Buying Llamas Off the Internet

by Ian Edwards

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Harry looked concerned.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine, thanks,’ Alan quickened his pace. ‘I think we should catch up with James, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.’

  ‘Like kidnap a paying guest at a health spa?’

  Alan ignored Harry’s jibe and lengthened his stride.

  Several minutes later they came to a signpost pointing them in the direction of the Sanctuary. They continued on until they reached a grand gated entrance, the metal doors open to oncoming traffic.

  James held his hand up to halt his friends. He had seen it many times in action films over the years and considered it authoritative. Unfortunately, neither Alan nor Harry paid any attention and walked past him and into the grounds of the Sanctuary.

  ‘What are you doing?’ James hissed. ‘They’ll see us.’

  ‘I really don’t think it matters. This is a public highway, people probably wander in and out all day,’ Harry said, and, as if to prove his point, a young attractive couple passed them on the pavement, smiled and said hello. ‘See what I mean?’

  ‘They could be spies,’ James said. Harry shook his head.

  Alan continued to walk down the path leading to the Sanctuary. It was a large three story Victorian building with perfectly manicured gardens, that much was obvious, even in the twilight. However, he wanted to get a better view. ‘James, hand me the binoculars, I want to have a look at the access points.’

  ‘I thought you had them,’ James replied.

  ‘Why would I have them, they were in your bag.’

  ‘Oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot.’

  ‘You only had one job. Bring the binoculars. How else did you expect us to case the joint in the dark?’

  ‘Case the joint?’ Harry asked. ‘Have I slipped into a TV show?’

  ‘We need night vision goggles,’ James suggested.

  ‘What we need are binoculars. But they’re safely tucked away in your room. Bloody hell.’

  ‘I’m sorry Alan, I forgot. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve had a lot on my mind. My wife has been kidnapped.’

  ‘Yes, and my girlfriend has wandered straight into their hands. They’re both in trouble.’

  ‘Sorry mate. Maybe we should get a little closer, see how the land lies?’

  ‘I really don’t think there’s any need, this is a health spa,’ Harry pointed to the sign. ‘Let’s come back tomorrow and have a real look around.’

  ‘But Amy’s in there,’ James said.

  ‘And Rosie,’ Alan pointed out.

  ‘Yes, and they’re not going anywhere. At least tonight. What do you say, take a walk back and plan properly?’

  James sighed. ‘I just hope she’s OK. Anything could be happening in there.’

  ‘I’ve just had a look around. It’s beautiful. Very relaxing. I’d book a room there myself if I could.’ Alan turned to see Frankie leaning on the gate. ‘Listen son, I really don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about, it really is a health spa, not a cult. Let’s go back and have an early night.’

  Reluctantly, Alan began to walk back towards the village. ‘You two coming?’ he asked over his shoulder. James and Harry looked at each other, sighed and began the steady walk back to the Soiled Cassock.

  Chapter 31 – Friday.

  Rosie sat at a corner table in the dining room tucking into a bowl of muesli, while flicking through a guide to the Sanctuary. She kept an eye on the door in the hope of spotting Amy. So far the muesli had been good and the guide informative, however Amy was nowhere to be seen.

  Rosie had two priorities for today; find Amy and book herself a massage. She also quite fancied a sauna, a session of reflexology and a session in the floatation tank, but they would have to wait. Finishing her muesli and cup of herbal tea, she had another look around the dining room. It was half full, with people coming and going all the time, but still no sign of Amy. Tired of waiting for her friend, Rosie decided to take a more direct approach and walked over to the reception desk.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Rosie asked, leaning against the desk.

  The receptionist gave Rosie a corporate smile. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘Can I leave a message for one of your guests, a friend of mine?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘Of course you can. Who would you like to leave a message for?’

  ‘Amy Cook please. Can you ask her to meet me in the dining room at six this evening?’

  The receptionist tapped away at her keyboard, stared at the screen, pursed her lips and said, ’I’m sorry, but we don’t have anyone staying here by that name.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Rosie asked. ‘She definitely said she was staying here.’

  The receptionist shook her head. ‘There’s no one here by that name, you must be mistaken.’

  ‘Sorry, I must have got it wrong,’ Rosie said. ‘Thank you for checking.’

  The women smiled at each other and Rosie went back to her room.

  *

  Across the reception from where Rosie was making discreet enquiries about Amy, and behind a wood panelled door, Amy sat in Frances’s office having breakfast.

  ‘You’re looking so much better,’ Frances said as she spread honey over a piece of toast. ‘Definitely the least bemused you’ve looked since you’ve been here.’

  ‘I’m feeling a lot better, thanks. I’m surprisingly relaxed,’ Amy poured coffee into a cup. ‘Are you sure that I shouldn’t contact James?’

  Frances sighed. Not this again. ‘As I have already said, I believe that would hinder your recovery if you spoke to him now. How about I ask Dr Staff to assess you again and write to your school suggesting another couple of weeks away from work?’

  Amy chewed her lip. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Frances changed the subject, ‘I was wondering if you’d like to come to a meeting in the village with me tonight?’

  ‘It’s not the village elders again is it?’ Amy asked.

  Frances laughed. ‘No, not this time. I suppose you’d call it a political meeting in a way.’

  ‘Political? ’You’re still into politics?’ Amy asked while pouring herself another coffee.

  ‘It’s only a local meeting, but you might find it interesting. For a small community like this, local politics is far more important than central Government.’

  ‘That sounds interesting, I suppose. I’d like to come along, thanks,’ Amy said, finishing off her toast and honey. ‘This honey is lovely by the way, is it from the apiary?’

  Frances nodded. ‘Yes, it’s genuine Sanctuary honey,’ she said proudly.

  ‘I’ll definitely take some with me when I go.’ Amy said.

  Frances smiled. ’There is one thing. Tonight’s meeting is quite formal. I don’t think a Sanctuary issue track suit or jeans are going to be appropriate. Can you pop into the village and get yourself something smarter?’

  ‘Is there anywhere in the village that you would recommend?’

  ‘Oh, no dear,’ Frances said, ‘there’s only one shop that sells clothes. You can’t miss it. It’s at the end of the high street.’

  ‘OK. I’ll have a look, thanks,’ Amy said and spread honey over another slice of toast.

  *

  Alan watched as James cleared his breakfast plate, wiping it clean with a slice of bread, just to make sure he had eaten every last morsel of food.

  ‘Finished?’ Alan asked.

  James nodded and reached for his cup of tea.

  A shadow loomed over the table. James and Alan looked up at the waitress who stood clutching a small notebook in her hand.

  ‘Can I get you gentlemen anything else?’ She asked.

  ‘Two more teas please,’ Alan said. James nodded in agreement.

  The waitress made a note on her pad and leaned over the table. ’Excuse me,’ she said and pushed the window down, ensuring that it was firmly closed. ‘It’s really cold over here. I thought there might be a draft. Would you like me to move you to another table?’

&n
bsp; ‘No, it’s OK, we can’t really feel it,’ Alan said as James and Frankie smiled.

  The waitress grinned in return and made her way back to the counter, mumbling something about the draughty old windows.

  Waiting for her to get out of earshot James said. ’Can I stay in your room tonight?’

  ‘Why?’ Alan asked. ‘What’s wrong with yours? It’s the same as mine.’

  ‘It’s Harry.’

  ‘What’s wrong with him? Too rock and roll for you is he? Keeping you up all night?’

  James leaned closer and lowered his voice. ’Actually, it’s Ernie.’

  ‘The dummy?’ Frankie asked.

  Alan looked at Frankie and then back to James. ‘The dummy?’ he repeated.

  ‘Yeah. Harry dresses him up in pyjamas. Paisley ones. They’re identical to Harry’s. It’s like they’re weird twins.’

  ‘Probably fit in perfectly round here,’ Frankie said. ‘This place really is the Village of the Dammed.’

  Alan laughed.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ James moaned. ‘He sits that dummy at the end of the bed. I couldn’t sleep at all. Every time I looked up there he was, staring at me with that manic grin.’

  ‘Harry?’ Alan said.

  ‘No, Ernie. It was really spooky.’

  Alan put his head on one side and said. ’So you want to sleep in my room with a real ghost because you’re scared of a wooden dummy in your own room?’

  James nodded. ‘Please, and you do have a spare bed.’

  ‘Oi. That’s mine.’ Frankie said.

  Alan pointed at what appeared to be an empty seat alongside him. ’Too late, he’s already claimed it. Anyway, you wouldn’t get any more sleep in there, what with his snoring. It’s enough to wake the dead.’

  ‘That’s probably why he was thrown out of the afterlife. His snoring was keeping the dead awake.’ James grinned.

  ‘I am here you know.’ Frankie said, chagrined.

  ‘Never mind, Frankie, we love you really,’ Alan said laughing.

  ‘Morning boys, what’s the joke?’

  Alan looked up as Harry sat in the vacant chair next to James.

  ‘Morning Harry. Sleep well?’ Alan asked while avoiding James’s eye.

  ‘Not too bad,’ Harry said. ‘Can you put this over there?’ He asked and passed Alan a plastic carrier bag with Ernie’s head poking out of the top.

  ‘What’s he doing in there?’ Alan asked, taking the bag from Harry and dumping it on Frankie’s lap.

  ‘I can’t leave him in the room. Someone might steal him.’

  James laughed. ‘This is the one place you can leave him without worrying that he’ll get stolen. He looks like a resident.’

  ‘They’ll probably make him Mayor,’ Alan said.

  ‘I’ll go and see where that tea’s gone,’ James said standing up. ‘Do you want anything Harry?’

  Harry asked for tea and toast. Once James had gone he said, ’Alan, could you do me a favour?’

  ‘Sure Harry, what is it?’

  ‘Can I sleep in your room tonight?’

  Frankie laughed. Alan, keeping a straight face asked, ’Why, what’s wrong with your room?’

  Harry looked around awkwardly for a moment then leaned forward. ‘Look, I like James, I really do, but I can’t share a room with him.’

  ‘Why?’ Alan and Frankie asked at the same time.

  Harry looked around conspiratorially and whispered, ‘He doesn’t wear pyjamas in bed. He’s completely starkers.’

  Frankie giggled. Alan tried hard not imagine James naked. Without success. He grimaced.

  ‘It was very off putting. He got up to go the toilet several times. It was hard to get back to sleep after seeing him like that,’ Harry explained.

  ‘To be fair,’ Alan said, ‘James does have a very small bladder. It must be the size of a pea. Give him a drink before bed time and he’ll be up and down all night.’

  Frankie, who had been flicking Ernie’s ears said, ’Can you sort this out? That bed’s really comfortable and I don’t want to give it up.’

  ’Have you got a spare pair of pyjamas that you can let him use?’ Alan suggested.

  Harry paused in thought. ‘Actually yes. I think I can lay my hands on some. Thanks Alan.’

  ‘Here we go,’ James said, appearing at the side of the table with a tray laden with cups of tea and plates of toast. ‘Look what I picked up on the counter,’ he said as he distributed the teas and placed the toast on the table. He took a leaflet from his pocket and spread it out on the table. ‘It’s the tourist guide to Maiden’s Dribble.’

  ‘I imagine it’s a sheet of paper with “nothing worth seeing” written across it,’ Frankie said, rather uncharitably.

  Oblivious to Frankie’s comments, James continued. ‘Do you know how Maiden’s Dribble got its name?’

  Alan and Harry shook their heads. ‘Go on,’ Alan said.

  James made a show of clearing his throat. ‘Well, there’s been a village on this site for hundreds of years. It’s actually mentioned in the Doomsday Book, and there are more references to it during the Civil War, the Black Death, and even the Witchcraft Trials.’ James paused, expecting a response. When none was forthcoming he continued. ‘A river flowed through the village supplying it with water. The river dried out round about the time of the Witchcraft Trials, and what was left of the river was a tributary…’

  ‘Hence the name Dribble,’ Harry said.

  James nodded. ‘That’s right. Interesting isn’t it?’

  Alan sighed. ‘Not really. But why Maiden?’

  James shrugged. ‘Don’t know. It’s probably on the back page of the guide.’

  Alan picked up the leaflet and turned it over. ‘It’s just going on about the Halloween Fair. No comment about Maidens.’

  ‘If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a few errands to run. I’ll catch up with you later.’ Harry said standing up.

  Alan passed him the bag containing Ernie and Harry made his way out of the tea rooms.

  ‘Have you heard from Rosie?’ James asked through a mouthful of toast.

  Alan shook his head. ‘Not yet, but it’s only …’ He looked at his watch, ‘9.30. She probably hasn’t had breakfast yet. Then there’s the little matter of looking for Amy. I’d give her another hour.’

  ‘Or she’s been put in the kitchens already?’ James asked. ‘I guess if she does end up spending the rest of her life serving cabbage to the cult, at least you won’t have to explain to her why you asked for redundancy.’

  Alan groaned. ‘I’d forgotten about that.’

  ‘So it’s not all bad.’ Frankie said.

  Any further attempts by James and Frankie to goad Alan were interrupted by Alan’s mobile phone vibrating on the table in front of them. He snatched it up and dabbed the screen.

  ‘Rosie,’ he said as quietly as he could.

  ‘Alan,’ she replied. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘We’re in the Witches Brew,’ he told her. ‘Having breakfast.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘It’s a Tea shop. It’s not bad.’

  ‘Good breakfast,’ James said, leaning closer, straining to hear Rosie’s voice.

  ‘Listen,’ Rosie said, ‘I’ve asked around and Amy’s not here. Not as a guest at any rate.’

  Alan looked at James. ‘Amy’s not there.’

  ‘Ask her to find the breeding pens,’ James said.

  ‘James said can you find the breeding pens?’

  ‘It’s nice here. I really doubt that there are any breeding pens.’ Rosie said before the line went dead.

  She’s been cut off,’ Alan told them.

  ‘They must have found her.’

  ‘And you were just about to tell her about your redundancy,’ Frankie said.

  ‘You won’t get a signal round here for long,’ the waitress said, suddenly appearing at the table, arms crossed.

  ‘Oh, why’s that?’ Alan asked.

  ‘The telephone companies
, they won’t build an aerial, or whatever it’s called.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ Alan asked again.

  ‘They said it can’t be done.’

  Alan and James nodded as if that made sense.

  ‘Are you boys here for the Fair?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes we are,’ James said. ‘We’re looking forward to it.’

  She nodded. ‘Well you boys take care.’ She paused for a moment and looked around. ‘And stay away from the woods when it’s dark,’ she added and walked away.

  ‘Told you,’ Frankie said, smugly. ‘Village of the Dammed.’

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ James asked. ‘Just rock on up to the front door, ask to see Fanny Sixpence and ask for my wife back?’

  ‘I think we’ll go in the back door. But we’ll wait until its dark. They go to bed early in these places, and it’ll be easier to have a nose around.’

  ‘What about Rosie?’ Frankie asked.

  Alan looked at his mobile. ‘I’ll ring her in a bit. It’s probably just the bad signal round here,’ he said, feeling slightly concerned for the first time since they had arrived.

  *

  Harry Hodges walked the length of Maiden’s Dribble’s High Street looking for a clothes shop, or at the very least, a shop that looked like it might sell pyjamas.

  Tucked away at the end of the High Street, he came across a shop called The Clothes Coven. It had a large glass fronted window, on the left, female mannequins sported fashions from what Harry believed to be the 1940’s, while to the right, male mannequins modelled clothes from what looked like a 1970s cover of Country Life magazine.

  ‘Come on Ernie,’ Harry said to the dummy in the bag. ‘Let’s see if they can help us.’

  Harry stepped into the shop. A bell announced his presence as the door closed behind him. Looking around the dark and dusty shop, he could see rails of clothes, shelves full of clothes and piles of clothes which had been folded and left on the floor.

  ‘Can I help you?’ A voice called out.

  Harry looked around to where he thought the voice had come from. Weaving his way around the clothes, he headed for a counter at the back of the shop.

  ‘Hello?’ he called out.

  ‘Can I help you?’ The disembodied voice again asked.

  Reaching the counter, Harry leaned over, expecting to see the owner of the voice sitting on the floor.