pale faced and I could see how heavily she was leaning on Devorah’s arm. Mind you, had I known what she was going to look like, a little while into our journey I’d have been a darn sight more unsettled. I was trotting back to the house to meet them, thinking we’d have to get a cab there and back, when another car crunched the gravel behind me.
“Problem?” It was everybody’s favourite solicitor, in a black SUV, honestly the man was always under foot, didn’t he have a Practice to be running? However, the SUV had the advantage over my car, in that it had an engine that was working. I summarised the situation for him, I guessed Etty might not be his biggest client, but she was probably the scariest and I suspected he therefore might want to stay on her good side. I wasn’t wrong.
“I’ll take you.” He said obligingly.
“Might be a long wait, once we’re there.” I belatedly felt a bit guilty.
“Have laptop, can travel.” He patted the computer bag next to him on the seat, smug or what? But I thought, beggars and choosers etc and thanked him nicely. We got Mimi, wearing a warm, red knitted cape, into the back of the car and Devorah hopped in after her with a nod at Mark.
“Brrr.” She shivered, “Brass monkeys, isn’t it? Cold enough for snow.”
“Didn’t realise you were coming. What about the baby?” I asked.
“With Elizabeth,” she replied. “She was so like, worried about Mimi, she didn’t even grumble when I asked her.” Mimi’s forehead had blossomed sickly blue and green around the original cut and every now and then she put a hand to her head, as if surprised by all the discomfort, but she wasn’t keen on going to the hospital.
“This is ridiculous girls, big fuss about nothing at all, I’m quite
all right.” But she so patently wasn’t that I found I was beginning to catch some of Bella’s panic. I took a calming breath or two – everything would be fine, we’d get her to the hospital, get her checked out and given the all clear. Then I’d get back; umpire the parents; get the hotel plans back on track and sort out the journalist, the tv people and the Psychic Society respectively – it was all perfectly doable.
“You do know where you’re going?” I turned to Mark as I got in.
“Lived here all my life.” He said. He’d circled the mournful mermaid, in a business-like fashion, headed out the main gates and we were now on the sort of narrow winding road that makes you clench your buttocks in a vain attempt to make the vehicle thinner, but he was a steady driver and obviously knew what he was doing. “By going this way,” he said, “We cut out most of the traffic. Slightly longer mileage, but shorter timewise.”
Through canopied trees above us, the low, late November sun was strong and strobed and was making my eyes ache. I shut them briefly. When I opened them again, there was a child, six or seven, a dark-haired small boy, running right across the road in front of us. As we bore down on him, he turned towards us and stumbled. Mark didn’t slow down one iota, he was deliberately steering straight at him.
I screamed, long and loud, jerking over at the waist to grab the wheel and wrench it with all my strength to one side. The vehicle swerved violently, smashed all the way through a thick hedge, lurched into a deep ditch beyond, mounted the ditch’s far side and then shot rollingly back down again. It came to a teeth-jarring stop at a forty-five degree angle. My head whacked viciously back against the head rest and I saw flashing lights.
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