Laura walked over to inspect them. She glanced at the spines. A copy of the Bible and The Complete Guide to Fasting jostled with some Barbara Cartland’s, a set of Adrian Mole books and a Ladybird book of farmyard animals. ‘Whose are these?’ she asked.
‘Matilda allowed her niece to stay here.’
Laura picked up a small patterned tin resting on top of the books and opened it.
‘There was a period in her life,’ Sir Repton continued, ‘when Angela did not get on with her mother; our dear cousin Venetia. Then, when Angela followed her religious calling, she agreed with Matilda that she no longer required this refuge. Now it is only used as access to the roof.’ Sir Repton opened what Laura had assumed to be a cupboard.
A narrow set of steps wound up to another trap door. Sir Repton picked up Sybil Thorndike and climbed up. He pushed on the door. ‘It won’t open,’ he called to Laura.
‘Let me have a go.’ Laura replaced the tin. ‘Come down. We can’t both fit up there at once.’
With Parker yapping at the bottom of the steps, Laura leaned her head to one side and gave the door a good shove with her shoulder. It swung up and landed on the lead roof with a bang. She climbed out and stood in the evening breeze surveying the park and gardens. Sir Repton joined her, breathing heavily as the dogs yapped below.
‘Splendid up here don’t you think?’ He puffed. ‘And even more so if young Ned is right and we manage to get the eagles back.’
They clambered back down, shutting the door behind them and went back down to the kitchen to heat up the curry. As they were finishing eating, the telephone rang. It was Gladys. Judging by Sir Repton’s expression, she was conveying good news.
‘She’s come back,’ he said, putting the receiver down.
Laura held a poppadum in her fingers. ‘I’m amazed; varicose veins can be very painful.’
‘She said she couldn’t miss the exorcism.’
‘Good,’ Laura said, as she halved the remaining bhaji and gave it to the dogs. ‘I’m sure tomorrow will be a resounding success but we must be up early to make any last-minute adjustments. At least we are now sure that we have full access to all the rooms in case Canon Frank wants to go walkabout.’
‘I fear that Rosalind’s resilience may outwit the Canon. In fact, I can feel her presence creeping up on me now.’ Sir Repton glanced furtively from left to right.
It was true an unnatural quiet had descended on the kitchen. Even Parker was alert.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Laura said. ‘Let’s go and watch the News at Ten.’
When Sir Repton had asked her which room she would like, Laura had chosen Flamborough Head. She was interested to see how comfortable it actually was, and the thought of a nice hot soak in the generously sized bath the next morning clinched it.
She closed the curtains, unpacked her things and made Parker cosy in his bed on the floor beside her. She was determined he should not join her in one of the twin beds – it would be too much of a squash. She was about to fold up the bedspread but looking at the thin quilt underneath, had second thoughts – It really was like Britannia but she was not taking a summer sailing vacation in the Med and the last thing she wanted was to wake up cold in the middle of the night. She turned on the bedside light, before putting off the main ones, then got into bed and opened the Brigadier’s diary. She had moved on a couple of volumes in the hope of a change from his missionary phase and she now opened 1965. To her surprise he was living in Orpington. He had plainly moved recently and there were some nice descriptions of the hen house he built to house his Buff’s. His life had taken a very different turn and he made constant reference to the lateness of trains and the fact that the High Street had, yet again, had to be widened. He had also joined the Orpington Photographic Society.
Laura was falling into a soporific haze at his suburbanite ramblings when, on September the 17th, something quite startling happened. There had been no mention of her in all the pages Laura had ploughed through, so it came as something of a shock when she read, “Iris fairly hit the roof last night in bed. Must cover tracks better in future.”
Laura put the diary down on the bedside table. What’s all that about? As she plumped the thinning feather pillows, Parker took the opportunity of jumping up beside her. She shooed him down and listened as he scratched at his bedding in a disgruntled fashion.
Iris? The Brigadier had never mentioned anyone called Iris. Laura felt a moment of pique. But then again their histories were so long that it would have been impossible – at least in Laura’s case it would have involved a lengthy list – if they had divulged to one another the entire antics of their private lives. She sighed, pulled up the thin quilt and closed her eyes.
Soon, by association, she was dreaming of being on the royal yacht. Despite having freshly read the Brigadier’s diary. It was her first husband Tony who was accompanying her on the night-time voyage. They had had a delicious dinner with the Queen and Prince Philip and were now in their cabin.
‘It’s awfully cold in here,’ Laura said.
‘Damnably,’ Tony agreed.
Laura was beginning to shiver when they heard a knock on the door. ‘I’ll give you one guess as to who that is,’ Tony said, grabbing Laura round the waist and falling with her onto the bed.
‘The purser,’ Laura giggled. ‘He should keep us warm.’
‘Come in,’ called Tony. She heard the slam of a door. He’ll wake the whole ship, Laura thought, as a man’s voice called out, “Keep it down.”
She woke with a start. It wasn’t just the dream; her room was like an icebox. She pulled the bedclothes up around her chin. As she rubbed her arms she heard the voice again.
“Quiet please!” But it wasn’t a member of the crew.
It was the voice of Canon Frank Holliday.
Chapter twenty-nine
Laura fumbled for the bedside light and flicked on the switch. She listened intently for the Canon’s voice again, but all was silent. She was wondering if it had been part of the dream after all when she heard the distinct sound of a car door slam. Judging by the direction, it was coming from the stable courtyard. She looked at her watch. It was two-thirty. What was Canon Frank up to? Had Cheryl dumped him here again? But why not wait until the morning as expected; after all it was he who had insisted the house be empty before the exorcism.
She strained to hear if the back door opened, but all was quiet again. Where had he gone? She found her torch, turned out the light and got out of bed. The room was bone-chillingly cold. Reaching for her kimono she cursed Sir Repton.
The windows of Flamborough Head all faced onto the garden but in the bathroom, one faced onto the stable courtyard. She followed the beam of the torch to the window then turned it off as she gently pulled back one corner of the curtains. Below her, in the moonlight, she saw two battered white minibuses parked in the middle of the cobbles. Next to them was another car, dark, possibly green. She watched to see if anybody got out, but they appeared to be empty.
Laura flicked back the curtain and, turning on the torch, returned to the bedroom to find Parker curled up in a tight ball shivering on her pillow. As she approached, he lifted his head and wagged his tail.
‘I’m going to see what’s going on down there.’ Laura pulled the bedclothes over him. ‘You wait here.’ She put on her sheepskin slippers and made for the door. Having second thoughts, she returned and scooped up the short wool jacket she had been wearing earlier. ‘I shan’t be long,’ she called out, shutting the door behind her and heading off down the passage.
Downstairs the temperature was curiously warmer and she made directly for the room by the kitchen where she had found the Canon on her previous nocturnal investigation. It was empty. She carried on to the back door and was surprised to find it still locked. Perhaps he wasn’t in the house? She took the key from where it hung on a peg on the wall and unlocked the door. She pulled her coat on and headed into the yard. Peering into the driver’s window of one white van, she noti
ced the keys were still in the ignition. She walked over to the other one; it was the same. She tried the door of the car but it was locked. She looked around. A crumpled piece of paper and an empty crisp packet lay in one corner of the yard near the small wooden door that led into the garden. She picked them up and put them in her pocket. Then she opened the door and crept round the side of the house, stopping occasionally to listen for the sound of footsteps. She got all the way to the laurel bushes that screened the path to the chapel. A cloud scudded over the moon and their great dark masses loomed eerily in the night sky. As a child she used to love to play and make dens in the roomy interior of such bushes but now she wondered who or what could be lurking there. She listened in the silence again.
And then she heard it. Coming from the direction of the chapel. A kind of murmuring of voices chorused together.
Skirting around the laurel, she tiptoed up the gravel path. The voices were louder now. As she reached the door, she heard Canon Frank Holliday from within. Laura put her ear to the door. ‘Do you take…’ There was a pause. ‘What is her name?’
What did he think he was doing and how extremely unprofessional not to have even found out the name of the bride. But more to the point, how dare Tam and Pom start conducting weddings in the middle of the night without even having the common courtesy of telling Repton? It was too much. She grabbed the handle of the door.
Laura heard the voice of a young girl. ‘My name is Megan.’ The accent was redolent of the Welsh valleys.
‘Thank you Megan,’ said the Canon. ‘Do you… What is your name?’
There was another pause and then a male voice called out, ‘Mah nem is Andwele.’
Laura was reminded of the streets of Cairo.
‘Andwele,’ the Canon continued. ‘Do you take Megan for your lawful wedded wife?’
‘What he say?’
What kind of people were they that had not bothered to acquaint themselves with the order of service?
Laura heard a fourth voice now. ‘Listen mate, just say “Yes.”’ It sounded like a London accent.
Really this was an outrage. Laura burst open the door. She stood stock still. The chapel was filled with people. A sea of dark-haired men turned in their pews on one side of the aisle and on the other side a corresponding amount of pale young girls.
Canon Frank looked down the aisle from where he was standing at the altar. ‘Lady Boxford, you shouldn’t be here,’ he said.
The as yet unmarried couple turned their heads.
‘Shit,’ said a man standing next to them. He ran up the aisle towards Laura. Before she had a chance to think, he had reached her. She saw his pockmarked face and then his outstretched arm as it swung at her, fist clenched.
The next thing Laura knew she was being held upside down in a fireman’s lift. She hoped her nightdress and kimono hadn’t risen up. ‘Tony’, she called out as the blood rushed to her head.
The man with the London accent was speaking. ‘Take the van back to the house now. The others’ll follow. I’ll see you this evening,’ he said.
‘Veery well,’ came the reply very close to her ear.
Then her mind went blank.
‘You want the marriage certificate?’ Was the next thing she heard and then, ‘Is that wise?’
Laura knew that voice; it was the Canon.
‘Shut it Frank,’ the first man said.
What did it mean? Laura was falling sideways. Her head hurt too much.
She heard a car door slam before passing out.
She could feel her head pressed against a cool pane of glass. She opened her eyes. In a haze she saw headlights stream past and heard the steady hum of wheels going at speed over tarmac. There was a conversation going on beside her.
‘I veery much like the look of thees.’
‘Listen Andwele, We not coming all the way on the boat in Italy and in the Tesco van for you to go soft on this old white lady. Hell I feel thirsty just remembering that stinking truck filled up with Parma ham.’
It didn’t make much sense to Laura and now she could feel pain in her chest and ankles.
‘I tell you Balcha, theese is one big good idea I have,’ the voice continued.
‘You are one hundred per cent off your head. You can’t keep her. You heard what Liam said.’
Again Laura wondered what it meant but her need for sleep was overwhelming.
When she next awoke she saw a row of shops illuminated by street lighting. They seemed to be closed and there were no people on the streets. It wasn’t the familiar high street of Woldham that was for sure. She passed out again.
‘Hey Lady, maybe you like nice egg shakshuka. You want to try?’
Laura’s eyes flickered. The dawn chorus of blackbirds outside was deafening. She felt as if a Tibetan monk was banging a gong inside her head. She touched it to make sure it was still attached to her neck. Relieved that this was the case, she further investigated and felt a lumpy cushion behind her. ‘Were is Mimi?’ she asked.
‘No Mimi, my name Andwele.’
Laura looked up as two eyes stared down at her, dark and clear as a mountain tarn. She was taking in the man’s smooth bald head when his brow unexpectedly creased into deep lines like a ploughed field and he flashed a row of pearly white teeth.
‘Are you new here?’ she asked the smiling face. ‘Someone has taken my pillow. Would you be so good as to see if you can find it?’
‘Hey, Balcha. She ees waking.’
Laura heard the sound of thudding feet and soon beside the first face another appeared in her limited field of vision. This was a much bigger man altogether. A neat black beard and short-cropped fringe framed his face accentuating his wide forehead. ‘Where’s my husband?’ Laura asked.
The first smaller face popped into view again.
‘She is veery nice beautiful lady. Too much good. Wait there lady, I like to take a selfie to send back home.’
The man jumped up and was temporarily out of view.
‘You are one hundred per cent crazy Andwele. You know what Liam said. You can’t keep her if we want to stay in England.’
‘Don’t say that Balcha, it is making me afreed.’
Laura sat up with a start. ‘Wait a minute? Where’s…’ Of course Tony wasn’t there. How could he be, he’d been dead for ten years. But where was she and who were these people?
Her brain blurred again
Chapter thirty
Laura lay on her side eating a bowl of rice pudding with a cheap metal spoon. ‘This is very kind of you, Andwele, but could you tell me why I am here?’ she asked.
‘I don know why you give her food.’ The man Balcha said, from where he was lying against a long sagging curtain under the window.
‘Are you forgetting you are Christian?’ Andwele pulled down his brightly coloured sleeveless golfing jumper. ‘She ees hungry and she has got the right to know what’s going on.’ He shuffled a little closer to Laura on the mattress and sat cross legged beside her. ‘You reeceived a hit on the head when you came into the church unexpectedly in the middle of the ceremony.’
‘I don’t know why you are telling her all this.’
‘Leave it to me, Balcha.’
Laura looked about the sparsely decorated room as the man called Andwele elucidated further and she pieced together the events she could remember.
She felt her eye with one tentative finger. ‘So this man Liam finds girls from Wales for you to marry so that you can stay in the country?’
‘That is so,’ Andwele confirmed.
And Canon Frank Holliday officiates. Laura picked at a loose thread from the grubby blanket covering her legs. ‘But isn’t it against your religion?’ she asked.
‘Like I said, we are Christian men. Many times they try to kill us in our country. You people have no idea. Is veery bad. We have to escape and now we stay here for the papers Liam will bring.’
‘One hundred per cent we get the wedding certificate.’ Balcha glared at Andwele. ‘When you
do as Liam said.’
Laura turned to Andwele. ‘What have you got to do?’
Andwele shook his head mournfully.
Balcha took a mobile from his pocket and looked at it. ‘Is now twelve-thirty. She already been here long enough.’ He got up from the floor and walked out leaving Laura alone with Andwele.
‘He’s quite right.’ Laura made to get up. Her head reeled and she took a deep breath. ‘I’m most grateful for your hospitality Mr. Andwele, but I really should get a move on.’ Her knees quaked and she toppled sideways.
‘You stay there lady, Andwele is thinking.’
She heard a dog barking on the street outside. In a moment she was reminded of Parker. She bent her head down as she tried to get more oxygen to her brain. It was all flooding back. She put her hand in the pocket of her coat and drew out the empty crisp packet and the folded piece of paper. Opening it out, she realised it was a service station receipt. No help at all. Laura could feel her chest thumping. But no, she calmed a little. Repton would have found her missing and rung Strudel and Jervis.
‘Where exactly are we?’ she asked.
Andwele shrugged his shoulders. ‘Many streets in Brixton Town.’
Laura took another deep breath to quell the panic. Jervis would ring Victoria. She and Vince would know what to do.
As Andwele sat deep in thought, Laura crawled over to the window and pulled herself up. Looking out, she half expected to see Vince’s Range Rover, but the leafy street was empty, and there was no sign of the barking dog.
The Haunting of Mount Cod Page 20