I thought I was having another flashback to 1943 and looked around to check on my surroundings. Everybody was dressed in the current fashion, and I recognized a lot of them. I wiped my damp forehead in relief. When I glanced back up, the figure was still there. As I watched, it moved slowly out of sight, probably through the door into the cupola. I decided it was Conklin. Or could it be somebody else, somebody that had no business being up there? The safety precautions I had put in place should have prevented any outsider from getting through into the house.
A touch on my arm plucked me away from that troublesome thought. I turned to see Patsy steaming and dripping on the bricks. Her sleeveless dress was a riot of primary colours, the red parts clashing with her round, flushed face.
“Holy mama. It sure is warm out today. What’s the matter with you anyway?”
“Nothing. What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’ve discovered you’re related to the Pembrookes too? Everybody else claims to be.”
“Don’t be silly, I just came to see how things are going, since this is the first reunion you’re responsible for. I had to park half a mile down the road and walk. And you’re in pain, I can see by your face. What happened, do you have cramps or something?”
“No, I do not have cramps. I bruised my butt in the shade garden.”
I ended up telling Patsy all about the incident with Dennis, trying to make light of it. I was sorry right away. She typically blew it all out of proportion.
“Marc should speak to him. For Pete’s sake, that’s assault.”
“Just forget it, Patsy. I made him mad…”
“Are you listening to yourself? That’s the first thing an abused person says. That it’s somehow her fault for being assaulted. You should know better.”
“I do. That’s not what I meant. Calm down, will you? And stop overreacting. Dennis is frustrated and desperate right now. I shouldn’t have been egging him on. You know how my mouth runs away with me sometimes.”
“Your mouth isn’t any worse now than when you were married to Dennis, or on the day you were born for that matter. We’ll talk about this later. Right now I want to see that injury. It could be serious if it causes you so much pain.”
“I’m not pulling up my dress in front of 300 people and showing you my bare ass. Besides it feels better already. Anyway, listen to me.”
I pulled her off the scorching bricks into the shade. “I want to get some counselling for Caroline. You’re involved with the Women’s Shelter and I know they provide assistance to victims of abuse.”
“Caroline? I didn’t know. I’ll set her up with an appointment on Monday.”
“That’s great. Thanks, Patsy. I’ll make sure she goes.”
“You should come with her, Lyris. You might learn something, like why you let Dennis treat you this way.”
“Get a grip, Patsy. Can you see me putting up with that kind of crap? Dennis just took me by surprise. Next time I’ll be ready for him and knock him on his butt.”
“Brave words from a hundred-pound princess, but we’ll talk about it when this circus is over. Right now I have to get home. Nick is taking me out for dinner to cheer me up.”
“You’re acting pretty cheerful already. Did you get another job?”
“No. Well, not exactly. Later, dude.”
I watched her as she picked her way through the crowd. She didn’t look like she needed cheering up. She was acting more like her usual self and I had to wonder at the change since the last time I talked to her.
I looked around to see if Aunt Clem and Aunt Wisty had arrived yet. Yes, there they were, close to the tent at the bottom of the drive.
I hobbled over as fast as I could in the direction of my two great-aunts. Aunt Wisty was laying in a lawn lounge while Aunt Clem sat with straight back in a plastic chair. Hovering over both of them was Conklin. He had doffed his corduroy jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. In place of the turtleneck was a soft cotton shirt buttoned at the wrists. If it had been him on the widow’s walk a few minutes ago, he would have had to hop it to get down to the front lawn so fast. I felt uneasy again.
I moved toward the trio, but was destined not to reach them, for at that moment, my radio beeped. I answered it to hear Peter’s voice asking me to come to the house at once. There was an emergency. Conklin must have been watching me. He was right beside me as I reached the front door. It opened before my hand could touch the demon-knocker and I fell into the great hall, while Conklin performed a fancy step dance to avoid tripping over me. Peter steadied us both and led us down the hall toward the kitchen.
“What are you still doing here, Peter? I thought you went home to bed?”
“I decided to stick around in case you needed me tonight.”
“Well, what’s the emergency?”
“It’s Caroline. I found her slumped over the table. It looks like she’s taken something, but I don’t know what. And she won’t let me call an ambulance.”
Caroline was sitting at the table with her chin propped up by both hands. She was trying to focus and making a poor job of it. Her eyes refused to follow the same path, and they circled in opposing directions.
My entire herb cupboard appeared to be spread out before her on the table. Tins were tipped over, the contents mixing together, and glass bottles added their tinctures to the mess. Teapot, spoon, kettle—all these littered the tabletop. A ceramic mug contained two metal tea balls and an inch of liquid the colour and texture of septic tank sludge.
“My God, Caroline, what have you done? What have you taken?” Surely she hadn’t mixed up the herbs into a poisonous combination? However, that was not impossible and I had to know what she’d ingested.
Caroline’s eyes, one of them anyway, rolled in my direction. “I used it all. I was nervous and upset and didn’t know which of them would help, so I took some of everything.”
These were not Caroline’s actual words. I have loosely translated her mumbles and hesitations.
I looked at the labels on the tins. Valerian, passion flower, hops. So far, so good. All just mild remedies for nervousness. Then...uh-oh.
Burdock root, stinging nettle. Beneficial in their own way, but I didn’t know if they could interact with the others.
“Madam, I will call an ambulance.” Conklin started toward the telephone, but Caroline made a Herculean effort to speak again.
“No, please. No ambulance. I’ll be okay. I don’t want a fuss.”
I was inclined to go along with her. It was self-preservation to be sure. I could see the headlines: “Amateur Herbalist Charged with Practising Alternative Medicine Without a License.” Frantic, I looked at the labels again, trying to determine which could cause side effects when taken with something else. I had no idea.
I was just about to tell Conklin to phone for the ambulance when a prescription bottle rolled out from beneath the kitchen table, followed by Rasputin and Jacqueline. Peter picked it up before Jacqueline could bat at it again. I snatched it from his fingers and peered inside. The bottle contained tiny, white oval pills.
“What’s this?” I held it up in front of Caroline’s wandering eyes, trying to get at least one of them to see the plastic container. “It has your name on it and says to take one or two before bedtime as required.”
“My doctor gave them to me to help me sleep. They relax me. I took some, but they didn’t help, so I decided to try your herbs.”
“How many did you take? Come on, Caroline, how many?” I pulled her hands away from her face and held her chin with one hand, while shaking the pill container in front of her with the other. If she took too many we would have to call the ambulance for sure, should have already.
“I don’t remember.” She groaned and pulled away from me, dropping her head onto the table again and proceeding to snore. I thought about slapping her, like they do in movies.
Instead, I opened the container and dumped the pills on the counter. The label was dated three days earlier and indicated there should
be thirty tablets. I counted them. There were twenty-seven.
I sighed with relief. “Even if she didn’t take any the last couple of nights, the most she can have taken today is three. That can’t be enough to hurt her.”
“Unless,” replied Peter with unwelcome logic, “she had a previous prescription and took some of those too.”
Conklin’s hand was inching toward the telephone again.
I wasn’t heartless, and if the poor girl was in serious trouble, I would be the first to make sure she got medical help. On the other hand, I didn’t want to disrupt the reunion unless it was necessary.
“Caroline, listen to me. Did you have any pills other than these? Tell me the truth.”
“Honest, Lyris. I just got these the other day and took one last night. I took one this morning because I felt so upset, and when it didn’t work, I took another one, then the herb tea. That’s all, honest. Please don’t call an ambulance. I feel better now.” Indeed, her eyes weren’t rolling so indiscriminately, and she made an effort to smooth back her hair.
I looked at Conklin and Peter, and they looked at each other. When all this silent conferring was done, we seemed to have reached a consensus. No ambulance.
“Peter, would you take Caroline to her sitting room and watch television with her or something? Don’t let her fall asleep or drink anything more except regular black tea, maybe Earl Grey.”
I put the pills into my pocket. “I’ll take these for now.” Some people shouldn’t be allowed out alone, much less left in charge of drugs.
I started cleaning up the mess on the table, vowing to get a lock installed on my herb cupboard the very next week. Who knew what dangers lurked therein?
By the time the kitchen was pristine again, the afternoon was well advanced. The emptiness in my stomach reminded me that I had missed lunch. Since the cook was suffering from an overdose.
I made egg salad sandwiches for the four of us and took them into the staff sitting room. Caroline didn’t eat much and it took all our efforts between bites to keep her awake. She kept trying to doze off, and while maybe it would have been best to let her sleep it off, I was still a little uncertain of the effects of the herbs combined with sleeping pills.
When I was free to go back outside, the heat was more oppressive than earlier. I brought out two plastic pitchers of lemonade and a stack of disposable cups into the shade garden and called my teams in for a cool drink.
I was pleased that, although hot and tired, they remained enthusiastic. That is, they showed up when summoned, didn’t whine much, and hadn’t lost or disabled their radios. It was good enough for me.
I gave a pep talk about the good job they were doing, and reminded them that the night would bring all sorts of situations I was counting on them to handle. They perked up at that, and I chose not to believe this was due to any intentions they might have to participate in said situations. I emphasized that fire remained a significant risk, and both the security and first aid teams were to be especially watchful that no bonfires were started in the field too close to Hammersleigh’s tree line. A couple of volunteers from Blackshore’s fire department had promised to drop by during the evening to make sure the fire code was adhered to, but a little extra vigilance by my posse wouldn’t hurt.
Once the kids melted back into the shrubbery, I headed around front to talk to Aunt Clem and Aunt Wisty. But they had gone from their shady spot. I wandered around looking for them before conceding defeat and settling down with my mother, her new fiancé, and the rest of my immediate family. I spotted Tracey down by the tent with her little girl, but Dennis was not with them. Tracey moved with ponderous care, and I thought it was typical of Dennis to go home and leave his pregnant wife and toddler to their own devices.
The heat had forced everyone to slow down and even conversation ceased. The children seemed content to play quietly among the pines or sleep on blankets at their parents’ feet. Thus, the long afternoon passed peacefully and after supper—which I had to cook again as Caroline was still hors de combat—I went to my room for a nap, knowing that I would need to be awake and alert most of the night.
I woke up at eight-thirty, sore and worried. I believed I had all foreseeable risks covered, but still, I admitted to a sense of unease about the coming night hours.
As daylight passed swiftly through a blood-red sunset into dusk, then into total blackness, I moved back and forth between the lampposts, sensing something elusive, something out of place.
Perhaps it was merely a remnant of time from that summer night in 1943, oppressively humid and hot like this night, when a child and a tortured soldier died so tragically.
CHAPTER 23
I thought of the Gene Pitney song, the one about the night having a thousand eyes.
Stepping carefully through the trees, I was aware of shapes just out of my range of vision, shadows that stopped moving or murmuring when I passed by. The lampposts lining the circular driveway would be left burning tonight, but their shafts of light only randomly penetrated into the thick grove of pine trees where I stood. I turned off my flashlight so my eyes would adjust to the darkness.
No one was supposed to enter the grounds of Hammersleigh House once the gates were shut and locked for the night. In reality, I knew the young people would be here, and would go anywhere else they wanted. Fences or gates would not stop them, and at this moment, their senses would be quickening at the thought of the night ahead. These grounds, the cemetery, fields, meadows and woodlots—all would belong to the young tonight.
And I wasn’t about to go crashing through the darkness to chase them away. My teams were briefed to watch out for fire and vandalism, but otherwise not to interfere. I hoped my reluctant recruits would not yield to temptation, abandon their flashlights and radios and cross over to the side of adventure and danger. But if even a few stayed with me, I knew we could survive the night.
I looked out across the lighted driveway and watched the shadows flitting through the trees on the other side. I hoped the kids were indulging in nothing worse than pot smoking and protected sex. A beam of light and a form appeared in my peripheral vision. I whirled to face it.
“Pardon me, Madam, I did not mean to startle you.”
“Conklin. Don’t worry, it’s quite all right. My heart should start up again any minute.”
“Madam. I thought it prudent to patrol the grounds tonight. Past reunions have caused some…incidents.”
I felt rather than saw his disapproval. He couldn’t be referring to anything I was involved in during my teenage years? Not that those incidents were serious, and I was pretty sure no one knew about them anyway. But who could tell, considering Conklin had eyes in the back of his head and a memory like an elephant?
“However, Madam, between the two of us, we could cover more area if you were to walk about the field and I stayed on the grounds close to the house in case Peter needs me.”
“I’m on my way, Conklin.” Before moving on, I thought of something I wanted to ask him.
“Conklin, didn’t I see you up on the widow’s walk this morning? When I asked if you would patrol the house regularly, I didn’t mean the cupola too. That’s a lot of stairs.”
“The widow’s walk, Madam? I haven’t been up there for a week or more. There are, as you say, a lot of stairs. Perhaps it was Peter. He kindly offered to go over the house today in my place.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t quite convinced. If that hadn’t been his silver head up there, I was my grandmother’s cousin. Although, silver or blond, it might have been either, come to think of it. “I guess it may have been Peter or Mitch, or even a trick of the sun reflecting off the windows.”
“Quite, Madam.”
After a few minutes of small talk made even more boring by my mention of the heat and would it ever rain again in our lifetime, Conklin aimed his flashlight on his watch and melted back into the trees, murmuring about his security patrol of the grounds.
Hammersleigh’s lawns and pine groves were
separated from the field by a six-foot wrought-iron fence, a fence easy enough to shinny over if you were young and lithe. On a good day, I could still do it, but not with the pain that shot through my leg and hip at every step. The other easier way to get to the field was through the wooden gate by the goldfish pond in the shade garden.
Near the pond I picked up a T-shirt that had been left in the middle of the flagstone path. I draped it over a nearby hydrangea bush so the owner could find it later and received another severe fright when the bush started to thrash and emit odd noises, much like a bobcat giving birth to a full-grown gorilla.
“This is too much.” The noise and movement didn’t subside, so I kicked at one of the four bare feet protruding from the foliage.
“I’m leaving now. But I’ll be back in one minute. If you’re still here, I’ll pull you both out, and I don’t care if you’re buck naked. And pick up your clothes when you leave.”
It looked like a laundry basket had exploded on the path. I hoped that both participants had reached the age of consent and had sprayed themselves liberally with insect repellent before crawling under the shrubbery.
“And don’t smoke anything in there, either,” I called over my shoulder at the bush.
I scratched my bare arms and wished I had used repellent on myself. It was too late in the season for black flies, but mosquitoes abounded. The only way to elude the voracious insects was to keep moving and stay away from plant life.
I found the gate more by memory than anything else. I opened it and walked through a portal into another universe. I had to blink once or twice before my eyes adjusted to the panorama before me.
Here the night was almost as bright as day. Strings of lights hung from one RV to another, while Coleman lanterns hissed and flickered with a surreal radiance. In the middle of the field, one oversized bonfire sent sparks flying skyward. The fire was a little too close to the solitary elm to suit me.
Lawn chairs of every hue and material surrounded the blaze, each one occupied by a senior reveller. In the rosy glow, I recognized many townspeople, who had come out to test their stamina against visiting relatives. They were drinking and eating and tossing more wood on the fire. As I watched from the gate, the flames roared and shot higher into the night sky. Music from the war years erupted from lusty throats.
Cheat the Hangman Page 23