by Ian Edwards
‘God you look rough,’ he said.
‘I don’t feel too good,’ Alan told him.
‘Morning Frankie,’ James said, through a mouthful of bacon sandwich.
‘So big man, what’s the story with the wife?’ Frankie asked.
Alan turned to James. ‘Frankie wants to know what’s happening with Amy.’
James finished his sandwich and drained his cup. ‘It turns out she thought she was on the run from the police and the FBI.’
Frankie laughed. ‘Why?’
‘She thought they thought she might have murdered someone,’ Alan helpfully added.
‘Oh I see, that explains it,’ Frankie said sarcastically.
Alan nodded and took another nibble of toast.
‘Can somebody please explain it from the beginning? The big print version if you like,’ Frankie asked.
‘Can you give him the full story?’ Alan said to James. ‘He doesn’t understand.’ Alan paused. ‘It’s his age.’
‘Well, it’s like this,’ James began. ’After the theatre was saved Amy went round to see the developer…’
‘Oneway.’ Alan added.
‘Yes Oneway. Anyway she went round to have it out with him.’
‘Why?’ Frankie asked.
‘Because she thought Oneway needed to be told he was wrong,’ Alan again added.
‘So Amy’s turned up at Oneway’s flat, they’ve had a big row on the balcony, she throws a load of rubber bats at him, he’s slipped on one and fallen off the balcony.’
‘And died,’ Alan clarified.
‘She clears all the bats up and leaves with Oneway laying in bits on the ground outside. Now when it comes to the inquest the coroner says that he’s not happy giving a verdict of suicide and asks the police to re-investigate the death.’
‘Now here’s the thing,’ Alan announces. ‘Rosie’s sister Jayne is working on the squad investigating the death. News gets back to Amy that the police are involved and she starts getting nervous.’
‘She gets the idea that the FBI are suddenly involved so contacts Fanny at the Sanctuary and ends up here,’ James said finishing off the explanation.
‘Where did she get the idea that the FBI were involved?’ Frankie asked.
‘The FBI?’ Alan repeated looking at James.
James shrugged. ‘No idea. She said that’s what I told her, but I can’t remember that at all. I mean, I would remember talking about the FBI, wouldn’t I? Anyway, I told her the police aren’t looking for her and everything’s OK.’
‘And she’s coming back with us today, after the parade,’ Alan said.
‘So everything’s fine,’ James said.
‘What’s your story?’ Frankie said looking at Alan. ‘You look more dead than I do.’
‘Too many real ales last night. I have no idea what happened,’ Alan explained.
‘I thought I’d find you in here.’
They looked up to see Harry standing over their table. Pulling a chair out he said. ‘Now James, what happened with you and your wife last night?’
*
Frances looked up as her office door opened.
‘Do you have a couple of minutes?’ Amy asked as she entered the office.
‘Definitely,’ Frances said, gesturing for her to take a seat at the desk. ‘Still going with the 1940s vibe?’ she said, noticing that Amy was still sporting wartime fashion.
‘Amy grinned. ‘I decided I quite like it.’
Getting back to business, Frances said, ‘I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been going over the application for independence. I think we have a very strong case, in fact I can’t see how it can fail.’
Amy took a seat. ‘That’s what I need to talk to you about,’ she said.
Frances closed the file in front of her giving her Amy her full attention. ‘So, have you reached a decision?’ she asked.
Amy nodded. ‘I’ve decided to go home, go back to James and my job at the school.’
‘What do you mean, go back?’ Frances struggled to contain her anger. ‘What about the FBI and the police investigation?’
‘James came to see me last night. He…’
‘What do you mean, “He came to see you last night”?’ Frances snapped.
‘Here…At the Sanctuary,’ Amy told her, taken aback by the sharpness on Frances’s tone.
‘How did he get past security?’ Frances said, more to herself than Amy, whilst making a mental note that once they achieved independence, she would ensure that all security guards were armed.
‘Do you have security here?’ Amy asked.
‘We need to maintain a low profile security presence, just in case of break-ins.’
‘OK,’ Amy nodded, unsure why anyone would break in to a health spa. ‘Anyway, James came to my room last night.’
‘How did he know you were here? You didn’t call him did you?’
‘No, of course not. It’s quite sweet actually, he hired a private detective to find me. He’s staying in town, and another friend of mine is staying here too. She found me and told him where I was.’
‘Amy, Amy,’ Frances said a little more patiently. ‘You know the risks of returning to your old life. Both to your freedom and state of mind.’
‘James said that he doesn’t know where the FBI thing came from. As far as he knows the police still don’t have any leads, so they’re not looking for me,’ Amy hesitated. ‘That’s good isn’t it?’
‘Amy, sweetie, nothing’s changed. There’s still an ongoing investigation and your mental state is still fragile at best,’ Frances explained.
‘I know, but just speaking to James just made me feel better. I should have done that in the first place. Talk to him, that is. I just need to take each day as it comes.’
Frances groaned inwardly. She realised that she was losing Amy and she needed a different tack. Reaching out she pulled the file on her desk closer to her.
‘What about your work here? Being part of the independence team is just what you need, a chance to unlock your hidden potential, political potential.’
‘It’s a brilliant idea,’ Amy lied. ‘In normal circumstances I’d love to be part of it, but I have to get on with my life.’
Frances smiled warmly. Although inside she was seething. With Amy part of the independence campaign, it stood a very good chance of success. Amy was an outsider from the village, politically qualified, someone who taught disadvantaged children in London, articulate and attractive. She would put a positive spin on the whole campaign just by her very presence. Frances had realised that she was the secret ingredient in the plan the moment that she had contacted her with her ridiculous story about being wanted by the police and the FBI. Frances knew she only needed another couple of days to convince Amy to stay and work for independence.
‘Is there anything that I can say that will change your mind?’ Frances asked hopefully.
Amy shook her head. ‘I’m really sorry, Frances. I know you only want the best for me, but I need to be at home.’
Frances sighed. ‘In that case I respect your decision.’ She paused. ‘I don’t necessarily agree with it, but I respect it.’
Amy smiled. ‘Thank you.’
‘When are you off?’ Frances asked.
‘I’m meeting James and some friends in the village. We’re all going to the Fair, watch the parade and then head back to London.’
‘I’ll give you a lift,’ Frances offered, taking her car keys from the drawer.
‘No, it’s OK. I’m meeting a friend here, she’s taking me. In fact,’ Amy said, looking at the clock on the wall, ‘I’m supposed to be meeting her in ten minutes. I’d better get a move on.’
The two women stood up, Frances walked round the desk and hugged Amy.
‘Thanks again for all your help,’ Amy said.
‘Remember,’ Frances said, ‘try and avoid stressful situations. That means pretty much anything that involves James.’
Amy laughed. ‘I’ll do my best.’
<
br /> ‘And you know where we are if you need us.’
Amy nodded, bit her lip and left the room closing the door softly behind her.
As she crossed reception, she met Rosie coming down the stairs.
‘I’m just checking out,’ Rosie told her. ‘Everything OK?’
‘I’ve just told her I’m not staying.’
‘How did she take it?’
‘Remarkably well actually,’ Amy told her. ‘She couldn’t have been more helpful.’
‘It looks like James was wrong about her too,’ Rosie said.
‘OK,’ Amy said, changing the subject. ‘I’m going back to my room to get my stuff. I’ll see you out front in ten minutes.’
Rosie smiled and put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. ‘Everything’s going to be OK.’
*
Frances stood at the window and watched as Amy climbed into the Audi which had just pulled up outside the main entrance. She had seen it parked in the guest’s car park for a couple of days and reasoned that it must belong to Amy’s friend.
She turned and angrily kicked a wastepaper bin, its contents spilling on to the floor. How could she have been so stupid to assume that Amy was committed to the campaign? This was just like their time at University, a fantastic opportunity wasted.
‘Bugger!’ Frances swore and kicked the bin again.
Two swift knocks on the door interrupted her raging.
‘What?’ She snapped at the door.
It slowly opened and Franklin poked his head in.
‘Not a good time?’ He asked.
‘For what?’ She barked back at him.
‘I have some of the costings you wanted for the independence campaign.’
Frances stared at him. Her accountant appeared to be wearing a pair of comedy Groucho glasses, a fake moustache, nose and extra bushy eyebrows.
‘Explain,’ she snapped.
‘I’m going to the Fair. Everyone will be wearing these,’ he pinched one of the arms of the fake glasses between his thumb and forefinger and wiggled them up and down.
Frances stared at her accountant with contempt shaking her head. ‘The women will, yes. Idiot.’
‘Have you seen this?’ He said, passing Frances a folded newspaper.
Frances snatched at it and unfolded the Maiden’s Dribble Advertiser.
‘Look at the headline,’ Franklin urged.
In bold lettering the local paper announced:
London Teacher Joins Maiden Dribble’s Campaign For Independence.
Under the headline it reported that London Teacher Amy Gould, a guest at the Sanctuary for the Bee, had been so taken with the village’s plans for independence that she has left her teaching job in London and moved to Maiden’s Dribble with the intention of heading up the campaign.
Underneath the story there was a photograph of Amy, which appeared to have been taken at the meeting.
Frances threw the newspaper across the room. ‘Get out,’ she barked at him.
‘What?’ He protested, while slowly backing out of the room. He had been on the end of Frances’s rages before and had no desire to witness another one.
‘Get out of my sight,’ she shouted again as Franklin shut the door behind him.
Frances stomped round her desk and dropped back into her chair. She sighed, realising that she’d have to explain to the reporter why Amy had had a change of mind. Fortunately the Fair would dominate the front page of the Advertiser’s next edition and she would ensure that any story she released about Amy’s change of heart would be hidden away amongst the personal ads. She leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling, the outline of a plan began to form in her mind. She began to smile.
*
Alan, James and Frankie stood on the edge of the village green and watched as the final preparations for the Fair got underway. The villagers in various horror themed fancy dress busied themselves carrying boxes in and out of marquees.
‘Look,’ James said, pointing across the green. ‘That’s the fourth child with a sheet over his head I’ve seen already.’
‘They’re pretending to be ghosts,’ Alan suggested.
‘You should get yourself over there, Frankie,’ James said. ‘Move a few things around, show them what a real ghost can do.’
‘I think I preferred it when he was miserable,’ Frankie said.
Alan laughed. ‘He said he’ll pop over there in a minute and do some haunting.’
James nodded, pleased that he was bonding with Frankie.
Frankie suddenly grabbed Alan’s arm.
‘Ow! Careful that hurt.’
‘Sorry son,’ Frankie apologised while rubbing Alan’s arm. ‘But look over there.’ He pointed across the green, beyond white sheeted children running in and out of tents, to two women making their way towards them.
Alan looked at where Frankie had been pointing and squinted, trying to bring them into focus. ‘That’s Rosie and Amy.’
‘Amy,’ James cried out and set off to meet them.
‘What brought that on?’ Alan asked Frankie who had gone very pale.
‘That was weird,’ Frankie said. ‘It’s that dress. The one that Amy’s wearing. It’s very 1940s and for a moment it took me right back.’
Alan raised his eyebrows. ’Remind you of the forces sweetheart did she?’
‘Sort of,’ Frankie admitted. ‘Anyway, you’d better go over there,’ he said, looking at James, Rosie and Amy who were involved in a three way hug. ‘You’re missing out on the reunion.’
*
James expertly weaved his way through the crowd with a tray of drinks, raising and lowering the tray without spilling a drop.
‘Mind your backs,’ he called out as he dodged a man dressed as the ghoul from Scream. He and Alan had earlier managed to manoeuvre Rosie and Amy away from the crowds and onto the edge of the village green where they could watch proceedings from afar. ‘Drinks up,’ he announced, offering the tray out to his friends.
‘Are you sure you don’t want a real drink?’ he asked Amy as she relieved him of a large plastic glass of fruit juice.
‘No, I’m fine,’ she said, smiling at her husband.’
James shrugged and held the tray for Alan and Rosie to take their drinks, before taking his own beer, the foamy liquid spilling slightly as he grabbed too hard on the plastic pint glass. He took a sip and winced. ‘Bloody hell, Alan, you’re not wrong about this,’ he said, taking a further sip to make sure. ‘I could clean our bath with that.’
‘Told you,’ Alan said as he took in his surroundings. Morris Dancers weaved a strange dance with bells and sticks, a man dressed as a Court jester hopped around waving what appeared to be a tiny jester on a stick into laughing faces. At least, the men were laughing. Most of the women seemed to be wearing Groucho Marx masks.
To his left, Alan saw a tent with a sign claiming Independence for Maiden’s Dribble. He had had several leaflets shoved into his hands on arrival, all seeking a “Hard MDrexit”, whatever that was.
A small red and yellow hut housed a fortune teller who had already conned Alan out of £10.00. He wouldn’t have minded, but he had only asked for directions. And the gypsy woman, who looked all of fourteen, had told his fortune by way of an app on her phone. Alan was too embarrassed to tell anyone of this blatant highway robbery.
Finally, Alan noticed Ivor, the pub landlord scowling at a tent proclaiming to be “For Wizards Only.”
‘So what’s this pub you’ve been staying in like?’ Amy asked.
‘It’s alright,’ Alan told her. ‘Not five stars, but it’s got a bed and…’ he paused, searching for another of the Soiled Cassock’s selling points.
‘And a roof,’ James added eventually.
‘A bed and a roof. That’s it?’ Amy said.
‘That’s all you need,’ Alan replied. James nodded.
‘Is it me or is it getting noisier?’ Rosie asked.
Alan tilted his head to one side. Rosie was right, the conversations arou
nd them were getting louder.
‘Look who’s here,’ Frankie said, suddenly appearing alongside Alan.
Harry Hodges waved at Alan as he fought his way through the crowd. Alan noticed Harry carrying a plastic bag with his dummy, Old Man Ernie’s head sticking out of the top. The presence of the doll’s head appeared to be the reason for the increased noise as the crowd whispered and pointed at Harry as he walked past them.
‘What’s all that about?’ Alan said quietly to James and Frankie.
‘I told you,’ Frankie said. ‘The guys’ a legend.’
Rosie gave Harry a hug and introduced Amy. Harry took a step back, his brow wrinkled. ‘‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You seem very familiar. Have we met somewhere before?’
Amy frowned. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t normally dress like this,’ she said, gesturing at her dress.
‘It probably reminds Harry of his younger days, during the war,’ James interrupted.
‘Oi, I’m not that old,’ Harry replied.
‘No, but your routine is,’ Alan grinned.
‘Yeah, but you wrote most of it,’ Harry laughed.
‘Fair point.’ Alan conceded. ‘Do you want a beer?’ he asked Harry who nodded. ‘Anyone else?’ Rosie and Amy shook their heads. ‘Just us, then,’ he said as he and James headed back towards the beer tent. Frankie stepped alongside Alan, avoiding the jester who was busy annoying everyone.
‘I bloody hate jesters,’ Frankie said. ‘They’re the antithesis of comedy. They mock comedy. And they all need a slap.’
‘Blimey,’ Alan said. ‘That’s a bit strong for you. What’s up?’
‘I had root canal work done that was less painful than watching a jester prancing about. Slapping’s too good for them.’
‘It’s not like you. Are you OK?’ Alan asked.
‘I’m fine. I knew a bloke years ago who used to do the whole jester thing. Jumping about, rattling little bells at you. Horrible little sod he was. Run off with my girlfriend. Still, I got my own back. I ran over his foot with my tank.’
‘Is that it? Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ve just had this weird feeling since we got here. I can’t explain it.’