Gifthorse: The next instalment of the riveting Marnie Walker series

by Leo McNeir

“And I’d love to see them, and their sunshine. But you know how it is. I have a job to do, and Glebe Farm won’t renovate itself.”

  “Are you still babysitting that Dutch guy?” Beth asked, changing the conversation so abruptly that Marnie became confused.

  “Dutch guy?” she said.

  “You know, Marnie, that … wotsisname, Dekker? Didn’t you say he was Dutch?”

  “Yes, I mean no.”

  “Which bit of that was your answer, Marnie? And to which question?”

  “Maurice Dekker, and he’s not here any more. He went away a few days ago. And it’s only his name that’s Dutch.”

  “He’s gone?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well I must say I’m glad to hear it,” said Beth.

  “You thought I was too involved in his life?”

  “Well yes, or no.”

  “Which bit of that was –”

  “Marnie, what I meant was, I’m glad he’s out of your life. It always made me feel uncomfortable that you were mixed up in his affairs.”

  “I wasn’t mixed up. I just helped get his mail to him. Why should that make you uncomfortable?”

  Beth hesitated. “Because of what he did to us, of course.”

  “You’ve lost me, Beth. What’s he ever done to you or me, apart from being a slight inconvenience?”

  “That’s hardly what dad would call it.”

  “Dad? What’s dad got to do with –”

  “Marnie, don’t you take any notice of what’s been going on? Are you so bound up in your own world that you take no interest in your family?”

  Marnie was dumbfounded by the rebuke. She was accustomed to being scolded by her sister, but this had a real edge to it. “Spell it out to me, Beth.”

  “You really don’t know, do you?” Beth paused for a reply. None came, so she continued. “You remember the General Life Assurance thing.” It sounded like a statement rather than a question.

  “Go on,” said Marnie.

  Beth sighed. “A large chunk of dad’s pension was tied up in that company. When it went belly-up and its assets were frozen by the government, mum and dad saw their pension drop big-time. And the reason the firm crashed was largely down to –”

  “Maurice Dekker?” Marnie interjected.

  “Well done! So are you are on this planet, after all.”

  “You’ve not mentioned this before, Beth.”

  “It didn’t seem appropriate, with you being his messenger-boy. You might have been tempted to do him in. No-one would’ve blamed you.”

  With a pile of work awaiting her attention, Marnie brought the conversation to a close. She sat chewing the end of her pen. It was dawning on her that her name had just been added to the list of suspects out to get Maurice Dekker.

  *

  The next bridge came upon them suddenly. The boat rounded a bend and as Donovan began to straighten the tiller, it loomed ahead. He called down to Maurice, warning him to stay hidden. Looking as casual as he could, Donovan flicked the switch to turn on the radio. The latest hit record by Oasis blared out, and he turned up the volume even further. He adjusted the baseball cap to camouflage his scanning of the bridge. No-one was watching, at least visibly.

  They passed underneath and, as they exited, Donovan slipped down from the roof and swivelled round quickly, again fiddling with the baseball cap, while surreptitiously looking back. A cement lorry trundled over the bridge, its driver glancing briefly down at the boat. Otherwise, nothing and nobody. Donovan muttered a silent thank-you to the kind stranger who had innocently helped him at the lock.

  Within a hundred yards the canal curved to the right, its course lined with trees. As soon as the bridge was lost to view, Donovan turned off the radio and swung towards the bank, calling to Maurice to come up. They resumed their previous running order, with Maurice at the helm and Donovan as outrider. They still had several bridges and locks to clear that day, and even then Donovan would not breathe easily.

  Speed, the element of surprise and a fall-back plan.

  Donovan knew that, even if the pursuer was not consciously following that course of action, he would be aiming at those objectives. If only they could put more space between themselves and their adversary …

  Donovan found his mind wandering as he cycled along in pleasant open countryside that had probably changed little since the canal was opened in the age of Nelson and Bonaparte. He imagined the boats of those far-off days, hauled by strong horses, probably able to travel as quickly as modern craft. His mind turned to Poppy and he thought of Ben leading her as she drew Glastonbury along at a steady rate in all weathers.

  And that was when the fall-back plan was born, combining speed and the element of surprise.

  *

  Mid-afternoon. Anne checked her watch against the office clock for the hundredth time. Donovan would ring soon, she was sure of it. By now they would be opening their last food bag of the day. She hoped Maurice had coffee on board; she had only been able to pack two flasks. For their break they would discover a large blueberry muffin each. Donovan had a German taste for food and he liked cake. Perhaps Maurice’s Dutch ancestry meant he was the same.

  Anne smiled to herself. She was more worried about their eating habits than at the possibility of them running into a pursuer bent on revenge. It showed how confident she felt that Donovan would see them through. Even so, she would welcome a phone call.

  As if by magic, the phone rang. It was Donovan.

  “You’re like the genii of the lamp,” she said. “I wanted you to phone and, voilà! there you are.”

  “Genii in reverse,” said Donovan. “I’m the one wanting the wishes granted this time.”

  “What d’you need?”

  Donovan explained he was changing their plan. Instead of Anne collecting him to take him back to Glebe Farm, he asked for more provisions. He would not elaborate as he wanted to conserve the mobile’s battery. Instead, he gave her a rendezvous time and place. Anne outlined the arrangement to Marnie, who agreed, and she set off for the supermarket.

  Marnie heard the Mini as Anne drove out from the garage barn and took to the field track. She had seen that glint in Anne’s eye, a sign of how much she enjoyed going along with Donovan’s schemes. This time he was putting all his efforts into protecting Maurice from unseen, unknown forces.

  I don’t think any of you understand how much danger he’s in, Dominic Brodie had said.

  Let’s hope we don’t find out, Marnie thought.

  *

  The coffee that Maurice produced was not as strong in flavour as Anne’s, but it was okay, and the blueberry muffin was good. Donovan had never tried one before. They had changed their pattern for the afternoon refreshment break in a long pound with neither locks nor bridges, with Donovan back on board steering, while Maurice sat on the top step beside the counter, out of sight.

  “Speed is crucial,” Donovan said.

  “At four miles an hour?” Maurice sounded sceptical.

  “It’s all relative, Maurice. Whoever’s looking out for us only needs to cross our path for a minute or a few seconds. By keeping on the move we shorten the odds in our favour.”

  “Tell me something,” said Maurice. “Why did you ask Anne to bring more provisions?”

  “Change of plan.”

  “Really?” There was a coolness in the tone. “I don’t recall you discussing it with me, Donovan.”

  “It won’t affect you.”

  “How can it not?”

  “We’re going to travel through the night. I’ll run the boat while you sleep. I’ll do all I can not to disturb you.”

  “Through the night?” Maurice was incredulous. “Surely that’s unwise. No-one navigates at night.”

  “I’m hoping our pursuer thinks the same way as you.”

  Maurice considered the plan. “I see what you mean. Do you think you can manage it?”

  “I’ve done so in the past, a number of times.”

  “Why would y
ou want to do that?”

  “Personal reasons.” Maurice seemed about to question him further, but Donovan raised a hand to stop him. “Trust me, Maurice. You’re not the only one to have enemies.”

  Maurice leaned back against the bulkhead and continued eating his muffin. As he did so, he watched Donovan, assessing him as if seeing the younger man for the first time.

  “Tell me something, Donovan. What made you think of this new plan?”

  “Poppy, I suppose.”

  “Poppy is presumably someone’s name?”

  “Not someone. It’s a horse. Surely you remember Willow’s boat horse?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “While I was riding, I thought of the olden days on the canals, how the boats back then went at more or less the same speed as modern ones. That made me think of the fly boats.”

  “The what?”

  “The way to achieve speed in those times was to travel without stopping. The fly boats, as they were called, continued navigating all day and through the night, with the occasional change of horse.”

  “And that’s what gave them their speed,” said Maurice, “running non-stop?”

  “Exactly. So if we do the same, we’ll get away much more quickly. And, of course, we’ll also have cover of darkness. I’m hoping our pursuer won’t reckon on that. It’ll give us speed plus the element of surprise, not a bad plan B.”

  *

  When Anne arrived back at Glebe Farm after the rendezvous with Donovan, she found Willow sitting in the office barn chatting to Marnie. She was unsure whether to mention where she had been or for what purpose, but Marnie explained without hesitation.

  “So you’re bringing him back here?” said Willow. “I don’t get it. I thought he was trying to get away from here.”

  “He doesn’t have much choice,” said Marnie. “With the canal blocked north of London, he’d be caught in a bottleneck. At the risk of mixing my metaphors, he’d be a sitting duck.”

  Anne laughed. “I smell a rat,” she said. “We must nip it in the bud.” She guffawed.

  Marnie laughed. Willow remained serious.

  “It’s quite something, I suppose, that he agreed to Donovan helping him,” she said.

  “You haven’t seen him,” Anne said, taking off her jacket. “I doubt if he had much choice. He looked really rough.”

  “We’ll have to try and get him to see a doctor,” Marnie said. “Or maybe get a doctor to visit him on the boat once he’s here.”

  “That sounds optimistic to me,” said Willow. “To be honest, I’m really surprised he actually agreed to come back up here.”

  “I can think of one reason,” said Anne. The two women looked at her. She went on. “Well, he doesn’t know that Dominic knows he’s hiding out on a boat, does he?”

  “That’s a good point,” said Marnie. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “That might explain why he agreed,” said Willow. “Marnie, are you going to tell Dominic that Maurice is coming back?”

  Marnie looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. I want to talk it over with Ralph. I think we’ll have to deal with that when the time comes.”

  Chapter 46

  Night Flight

  Dusk could not come too soon as far as Donovan was concerned. The rain had held off all day, but cloud cover was hastening the onset of evening, and a familiar saying came to mind: thank God it’s Friday. This was definitely time to boogie. Donovan realised he was mentally rambling and he knew that was not uncommon while boating. Keep focused, he told himself.

  He had not seen or heard Maurice for the past hour and he hoped the older man was sleeping or at least resting. The journey, the long harsh winter, the strain of keeping hidden, all these had taken their toll on Maurice’s health. Donovan was convinced he was looking even weaker than before, despite having him to handle the boat and take the decisions.

  Another bridge appeared ahead. Time to sit up on the roof and turn on the radio. Time to look relaxed.

  “What’s happening?”

  The voice from below surprised Donovan. Maurice was peering up at him.

  “Bridge coming up,” Donovan said quietly. “Stay hidden.”

  There was movement on this bridge. Donovan tensed, trying to look outwardly calm. Three youths were standing in the middle. Donovan watched them carefully.

  “Hiya!” he called out.

  One of them waved back and shouted something indistinct. Donovan gave a dip of the head and hoped it was appropriate. They made no further reaction, and the boat passed under them without hindrance. In the fading light Donovan checked the cruising guide.

  “Where are we?” Maurice asked.

  “Have you been asleep?” said Donovan, switching off the radio.

  “Just lying on the bed.”

  “That’s good. We’ll be coming to Berko in about half an hour.”

  “What happens there?”

  “Well, I think there’s a hospital not far from the canal. It might have a walk-in centre. We could get a taxi and –”

  “No.” Maurice was emphatic. “Definitely not.”

  “Look, Maurice, you’re clearly unwell. You need help and medical attention. I can’t give you that. But I can –”

  “I don’t think you can have heard me, Donovan. I’m not leaving the boat. That’s final. We travel on. D’you understand?”

  “Alles klar,” Donovan muttered to himself in German. “All right.” But he noticed that even the effort needed to speak out had made Maurice weary.

  Maurice continued. “If it will make you happy, I’ll have one of your rum, lemon and honey concoctions.”

  “I’m ecstatic.” Donovan did not look ecstatic. “Shall I come and make it for you?”

  “I can manage. Get you anything?”

  “Coffee,” said Donovan. “From Anne’s flask.”

  Maurice turned to go. He looked up. “Donovan.”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t be annoyed. Your plan is a good one. I want it to work and I’m grateful for all you’re doing.”

  “You need medical help, Maurice. That’s why I’m concerned about you.”

  “This is just a temporary condition, Donovan. I’ll get over it. My concern is what else is going on, and that’s something you don’t understand.”

  *

  Margaret Giles was having a busy day, and it was not without its share of frustrations. In one particular regard it was causing her no little anxiety. Something had cropped up that she had not anticipated, a problem that threatened to scupper her programme for Ben’s future education. It was the old story, money.

  Valerie Paxton tapped twice on the door and entered.

  “You asked me to let you know when constable Lamb was winding up her session in the hall.”

  Margaret looked at her watch. “Five minutes?”

  Valerie nodded and turned to leave. “Is everything all right, Mrs Giles? You look worried.”

  “To tell you the truth, Valerie, I’ve hit a snag.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. It concerns Ben Haycroft and the distance learning project.”

  “Really?”

  “There are unforeseen consequences. You see, I’ve got Willow and Ben enthusiastic about the scheme, but I hadn’t thought through all the implications.”

  This was music to Valerie’s ears, but she concealed her feelings, standing silent in the doorway, waiting for the head to elaborate.

  “Ben will need a whole new set of books and materials to follow his various courses. They’re quite different from what we use in school, so I can’t let him have any from here. I’ve looked into what’s involved, and they’re quite expensive.”

  “Mrs Haycroft surely can’t demand all this special treatment for nothing,” said Valerie. “That would be like having private education on the cheap.”

  “It’s not a question of demanding anything, Valerie. It’s –”

  Valerie turned as rapid footsteps were heard behind her. A child had run into th
e office.

  “What is it?” Valerie asked.

  The girl announced breathlessly that the police lady was finishing her talk and would Mrs Giles like to come to the hall. Margaret stood up at once, walked into Valerie’s office and thanked the girl for letting her know. She accompanied the child back to the assembly hall at a more sedate pace.

  The talk to the whole school on road safety by a local police officer was a regular fixture on the calendar. Although she had now advanced in the force to the role of detective, Cathy Lamb continued to take the sessions, which she had handled since her days in uniform. She enjoyed talking to the children, and they seemed to warm to her. None of her uniformed colleagues wanted to challenge her for this task.

  Margaret thanked Lamb for her interesting and important talk and announced that next term PC Colin Venables would be bringing police dog Caesar to assist him with his lecture on crime prevention and the work of the dog handler. This brought a cheer from the pupils and smiles from the staff.

  Lamb declined the offer of a cup of tea before leaving, pleading that she had another call to make.

  *

  Anne was filling two carrier bags with provisions in the kitchen area when the visitor arrived in the office barn. She quickly pretended she was unloading shopping and hoped Cathy Lamb did not spot the difference.

  “Is it my imagination,” Lamb began, “or do you always seem to look guilty when I come to visit these days?”

  “It could have something to do with the fact that you tend to walk in unannounced and warn us we’re suspects for something about which we know absolutely nothing.” Marnie’s tone was casual, but Lamb noted the point. “Anyway, what can we do for you, apart from confess and come quietly?”

  Cathy Lamb relaxed and smiled. She had always liked Marnie and Anne and, although they could be infuriating, she enjoyed their company, especially when she was the bearer of good news. She stepped forward and sat in the chair beside Marnie’s desk.

  “No need for the handcuffs today,” she said. “I just happened to be in the area.”

  “Just by chance,” said Marnie.

  “Yes. And you’ll be pleased at what I’ve come to tell you.” She looked across at Anne. “And yes, I’d love a cup of your excellent coffee, if there’s one going.”