Trembine Halt

by Ivan B

  She leant on the back of the settee, “There’s plenty of time, you can read some more.”

  On impulse she bent over the back of the settee and gently kissed him on the top of his ear. She had no idea why she did it or what had led her to do it; it just seemed natural. She walked off and left him sitting on the settee, book in hand. However all thoughts of Mesopotamian conquests had fled from his mind to be replaced by other bewildering thoughts that had nothing to do with ancient armies.

  Buster was still hugging Julia when the doorbell rang. She held onto him, “We must talk later.”

  He held her to him, “We’ll talk all you like.”

  He stood up, “I’ll answer the door, you get ready.”

  He licked his bottom lip, “Hate to say this at this particular moment, but keep your eyes open, just in case anybody acts peculiar in the dining room.”

  She shuddered, “Do you think they will?”

  “No.”

  At the door he paused, “Don’t forget to close the door at the top of the stairs, don’t want anybody poking about up here.”

  She nodded, “Code’s 4769##5.”

  He left and she looked at the small cross. It was absolutely exquisite, rather like a small Belgium lace cross that had been gilded, except that it was made out of good quality silver. She wandered over to the full length mirror on the wardrobe door and held the cross up to her neck. On Maria it had hung over her bosom, on Julia’s thicker neck it would hang just below the throat. She reached behind her neck and fastened the safety clasp. She stared at herself in the mirror and whispered softly, “What’s becoming of you Julia? A dead woman’s ring, a dead man’s gift and a dead couple’s house. Is this what you really want?”

  She paused as if waiting for an answer and stood for a long time fingering the cross with her left hand so that both cross and ring and bedroom were in the image in the mirror.

  Buster opened the door and Norma and Petra tumbled in, followed by Mark. They disrobed of their winter outer garments and Buster lead them into the house. The men went ahead and Buster took one look at Petra. He pointed, “Downstairs loo is in there.”

  She rushed in and within seconds he could hear her retching into the WC pan. He glanced into the lounge to see Norman and Mark playing with the TV and searching for the football channel, he smiled to himself; shopping channels they might find, football channels never. He padded to the kitchen, poured out half a pint of milk and added a raw egg, a spoonful of sugar and a couple of crushed anti-acid tablets. He went back and as Petra emerged from the toilet thrust the drink into her hand. “Drink this,” he commanded.

  He thought she was going to refuse, however she took the glass and dutifully downed the contents without pausing. He looked her straight in the eyes, “Now stay off the wine until you’ve eaten something substantial or you’ll make a bigger fool of yourself than yesterday.”

  He turned and left her without waiting for a reply.

  Sarah also sat looking into a mirror. She’d finished brushing her hair and had donned a dark red dress that Jill had lent her. The dress was a little tight and as such it emphasised her small bosom and tiny waist, but the colour did not quite go with her fawn hair. Otherwise the dress with its calf length hem and high neck was a model of decorum. She wriggled her toes and thought that it was a shame that Jill’s feet were bigger than hers whilst Harriet’s feet were apparently smaller, thus she’d have to walk around in bare feet rather than clump about in her boots. However, it was her image in the mirror that worried her as she sat with her hair lying across her shoulders rather than in a plait. She knew that Rupert would find her attractive, she’d already caught him staring at her once or twice and instinctively knew that he’d been admiring her. That was part of her dilemma, she actually liked being admired for being an attractive woman, it was a new experience for her and she had surprised herself at how much she enjoyed it. The other part of her dilemma was that it all seemed partially surreal. She used up her last piece of her normal pinkish raspberry lipstick and gazed at herself. Is this what she wanted, really wanted? Rupert was not exactly the catch of the year and Trembine Halt was not exactly the centre of the universe. She had this eerie feeling that she was on a precipice at the top of a bobsleigh run and that if she stepped of she would find herself sliding down into marriage and life at Trembine Halt with Rupert. She knew that he could never move, perhaps shouldn’t move, away from the house and his past, but could she live here and live here with him? She sat gazing at herself for some time, trying to analyse her feelings, trying to imagine the future, trying to decide whether to wear the dress and step off the precipice or whether to put Anna’s cast-offs back on and step back from the brink. In the end she stood up, did a twirl for herself and walked out of the room; she had decided, she was stepping off.

  Harriet, on the other hand, was holding her breath. She was peering through the crack in the lounge door at Flosse farm. In the lounge were her mother and Colin. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but the body language was unmistakable. Colin was down on one knee and offering a small gold ring to her mother. Just two days ago she’d asked her mother if Colin proposed would she marry him? Jill had given her an evasive answer and worried her; if she didn’t marry Colin she might become an old maid as she wasn’t getting any younger and as far as Harriet knew there were no other men in her life. Harriet watched and wondered what would happen. All of a sudden Jill flung herself at Colin and wrapped her arms around his neck. She quietly let out a breath and decided to wait at least another minute before she ‘accidentally’ walked in on them. After all, shouldn’t she be the first to know?

  Daniel looked in the mirror and ran his hand through his Mohican haircut. He sighed, Ambrose House was the last place on Earth that he wanted to go to, but to not go might arouse the suspicions of that minder chappie. He checked that his clothes were suitably casual and started to don a full length Macintosh. Parties he liked, this one he didn’t fancy; in fact he didn’t fancy it at all.

  Chapter 21

  Let's Celebrate

  Harriet scoffed another Guinea Fowl canapé while her mother wasn’t looking. She wasn’t really a vegetarian, but saying so made her special. A voice whispered in her ear, “I won’t let on, try the Pheasant Pie.”

  She turned to see a grinning Colin, she grinned back and headed for the pie.

  Jill proffered her left hand to Sarah, who dutifully studied the ring. “It’s beautiful, where did he get it?”

  “Family heirloom, sort of makes it feel more important.”

  Rupert took his turn at looking at the ring. He raised his bushy eyebrows, “It’s almost a perfect fit.”

  “About a quarter of a size too large, I’ll get it seen to when he’s not looking.”

  Rupert smiled, but not at her reply. He could see Sarah’s full length image in the convex mirror above the fireplace. When she’d first appeared wearing the dress, and with her hair down, she’d taken his breath away. Could this be the same woman who dressed in a boiler suit and boots? He brought his mind, reluctantly, back to the conversation. “Don’t suppose you’ve discussed a date?”

  Sarah felt like nudging him, but he was too far away. Jill flashed him a white-toothed smile, “Not yet, but we have discussed where. We’d like it here and we’d like you to do it”

  Rupert almost grew in stature, “It will be a pleasure. I take it Harriet will be a bridesmaid.”

  Jill laughed, “You just try and stop her!”

  Harry sipped the white wine and smacked his lips, he nudged Mark, “This is beautiful stuff.”

  Mark picked up a bottle, “Should be, it’s about fifty quid a bottle.”

  “What!”

  “We had some for the opening of that fancy greenhouse in Cornwall, slips down like nectar from heaven.”

  Harry glanced over at his daughter. She was smiling and laughing., flashing her engagement ring and wearing a dainty silver cross for all to see. Harry mentally frowned, he knew his daughter well a
nd she was acting. Least he felt she was acting, it was hard to tell. She definitely was happy, happier than he’d seen for years, but there was something he couldn’t put his finger on, something, somewhere, wrong. He tried to compose his thoughts; not wrong he thought, uneasy. Yes, that was it she was uneasy about something. He relaxed, who wouldn’t be uneasy hosting a party in a house that was not your home and which was obviously very well kitted out with no expense spared. He looked round for Buster, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Daniel eyed Buster’s oily knife, it was the last thing he’d wanted to see at the engagement party. Buster smiled showing his teeth and putting no warmth into it. “I said what’s your interest in poking about in the cupboards?”

  Daniel wondered about making a break for the door and edged slightly sideways to circumnavigate a coffee table. Buster stayed firmly in front of the closed door. Daniel had inspected the dining room and had been looking in the corner cupboard in the small back sitting room when Buster had cornered him. He hopped from foot to foot. He didn’t mind a pub brawl, but tackling someone with muscles, and a knife, like Buster, was beyond his aspirations. He held his hands up, “OK, I cough. I did it.”

  “Did what?”

  Daniel frowned, “Stole the cutlery.”

  “Cutlery?” Said Buster on a rising inflection.

  “Ten minutes ago, I slipped a knife and fork into me topcoat. I sort of collect them wherever I go and last time I only got a spoon.”

  Buster furrowed his brow, “You been here before?”

  Daniel became more nervous. “When you were out on some errand with the Merc, first day it snowed.”

  “What for?”

  “Private.”

  Buster took half a step forward, “What for?”

  Daniel crossed his arms and grinned like a Cheshire cat, “If you don’t know I’m not telling. If Jeremy wants you to know he’d tell you. You’re a hired hand not the top dog.”

  Buster licked his lips and lowered his voice, “Difficult,” he said menacingly, “playing a guitar with a finger missing.” He moved the knife less than a millimetre.

  Daniel got the message and smiled again, “You wouldn’t not here, not now, not with all those people outside.”

  Buster grinned, “But you ain’t going nowhere are you, not in this weather. Sleep well tonight will we? Or tomorrow? Or the next day?”

  Daniel considered his options. “He’s not Jeremy Lyons and she’s not Maria Scott-Packard. When I knew them they were John Mayne and Olga Harris. They were drug dealers and controlled most of the clubs in Berlin. I Used to play Berlin a lot in the early years. They disappeared when a couple of their runners turned canary. Then lo and behold fifteen years later I find them in this little hamlet.”

  Buster tried to get his brain in gear, Daniel was talking about them as if they were still alive. “Don’t give me that, you didn’t just stumble across them.”

  Daniel raised his hands, “Believe me I did. Record company is screaming for another album so I went to ground here, didn’t expect to stumble over Maria. She may have changed her nose, but she’s still got the green tattoo on her shoulder blade.”

  “She never went out, not here.”

  “I called to say hello, got bored with solitude.”

  “Pull the other one,” grunted Buster.

  Daniel raised his hands again, “OK, OK, I saw you drive them in and thought I recognised him, it’s that droopy eyelid of his. I called to see if I was right and if they had any stuff.”

  “Stuff?”

  “Coke.”

  “So what happened.” Said Buster.

  “Maria threw a fit and accused me of being an undercover cop, seems she didn’t recognise me.” He really sounded hurt that what he thought of as his famous face had passed her by.

  “And?” Encouraged Buster.

  “John, or Jeremy, or whatever his real name is, offered me a hundred grand to keep quiet.”

  Buster rolled his eyes, “Oh come on, he never offers anyone anything.”

  Daniel became agitated, “I’m telling the truth, I couldn’t believe my luck, £100,000 for doing nothing.” He scowled, “Should have left then and there, but I had a celebration drink and when I woke up in the morning the damn snow had really arrived and the taxi couldn’t get to me.” He shrugged, “Reckoned that they’d set you onto me, I’ve still got the money, you can have it back.”

  Buster could imagine the panic when Daniel had left the house and knew now what had made Jeremy and Maria so jittery. Buster considered his options. He closed up his flick knife. “Generous of you,” he said.

  Daniel frowned, “Pardon?”

  “Generous of you, to give £100,000 to the National Rehab Confederation; that is the charity you’re always banging on about isn’t it?”

  Daniel nodded, “I’m their patron.”

  “Well then,” said Buster, “It’ll be a good home for the £100,000 won’t it.”

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed, “Why?”

  Buster smirked, “’Cause it’ll make you look good and if you ever even whisper the names of John Mayne and Olga Harris to anyone we’ll make it known that you gave the charity £100,000 you’d got by extortion and blackmail; now wouldn’t that just be embarrassing?”

  Daniel didn’t move for a second or two and then said softly, “Oh very clever. I thought that he was too eager to give me the money, but it’s a lock-in. I don’t say about them and my charity gets the bonus, but then I can’t say at a later date because my name will be mud and my charity discredited.”

  Buster grinned, Daniel had got the point perfectly. Daniel crossed his arms, “Suppose I go to the police before I give the money?”

  “Suppose you learn to play the guitar with three fingers.”

  “You don’t frighten me.”

  “Perhaps not, but the long arm of John Mayne and Olga Harris ought to.”

  Daniel again got the point and the meaning of the veiled threat. He nodded, “OK, it’s a deal. Who cares about them anyway?”

  Buster moved to one side and Daniel made for the door, as he drew level Buster whispered, “Enjoy giving the money, but remember the terms and conditions.”

  Buster watched him saunter towards the lounge, put on a false smile and start talking to Simon. Buster smiled to himself, he’d solved the problem of Daniel, the missing money and eliminated Daniel from his list of murder suspects all in one go. Daniel obviously thought they were alive or the lock-in would not have worked. Buster headed for the hall and Daniel’s disgusting top-coat, he had some cutlery to retrieve.

  Sarah watched Rupert pop a small sausage roll into his mouth in one smooth action. She eyed the wine and went for the apple juice. Rupert sidled over to her, “Not drinking?”

  “And have you take advantage of me whilst I’m under the influence?”

  He immediately turned red and almost spluttered out the remains of the sausage roll. She realised that she might have made a foolish quip and gently laid a hand on his arm, “Joke. I know you never would, otherwise I wouldn’t jest about it.”

  He gazed at her for a full five seconds before half-smiling, “Oh, I see.”

  She gently squeezed his arm, “I wouldn’t be staying with you at all if I had one iota of doubt about your personal morality, OK?”

  He licked some crumbs off of his lips, “I must say you do look ravishing in that dress, where did you get it?”

  “Jill lent it to me and it’s as tight as hell, but thank you for the compliment.”

  She already knew he liked her in the dress as his eyes had almost popped out of his head when he had first seen her in it.. His eyes glanced back and forth across the room, “You’re turning every head in the room.”

  She knew that no such thing was true and that next to Petra’s looks and Jill’s natural poise she came in a poor third. She glanced at Julia, maybe even a poor fourth. She ran a finger down his clean shaven chin, “They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

  “Then I’m
a beholder,” he replied while his eyes furtively glanced over to Simon, who was staring at her over Daniel’s shoulder. She patted him on the shoulder and lowered her voice. “Just remember I’m wearing the dress for you. If you weren’t here I’d have come in my boiler suit.”

  He gave her a smile that was probably meant to charm the birds from the trees while only succeeding to make himself look like a village idiot. She took a sip of apple juice. She knew that she’d lit the blue touchpaper; she only hoped that the resulting explosion didn’t blow up in her face.

  Petra led Norman to the little back sitting room that she’d discovered and sat him down in one of the armchairs, she sat in the other. Her natural colour had returned and she was obviously feeling more of her usual self. She rested her plate of food on the coffee table and took a sip of wine. No more than two glasses she’d promised herself two glasses ago. Norman placed his apple-juice on a corner cupboard and surveyed his plate of food. “This is good stuff. Best buffet I’ve had in years.”

  She wondered why men cared so much about what they ate. “Your sister’s doing us proud.”

  She put her glass down, paused picked it up and tipped the rest of the glass into the base of a lone potted plant. Norman grinned, “That’s plastic.”

  Petra examined it. “Silk.” She raised her eyes to his and lowered her voice. “Sorry if I’ve got you into trouble with your family. That’s my problem I don’t really think ahead.” She wondered what exactly she was doing apologising, this was definitely not part of her normal repertoire.

  He considered eating a toasted finger of salmon pâté and decided to be polite and leave it for later. “It takes two to tango,” he murmured, “I wasn’t exactly complaining.”

  She reached over, took his precious salmon pâté and popped it in her mouth. She rolled it around inside her mouth and enjoyed the flavour. “Thing is,” she said after swallowing, “Let’s be honest about it, I’m bad news for you. I’ve never been faithful to one man, hate living in the country, don’t want to settle down and tend to be self-centred, least that’s what me friends tell me.”