by Penny Grubb
As she picked her way along the grass track that skirted the boundary of the premises, she approached from behind, working her gaze across the knots of people, looking for familiar faces.
She was aware of one or two people looking her way, pointing her out to others. The news of her arrival would spread quickly to those who had any interest in it. She strained to check every face, to be absolutely sure that neither Brittany nor Eliza were in the crowd.
The proprietor of the yard marched up to her. ‘Why, Annie, you made it. Wonderful. And just in time to see the special display.’ She turned away from Annie to shout, ‘Girls! Come on, ring two. Look sharp. Annie’s here.’
Annie allowed herself to be led across the bumpy grass, her gaze raking the crowds again and again; her attention half on the road behind them where Brittany would drive down if she was to get here at all.
The voice at her side rattled on, telling her that the fancy-dress contestants had organized a special show. ‘They’ve worked hard … and all by themselves … worked it out … bit on the dodgy side … insurance … but still, can’t keep them in cotton wool … wonderful initiative…’
For a moment, Annie allowed her attention to be drawn to where it was directed, determined not to be coerced into a judging role. ‘This is a special show?’ she queried. ‘This isn’t the fancy-dress competition?’
‘No, no. Don’t you worry. The fancy-dress is later as per the schedule I sent you. They’ll just stand in line for you to look them over. This display was all their own idea. They wanted to put on something special after the trouble of making the costumes and getting the ponies used to them. They’ll be thrilled you’re here in time to see it.’
Annie fingered the phone in her pocket. Nothing yet from Jennifer, so they hadn’t caught up with Brittany. ‘I don’t know how long I can stay. I might not be able to stay and judge. You said you’d found someone else.’
The woman laid her hand on Annie’s arm and leant close. ‘Well, if that’s the case, why don’t we get you a ringside seat for the display and you have a close look at them while they’re doing their stunts? They’d much rather hear that you’d decided who the winners are. I can announce it later. Come along, we’ll get you in the ring before they start.’
Her hand half raised to turn down this offer, Annie paused, her refusal unvoiced. Inside the show ring with the ponies was exactly where Brittany would expect to find her. If the woman evaded Jennifer and her cronies and turned up here, wouldn’t she seek Annie out? That surely was the whole point of what she was doing.
‘About this message you had for me, how did you get it?’
‘The woman phoned. I don’t know if she’s here.’
‘So you haven’t met her?’
‘No, she said her name was Morgan.’
Brittany must have picked that up from the Longs’ file in Annie’s flat. Mentally she kicked herself again for missing the signs. Not only the gaping hole in Brittany’s sanity, but the misplaced red pin, the files that had moved, the instinct screaming at her that she was being followed. She’d been preoccupied with Nicole or angry with Barbara and had brushed the anomalies aside.
‘Is she a friend of yours?’
‘No, she isn’t. Tina … Tina! Listen to me.’ Annie took hold of the woman’s arm to grab her attention from the ponies bouncing past. ‘This is important. If she turns up, if you see any sign of her, you have to let me know at once. And she might be with an old woman.’
‘I’ve no idea what she looks like, but if she makes herself known I’ll let you know.’
Annie described Brittany and Eliza as best she could, adding, ‘But if she turns up, they might not be together.’
‘She’s trouble, then?’
‘Yes, big trouble. Just be sure and let me know. Is this where I go?’
Tina called out to a gangly youth who shambled across to join them. ‘Take Annie into the ring. Show her where to stand so she isn’t in the way.’
Together they made their way into the roped-off area. As he led her across the grass, he said, ‘This is great, you turning up. We were gonna have some old git from the council judging the fancy-dress. What would he know about it?’
Annie resisted the obvious answer of ‘more than me’ and scrutinized the area all around the paddocks. The grassy expanse commanded a good view of the road where it led down to the car park entrance. She indicated a patch of slightly elevated ground. ‘Can I stand on here?’
The boy nodded so she stepped up and raked her gaze once again across the crowds. No Brittany. No Eliza. Jennifer would do her job and might already have Brittany in custody and Eliza safely back at the home, but her phone remained silent so she couldn’t be sure. And from here, she could see everyone who arrived.
Three ponies and riders materialized in front of her in a babble of voices.
‘Hi, Annie, this is great.’
‘Wait till you see this!’
‘Really glad you could come early.’
A mêlée of equine bodies and flapping cloth circled her vantage point. The three ponies, clad in garish and intricate robes gazed out at her from under fake armoured helmets, whilst their riders struggled to manage handfuls of multicoloured reins and their own bizarre costumes. Just for a moment, she found herself pushing away the idea that everything had been a dream – the car tyres, the call from Brittany, the account from Pat – and now three mythical dream creatures had come to wake her up to start the day.
She shook the notion out of her head and smiled at them. ‘Just three of them doing this bit?’ she asked the boy. ‘How many altogether in the bit I’m supposed to judge?’
‘This is it,’ he said, looking at her as though she’d said something silly. ‘How many did you expect?’
The tannoy system boomed out, introducing the ponies and the marvels they were about to perform. Annie raked her gaze all around the area, looking at the faces in the crowds. The road remained quiet.
‘Rosie, Mathilda and Moonbeam,’ the boy told Annie, pointing to each pony in turn.
The pony, Rosie, advanced up the grass mound and lifted one of its front legs in a high arc, pawing the ground in front of Annie. She kept a wary eye on its iron-clad hoof and leant away from it.
‘See, it’s telling you welcome to the show,’ the boy said. ‘Now if you come down and stand here.’ He indicated the ground in front of the second pony. ‘Mathilda’ll kiss your head. It’s for the fancy-dress line-up really.’
‘OK, I’ll wait till then.’
‘You don’t need to be scared. Look, I’ll show you.’
The boy stood in front of the pony and Annie watched the animal pucker its enormous lips and brush them on to his head. Standing there watching the bizarre antics of animals covered from head to tail in bits of material and card, Annie again had to shake off a feeling of unreality.
‘Moonbeam’d show you how he can close gates, only there aren’t any. They’re gonna start now.’
Annie looked at him and then at the three ponies that now stood in line, side on to her, facing their audience. There was an air of expectation that she couldn’t share. She stared at the jumble of colour. It looked as though the trio had been covered in glue and dipped in a giant vat of oddments from a handicrafts factory.
‘What are they meant to be?’
The boy gabbled out something that sounded to Annie like ‘Vleth, Ytraa and Goddess Fire.’
She nodded and then her gaze jerked towards the road. A car appeared over the brow and headed down the hill. She followed its progress as it swept by. It contained a man and a gaggle of children all laughing. She relaxed and glanced back at the people round the edge of the ring. Tina was talking to a youngish man, their faces were puzzled. They turned to walk away as Annie watched.
The three ponies were trotting towards the far end of the enclosure.
‘What exactly are they going to do?’
‘Stunt show. Jousting and charges and all that.’
She nodded aga
in and fingered the phone in her pocket.
The three ponies began to circle, twisting and turning to their riders’ commands. Annie watched the road. A collective gasp from the spectators brought her attention back to the show in front of her, where the multicoloured group went through a complex twisting manoeuvre. She felt her mouth drop open, certain she was about to witness a spectacular fall, but against gravity, as far as she could see, the ponies and riders remained on their feet. A light patter of applause rippled through the crowd.
She allowed her hands to go through the motions of appreciation but her gaze was on the road beyond the mythical warriors until the boy nudged her to pay attention to what she saw was the finale.
The pony, Rosie, from a standstill with its back to her at the far end of the field, suddenly turned and flew down the grass, its costume streaming behind it, its rider crouched low. As the thudding of the hoofs vibrated the earth beneath her, Annie saw the rider take a dive and heard her own gasp echoed from the spectators. Mathilda and Moonbeam closed in at speed as the first rider miraculously spun back from upside down to upright. At the point of inevitable collision, came a flurry of arms, legs and flowing costumes that seemed certain to end in a tangled heap. But out of the confusion, the three ponies shot apart, each with a different rider on its back. One rider clung on at an angle and another scrabbled for balance over her pony’s neck, but they’d completed their move and the crowd applauded enthusiastically.
Annie found herself grinning as she clapped.
Then a chill ran across her. Why hadn’t Jennifer rung? She looked again around the paddocks, out towards the road. Nothing. Nothing at all. But if they’d found Brittany, Jennifer would have been in touch.
Abruptly, she turned and marched down off the grassy mound and headed for the break in the tape, clicking out Jennifer’s number as she went.
‘Don’t worry, Annie,’ Jennifer rapped out. ‘Bit a delay getting the CCTV but we’ve almost got her.’
‘Get back to me, Jen, as soon as you have anything.’ She disconnected the call feeling ever more uneasy. Why had she come all the way out here? She was far too far from the action. Looking around for Tina, she picked her way back across the grass.
‘Ah, Tina, there you are. I have to go. Emergency cropped up.’
As she spoke she lengthened her stride towards the car park. It would be a relief to get away from the sickly tang of unburnt fuel.
‘Good heavens, it’s all go in your game,’ said Tina, matching strides with her, but looking round as if she too were distracted. ‘Where’s …? Ah, well, never mind for now. Did you manage to pick out your winners for later?’
‘Oh … uh … yeah. Rosie, Mathilda and Moonbeam.’
‘What, first, second and third in that order?’
‘No, no. Joint first. They were all as good as each other.’
Annie clambered round the edge of the ditch, and on to the gravel of the car park, as Tina’s voice floated away into the distance. ‘Well, I suppose … Most unusual. Do we have any spare rosettes? What shall we do about the cup?’
As Annie rushed for the car, her phone rang. The screen showed Jennifer’s number.
‘Annie, it’s an inside job,’ Jennifer’s voice sounded hard, worried.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You must have wondered how Booth knew who to target?’
‘No, she’s been following me. I’m pretty sure she broke into my flat. What do you mean an inside job?’
‘The car. It belongs to Barbara Caldwell’s daughter.’
‘What! No. Oh no. It’s the wrong car. That was Pat. She guessed what Booth was going to do and she tried to get to the home. They saw her.’
Annie reran Jennifer’s words about the witness. Two people arguing. A car going off in a spray of gravel. That was Pat yelling at Barbara’s daughter to get the car turned round and after Brittany. ‘Get on to Pat,’ she told Jennifer. ‘She followed Brittany for a while, but lost her.’
Annie stood in amongst the cars, the smell of petrol seeping all around her, and as she looked back towards the paddocks, and the jumble of stables and outhouses, she felt a chill of foreboding wrap itself around her.
Chapter 36
The place was segregated into areas that were hidden from each other. The proud parents at the show rings could see nothing of Annie in the drive. The stable courtyard was hidden from all sides.
But consciousness of something was unfolding; awareness of disaster was seeping through the big yard.
Then she saw Tina, white-faced, rushing towards her, and understood before Tina opened her mouth to speak. The unnaturally strong smell of petrol.
Brittany had been here all along.
‘There’s a madwoman,’ Tina burst out. ‘She’s in the big barn … thrown petrol about … burn the place down unless we fetch you. I recognize her voice … the message … she’s the one who–’
‘Oh my God, where? Get the police. Get them out here. They’re already looking for her.’
‘But who is she?’
‘Her name’s Brittany Booth. We must stay calm.’ In her mind’s eye Annie imagined ponies tearing about, panicked, dragging their small charges with them. ‘Can you keep the horses the other side of the courtyard? They mustn’t come barging through.’
‘Hellfire,’ said Tina. ‘There are ponies everywhere. I’ll try, but some of them’ll be in there already.’
‘Do what you can,’ Annie ordered, as she headed for the concealed courtyard.
Brittany sat on a hay bale in the arched entrance to the big barn, tossing a lighter in her hand. Eliza sat behind her on a wooden bench.
‘You took your time,’ said Brittany, getting to her feet.
‘Come on, Brittany. What are you doing?’
‘They’ve sent him to a secure institution. He’ll be there forever. It’s your doing.’
‘It was nothing to do with me, Brittany. You know it wasn’t. And it’s certainly nothing to do with Eliza Ellis. She’s not my mother. She was involved in a case. That’s why I visited her.’
Brittany laughed. ‘Don’t think you can fool me with more of your lies. It’ll only take a second, you know.’ Brittany lifted the lighter and went as though to flick it.
‘No!’ Annie’s heart flipped over in her chest.
‘And if I go up with it,’ Brittany said, ‘what do I care? I’m going to teach you what it is to lose someone close to you.’
‘But she’s not–’
As she spoke, Annie realized she should never have rushed in. She should have let the woman think she hadn’t arrived, or couldn’t be found. Brittany had waited this long, she would have waited longer.
She looked at her face, seeing no trace of rationality, nothing she could argue with.
All she could do was play for time; try to judge what would push her over the edge and what would hold her back.
Hurry, Tina, and make that call. Hurry and get here, Jen.
Their stares remained locked for a moment until Brittany’s eyes jerked wide. Annie saw confusion and suspicion flare in them.
Then horror twisted Annie’s gut. Horseshoes clattered on the cobbles behind her. Metal-clad hoofs on stone. She daren’t look round.
‘What did you think, Annie? Weren’t we good … been practising for ages. We’ve–’
The excited chatter stopped on a shocked intake of breath. The scene at the barn door hit the riders’ consciousness.
A weird sensation of hot breath ran shivers down the back of Annie’s neck. She daren’t look away. Brittany appeared in the midst of some internal struggle. Annie forced herself to be still, even when she felt the gentle touch of an enormous pair of lips. The pony, Mathilda, had delivered the kiss it had been taught to give her.
Brittany leant forward as she stared.
Annie’s mind raced desperately to find a way to tell the riders behind her to back their ponies off.
What was the matter with Brittany? Had the fumes confused her? Could Ann
ie dare to try to get closer?
What could Brittany’s see? Through the haze of dust and filmy petrol fog, Vleth, Ytraa and Goddess Fire materialized behind Annie. What did it look like to someone with Brittany’s slim grasp on reality?
She saw Brittany’s gaze dart back and forth over the surreal scene, saw the woman’s feet move her backwards into the barn where she stopped close beside Eliza as if seeking protection.
For the first time, Annie looked properly at Eliza. She saw a pen gripped convulsively in the old woman’s twisted right hand. In her left lay her personal alarm – useless out here.
Annie looked again at the pen. Then at Eliza’s lined face. She could see fear and anger. This wasn’t the way for things to end for Eliza.
It was enough that Michael Walker had had to die. This must stop.
Again, she looked at the pen in Eliza’s hand. Then at Brittany beside the chair, recovering her composure, setting herself to threaten again. She thought of a set of words she’d read that made no sense. Your turn …
Eliza had never given her a date. Not an actual date. All she had was the date of May’s last diary entry.
Praying not to hear the whoosh of a petrol fire igniting, Annie turned her back to the madwoman in the barn.
‘Keep very still,’ she hissed urgently. ‘Say nothing. Do nothing.’ For now the ponies stood quietly, but Annie could see the rainbow curl of a line of fuel snaking out round the edge of the yard. Too close. One clash of metal-clad hoof on stone … one spark …
She took a step backwards, gauging Brittany’s reaction only from the mirror of the three riders who faced her, staring horror-struck at the tableau over her shoulder. If she could just get within range before Brittany’s confusion lifted …
Eliza, remember your script.
‘Stop that!’ Brittany screeched. ‘That’s it! This is for Joshua!’
It was a triumphant shriek.
Annie half turned, saw Brittany’s raised hand, knew she hadn’t a hope of reaching her before the lighter flared.
‘Eliza, your turn,’ she shouted, and hurled herself at Brittany.