by Sam Cullan
Chapter Six
The red Rover turned into a brightly lit courtyard surrounded on three sides by high, red brick walls, and stopped outside the shiny new glass and steel entrance to a large, red brick building that Will supposed was, in part, of the Victorian era. Alice gestured to the doorman, who was about to shoo them away but stopped and pointed at a parking space in an unlit corner of the yard. Will duly obliged. The pair alighted and walked single file into the glass porch, Will very deliberately remaining two steps behind Alice.
“Good evening, Miss Cross.” The tall doorman with a maroon coat tipped a grey top hat in her direction as she stepped confidently across the threshold.
“Hi.”
Will, who was admiring a white alabaster lion, broke step and tripped over a cast iron umbrella stand. “Err, evening.”
“Sir.” The tall gentleman touched the brim of his hat and watched Will follow Alice into Reception. He noticed the scruffy beige leather boots and ill-fitting jeans, and stifled a tut.
Alice had collected something from Reception and was waiting by the lift. She smiled and gestured to the open doors. Will invited her to enter with a sweep of his right arm and duly stepped inside, shuffling behind her. The lift glided silently upwards to the sixth and top floor, where Will followed Alice to a door at the end of the corridor.
“Excuse the mess.” She waved a card and pushed open the heavy, dark wooden door.
Will looked around the immaculate room. A plush, uncluttered expanse of carpet that matched the blue of Alice's eyes covered the central three-quarters, exposing dark wooden floorboards around the edge of the room. Mushroom-coloured walls were decorated with tasteful landscapes of the local area and portraits of local Victorian dignitaries, and every few feet a pair of shaded wall lights cast a soft mellow light both upwards and downwards. The ceiling was white and bordered by intricate plaster mouldings of leaves and flowers. There were three armchairs and at one end of the room a king-sized bed stood out, flanked by matching oak cabinets topped with brass lamps shaded with rich cream linen. The bed, like the carpet and cabinets, was uncluttered. Freshly plumped pillows and a quilt wearing dark maroon silk sat on top of plain, cream silk sheets stretched taut across the foot-deep mattress. Will looked around in vain for something tatty or out of place.
Alice swing open a door and pulled a light switch. Inside were shelves, rails and a chest of drawers. There were two pairs of boots and two pairs of sneakers on the bottom shelf, a couple of cases on the next, and the top shelf was empty. A hanging rail housed tops, jackets, coats, and dresses. Some were freshly wrapped in clear plastic. Alice pulled out a drawer containing uniformly folded tee shirts and woollens, and carefully placed her gold watch on top of a pink cashmere cardigan.
Will was impressed. “Looks like your maid's been busy.”
“Nah, I just like to be organized.”
“I'm looking for a housekeeper.”
“My abilities don't stretch that far.
“You saying I'm a slob?
“You're a slob.”
Will made as if to unfold a tee shirt and Alice made a fist. Will backed away. He returned to the main room and looked for a chair that wouldn't crumple too much if he sat on it. He settled on a red velour chesterfield that looked pretty sturdy and resilient.
“Don't you go crumpling my chair.” Alice walked to another door and pulled another light. A crystal cave of shiny metal, glass and polished stone was revealed to be the bathroom. “Won't be long.”
The door closed and Will heard a powerful shower of water, the sounds rising and falling as Alice danced under the warm spray. He looked round the room, and tucked under a cushion he found a magazine with a photo of a trim, pretty blond girl on the cover. She was wearing something he considered scanty and presumed to be fashionable, and lots of make-up. He flicked through the heavy gloss pages and looked at the young girl, whom he supposed to be somewhere between 17 and 30, and who bore more than a passing resemblance to Alice. Will resisted the temptation to ogle, replaced the magazine, and decided to twiddle his thumbs.
Seven minutes later Alice emerged from a womb of steam and light, an enormous, fluffy white robe draped round her body, covering all but her shapely lower legs and dainty feet. A white fluffy towel was neatly wrapped round her head, and Will wondered how girls always knew how to fold towels round their heads. She sat on the bed next to the Chesterfield and Will noted how small an indentation she made. The robe had parted to expose the glowing pink flesh of her inner thighs. He felt extremely uncomfortable, but endorsed Alice's trust by staring her straight in the eye.
“I booked us a table here.” She returned the stare.
“Fine, yes. Looks expensive.”
“You'll earn it.”
A lesser man may have allowed his eyes and thoughts to drift. Alice held her gaze, and Will smiled at her with his best platonic expression.
“I will do all I can to help you.”
Alice grinned and patted him on the knee. Satisfied with his ability to keep his eyes and mind on the job, she bounced off the bed and returned to the dressing room, grabbing a big black hair dryer from a drawer. Will exhaled and patted himself on the back, before relaxing into the generous chair and shutting his eyes. He listened to Alice humming along to the sound of hot air, wondering how and when he’d died and when God would discover he'd been sent to the wrong place. Somewhere there must be a horned gentleman seething at the administrative error, but he'd make the most of his time here and who knows, he might even redeem himself and be allowed to stay.
He opened his eyes and was pleased to see he hadn't been reclaimed. It was quiet now. The door was closed and he wondered what Alice was going to wear to dinner. Whatever it was, it would make him look even more of a slob. The door swung open and Alice emerged. Her hair was golden and shimmered in the diffused light, framing two enormous sapphires set in delicate, black velvet stars. Her sensual lips and radiant cheeks emanated health and warmth. With virtually no chemical enhancement, her face was a perfect picture of pure natural beauty that no amount of photo-shopping could ever recreate. Will was gawping, but Alice didn't mind. Then he noticed her skinny blue jeans and white tee, and his gawp turned into admiration.
“Let's go.” Alice led the way back down to the ground floor. A smartly dressed gentleman was waiting for them and ushered the pair into a secluded section of the dining room, which was in fact four large rooms converted into one, separated by low walls and patterned glass screens. They shared this section with one elderly couple, and as it was raised slightly they were able to peek over the screens to view the other tables. They were all full, but only indistinct, politely muted conversations interrupted the serenity of this reserved section.
Sipping slowly at a complimentary glass of white wine, the couple discussed the menu. Will decided to play it safe and ordered a cold meat salad, while Alice ordered a mixed seafood salad.
“So, did we actually pass the chapel?” Alice was referring to the promised drive-past of Guffwell.
“We came close-ish. It's the back end of Blackwater, and you can't drive to it. It's a ten minute walk whichever way you go, and you'll need boots.”
“Boots?”
“Walking boots. Bit like these.” He stuck out a foot.
Oh, won't sneakers do?”
“Hmmm not really, might be wet, and it's a bit rough.”
“Better go shopping then.” Alice's eyes widened.
Will looked at his scruffy boots and Alice read his thoughts perfectly, again.
“We can get you some new ones, if you think they're not suitable.”
Will smiled and wondered how one so young had become so well-mannered and diplomatic.
“They're suitable, bit worn though.” He didn't want Alice to think she needed to be diplomatic.
Alice smiled and acknowledged the wink Will aimed at her.
“How much of the chapel and the well will we see?”
“Not a lot, I'm afraid.”
> “Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you.” Alice was in the mood for fun.
“You're really serious about this?” Will may have written a book about it, but only because he was bored. He had been interested in the local legends since a young boy, and had often visited the Chapel. The well down which the vampire monk Robert Masterton had supposedly hidden the evidence of his gory crimes, before being entombed in it himself, had long since been hidden. It was probably collapsed and buried under seven centuries of dirt and plant growth. Nobody knew for sure where it was, and it would be difficult to dig the ruins without being discovered.
His limited research – there were few reliable records dating from the thirteenth century in a rural location like Guffwell – suggested that Masterton had been outwitted by one of his potential victims, a burly sailor by the name of John Prattle who was crossing the moors one night and had accepted the monk’s invitation to shelter from a storm - but only because he believed the monk to be hiding a great treasure. On seeing the monk bent over the well, he had pushed him in and thrown a burning torch after him. The monk's filthy habit was his undoing, for it was infused with alcohol and oils which caused it to burn quickly. What Prattle didn't know was that the monk's most valuable treasure was a lucky amulet he kept on a cord round his neck. The amulet was said to originate from Sumer, and whoever should be in possession of it would be protected from all harm. The Sumerians had not reckoned on a vampire taking possession, and clearly it didn't bring him much luck.
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, as Will pointed out in his book. In fact, it was the first line. It didn't stop him embellishing the amulet story, and inventing a few new ones of his own. The one Alice was interested in related to the effect a burning vampire might have on a lucky charm. Will, who watched too much television for anybody's good, claimed that the amulet had absorbed Masterton's powers and that they could be transferred to the next owner. His explanation was woolly, as he found research boring and thought that most of it was gibberish anyway. Vampires didn't exist, so he thought he may as well invent his own theories as to what they were capable of.
Alice was perhaps the only person who had been taken in by his story, and he felt a little guilty. But if she believed it, and it made her happy, then he could see no harm in playing along. It's not as if I’m misleading her, he thought. He felt sorry for her, as he knew she wasn't happy with her teeth. It must be difficult for a Hollywood star when your teeth are anything but pearly white and straight. He had suffered from years of problem teeth himself, and he knew the psychological trauma was every bit as debilitating as the physical pain. But to imagine you could somehow inherit good teeth from a vampire? It sounded so ridiculous, and he didn't know how long he could keep his opinions from Alice. But it gave him an idea for a sequel.
Alice was playing with a radish. Will had long since finished his salad and was still hungry. He was also craving a coffee and a cigarette – he hadn't smoked since Alice had turned up on his doorstep. He'd settle for a pint of ale, but he had to drive home. He was in a quandary. Alice got bored of chasing the radish and killed it with a deft blow from her fork. She spotted Will fidgeting.
“You ok?”
“I'm in a quandary.”
“Huh?”
“I could do with a smoke, or a beer, but I can't have either here.”
“You can have a beer.”
“Gotta drive home.”
“Don't gotta.”
“Huh?”
“Stay here.”
Will was past the stage of playing the 'I've no money so I'd have to rely on you and I'm not sure if my pride will allow it' game.
“Hmm.”
“I booked a room next to mine, in case any friends or family showed up. They didn't, so you may as well use it.”
“Hmmmm.” Will wasn't quite sure how to take that, but decided a beer would clarify things.
“I'd feel safer if you were here.” Alice looked coy.
“Safer for you, or safer for me?”
“You, of course.”
Will decided two beers would be needed, or possibly six.
“Do you drink?”
“Not really, but I'll join you if you're worried about drinking alone in a bar.”
Will was worried about precisely that; he didn’t want people to think he was friendless, even if he was.
“I am.”
“Come on, pops.” Alice grabbed his arm and walked him to the bar. She found a seat that faced a wall, and told him to order what he wanted and get a cold bottled lager for her, and to charge it to her account. Will returned with a pint and a bottle with a glass, as she hadn't specified how she wanted to drink it.
“I have to pour my own?”
“You didn't specify, you just said a bottle.” Will poured the ice cold lager for her.
“Don't get me drunk.”
“No chance, I've seen the future.”
Alice laughed into her lager, spraying fizzing bubbles over the table and her top.
“Jeez, I can't take you anywhere.” Will scalded her as he mopped the table with a beer mat.
“Oh you can take me anywhere you want.” She wrinked, as Will now decided her wink-come-nose-wrinkle was to be called.
Will blushed, as Alice intended. He downed half a pint and looked around. He spotted something he could beat Alice at.
“You play pool?”
“Only when I'm drunk.”
“Get drunk.”
“Might do. You any good?”
“Pretty good.” Will fed her a teaser, “I'm sure I can thrash you.”
“Before or after the pool?”
“You're so rude.”
“You're the one offering to thrash me.”
A tall athletic gentleman in a dinner jacket appeared, as if from nowhere.
“Hello Alice, how's your father?”
Will wanted to slide under the table but he felt sure he was too big and it was probably too late.
“Hey, Pete. He's good. Howya doing?”
“I'm great. Gotta dash, some charity do. Catch ya later.” He turned to Will. “Hope I'm not interrupting anything, buddy.”
“Umm no - no, not at all.” Will's face resembled a radish.
Alice waved Pete off. “Your face, it's the colour of that radish I killed!” She struggled to stop her hysteria escalating into howling.
“I think we should discuss your plans.” Will decided the boring route was safer.
“Boring!”
“You're embarrassing me.” He grinned, for he clearly enjoyed it in some perverse way.
“Come on pops, loosen up.”
“As you see me as some sort of father figure, I'm telling you to behave.”
“Or what? You'll spank me?”
Will vividly imagined the scenario, and had to forcibly snap out of the trance. He was faltering, and he knew he had to swing this round.
“No, I'll ground you.”
“How?”
“I'll tie you to your bed.” Shit, that wasn't meant to come out.
Alice was howling. Will went for another beer. He took his time, chatting to every person over 40 he could find at the bar. He returned to find Alice texting.
“Be right with you.”
“No rush.”
“O-kkkk,” she tucked the phone in her back pocket. “You're funny. I wish I had more friends like you.”
“You mean old?” Will knew it was a loaded question but he figured it was the safest card to play.
“Yeah. Young guys … they just want one thing, ya know?”
Will could breathe again. He had temporarily hit an icy patch and was swerving out of control, but the tyres were gripping now.
“Well you know that's not me. I want two things.”
“Oh?”
“Your body and your money.”
Alice howled. “Hey, hands off my money.”
Will smiled and downed a celebratory half-pint. He wished Alice was ten years older, if only because it wo
uldn't look quite so odd to onlookers. But she clearly had her head screwed on very firmly, and it was her head he really found attractive.
“You know what I like best about you?”
Alice didn't.
Will leaned forward and rested a hand on her head.
“My hair?”
“Under that.”
Alice could’ve gone for scalp and skull, but decided to accept the compliment graciously. As he removed his hand, she grasped it in hers and held it tight for a second.
“Thanks, Will.”
Will thought it was the first time he'd heard her say his name, and it sounded better than he'd ever heard it before.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being you, with me.”
“I am me with you, it's weird, just having met you an' all.”
They both agreed it was weird, but in a good way. Will knew she wasn't after his money because he didn't have any, and Alice knew he wasn't after her fame because he didn't worship it like so many of her friends. They ordered more beer and retired to her room.