“Bah! What a load of tosh. How dare a mere slip of girl like you tell me what to do in my own house.”
“Mr Morrison, I'm not telling you to do anything. There really is no need to be so aggressive.”
“Aggressive now is it?” Morrison's face was beginning to glow a rather alarming shade of red. “You people, you come over here, telling us what to do with our lives. Why don't you clear off back where you came from? Prosecute me? I'll tell you what I'll do, you come here again and I'll prosecute you – for trespassing! Now clear off and leave me alone.”
Morrison spun round and stamped off back through the garden towards his house. Still not really understanding how everything had gone so terribly wrong, Jenny stood there trying to calm herself down. She knew she shouldn't, but she felt terribly guilty, as if the altercation had all been her fault. All she had wanted to do was confirm where the injuries to the animal had taken place so that when it came to releasing it back into the wild, she would know where not to put it. But Morrison had never given her an opportunity to try to explain anything. He seemed prepared for a fight, almost deliberately engineering the conversation in order for him to vent his fury. It had made her feel quite unsettled and now, as she slowly began to retrace her steps, she wondered what she might do next. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her head over to her left. In the house next door to Mr Morrison's, leaning there in the conservatory door, arms folded, with an amused expression on her face, was Mrs Strickland. Jenny's mouth fell open. She had no idea that the teacher was Morrison's neighbour. Why hadn't she said anything? For a moment, Jenny wondered whether she should raise her hand in a greeting but then, almost as suddenly as she appeared, Mrs Strickland dipped back inside her home and slid the conservatory door shut with a reverberating bang.
Jenny winced. Was there really any need for people to be so rude? Shaking her head, she walked back along the rail track towards her waiting car.
If Jenny had had any way of knowing, she might have been quite alarmed to know that Mrs Strickland was already on the telephone to her very good friend and neighbour, Mr Morrison. Both of them laughed uproariously at Jenny's obvious discomfort.
On balance, it was probably a good thing that Jenny knew nothing about any of that at all.
Chapter Six
Leona and Tommy came running through the forecourt laughing at the top of their voices. Jenny, who was sweeping out the dog kennels looked up, and wiped her hand across her brow. It was warm and despite having only two dogs boarded at that moment, the amount of work was almost the same. She was hot.
“Hi Jen,” called Tommy as he bounced up to her, kneeling down at the first pen and prodding the dog's nose with his finger. “Can we take them for a walk?”
“Yes, we'll all go down to the beach with them. Leona, can you get their leads? They're in the usual place.”
Leona skipped off without a word.
“Had a good day at school, Tommy?”
“It was all right. Hey!” He looked up, suddenly much brighter, “Mrs Strickland was off today – and Mrs Strickland is never off.”
“Really?” Jenny put down the brush and cast her mind back to earlier in the day when she had seen the teacher's scowling face. It never crossed her mind to wonder why Mrs Strickland was not at school. Now she was intrigued. “What was the matter with her?”
“Someone said it was her leg…but someone else said she's been bitten, by her dog.”
“Bitten by her dog?”
“She was bitten,” confirmed Leona, returning with the leads. “Mum works as a receptionist at the doctor's. Mrs Strickland went in there this morning, her leg all dripping with blood.”
“Yeah, right!” snorted Tommy.
“No, it's true – ask my mum. She said the old bat was really pale and wobbly. Said she'd had her dog for nearly ten years and it had never done anything like that before. She's going to get rid of it.”
“Rid of it?” Jenny didn't like the sound of that. “What did she mean by that?”
“Dunno. That's what she said to Mum. She said she'd been in the garden, just before school, and the dog had just run straight out the house and bit her on the ankle. No warning, nothing.”
“Where's the dog now?”
Leona shrugged. “Who knows? Probably thrown into the bay with a stone round its neck.”
“Leona!”
“Well, it's probably what she'd do – the old bat.”
“You must stop calling her that. Mrs Strickland is a highly regarded member of our community.”
“Oh yeah…Jenny, she's evil.”
“You mustn't say things like that, Leona. Honestly.”
“It's true, Jen. She taught my mum, you know. All those years ago. Mum said she used to have nightmares and they were all caused by Mrs Strickland.”
“Well, some teachers are pretty scary, I'll give you that—”
“She's more than scary, Jen. Mum says she used to hold…oh, what was it…can't remember. A thing when people all get round a table and talk to the dead.”
“A séance?”
“That's it – a séance! She used to hold them at her house. Imagine that.”
“Well, yes…” Jenny was frowning, “But that doesn't mean she's evil. Lots of people do that sort of thing, Leona. There's nothing wicked about it.”
“Yeah, well Mum says it wasn't dead people she was talking to – it was demons.”
Jenny couldn't help but laugh. “Oh, Leona, you mustn't listen to all this nonsense. Mrs Strickland, talking to demons? That's just silly.”
“Well, Mum says that someone made a complaint, said they could hear weird noises and stuff and the police went round.”
“Really? When was all this?”
“Dunno. Twelve years ago? Before I was born, anyway.”
“What happened?”
Suddenly Tommy leapt up, shoulders hunched, arms spread out, and began to wail like a banshee, “She turned into a hideous vampire bat and flew away.” Then he ran around in a tight circle, flapping his arms madly.
Jenny and Leona laughed and the atmosphere lifted. Jenny washed her hands in the sink while the children got the dogs ready for their walk. She then wandered back into the old grooming parlour at the rear of the building to pick up her mobile phone, which she'd left there. She saw there was a message on the screen. 'Jenny, I need to speak to you. Mrs F.'
Flipping the 'phone shut Jenny wondered what Mrs Fielding wanted. It couldn't be anything serious or she would have 'phoned. Then Jenny had a sudden thought. She looked at her screen again and there it was 'Two missed calls'. Quickly she went through the call memory. She hated the way her 'phone did that, putting up the messages first. Then she chided herself for putting her mobile all the way back here. How many times had she done that, how many times had she told herself to just slip it into her pocket?
There they were, the two missed calls. Both from the same number. Both from Mrs Fielding. Feeling anxious, Jenny ran back to the children and told them they'd have to postpone the walk. “Something's come up and I have to go – it's an emergency.”
“Can we come?” asked Tommy, his eyes wide with expectation.
Jenny thought for a moment. It wouldn't do any harm, so she agreed and together, all three bundled themselves into the van and went round to Mrs Fielding's home.
It was Mr Fielding who opened the door when Jenny called. A large, broad shouldered man with jet black hair and big, bright eyes, he was normally cheerful and brimming full of jokes and loud guffaws. But not today. Today his face looked drawn and pained. The relief on his face when he saw the veterinary nurse was tangible. “Thank goodness you've come, Jenny. Poor Tilly's been frantic. Hello children. You go into the parlour for a moment while we go and talk to Mrs Fielding.”
Jenny smiled at the two children then followed Mr Fielding's lumbering frame down the hallway towards the garden. They went through the massive kitchen and out into the sunshine. The garden was like a football pitch it
was so big. A huge lawn stretched out before her and in the distance could be seen two or three outhouses and a large greenhouse. Everywhere there were raised beds and an abundance of shrubs and plants, most of which were bursting into bloom. There, sitting under a great oak tree, with something in her arms, was Mrs Tilly Fielding. When she saw Jenny, the look on her face was one of total relief.
“Jenny. Thank goodness. Where have you been?”
“I'm sorry, Mrs Fielding I was just―”
“Never mind all that,” cut in Mr Fielding, “show her what you've got, Tilly.”
Mrs Fielding pressed her lips together. “It's not very nice, Jen. I found it under the shed. If it hadn't been for the blood I would never have known it was there.”
Jenny frowned and looked down at Mrs Fielding's lap. Whatever it was she was holding, it was covered in a large, fluffy towel. Slowly and very carefully Mrs Fielding pulled back the material and revealed what was there.
For the first time in her life, Jenny felt she was going to faint.
The children were very upset that Jenny did not let them see what was inside the bundle. They moaned and groaned throughout the entire journey back to their respective houses. She dropped Tommy off first and he was not at all happy. When Jenny pulled up outside Leona's, the girl's mother was in the front garden, plastic gloves and pruning shears being put to good use. “Hello Jenny, how are you?”
Jenny and Leona scrambled out of the van and Leona ran up to her mum and gave her a big hug. “Mum, Jenny has got something in the back of her van, something from Mrs Fielding. She won't tell us what it is.”
Jenny caught the woman's questioning look. “It's really something quite awful, Mrs Lawrence. Something I'd rather Leona didn't see.”
“Well, that's perfectly understandable. Thank you. Leona, go on and in and wash your hands ready for tea.”
“Oh Mum!”
“Hurry up, I want to speak to Jenny.”
Leona, not looking very happy, nevertheless did as she was told and Mrs Lawrence put down her sheers and stepped over to the nurse.
“I'm in a bit of a rush,” said Jenny.
“It'll only be a minute. No doubt Leona's told you about Mrs Strickland? Her leg?”
“Yes. All the gruesome details.”
“She's killed her dog.”
Jenny reeled, feeling like she'd been punched. She gaped and for a long while couldn't find the words to express her incredulity. “But…but why on earth…”
Mrs Lawrence blew out a sigh, “I don't know. There must have been a reason for it to bite her like that. Maybe it was ill. Distemper or something. Who knows.”
“Yes, but…to kill it? How…?”
Mrs Lawrence shook her head, as if she too were battling with the awfulness of it all. “It was that horrible Morrison character. She called him, he came round and hit it over the head with a spade. Then they put it in a plastic bag and threw it into the tip.”
“Oh my God!”
“She seemed quite proud of it actually, what they'd done – together.”
“I can't believe it…”
“Well, it's true. She'll be off work for a couple of days. The weekend's coming up, so she may well be back at school on Monday. I'm seriously thinking of taking Leona out of that school. I should have done it ages ago, but with this…well, I just don't think it's healthy for children like Leona to be around such a woman.”
“Any children, for that matter.” Jenny had a thought. “Couldn't we get up some sort of petition, put pressure on the head or something to have her…removed?”
“What, old Richards? Richards loves her; to be honest he probably is in love with her. Rumours have been flying around for years and years. No, he won't do anything. He'll just smile a lot, as he always does, 'Yes, I understand that, but, well, you know how things are…' That's all he ever says. No, the only thing I can do is take her out. Come September I'll move her on, because I understand Strickland might be going up with her class, taking them into Year 5.”
“Oh. That could be difficult.”
“Yes. Leona's already had sleepless nights thinking about it, and that's not like her – she usually loves school.”
Jenny pursed her lips. “I'll have to investigate it all of this, ask her some questions.” Jenny smiled, “Well, thanks for the information. I won't mention where I got it from when I go and see her.”
“You be careful when you go round there, Jenny. She's a mean, cantankerous old bat. Trust me, I know.”
In the quiet of the surgery, Jenny very carefully laid the bundle down on the operating table and gently pulled back the folds of the towel to reveal what was inside.
It was another blond hedgehog.
This time nobody had stabbed it with a pitchfork or hit it with a spade, like that poor dog of Mrs Strickland. This time the poor thing had had half of its little face sliced off. How it had survived was a miracle. The whole of the left side of its face was almost completely gone, the tissue and bones openly exposed. It was a miracle that whatever, or whoever, had done this had missed the creature's eye. And it was through this eye that the hedgehog now looked up at Jenny in such a pathetically moving way that the veterinary nurse began to cry. Silently at first, with just a few tears rolling down her cheeks, but then loudly and uncontrollably, as if what had happened to the little animal had unlocked all of the pent up emotions that she had been battling to keep down inside her for the past few days.
As Jenny cried, the great gannet in the other room began to join in with the loudest, most raucous shrieks imaginable. So too the other hedgehog, which ran around in a tight circle in its pen, snuffling and squeaking. And outside, upon the kennel roof, settled a collection of birds, all shouting together, setting off such a chain of baying and barking and bleating from virtually every animal within the community that the local radio reported on it. People stopped what they were doing, cocked one ear towards the sky and gaped. Numerous calls of concern, even panic overloaded the emergency switchboard. Small children ran inside and grabbed at their mother's tresses. Workmen on building sites stood and felt something strange and disturbing creeping through them. People strolling along the beach saw how the seabirds gathered in great swirling flocks, making curious patterns as they flew across the sky.
And in her garden, her foot propped up on a stool and a tall gin and tonic in her hand, Mrs Strickland noted that the birds in one of her trees were not making any sound at all. They were just staring. Staring right at her. For his part, Mr Morrison noted that his own dog was becoming decidedly tetchy, showing its teeth every time he moved past. When he went into his garden and glanced around for his garden spade, a large, black rook had settled on the handle, watching him with something that looked like hate.
If only they knew, things were about to become very much more harrowing for them both.
Chapter Seven
Throughout the rest of the day and night, Jenny tended the little hedgehog, cleaning the wound and making sure it was as comfortable as possible. She even kept it with her later on as she sat down in front of the television. It lay next to her, the bandages around its face concealing the terrible extent of its wounds. Miraculously, the little creature seemed not to be in pain. Jenny had administered some medication, after speaking to Mr McGregor on the telephone. As usual his advice had proved invaluable and the hedgehog had, so far, responded well. “The next twenty-four hours will be crucial,” he had said. “Jenny, prepare yourself. The likelihood is that it won't survive.”
But it did survive.
With the clock declaring it was barely seven in the morning, Jenny sat up and winced, rubbing her neck, feeling dreadful. She's been sleeping awkwardly on the couch and now she was stiff and sore. The little hedgehog was sleeping still, the bandages clean, which was a good sign. Despite her discomfort, Jenny allowed herself a smile, then went over to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee.
The sound of the kettle boiling woke the little animal and its one exposed eye sprang
open. When it settled on Jenny, its whole body visibly relaxed and it snuggled down to sleep once more. Jenny, pouring her coffee, went into the holding area where the gannet and the other hedgehog were. The great bird was awake, pruning its wing as it seemed to do almost constantly. Opposite, the other blond hedgehog was eating noisily. The stink was still quite appalling, but Jenny was becoming more used to it now and it hardly bothered her at all as she tenderly reached inside the hedgehog's pen and stroked its back softly. Raising its chin, the little animal allowed her to tickle it there and its eyes misted over as if it were in ecstasy. Jenny couldn't help but laugh at that. When she glanced over to the gannet, the big bird was eying her with an almost questioning look. But Jenny slowly shook her head, “If you think I'm going to do the same for you, mister, you can forget it.”
A single caw came from its throat and the gannet turned its back on her, seeming for all the world as it had been hurt by Jenny's words.
Throughout the rest of the morning, Jenny spent her time clearing out the kennels and tidying up the shop. Few customers came in throughout the week, but Saturday was always the busiest day. Strangely, this particular day was unusually quiet and Jenny found she had more time to fill up the shelves and complete the various orders for replacement stock. At around eleven, she wandered over and checked her 'patients', all three of whom seemed to be responding very well. As she came back out and began to cross the forecourt, a small car rolled up and two men got out, both of them looking very serious.
“Are you the vet?” asked the older of the two, a surly looking fellow with a very serious face.
“No. I'm the veterinary nurse. Can I help you?”
“I'm Detective Sergeant Holding. I really wanted to speak to the vet. Where is he?”
“Well, he's not here, and won't be until Tuesday.”
“Tuesday? I can't wait that long!”
“Then you'll have to make do with me then, won't you?” Jenny stood there, hands on hips, glaring at the policeman, having taken an instant dislike to him. Probably a chauvinist, she thought to herself. Why assume the vet was a man?
The Tide of Terror Page 4