2 Children of the Plantation

by Faith Mortimer

  The irregular members of the company shuffled in their seats in embarrassment. They were clearly unused to the tirades of Karl the Actor. Those who knew him of old looked on with amusement on their faces and some with more than a little malicious enjoyment at his fury and discomfiture. Alicia felt she had the majority with her; and she was right. Karl, despite being a fair actor in the past, did find it increasingly difficult to remember long chunks of prose. With long periods rehearsing and the subsequent stress it created, he was left wrung out and exhausted.

  Nowadays, every time a new play was cast Karl played up. He threw his weight around with childish histrionics whenever he was offered something that he considered beneath his talents. This evening was no exception as he was clearly demonstrating.

  Karl honestly knew that if he had been given the lead he would have been scared to death. That did not stop him playing a rôle. It was tedious but expected. Eventually he would settle down and accept the less demanding part Alicia wanted him to play. Before he had a chance to carry the argument further Alicia addressed the rest of the cast.

  ‘Moving on, there are only a couple of changes,’ she said clearing her dry throat. ‘Steve, I would like you to read Macbeth.’

  A ripple of surprise flowed between them. Steve had played cameo roles in two previous productions, but her choice caught them unawares. Steve looked stunned. He opened his mouth to say something and then promptly closed it as he glanced over to Diana with a look of unexpected pleasure. Diana gave her husband a return look of sheer pride.

  ‘Well done,’ she mouthed and grinned at the dawning consternation on his face.

  The others agreed with Alicia. As long as the actors could handle it they welcomed new blood taking the principle rôles.

  Quickly, Alicia read through her notes. ‘I know Tilly isn’t here, but she already knows I want her to play Lady Macbeth. She will let me know for certain in a day or so.’ Nobody was surprised at this announcement; Tilly played a formidable leading lady.

  Alicia carried on, dishing out the other characters. There were a few good-natured moans and groans but most were happy with her casting.

  Sitting next to Alicia was Diana. Alicia meant to cast her as one of the three witches, a perfect character role. She hoped she would accept the part.

  Pausing, Alicia noted Karl still looked grim and sulky as he threw a furious, black look across to Steve and then back to Alicia. Pouting, and with a voluble and melodramatic sigh, he opened his as yet unlooked at script and turned the pages until he found his opening scene.

  There was a bellow of rage from Leslie. ‘Is this some kind of sick joke?’ he demanded.

  With a gasp everyone turned to look at him, shock registering on their faces at his rude outburst.

  ‘Well?’ he asked.

  Chapter 2. The same evening

  Speak if you can. What are you?

  Macbeth. Act 1 Scene 3

  Diana noticed Leslie gingerly holding his script away from him as if he did not want to touch it.

  Everyone fell silent. He stood up and strode over to where Alicia was sitting at one of the taverna tables. She was writing some notes before Leslie made his rude and noisy interruption. Leslie towered over her, glaring down.

  Despite his age he was a man to be reckoned with. He possessed classic good looks with fine bone structure despite a slight fleshing in the face. Leslie was of medium height with a trim, muscular body, and still carried a full head of steel-grey hair. With pale, icy blue eyes to match he looked Teutonic. With a great flourish he tossed his script down in front of her. It fell open at the page he had been glancing at.

  ‘You have a very peculiar sense of humour I must say. This is the final straw. I don’t know if I can be bothered, this whole thing is going to be a sham. Honestly, Alicia. I thought you had better judgment but your decision is just too pathetic for words. Typical of a woman! I think you’ve finally lost it. Anyway you’ll be very sorry, you wait and see.’

  From where she sat Diana took a sneaky peek at Leslie’s script. With some bewilderment she thought that the opened pages were blackened out. Blinking, and focusing properly, Diana realised that in fact they were not black but red. Blood red. The pages appeared to be seeped in what looked like shining wet blood. ‘What on earth?’ she said to herself. ‘Was she seeing things or was this some macabre joke?

  Seconds later, the sun disappeared behind a lone cloud in the sky. A sudden breeze rippled through the trees behind them, and a small flight of bats veered and swooped with disturbed, shrill squeaks upon the party gathered on the terrace.

  Away upon the hill, the church bell rang out its miserable dull tone. The sound echoed around the empty forlorn buildings, peculiar, as there was no service this evening, and therefore no reason for its sombre tolling. As if in sympathy to this incongruity, the breeze turned into an unseasonable chill wind that swirled along the paths and around the corners.

  Startled, Diana jumped up and looked round her. The branches of the trees silhouetted against the hillside swayed and rustled, a whisper running through the canopy. A shiver tingled down her spine. She could have sworn she had heard something up there. It was something like a shrill cry then a low chant. But staring into the gloom, the space between the trees remained as empty as when they had all first arrived. Feeling silly, she returned to her seat.

  You’re seeing things and hearing things, pages covered with blood and spooky sounds, she thought. Next time it’ll be goblins. For goodness sake get a grip on yourself and stop letting your imagination run away with you.

  It was strange though, this was not the first time she had felt something here. Almost like a presence. She felt a little giddy as a small wave of nausea washed over her. Her palms broke out in sweat and her heart thudded in her chest.

  Perhaps Steve was right and she had been doing too much lately. He’d been nagging at her to take it easier.

  ‘Your health is beginning to worry me. Can’t you slow down and take it easier, Diana darling?’ he’d said more than once.

  Diane sighed. He really was such a softie. But she was glad he cared and wouldn’t have changed him for anything. But how could she take it easier?

  After her conversation the other evening with Ann, she’d already decided a change of genre would be exciting for her next novel. Up until now her subject was historical fiction.

  During the cast party while she and Ann stood off to one side chatting, Diana had watched and studied the various members gathered. ‘You know it’s time I wrote another book,’ she said dreamily gesturing with her hand. ‘Something compels me to. Look at this scene before us.’

  Puzzled, Ann turned and looked at her, not understanding her gesture. She frowned and tilted her head to one side. ‘Sorry? You’ve lost me.’

  ‘All these people gathered here, and the setting so romantic, or even dramatic. I know it’s been done before, but surely the whole scene lends itself to something. Look, all around us are people, all different in age, nationality and class. Yes, there’s still a class structure despite what they say. These people are brought together for the production of the play. Here, we act together; we almost live in the same village. For the duration we cannot get away from each other until it’s all over. Then, we part, and go back to our other lives. The outsiders, perhaps we’ll never see again. The play kept us all as one.’

  ‘Well, apart from the play what else could bring us together then?’ asked Ann.

  ‘Apart from another play, you mean? I don’t know, a calamity possibly, or a strange or bizarre happening perhaps. I’d have to think about it,’ she broke off musing it over to herself.

  Ann gave her a knowing smile, ‘Well, you’re the one with the writer’s imagination.’

  Diana grinned back. ‘Something will come to me eventually, even if I have to write something completely different.’

  Ann looked interested. ‘Really? What about a murder or a mystery?’

  ‘Ye-es there could be something there. A group
already together, suspects in the making. There are enough weird and flamboyant characters to choose from to be the victim or the perpetrator.’

  ‘He would have to be evil.’

  ‘He?’ Diana queried her with a smile.

  ‘Well, it could of course be a she, as long as they’re horribly evil. The murderer I mean,’ she was warming to the theme. ‘Like in the Scottish play, you know, ‘Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen.’

  Diana laughed. ‘Of course, I’ll give it some thought. My agent is breathing down my neck for me to write another novel. I’ve had my time off apparently,’ she grinned ruefully at Ann. ‘I do want to get back into it. But you’re right; it would need an evil person to portray as my murderer. Somebody the readers would love to hate.’

  Ann looked back steadily at her for a moment before she replied. ‘Well there’s enough material around to give you some good grounding, and you’ve already noticed a few of the people from here are very weird. I bet Leslie’s right. They all have some dark secret or other to hide. I can even tell you a few stories I’ve heard myself. Not now, there isn’t time. We’ll do it over coffee one morning…’

  ~~~

  …Diana shook her head. How on earth could she have drifted off thinking about the other night? She felt really strange and fuzzy. It took a strong will to turn her attention back to the present and Leslie.

  Amazed, she found he’d already turned on his heel and was stalking away from the startled group. There was a stunned silence as they all sat open-mouthed at his rude departure, not believing what they had just heard. Embarrassed, they looked at the stricken face of Alicia. Her freckles stood out like a hectic rash upon her face and throat. Blinking and flushed; an ugly red stain crept up her neck and across her cheeks.

  Diana felt sorry for Alicia as she obviously struggled to keep her composure.

  Alicia looked up from the script that Leslie had just thrust at her, confusion clouding her features.

  She took a gulp. ‘I don’t understand. I only wanted to try something new. Leslie was well aware I was going to make this production contemporary. I don’t see what’s wrong in setting the play in the present and making the cast into modern armies. Guns and army fatigues would make a fine change from medieval costume’. She paused, then continued shakily. ‘I’m sure he’ll see reason once he calms down.’

  ‘He was bloody rude and arrogant to boot,’ stormed a nearby member shaking his head in anger. ‘I think you did very well not to have had a stand up row. If it had been me, I’d have bloody well thumped him. ’

  ‘Well, that’s not my thing, Bernard. Anyway, I’m only relieved he threw a wobbly now and not at some later crucial stage. At least we have plenty of time to plan around him if necessary. It is important that everyone takes part in this production. We want to put our theatre group of Agios Mamas firmly and right with the rest of the Cyprus theatre scene. We have this splendid opportunity with our own open-air amphitheatre so let’s take it. I’m not going to be put off by a minor irritation like Leslie.’

  She paused, and then in a firmer but soft voice spoke to herself. Only Diana, who was nearest to her, heard the venom in her words. ‘No. This time he’s not going to be allowed to upset any of my plans.’…………….

  Please Tweet/Facebook, “Children of the Plantation” once you’ve finished and pass the word on.

  If you have enjoyed this novel why not read these other

  Faith Mortimer books:

  To date Faith has written and published:

  ‘THE ASSASSINS' VILLAGE’. (1st novel in The Diana Rivers series). A murder mystery set in the Troodos mountains of Cyprus. This 93,000 word paperback & eBook was chosen on the Harper Collins/Authonomy site out of over 8000 books to be the Number 1 book!

  ‘CHILDREN OF THE PLANTATION’. Published in paperback & eBook, (2nd in The Diana Rivers series), murder mystery, set in exotic Malaysia during the 1960's and 1950's and the present. The story concerns a family whose dark secrets threaten to destroy the family.

  ‘THE SURGEON'S BLADE’. (3rd in the Diana Rivers series) Published in paperback and eBook. This psychological thriller is tense and thrilling and guarantees to keep you on the edge of your seat!

  ‘CAMERA ACTION...MURDER’! (4th in the Diana Rivers Mystery/Suspense series). Diana finds herself in danger after discovering a body…will she be the next victim?

  ‘A VERY FRENCH AFFAIR’. Romance, Heartache and Suspense set on the beautiful south coast of France.

  'THE SEEDS OF TIME - BOOK 1 of THE CROSSING'. Action-Adventure plus Romantic Suspense. (published June 2012).

  'HARVEST - BOOK 2 of THE CROSSING' Continues from Book 1. Action-Adventure full of romantic suspense. (published July 2012).

  ‘CHILDHUNT’ (5

  th in the Diana Rivers Mystery/Suspense series)

  ‘DEVIL’S BRAE’ (1st novel in the ‘Dark Minds’ Thriller series) – A Psychological Thriller set in the wilds of the Scottish Highlands. – (published September 2013)

  ‘A SEASONAL AFFAIR’ – Sometimes destiny needs a helping hand…..... Romance blossoms at Christmastide. (to be published November 2013)

  An extract from Faith Mortimer’s Action & Adventure two novel set “The Crossing”

  The Seeds Of Time - Book One of The Crossing

  by FAITH MORTIMER

  Dedication

  To the gallant men of the British Royal Navy Coastal Forces who served with such bravery and distinction during the Second World War.

  Prologue

  Germany 1945

  Billy gathered his treasures together and laid them at the end of his ramshackle bunk in hut nineteen. There wasn’t a lot to account for three years’ incarceration at the hands of the sometimes brutal Germans, but his treasures represented his life and, more importantly, his soul. He thought about the refugees who had filed past the gates of his camp: old people; women with children; babes in arms; the injured, burned and terrified and the deranged. All were fleeing from the horrors, the Christians among them struggling to believe and reconcile their religious beliefs with Nazi cold-blooded excesses and mass murder.

  Billy considered his pitiful little pile: Christmas cards from Penny, her heavily censored letters and her simple but evocative poetry, the handmade playing cards, two cigarettes, the German soldier’s – Dieter’s – belt buckle and Nathaniel’s penny whistle. Nathaniel. Billy shook his head in regret and fought back the familiar choking feeling that arose in his throat whenever he thought about it. He thrust his dark thoughts aside and continued picking over his possessions. He would take as many clothes as he could carry. He had nothing heavy. He had given his Bible away, hopefully to someone who would put it to better use than he. Gathering up his things, he tied them into a bundle with his faded and well-darned pullover and slung it over his shoulder. He straightened his back, lifted his head, and stood as erect as his gammy leg allowed. I’ll march out of here proudly, he thought. He and his comrades formed into ranks and marched smartly up to the gates. The weak and sick were supported by their stronger colleagues, their spirits rising. They didn’t know where they were going, but it had to be a better place than this.

  The Seeds of Time

  Chapter 1

  The Atlantic 2005

  Richard knew he had no choice. It had to be now; he would never get another chance. He took a deep breath and pushed off the heaving wet deck of his yacht. With sheer determination, he dived for the rescue net. He hit the water, and his lower torso disappeared into the black froth that seemed to claw and clutch at him. Somehow, he managed to stretch out, and as he grabbed the harsh net with one arm, he felt the mesh tangle around him. The ship lurched, and this time he was fully immersed in deep water. What seemed like minutes later, he broke the surface, coughing and choking, the salt stinging his eyes. Clamping his other hand round the netting, Richard clung to it like a limpet. The water roared and hissed around his ears, terrifyingly black. He knew he must climb the rescue net quickly, as his energy was rapidly
ebbing away, and conditions weren’t going to get any better.

  Moving one arm higher, he found a rung and hauled himself up, grunting with the exertion as he did so. His hands were bleeding from fresh cuts where he had smashed against the rough barnacles on the ship’s hull. Fatigue was rapidly overwhelming him. The past few days of untold stress and lack of sleep were taking their toll. Gritting his teeth, he managed to move up another foot of net and then by willpower alone, he pulled himself up rung by rung. He heard the faint encouraging cries of the crew far above him and paused. He looked up and saw a line of faces peering down at him. His adrenalin surged, and with renewed vigour, he at last collapsed thankfully on the ship’s deck.

  Utterly exhausted by his ordeal, Richard lay there not quite believing where he was. Water streamed off his body, and he knew that soon he would begin to feel the cold as it seeped through to his bones. Coughing and retching seawater, Richard sat up, suddenly noticing the ring of sturdy-looking sea boots before him. He attempted to stand and felt strong arms supporting him. He braced his legs against the motion of the deck and looked round. A circle of anxious faces stared back: a stocky bearded fellow whom he assumed to be the captain, four or five crew members, and an ashen-faced Toby. The captain cleared his throat, about to speak.

  Again, Richard looked around his surroundings and forestalled him by saying hoarsely, ‘Where’s Connie? Where’s my wife?’ His voice wavered, and he felt his heart thump wildly in his chest. There was silence. No one spoke. All sounds drifted away from him. He was in a dreamlike glide, and the reality was too strange to comprehend. He felt as though his actions were slowing, as if in a slow-motion film, frame by frame passing by. Everything took an eternity: a raised hand placed on his shoulder, a sentence spoken slowly by someone, but everything seen with an achingly clear focus, sharply defined. He imagined her limp in his arms, her head thrown back, and the curve of her throat, so beautiful. She was gone.