Trembine Halt

by Ivan B

  Sarah looked up from washing her hands. Rupert was standing in the doorway like a lost schoolboy. She popped a loaf of bread in the oven and said, brightly, “Thought I’d bake some bread, you haven’t got any, but you’ve got plenty of flour and enough yeast to last a lifetime.”

  She could be so bright because she’d spent half an hour taking her frustration at being cocooned here on a lump of dough. Therapeutic kneading her foster mum had called it. He shuffled forward, wringing his hands as he did so. “I’m sorry if I was sharp with you, it’s just that…”

  His apology ground to a halt. He took a deep breath, “It’s just that Anna used to say exactly the same thing to me. She’d throw the food out and I’d store it away somewhere else, just in case. She used to get hopping mad.”

  He burst into tears. Sarah hesitated for a few seconds and then went and gave him a hug. Part of her brain screamed that this was a dangerous thing to do, a second part of her brain told her that she’d be gone, forever, in a few days so it was safe, but the dominant factor was the part of her brain that had been conditioned by her foster mum. Conditioned to know that sometimes a hug is all people need as mere words are all too frequently useless.

  Julia half-glanced at the Mercedes and fixed her eyes on the Land-Rover. “That’s beautiful.”

  The object of her attention was a Land-Rover Defender, top of the range, in dark green. She opened the door and smoothed her hand over the three absolutely pristine beautifully upholstered cloth seats across the front, she let her eyes take in the dashboard and cab and decided that it must contain just about every option from the catalogue. Buster sniffed, “Don’t want the Mercedes then?”

  She shook her head, “Too ostentatious.”

  Buster rolled his eyes as if in despair, “SLK 320 Three Litre V6 with all the options and special leather upholstery. Drive this and you’ll turn the head of every man in the county.”

  She shook her head, “This is more me, and it wouldn’t fit in around here; this is Land Rover Country.”

  She turned to face him, “And I don’t particularly want to be the object of desire for every passing male… ”

  She would have continued, but he held his hands up in surrender, “No offence, just saying that it would enhance your already attractive demeanour.”

  A thought crossed her mind, “Did you want the Land Rover?”

  “No way, I might get away with parking the Mercedes in a Casino car-park, but not a Land-Rover.”

  She nodded sadly, “I like the Rover, but what would I tell my parents? Dad would give his hind teeth – if he had any – for a motor like this.”

  Buster leaned his buttocks against the wing of the sleek silver Mercedes and grabbed both her hands, “Tell them I gave it to you, it’s near enough to the truth.”

  Julia laughed, “Why would you give me such a vehicle.”

  He stared at her, she coloured slightly, “Oh no, you’re not buying me with a car, not matter how…”

  He shook his head, “I’m not buying you, you should know that by now. If you take the stuff and I never see you again you won’t be breaking our bargain. I’m just giving you an excuse, you’ve got yourself a rich boyfriend who’s besotted enough to give you a Land Rover.”

  She let go of his hands and crossed her arms, “I’m not sleeping with you.”

  Buster sighed, “Have I asked?”

  “You might?”

  He tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, “Call me old fashioned if you like, but I don’t believe in sleeping around. Seen too much of the trouble it causes, besides – don’t laugh – I believe in the sanctity of marriage, not the transitory pleasures of the flesh.”

  Julia nodded, “Agreed.” She paused, “and I’m sorry if I read you wrong, it’s not every day a girl gets offered a Land Rover.”

  He chuckled, “Well you’re the second owner and last time I looked it had done just over 200 miles and most of that was on the drive up from London. Maria took it out once, Jeremy never.”

  Julia screwed up her nose, “Won’t your Dermot wonder how come I’ve got it?”

  “Dermot won’t know, besides he’ll be more interested in the BMW and the Mini – their ‘City’ cars.”

  Julia let her thoughts roam for a minute. “Let’s let my parents in lightly, I guess you’d better come back to the farm for tea.”

  Buster grinned, “Be a pleasure.” Be a special please, he thought, as not only do I get to see more of you, I also get to see Simon close up.

  She grinned, “I’ll give mum a bell, tea should be in about two hours, that should give her enough time to panic, by the way, you’d better not bring whatever it is in your left hand pocket, especially if it’s what I think it is.”

  He sighed, “That’s what I like, an observant woman.”

  He became solemn, “Seriously I do worry about protecting you. We haven’t talked about it, but we both know that the killer, or killers, must still be here, by now they will be beginning to wonder why the place isn’t crawling with police.”

  Julia laughed, “Fat chance, if they can’t get out then the police can’t get in.”

  Buster nodded, “Exactly, the police can’t get in, and if they’re really determined…”

  Julia shivered, but not through cold.

  The longer she hugged Rupert the more disconcertingly rewarding it was for Sarah. She could feel through her body that he was calming down and responding to her hug, she also knew that she was enjoying the hug as he held onto her. Since she wasn’t saying anything she tried to analyse her feelings; was this physical enjoyment due to being hugged by Rupert? Was it just being hugged by a man? Was it being hugged by a man who needed her? Was it just that it had been so long since she’d had a hug from anyone? Had she been alone too long? As thoughts raced through one half of her brain, the other half noticed that she was in no hurry to part.

  There was a noise outside the door and Norman shot Petra a glance and hissed, “I must talk to you. I want to know everything, what’s it like to work on a TV soap set? Is it just like any other job when you get down to it? I want to know everything, good and bad.”

  Mark walked into the room and stopped, was he disturbing something?”

  Eventually Rupert and Sarah parted as if by an unsaid mutual agreement. He stood looking totally bewildered for a moment, finally he muttered something and trotted out like a rewarded schoolboy. Sarah leant against the table. Previously she had been worried that she’d stir up emotions in him, now she was worried that he was stirring up emotions in herself.

  Chapter 11

  Preparing For Dinner

  Jenny Flosse cornered her husband in the bedroom. “Now Harry you’re not going to do anything daft are you?”

  He feigned surprise, “Me?”

  She sat down on the bed to change her faithful slippers for comfortable shoes. She sighed, “I’ve been chatting to Mark. Colin’s been seeing this lass for well over a year and they met two years ago, so this isn’t a flash in the pan and it’s only been your antagonism to his divorce that’s prevented him from bringing her here before.”

  Harry gave up trying to tie his tie and let Jenny do it for him. When she’d pulled it tight enough to crush his windpipe he freed it off, “I get the message – I’ve been a bit of a twerp.”

  Jenny nodded and said carefully, “This lass…”

  Harry smiled, “I know, this lass is the one who lives at the keepers cottage, I can talk to Mark as well you know.”

  Jenny sighed with relief, “Then you know.”

  He raised an eyebrow, “Know what?”

  Jenny swallowed, “That she’s… She’s not English.”

  Harry laughed, “O come on Jenny I’m not that bad. And according to her daughter she was born in Southall on the outskirts of London and her parents were born in Birmingham, so she’s as English as they come.”

  Jenny’s mouth almost dropped open, “You’ve talked to the daughter!”

  He nodded as he tried to pull on
a pair of shoes, “Think her name is Harriet. She was drawing the church and wanted to have a look inside, apparently she had a school project on sketching buildings. She told me where she came from and said that she thought our church was beautiful, especially the window behind the altar.”

  Jenny shook her head, “You weren’t in the church alone with her were you?”

  He shook his head, “Rupert was there doing something or other.”

  Jenny licked her lips, she said casually, “You know Julia’s bringing a friend too.”

  Harry froze, his Julia with a man! “Who?”

  “I think she called him Buster; he’s from the big house.”

  Harry looked at Jenny as if she were mad, “You sure?”

  “Yes, do you know him?”

  Harry shrugged, “Seen him walking about, never struck me as…”

  He tailed off. Harry loved his sons, but he doted on his daughter. He had in his mind he sort of man who would be perfect for his daughter, Buster didn’t conform to any of his specifications. Too old, too short, too common and too suspicious.

  Jenny stood up and faced him, “Don’t you dare! This is the first man she’s brought home in ten years. If he’s good enough for her he’s got to be good enough for you, do you understand?”

  Harry nodded, “I just want her to be happy luv, as happy as us.”

  She kissed him on the forehead, “Then let her choose.”

  Harry nodded and smiled, but his thoughts were in turmoil and one thing was for sure, he’d give this Buster a good going over, he wasn’t having Julia marrying a ne’er do well.

  Hoof stirred and for a brief moment lifted his head off of the rug and glanced towards the door. Sarah noted the movement and followed his gaze. Rupert was standing there and for a moment Sarah was stupefied by his appearance. For a start he was properly shaved, had on a decent pair of trousers and what passed for a clean shirt, but it wasn’t the clothes, it was the demeanour. He was standing like a page boy at a wedding who was all dressed up, but wasn’t sure of the reason why. Sarah gave him a smile of approval, “Dinner’s not for over half an hour, it’s taking longer than I thought in the Aga.”

  “What is it?”

  “Roast Lamb from the bottom of your freezer with a few veg I could salvage from the rack.”

  He nodded and turned round. To her amazement he started to clear up the mess in the dining room by packing the odd bits of paper and half-made models into some shoe-boxes, she began to wonder, could one hug make that sort of difference?

  Buster opened another brown envelope, studied the contents and announced to Julia, “Another IOU.”

  He tossed it onto an ever growing pile. Julia sucked in her cheeks and puckered her lips, “Pair of passports for a Mr and Mrs George and Juliana Andrews, plus driving licences for the same names – this time they’re Irish.”

  Buster nodded, that was the third pair of passports they’d found, one South African, one Canadian and one Irish. “Told you the sort of people they were, here today and somebody else tomorrow.”

  He waved a piece of paper and waved a key, “Bank Storage Box in London, I’d guess it was their emergency disappearance box.”

  Julia swallowed hard. “This envelope’s got a pair of wills.”

  Buster’s eyebrows rose and surprise crossed his face, “They made out wills?”

  She nodded and opened one, her eyes flicked down the single sheet of paper. “He left everything to her, that’s it plain and simple. Nothing about what happens if she dies first.”

  She opened the other will and again her eyes flicked down the page, “Ditto.”

  She say perfectly still and Buster noticed that she’d started to tremble. She lifted her eyes to look at him, “They really are dead aren’t they? This isn’t some form of video game or TV drama, they were real people and now they’re real dead people.”

  She went pale and tears started to flow down her cheeks. Buster shuffled over and put his arm round her. She started quietly sobbing and Buster, as he held her close, reflected that she’d probably be the only person to shed tears over them.

  From somewhere Rupert produced a lemon coloured table cloth that looked brand new and deftly started to lay up a table for three, he hesitated and removed a place setting, much to Sarah’s relief. He looked through the doorway, “Will we need spoons?”

  “Hopefully, I’ve put in a frozen strudel, you seem to have a collection of them.”

  He nodded, “Like strudel, it’s a nice mixture of pastry and fruit.”

  He noted her washing down the worktop over the washing machine, “How’s it going in there?”

  Sarah noted that there was a distinct absence of angst in his voice. “Almost finished – superficially anyway - to be really thorough I’d have to run all the pots and pans through the dishwasher.”

  He leaned against the doorpost and watched Sarah, she decided that while he was in this mode it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling. “I talked to my boss, he says you can invoice him for £20 a night B&B and another £10 for every evening meal. As I said you’d never get rich on what he’d pay.”

  He wiggled his bushy eyebrows, “Can you really stay anywhere for that sort of money?”

  Only hostels, but then I’m only a train driver, not a manager.”

  He nodded, “Why a train driver?”

  She threw the now filthy tea-towel into the linen bin that she had cleaned out earlier of several large spiders and a long dead moth, and paused for thought. “It’s a combination of working alone and yet being in control. I’m also not much of a conversationalist, I can’t stand tittle-tattle and office gossip, I used to wilt with embarrassment when I worked in an office.”

  He rolled his eyes and sniffed, “I tried working in an office once, it was dreadful. I hated the routine and the feeling that any initiatives would be stifled because they didn’t fit into ‘the system,’ whatever ‘the system’ was.”

  She came round and leant against the table to face him from about ten feet. “What sort of office?”

  “Income Tax assessment.”

  “Sounds dreadful.”

  “It was, at least for me, some of the others seemed to love it.”

  She sat on the table and dangled her legs, “So you became a vicar?”

  He laughed, it was a cross between a wheezing pneumonia victim and a growling dog. “No, I became a Ranger in the Yorkshire National Park, being a vicar came later. I was 27 when I first became ordained and my first post after being a curate was here and part-time working for the diocese as prison Chaplain. I did that for five years and then…” He paused, “then Anna died and it all became different.”

  He swallowed as if forcing back bile. He looked Sarah in the eyes, “When I say different I can only go by what others say, life became a blur. I remember waking up once in a ditch in my pyjamas with Harry and one of his sons trying to pick me up, they took me to the doctors and she gave me some pills.”

  Sarah watched him carefully, “Did you take them?”

  “For a while.”

  There was a ping from behind her and Sarah slid off of the table, “Dinner should be ready in about five minutes, that is if I’ve got the hang of this oven and I don’t give us food poisoning.”

  She opened the oven door and inspected the contents, she smiled at Rupert, “Will you carve?”

  Petra open her eyes wide; Norman and her were now ensconced in his bedroom, where they were discussing acting. “You mean it honestly hasn’t occurred to you?”

  He shook his head in amazement and she giggled, “But if your role is that of a visiting vet who has an affair with the local midwife you’re going to have to kiss her, perhaps more. If I know anything about soap opera writers, probably a lot more.”

  Norman swallowed nervously she gave him a beautiful smile, “You mean you’ve never done a stage kiss?”

  He shook his head, “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

  She rose and sat next to him, “I’ll show you. First of al
l you must get the embrace right, like this.”

  She put her arms around him and then adjusted his hands around her. “Now keep you hands here and keep them still, movement must come from the face and neck to emphasise what’s going on and allow close-ups. Then you.” She pressed her lips against his and murmured, “Open you mouth slightly and pretend that you’re sucking on a slice of succulent orange.”

  They kissed again, and again and again. A few minutes later she said, “And then, if you want to progress you…”

  She pushed him over and kissed him while lying on top of him. After six, or seven kisses of increasing length she grabbed him and rolled him over so that he lay on top of her. After a minute or two they shuffled fully onto the bed and she rolled, once again, on top of him; after yet another kiss she pulled down his trouser zip. Three minutes later they were making mad passionate love that went far beyond what any producer of a soap opera of a national TV soap would require.

  Harriet pulled on a bobble hat, “Must I wear this?”

  “Definitely,” said Jill

  Colin pulled on a similar garment, “You can lose a tremendous amount of heat through the head and then, when your brain is frozen solid, you start to do daft things, like walking into ditches.”

  Jill pulled on hers, “Right, lead on McDuff.”

  Harriet paused, “Your mum does know that I’m a vegetarian?”

  Colin nodded, “She’s probably fretting over that very fact at this moment.”

  Jenny Flosse was indeed fretting over that exact fact. This simple high tea was becoming both a meal of significance and a brute to prepare. For a start Julia, her normal helpmate on such occasions, had not yet arrived and everybody else in the family seemed to have disappeared, as usual. Salvation came in the form of Simon, who not understanding the dynamics of the house yet arrived downstairs early. Before he knew what was happening he’d been press-ganged into laying the infrequently used dining room table for eleven when there only appeared to be enough cutlery for ten.