[Brenda & Effie 05] - Bride That Time Forgot

by Paul Magrs

  ‘ “Oh, please,” I urged. “Get on with it.”

  ‘Aunt Maud gazed at me levelly. Her black eyes seemed to contain all the dark places in the universe. As if she had looked into them all, prying after arcane secrets.

  ‘ “You must drink the blood of a human being who has no soul,” my auntie said. “A truly rare being. An almost impossible being. But a few such beings do exist. This soulless creature is your salvation, Effryggia. She is the source of the substance that will bring you back to humanity. You must find her and drink her life blood and it will become yours. It will neutralise the filth that the vampire’s bite put into your veins. It will quell that endless thirst . . .”

  ‘ “A soulless person . . .” I gasped. I knew at once who and what my Aunt Maud meant.’

  Queen Effie looked at me then. Her who must be worshipped was staring straight at me. Rather forlornly.

  I burst out: ‘Me! It’s me! That’s why I’m here! That’s why you made Professor Quandary send Mr Rupert to fetch Mrs Mapp and me and bring us here! It was all for me! You know . . . somehow you know . . . that I have no soul. I am a hollow woman with nothing inside me. Just organs and blood. Precious blood.’

  ‘It was the only way, Brenda. I’m sorry . . .’

  She was looking at me with infinite regret. But . . . if it was true . . . if her awful condition could be cured for ever, as her aunt said, by just a pint or two . . .

  ‘How much?’ I asked her. ‘How much of my blood will you need to take? In order to save yourself?’

  Now Effie looked stricken. ‘I . . . I’m afraid . . .’

  ‘Tell me!’ I cried. But by then I feared I already knew the answer.

  ‘All of it,’ she said. ‘Every single last drop. In order to save myself, Brenda, I have to drain you completely dry.’

  Two Brides

  Robert disliked the early, dreary days of January anyway, so it was no bother for him to put his head down and lose himself in work for a while. New Year came and went without much fuss, and business became a bit slacker at the Hotel Miramar. He focused his energies on cleaning and restocking and preparing for the year ahead, and making a number of adjustments necessary to accommodate Gila more fully into his life. Gila had moved into his tiny flat at the top of the Miramar.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he had to keep telling the young lizard man. ‘You’re welcome here. Course you are. She can’t get at you here. That Marjorie Staynes. She doesn’t own you really, you know.’

  But Gila’s eyes looked haunted and doubtful.

  Marjorie Staynes had been quiet ever since their tumultuous night at The Spooky Finger, when Effie had vanished into that vortex in the ladies’ room.

  She hadn’t pressed charges. She hadn’t even sent a nasty note or come round in person to cause a fuss. Penny said there had been a round robin sent by email, telling the members of the book group and the rather more select Qab cult that all meetings for the next month or so were being postponed. Marjorie was pleading nervous exhaustion. The way the story got bruited about, her bookshop had been attacked that night by a brutal gang. The Willing Spirit never reported as much, but everyone in Whitby knew that it had been a mob of vampire lads that had descended upon The Spooky Finger that night. People spoke in whispers and in tones of escalating fear about the gangs of undead scallies roaming town in the night and filling the dowdy pubs by the harbour in the daytime. Something would have to be done about them.

  Another reason for Robert to lie low. He didn’t want to be facing off against vamps again any time soon. He’d had his fill. Gila felt much the same. The night of Effie’s disappearance had shocked him so much that he could hardly talk about it. He had fought that night and that was something that had never come naturally to him, even back in the savage land of Qab.

  ‘Is he all right?’ Penny asked Robert, more than once. She was concerned that Gila didn’t really seem to leave Robert’s quarters.

  ‘I’m worried he might be having a breakdown,’ Robert told her. ‘He’s severed ties with Marjorie Staynes and with everything he’s ever known. He’s just got me now. That’s got to be hard. He doesn’t even belong here, does he?’

  Gila had chosen just that moment to turn the corner and appear behind them. He overheard this last utterance of Robert’s, and Penny saw his face fall dramatically.

  ‘Gila! He didn’t mean that!’

  But Gila hurried off, and out of main reception, into the street. He pulled up his hoodie against the freezing wind, covering his strangely scaled head so that no one out there would take notice.

  ‘Poor lad,’ Penny sighed. ‘I like him. You should try harder with him, Robert. Make a go of it, you know?’

  Robert pulled a face at her. ‘Oh Penny . . . it’s not . . . it wasn’t meant to be that serious. At least, it wasn’t going to be. But now it’s like I’ve got no choice.’

  He decided that Brenda was the person he wanted to talk to about it. Or maybe she could distract him by talking about something completely different.

  When he rang her, she suggested that she come up to the Miramar.

  She told him, ‘I’m going stir crazy in this place of mine. Henry’s out somewhere, up to goodness knows what. I’m just dusting for the sake of it. Why don’t I fling on my hat and coat and you can treat me to lunch in that fancy restaurant of yours?’

  The restaurant at the Miramar had been really fancy in the heyday of Sheila Manchu, but now it was looking slightly dowdy. Robert was fond of the old look, and hadn’t done anything about tarting it up or changing it as yet. He had a particular favourite table in an alcove, from which he could see the whole room and the staff busying about, and also the ex-beer garden through the tall windows. As he sat there waiting for Brenda, nursing a G&T, he was wondering whether he ought to get that garden sorted out this spring. Reopen it as a beer garden again, and maybe even rename it in tribute to Sheila? Or to Effie – a much more recent loss.

  Had she really gone for ever? Robert couldn’t . . . he wouldn’t believe it. Effie was a fixture here. Brenda and Effie. They were inseparable in his head. The mardy old cow couldn’t just have tootled off into the ether like that, never to return. It just wasn’t feasible.

  Then Brenda roused him from his reverie, standing beside their table and letting the waiter take her good woollen coat and her shapeless hat.

  Green Thai curry with chips. Proper comfort food, as Brenda said.

  ‘That chill has gone right through me,’ she told him. ‘I hate this time of year. My boiler’s on the blink, I think. Probably need a new one.’

  They filled up a half-hour with chit-chat like this.

  Then Brenda said, ‘Henry’s on a mission. He’s going to destroy each and every one of the vampires Effie and Alucard created.’

  He doesn’t stand a chance. They’re just toying with him. Keeping him chasing after them. They like a good fight. And meanwhile, they’ll just proliferate. Maybe if he left them in peace they’d settle down. Can’t he see that?’

  Brenda frowned. ‘But he can’t just let them run amok, Robert. That’d be no good, would it?’

  Robert shrugged. ‘I’ve lived here longer than you, Brenda. And my Aunt Jessie lived here years before that, remember. She would talk about some of the vamp infestations they’ve had here over past years. If you let them go in peace, there’s less fuss all round. We’ve just got used to them being more thin on the ground in recent years. And besides, they can be useful.’

  She looked sceptical. ‘That rabble? How?’

  ‘By helping with some of the minor-league monsters. Some of the demons and such that come out of the gateway. The vamps keep some of those creatures at bay. They could make your job as guardian a bit easier, you know. It’s a bit like keeping a cat to control the rat population, or spiders to gobble up flies. We’ve not heard a squeak out of the Limbosine or Hans Macabre or any number of other minor menaces lately, have we?’

  ‘Henry doesn’t see it like that,’ she said, and called to the waiter f
or extra green Thai sauce, which came in a dainty milk jug. She emptied it and absent-mindedly popped the jug into her handbag. She’s losing her marbles, Robert thought.

  ‘Henry wouldn’t see it like that,’ he said. ‘Henry just wants to destroy all monsters, doesn’t he?’

  Brenda was biting her lip. She lowered her eyes to her dinner plate, which was now swimming in a surfeit of gloopy curry sauce.

  Robert knew at once that something was wrong. ‘Tell me,’ he prompted.

  ‘It’s about Henry.’

  ‘What’s he done now?’ Robert was instantly on the alert.

  ‘It’s not so much what he’s done. . . well, yes, it is, actually. He’s hypnotised me again. Several times. For several hours at a time. Most notably over New Year’s Eve.’

  ‘So that’s why you were so quiet! You weren’t answering your phone or anything. You went out of circulation. I thought you were doing what I was doing, licking your wounds and—’

  ‘Not quite,’ Brenda said. She glanced side to side to make sure no one in the half-empty restaurant was earwigging. ‘He put me under. It was like an orgy of mesmerism round mine over New Year’s. I’ve been in one of Henry’s deepest and most powerful trances. Oh, I hate it, Robert. I don’t know why I let him. But he kept on and on at me. Badgering me and battering at my defences. Until at last I gave in. And . . .’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I went very deep. It worked. I went back into the past. I . . . recovered a whole heap of lost and forgotten memories.’

  ‘What for? Why? Why did he want you to do that?’

  ‘Because they’re pertinent to what’s happening now. Really, really pertinent. More than even Henry had bargained for . . .’

  Brenda wasn’t going to go into it over lunch. Robert felt a bit left out. ‘You’ve got to tell me! What have you found out?’

  But his friend was resolute, finishing the last of her chips and dabbing her lips with her napkin. ‘No. There’s no time. I’ve a heap of work to do at home. The last of my guests are leaving and I want to make my place shipshape. And you’ve got a job to do this afternoon, Robert.’

  ‘Have I?’

  ‘Your young friend Gila. We need his help. He’s completely invaluable for what I’m planning. Where is he?’

  ‘Erm, he went out earlier.’

  ‘You two haven’t fallen out? He hasn’t run off?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. But it’s hard . . . hard for him to adjust to another world.’

  She nodded. ‘Of course it is. Poor lad. Well, you just find him this afternoon and tell him that he’s got a very particular job to do for us in the next little while. You’re coming out tonight, aren’t you?’

  ‘Where?’ said Robert blankly. Suddenly Brenda was full of gumption and he felt like he was struggling in her wake.

  ‘We’ve unfinished business at the Christmas Hotel, I think. What with Mrs Claus’s bizarre revelations and claims . . . and besides, she rang me this morning. Says she is in possession of something she thinks I might need.’

  Robert’s heart sank. He hated going to the Christmas Hotel. But he knew he had to be brave. ‘And you want me to bring Gila too?’

  ‘Spot of dinner. Bit of a chat with the evil old ratbag. Maybe even a twirl around the dance floor. Come on, Robert, don’t let me down!’

  He studied her expression. ‘At least give me a clue about what you remembered in your hypnotised state.’

  She was getting up to go, shouldering her heavy bag. ‘Like I say, it was very pertinent. To do with . . . Qab and Beatrice Mapp.’

  ‘Really?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I knew her, Robert. I had my suspicions, I’ve had them for a while . . . and I was right. I knew Beatrice Mapp a long time ago, in another life . . .’ She checked her watch. ‘Look, I’ll see you and Gila later. The table’s booked for eight p.m.’

  He wished he hadn’t had such a big lunch now. His green Thai curry lay a little heavy on him for the rest of the afternoon.

  He found Gila on the other side of town, high on the stormy headland as the day faded. His hood was still up and he was shivering on a bench in the graveyard at the clifftop.

  He didn’t even have to look to see that it was Robert who had joined him. By now Robert was used to those weird heightened senses of his.

  ‘We don’t have the sea, like this, at home,’ Gila said. ‘When I arrived here, it was the first time I’d seen anything like it.’

  Robert stared at the greyish-brown bands of the endless North Sea. It all seemed very commonplace to him.

  ‘I think this must be my favourite place in all of Whitby, even despite the cold.’

  ‘This is your favourite place?’

  Gila shot him a look. ‘What did you think I’d say, Robert? That my favourite place was with you? In your room? Right beside you?’ He laughed. ‘Believe it or not, I really do have a life and ideas outside of you. I’m not that needy. I’m not utterly slavish in my devotions.’

  Robert sat down heavily and blushed. ‘I’m sorry. I think I’ve been carrying on awful. Treating you like you’re daft—’

  ‘Look,’ Gila interrupted. ‘You don’t have to look after me. Really. Just because I’m new to this world. I know that you’re not . . . serious about me. I get that. I certainly don’t want you to feel like you’re lumbered with me . . . now that I’m stuck here, and seemingly cut off from Qab for ever . . .’

  There was a new seriousness to him. A sheen in his eyes that wasn’t just the reflection of the silvered sea. He knew he had burnt his boats with Marjorie Staynes by going off with Robert. He was being pragmatic about his chances of ever returning home. Suddenly Robert believed him. Believed that Gila was quite capable of surviving and making a life for himself here. He didn’t intend to rely upon Robert for anything. All of a sudden that was clear and Robert was ashamed for assuming otherwise. He really had imagined that he’d be lumbered with Gila.

  ‘I am into you,’ he protested. ‘You know I am.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Gila. ‘And maybe it’s enough. We’ll just have to see how it goes, won’t we?’

  Robert nodded ruefully and looked away, hoping that was the end of their talk. What’s wrong with me? he wondered fiercely. What would be so bad about someone relying on me? How come I don’t want to be needed?

  He looked sideways at the pale, coarsened skin of the lizard boy’s face. It was tilted upwards, taking in the stars as they came out.

  Robert changed the subject decisively. ‘My Auntie Jessie once lived in a cave at the bottom of these cliffs,’ he said. ‘Don’t look at me like I’m making it up! It’s true! When she was transformed, that time, into a primitive being from the dawn of time. I won’t go into the whole sorry tale now. But she went berserk for a while, poor Aunt Jessie. She was completely out of control. So I ended up helping her hide away down there, deep inside a cave. I’d bring her food stolen from the kitchens at the Christmas Hotel, twice a day . . . kippers and sausage links . . .’

  ‘I’m sure you did your best for her,’ Gila said. Robert didn’t know how to read his expression.

  ‘Only Brenda and Effie knew that she was hiding away down there. They came out to see her. They were really concerned for her.’

  ‘They’re good friends to have,’ said Gila. ‘Well, Brenda is. I haven’t managed to see much of Effie’s good side, have I? And now it looks like I’ve missed my chance.’

  ‘She’ll be back,’ said Robert. ‘She has to come back. She just has to. She can’t stay in some other world. Some strange other place where none of us have ever been.’

  ‘I have,’ Gila reminded him. ‘That strange other place is the most familiar place in the world to me.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I must admit, though, I’m not sure how Effie will be fitting in there. To me she seemed just like any other nondescript old lady from Earth.’

  ‘Oh, she’s much more than that,’ said Robert. He stood and zipped his jacket up. ‘Come on. If I’m
frozen solid, you must be twice as cold. We’ve got just enough time to go home and get warmed through and then we need to get ready. We have to go out again tonight.’

  ‘Do we?’ Gila looked disappointed. He had wanted to stay indoors tonight, basking in the warmth of the Miramar.

  ‘We’ve got a night out planned by Brenda. We’re going to dinner at the Christmas Hotel. Mrs Claus has something special in store. Something she wants to give us . . .’

  Brenda tapped lightly on Henry’s door.

  There was the sound of his gentle snoring emanating from the scarlet bedroom. He had been up all night, out in the town, and now he was catching up, poor love.

  She inched round the doorway and surveyed the rumpled chaos of his room. Clothes and papers, maps and various weapons were strewn all over the place. Henry lay in the middle of it all, arms flung out in abandon.

  Oh Henry, she thought. If only he wasn’t so bloodthirsty. In many ways they were so right for each other. He made her laugh. He made her feel like he was looking out for her, in a way that didn’t feel patronising to her. He respected the fact that she had ambled along in her own way, looking after herself, for a very long time indeed. But if only he didn’t feel the need to be so gung-ho about his monster-slaying.

  Perhaps if she could persuade him to lighten his workload a little. She could gently suggest he get back to his research and his academic work. She could pack him off to the fjords of Norway for a while, perhaps. Though even there, instead of tinkering with translations and legends, he would probably end up finding frost monsters or abominable gentlemen to do battle with.

  Certain things he had let slip in recent days led Brenda to believe that his old colleagues in the Smudgelings had distanced themselves from his activities. The successors of his old colleagues in that secret Satanist-routing outfit had become rather alarmed by Henry’s dedication of late. He was seeing monsters everywhere. He had been over-conscientious in recent years.