The Feast of All Souls

by Simon Bestwick

  “Alice?”

  She stopped, gasped. “John?”

  “Alice, you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Can I come in? Please? It’s pissing down.”

  “Sorry. I’m coming.”

  She’d forgotten; she hadn’t given him a key. That would have been a little too much like old times for her preference.

  Alice got to the door and opened it. John shoved through, shoulders hunched and collar pulled against the rain. “Christ’s sake.”

  “I’m sorry. You made me jump.” She stole a glance out of the door and breathed out in relief when she saw Collarmill Road was still there.

  John was frowning. “Something happen while I was gone?”

  She nodded.

  He sighed. “Better tell me about it, then,” he said, and walked through into the living room.

  John switched on the digital recorder and Alice told him the latest, handing him the journal as she spoke. It already sounded silly and false even to her, and John’s lips were compressed while he listened, his arms folded. Alice almost faltered and stopped, only managing to continue when she looked down and didn’t meet his eyes.

  “It’s on the cameras,” she said. “I played it back. Something is, anyway. The end. If you just watch –”

  “I’ll watch it,” John said. Clipped, abrupt. Something had changed, and changed badly. He didn’t sound like a former lover any more, or a friend; more like a policeman. “When did it happen?”

  She told him. He went to the camera in the hall and played it back, nodding steadily. He kissed his teeth a couple of times, then looked up at her. “Nice trick,” he said at last.

  “Trick?” was all she could manage. She’d known how it would look, what any outside observer would say – but not John. She’d thought he’d try to believe her at least.

  John sighed and leant back on the sofa. “What is it you want, Alice?” he said.

  “What? John, you know what I want.”

  “I don’t think I do. You come to me after all this time, pull the whole Diamonds and Rust act, then start talking haunted houses. But nothing actually happens when I’m there, only the first time I go out. And all there is on the tape is a little... conjuring trick, something any half-bright seventeen-year-old could pull off. You think I’m stupid?”

  “I never thought that,” she shouted at him. He flinched. She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but she was losing control. She was actually afraid of what she might end up saying. “Kind, yes. That you’d help me, yes. That you might actually believe me, yes. But I never thought you were stupid.”

  “That’s not what you said when we broke up.”

  “For fuck sake, John, that was what, twenty years ago? I was young – Jesus, come on, we’ve both been over this. You know I wish I could take back some of the things I said. You know I do.”

  “Yeah. Yeah.” But the anger and the suspicion were still there. “Is this some sort of crazy scheme to get me back?”

  “What?” She couldn’t keep the scorn out of her laughter and he looked away. “Get bloody over yourself, John Revell.”

  He breathed out. Finally he looked at her while he tapped his thumbs together. Alice managed not to smile – she didn’t need him thinking she was mocking him now – but knew the mannerism of old; it meant he was thinking things over, planning tactics and methods. Finally he said, “Arodias Thorne.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Arodias Thorne,” he said again, watching her closely.

  “What? Come on here, John, give me a clue. Am I supposed to know who that is?”

  He didn’t answer for several seconds; when he did, it was no answer. “Springcross House.” He was watching her eyes and face, she realised, looking for the least flicker of recognition. When he found none, he tried again. “How about the Beast of Browton, Alice? Or Old Harry?” Then one last time. “What about the Red Man?”

  “What about him?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Oh for Christ’s sakes.” This was maddening. “John, I’ve told you about the Red Man.”

  He breathed out, still watching her. “Okay,” he said at last. “One more name.”

  Alice sighed. “Go on.”

  “Galatea Sixsmythe.”

  “Who?”

  “Galatea Sixsmythe.”

  “No idea. Never heard of her. Is it a her?”

  John folded his arms. His face gave nothing away.

  “Right, well, I give up. Who’s she? One of Harry Potter’s schoolfriends?”

  John didn’t chuckle – not quite. She could tell it was a bit of an effort on his part, though. But then his face hardened again. “One more question, then, Alice. Why did you really move here?”

  “You know why, John.”

  He shook his head.

  “Yes you do, John. I’ve told you.”

  “The real reason, Alice.”

  “I’ve told you the real bloody reason!” She took a deep breath, calmed herself, then managed to carry on. “I know this area. Used to live here. We did. And I used to love it. ’Specially the Vale. I wanted to be near Mum and Dad but not next door, and have something to do – that’s why I bought this house. I told you, it’s a fixer-upper, it’s...” She shook her head. “Oh sod off, then. Believe whatever you like.”

  That, of course, was when the phone began to ring. Alice breathed out and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was tempted just to let it ring – but no, in the long run, that wouldn’t do any good. “Hello?”

  “How do, lass.”

  “Hi, Dad,” she said, after a moment.

  “So, how are you doing up there?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  “Okay. Not meaning to pry. Just wanted to make sure. I know... look, I know you and your mother had a set-to yesterday.”

  “A bit,” she said.

  “Well, I’m not going to take sides, Alice. You know that I don’t. Not saying you were right, to have a go like that or to bring up the past. You know how your mother feels about it. But, same time, I know how she can be. We’re none of us perfect.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  “And I know that – God knows, I’ve no place preaching. I’ve tried to make it up to you since, but I was a bad father to you –”

  “Dad –”

  “I was. And a bad husband to your mother. Your mother feels guilty about that too – all the stuff you had to see as a kiddy, that you shouldn’t have. But your mother’s got no cause for guilt there, Alice. It was on me, all of that.”

  She could hear the strain in his voice. Great work, Alice. Now you’re about to make your father cry as well. “Dad, I’ve never – oh God, Dad, please –”

  “It’s all right, love, I’m not having a go at anyone. Like I said, none of us can point the finger at anyone else like we’ve never got owt wrong. We all have, but that’s not what matters. It’s how you try and make things right again afterward.” Dad snorted. “Bloody hell, listen to me. Sounds like some load of New Age crap from one of those bloody magazines your mother likes.”

  Alice laughed.

  “Look, all I really wanted to do was call and say we both love you. I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but –”

  “It’s okay, Dad,” she said. “Thank you. It does mean something. It does.”

  “Your mother would like to see you, Alice.” She didn’t answer. “Look, can we come up?”

  “No. Not right now, Dad. That’s nothing to do with you or Mum. I’m not angry with her – pretty bloody ashamed of myself, if you want the truth. Don’t tell her that, though, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Dad chuckled. “You’ve got a point there.”

  “I’ve just got something on right now. Got a friend over.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  She looked at John. “I’ll tell you about it when I next see you,” she said. “Look, why don’t you give me a call t
omorrow, the day after – we’ll arrange to get together, all of us. Is that okay?”

  She heard Dad sucking his teeth on the other end of the phone. “All right,” he said.

  “Okay, then. Love you.”

  “And you.”

  “And tell Mum I love her as well.”

  “I will. Bye, love.”

  “Bye, Dad.” She put the phone down, breathed out and turned back to John.

  She couldn’t keep meeting his gaze. Any minute now and he’d start pitying her, and that would be the last straw. She twisted round on the couch, staring at the smooth cushion, trying without success not to feel childish.

  “Alice,” John said. “Okay, Alice, I’m sorry.”

  “Sod off, John.”

  “No, I mean... look, I found stuff out today. A lot of stuff. And there’s more, but I need to go and see someone to find out the rest.”

  “So?” Still she refused to look at him.

  “So there’s all this stuff I found out, just by going to the university library in Salford, and it fits what you told me. Fits it like a glove.”

  “You mean, too neatly?”

  He touched her arm lightly. When she didn’t flinch, he kept his hand there. “I found most of what I needed to know in about half an hour reading one old book on local folklore. Pretty obscure little tome, not the kind of thing anyone would come looking for – unless they were after something pretty specific.”

  “I see.”

  “But the librarian was adamant no-one else had come looking for that book in a long time. And it wouldn’t be easy to find without their help.”

  Alice looked at him. John smiled at her. “But I had to make sure, you understand?”

  She smiled at last, and turned back round to face him. “And now you think you have?”

  John chuckled and stood up, stretching. “I’ve been doing this shit nearly twenty years. I’m like the human bullshit detector by now.” He put his hands up. “I believe you, okay?”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” Alice raised her eyebrows. “‘The old Diamonds and Rust act’?”

  John coughed. “Hey, you always liked that song.”

  “So did you.”

  “That’s true.” He smiled, looking into her eyes. She smiled back, but after a few moments had to look away; this was too close, too warm. “So,” she said at last, “do I get to know what you found out today?”

  John nodded. “You do. But I’ll tell you en route.”

  “En route where?”

  “St Thomas’ Church, Pendleton. We’ve got to see a vicar – and if we get a move on, we might catch her before the evening service.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Two is Company

  July 2004

  ANDREW’S PARENTS LIVED in a small village near Eastbourne, and were members in good standing of the church congregation; they went there, regular as clockwork, every Sunday and more often than not they dragged Andrew, despite his avowed atheism, with them.

  It was a beautiful little church, Alice had to admit as they walked out of it, perched on a small coastal road and facing out across the Channel. If you had to have a church wedding, she thought as the guests flung handfuls of confetti at them, you could do a lot worse than this.

  Mum and Dad were there, dressed in their best and trying not to look too drab beside Andrew’s family and the Amberson’s staff. They were the only ones from Alice’s side of things; Andrew’s sister Mandy and her twin daughters had served as bridesmaids. Alice had thought of inviting John. Part of her had badly wanted to, but in the end she’d decided against it. She should have read those bloody letters of his, then she might have known how he felt, how he’d react to an invite. But it was too late now.

  It was better this way, she told herself as they gathered in the church grounds and the cameras clicked. John was the past now. Christ, the last thing she needed on her wedding day was an ex with whom she’d left so much unresolved – but whose fault was that, a traitor voice demanded in her head? Who hadn’t read the letters, who had refused to even try and remain friends? But even with everything between them laid to rest, would she have been able to resist putting John alongside Andrew, comparing the two men? But then what would it have said of her if she’d needed to do that?

  No. Better that John stayed where he belonged, up north and in the land of yesterday.

  Robert, Andrew’s father, had a passion for restoring old cars: a beautiful old Humber sat waiting for them outside the church, grille and hubcaps gleaming. The JUST MARRIED sign and cans on strings trailing from the back fender looked brutally out of place, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except her and Andrew as they climbed into the back of the Humber, shut the door and kissed as Robert drove off.

  THE RECEPTION WAS held just beyond the village, where an old manor house had been converted into a hotel.

  Everyone, it felt like, got to make a speech, except Alice herself. Half of her bridled at that – here she was, done up like a giant bloody meringue for show and expected to be seen and not heard while everyone gawped at her – while the other half was relieved that she didn’t, at least, have that to worry about.

  Dad, thankfully, kept his speech short and to the point. “Alice has worked very, very hard to make her way in life. She’s given up a lot, sacrificed a lot, and we’re bloody proud of her.” The ‘bloody’ provoked a few murmurs, and Mum poked him in the side. Dad coughed. “And we’re even prouder of her today. She’s found a very good man in Andrew, and we know they’ll look after each other and we know he’ll treat her right.” He raised his glass. “The bride and groom.”

  He sat down, bright red with embarrassment. Alice reached past Teddy Ratner and squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “No problem, love.”

  “Well said,” said Teddy quietly.

  “Thanks.”

  Teddy smiled. As the best man, he’d normally be sitting on the groom’s side of the table, but given how few of Alice’s friends or relations were there, they’d bent the tradition slightly, so he sat beside Alice, while Mandy was next to her brother. “You learn to appreciate it. You should have heard Robert’s speech at Mandy’s wedding. I swear three guests died of old age.”

  Dad laughed. Teddy had quickly charmed him and Mum, which was a relief. Alice had managed to make a new best friend at Amberson’s after all.

  The funny thing was that Andrew had been as good as his word on their nights out together, and never tried to take things any further. That had been Alice. After a few months of dinners, films, plays – and subsequently nights in at her flat or his with a pizza and a video – she’d finally realised (or admitted) her true feelings. So much for vows of celibacy. Even so, despite the distractions, her work didn’t seem to have suffered.

  Robert got to his feet, tapping a glass with a knife.

  “Oh good Lord, deliver us,” intoned Teddy under his breath. “Alice, I apologise in advance if I have to eat one of your parents to survive this speech.”

  “When Andrew was a little boy,” boomed Robert, “he played a wonderful game of cricket. Used to say he’d play for England one day – well, maybe there’s still time for that.”

  “Hope so,” Teddy murmured. “The boy would look ravishing in whites.”

  Alice pressed her lips together in suppressed laughter.

  “He’s always been a good-looking lad,” Robert went on, “and athletic.”

  “As I’m sure you can testify, sweetie,” Teddy whispered, and Alice had to bite the inside of her mouth.

  “When he was at school he was positively beating the girls off.”

  “I’ll just bet,” sighed Teddy, and Alice had to feign a coughing fit. She gulped wine and tried to glare at Teddy.

  “But he’s always been a good lad as well. Polite, respectful, hard-working. Gifted too. He was in the church choir when he was younger.”

  “And then somebody replaced him with this long-haired, head-banging monstrosity,” murmured Teddy. “
All right, I’ll stop now.”

  “Please,” said Alice. “If I wet myself this dress is a nightmare to get off.”

  “Of course, one of Andrew’s greatest gifts is that of his intellect.” From the corner of her eye Alice saw Teddy gaze at the ceiling with studied innocence. “Back in my youth I could hope to equal him on the pitch, but I can never hope to follow him intellectually. Very few of us in the family can, I have to say! But none of that changes our love for him, or our pride. I’m very glad that in Alice, Andrew’s found a soul-mate who’s a match for him in those stakes. But most of all – the biggest gift my son has is his heart. It’s a damned big one. Maybe too big. His mother and I often worried that there are people out there who’d take advantage of that. But Alice isn’t one of those.” Robert harrumphed. He was a big man, portly in middle-age, with a drinker’s jowls. “She’s a lovely young woman. Kind, gentle, warm. I’ve never seen my son happier than he is with her, and – well, I know it’s supposed to be the bride’s parents who worry about whether their daughter will be in safe hands, but the groom’s parents can do that too. Except that I don’t – worry, that is. Because I don’t believe that my son’s happiness or heart could be in safer hands than it will be with Alice. I wish them many long years of health and happiness.”

  Robert sat down amid applause.

  “That was rather sweet,” said Teddy.

  “Yes,” smiled Alice. “Yes, it was.”

  THE RECEPTION GOT underway, and they sloped upstairs to relax.

  The bridal suite was on the top floor, taking up the middle third of what had been the manor house’s attic. A big semicircular window led onto a balcony. Below it spread the low green downs, and beyond them the sea glittered blue in the July sun.

  Andrew shut the door. Alice sat on the end of the bed – king-size, four-poster – slipped off her shoes and massaged her feet. This was it: luxury. And the next thing she knew she was crying.

  “Whoa, whoa.” Andrew knelt in front of her, took her hands. “What’s up, sweetheart? What is it?”

  “This,” she said. “Everything.” She saw fear on his face. “No. I don’t mean that. I don’t mean it’s wrong. I mean – I don’t think you get it, how – this, all of this – it’s so far from anything I ever thought I’d have. I mean... Andrew, do you even know we lucky we are?”