by Tom Sharpe
Ten minutes later Elsie had dressed and, having checked that there was no one in the corridor, was about to scurry off to her own room when she realised the bed was in a desperately crumpled state that would indicate all too obviously what had caused his heart failure. It looked exactly as though two people had been making the lethal love on it that Horace and Elsie had. So many people had seen them at lunch together that it seemed certain that she would be implicated.
Elsie relocked the door using a handkerchief and made the bed before turning back to Horace. If she could get him back onto the bed, preferably with his clothes on, the situation would be far safer for her. In fact, considering the enormously fatty lunch he’d had, his death might seem perfectly natural.
But Elsie’s attempt to get Horace back into his trousers and shirt failed hopelessly. He was far too heavy. Exhausted by her efforts, she sat down on a chair to get her breath back and only now started to feel the frightful effect of his sudden death.
She was distracted from her grief, however, when she spotted Horace’s briefcase which he’d bought in Barcelona under the clothes cupboard where he had evidently hidden it. Crossing the room she pulled it out and found that it was unlocked. Curiosity got the better of Elsie and she opened the briefcase and examined its contents.
In fact, the only item inside the case was a large brown envelope with a number of what felt like soft-backed notebooks in it. Elsie prised the staples off the end of the envelope and slid the contents out. As she had suspected from feeling the envelope they weren’t notebooks but passports, quite a number of them in fact, and a driver’s licence.
Elsie examined the driver’s licence and opened the passports one at a time, studying the names and the photographs. She recognised her dead lover on the licence immediately as Horace Wiley without the beard. The man with the beard was an Austrian called Hans Bosmann and the passport wouldn’t have been much use in six months’ time because it would be out of date.
But why would Horace have told her that his name was Bert and why did he have all these obviously false passports? Being a sensible woman Elsie refused to read any British newspapers printed in Spain, even The Times and the Telegraph, because she wasn’t the least bit interested in politics. She read only La Vanguardia and El Pais, which stuck for most of the time to what was going on in Spain and local affairs. All the same, the name Wiley seemed somehow familiar and now that she came to think of it she was sure that it had cropped up when she had heard English bathers mention something called the Wiley Mystery. Perhaps the licence she held had something to do with the mystery.
For a moment Elsie thought of leaving the licence with the body before deciding against it. After all, Bert – or Horace as she now knew – was the first man for a long time to have given her so much sexual satisfaction. As she unlocked the bedroom door and dashed up to her own room, she took the licence with her. The passports she left behind.
Horace Wiley had wanted to remain anonymous in life and being dead he would remain so.
Chapter 42
Old Samuel’s suggestion that Belinda try the parish in a village near Corebate for a priest who could and would conduct her marriage to Esmond had paid off. Of the Reverend Theodore Grope there was no trace and in fact rumour had it that he had shuffled off somewhere and that he was so ancient that somewhere might be off this mortal coil altogether. But fortunately there was a new incumbent in place and one who seemed to believe her when she told him that everything was in order for the forthcoming nuptials.
Nevertheless, Belinda had had to put up a considerable sum of money ostensibly for the restoration of the village church which was badly in need of repairs. In the end she had paid happily. In the absence of Theodore she had been worried about getting a parson to come to Grope Hall but the Rev. Horston who was obviously new to the district was happy to do so.
Belinda had also found a smart suit that fitted Esmond well enough. The suit had belonged to a young Grope who had been called up during the war. It was said that he went into the army quite willingly to escape from the boredom of life at the Hall, but it was also said that the poor man had been blown to bits at El Alamein which can’t have been quite the escape he was anticipating. Belinda had had to buy Esmond a new pair of shoes and a wedding ring but in the circumstances didn’t much begrudge the expense.
With these preparations in hand she set about training her fiancé on the ritual of the marriage. She was astonished how easy it was. Esmond no longer seemed in the least surprised at the prospect. On the contrary, he seemed to be truly delighted to be getting married to her.
‘Which only goes to show how young and attractive I must seem to him. And what a delightful boy he is,’ she thought to herself misguidedly. ‘He doesn’t even mind being called Mr Grope.’ She herself had started using a distant cousin’s maiden name but soon would be Mrs Grope and in control of the Hall and the estate.
Next morning, Esmond got up incredibly early and went to talk to Old Samuel whom by now he both liked and trusted. He found him sitting outside his cabin over the wall at the top of the hill where it was well out of sight of the Hall.
‘I’ve come to ask you a question,’ he said, and sat down on the grass nearby.
‘Go ahead. Ask away.’
‘Why do they call you Old? You’re not old.’
Samuel nodded and lit an ancient pipe.
‘You’re an observant young fellow, you are. There’s no doubt about that,’ he said with a grin, not liking to point out that Esmond had asked him this when they first met and actually almost every day since. In fact, he wondered if the young fellow had some kind of brain damage which would explain why he’d stuck around so long. On the other hand, he was starting to like and trust Esmond and so he explained as he had to Belinda that in fact his real name was Jeremy and that, yes, he was only in his mid-thirties.
‘You’re a good sort, young Joe,’ Old Samuel finished up with. ‘And blokes like you have been in short supply around here these past few years. Old Myrtle can die in peace now that she knows the estate is in Belinda’s hands. Now it’s Belinda’s turn to worry about the female line.’
‘Is that why I’m going to be married?’
‘I reckon so,’ said Old Samuel. ‘Mind you, your future wife is a good-looker which is more than can be said for most of the Grope women. All the same, I’d watch how you go. You never know what the Gropes are up to. She mightn’t have much use for you once you’ve done your duty, so to speak.’
Esmond smiled. ‘I think I’ll be all right. I’ve a few plans of my own, and if I succeed, so will you. You and me are a good team, Old Samuel. And I’d like to call you Young Jeremy from now on if it’s all the same to you.’
Samuel smiled back and reached out to shake Esmond’s hand.
‘Of course it is. Only not in the missus’ hearing maybe? You’re a good friend, Joe, and for my part I’m going to do my best to watch out for you,’ he said. ‘I won’t let you down if I can help it.’
Esmond climbed over the wall on the furthest side of the field from Samuel’s cabin and ran down to where he couldn’t be seen from the Hall to spend a little while thinking about this new friendship – perhaps his first ever true friendship even if he couldn’t call Young Jeremy by his proper name in public just yet. All that was going to change, though, once he took his rightful place as the owner and boss of the Grope estate.
Before long he heard Belinda calling for him in the distance so he ran back to the house and, avoiding the kitchen, climbed up the stone staircase to the bedroom where he pretended to be just getting dressed when Belinda came in.
‘How did you sleep?’ she asked.
‘Perfectly well. Actually, I had a very nice dream about you. It was about living with you after we’re married.’
Belinda was charmed. He really was a delightful youth.
‘Only two days to go now,’ she said and kissed him before going down to the kitchen to make his breakfast.
Behind her, Esmond
smiled to himself. Little did she guess. The two days couldn’t pass too quickly for him.
After he’d eaten he went out again and along the railway line until he was round a curve that was once more out of sight of the Hall. Then he sat down in the sun and went over yet again what he was going to say to Belinda once they were married. And how long he should wait before he carried out his threat. He decided he’d wait for a week to let Belinda assume she was still the boss of the estate and then he’d strike. He’d tell her that unless she gave him total control he would have her prosecuted for bigamy. And for kidnapping. And probably for poisoning him with alcohol too.
He was sure that she’d break. But what if she didn’t? She might turn nasty and dangerous. He had to take that possibility into account. Well, then he’d disappear and scare the wits out of her by leaving a note suggesting he was going to the police. Yes, that was the answer if she wasn’t intimidated by his threats. In any case, he couldn’t really believe she’d turn nasty. After all, she’d saved him from that swine Uncle Albert and from his own murderous father and domineering mother and he was certainly grateful for that.
He lay back in the sun and wondered what his parents were doing. Not that he much cared. He’d turned away from the past and was now concentrated on the future, his future as the first male Grope to be head of the family and in total control of the estate.
It was an extraordinary prospect and a challenging one. But the first thing was to go through with the wedding. Once he and Belinda were married he could force her to do exactly what he wanted.
After two hours Esmond climbed the side of the railway bank and up the hill beyond to the thick pine wood that straddled the top. He’d never been there and he wondered when the trees had been planted. He walked a bit further and suddenly came to a large clearing with a stone wall around it. To his astonishment it was a graveyard. He climbed over the wall and looked at the names on the gravestones. They were nearly all those of Grope women who had run the Hall for many hundreds of years. It occurred to Esmond that if he succeeded with his plan he’d be buried here too when he died. The thought did not depress him in the least. Rather it delighted him. The cemetery was filled with wild flowers and shrubs in bloom but there was no sign that anyone had visited it recently. He wondered why the person who had been buried in the long grave in the chapel had been buried there and not here with all the others. It was much nicer here with a view of all the surrounding countryside and no one much to disturb you.
Esmond looked at his watch and saw it was time for lunch. He climbed back over the wall and hurried back through the trees and twenty minutes later he was in the kitchen. To his amazement in the middle of the old deal table there was a splendid wedding cake. Belinda smiled at him.
‘I thought we’d do things properly,’ she said. ‘I ordered it yesterday and drove into Wexham today to collect it while you were out. After all, tomorrow is Friday.’
‘Good Lord, I must be getting absent-minded. I thought you said today was Wednesday. Anyway, that’s wonderful,’ said Esmond. ‘So tomorrow we’ll be Mr and Mrs Grope.’
‘Of course, darling,’ she said and kissed him more passionately than he’d ever been kissed before. ‘Now eat your lunch. We’re going to have a gorgeous honeymoon.’
‘Honeymoon? Where are we going?’
‘Nowhere, my love, we’ll have it here. Gropes have never gone away from the Hall when they got married. That’s the tradition and we must continue it.’
‘Oh definitely,’ said Esmond who had every intention of doing exactly the opposite. After lunch he went up to his room and wrote the note about going to the police if she turned really nasty about his becoming the head of the Hall. He put it in an envelope which he sealed with superglue and took out with him to look for Old Samuel. He also wanted to ask Young Jeremy to be his best man next day.
After searching high and low he finally found him in the chapel. To Esmond’s amazement Old Samuel appeared to be using a carjack under the end of the long brass gravestone set into the floor. He already had it raised eighteen inches and he was busy filling the gap beneath with stones from the disused railway.
‘Take a look at this,’ he said. ‘I’ve always known there was something very weird about this gravestone.’
Esmond peered down and saw the feet of a skeleton with the end of a spade beside them.
‘Weird is hardly the word,’ he muttered. ‘He isn’t even in a coffin. And why is he buried here and not up in the graveyard with all the other Gropes? Do you think he was someone special?’
‘Could have been, I suppose, though why they put this great slab of brass on top puzzles me.’
‘Possibly to stop him getting out,’ said Esmond.
‘Or he had it put there to stop the Grope women from getting at him,’ smirked Old Samuel.
Esmond wasn’t sure he understood the joke but went on. ‘Anyway, Young Jeremy, I came to ask if you’d be my best man tomorrow.’
‘Sure, though rather you than me. I wouldn’t marry a Grope no matter how attractive she was. And don’t forget to call me Old Samuel when the women are about else you’ll be for it.’
‘Don’t worry about me. Like I told you, I’ve got plans.’
‘Yes and this fellow probably had his plans as well,’ said Old Samuel with a grin, pointing down at the grave. He let the jack down and the brass plate fell back into place. ‘Well, I’d better make things spick-and-span in here if the wedding is tomorrow or it’ll be my grave I’m digging next.’
Chapter 43
The next morning, a messenger arrived before breakfast with a letter from the Rev. Horston to say that as he had six weddings to conduct that day he would conduct that of Mr Grope and Miss Parry at nine o’clock in the evening or possibly later. He apologised profusely for the delay this would undoubtedly cause them.
‘What a nuisance,’ said Esmond when he came down dressed in his suit and wearing his new shoes, but his aunt and fiancée did not agree.
‘After six weddings he’ll be exhausted and won’t remember ours at all clearly. That is bound to be an advantage to us.’
‘I can’t imagine why,’ said Esmond.
‘Because he’ll be in a hurry and won’t ask too many questions about our religious beliefs like whether we’re members of the Church of England or atheists. That sort of thing. I mean, do you know if you’ve ever been baptised?’
‘Good Lord no. I wouldn’t remember in any case. Can you recall what happened when you had only recently been born? If you can you must have a superb memory. Anyway, I’m going for a walk.’
‘You’re always going for walks,’ commented Belinda. ‘I can’t think why.’
‘Because I find the estate interesting. I’m a great lover of wildlife and the countryside. I used to go up to the woods on Croham Hurst with my father before he became an alcoholic and went mad and tried to stab me. There was a sort of very steep gravel path called Breakneck Hill that I liked to slide down. My father seemed to like me to slide down it too.’ Esmond paused, lost in the memory of a time that now seemed very far distant before adding, ‘In any case, I need to get some exercise. I’d die of boredom sitting around the house all day.’
‘Oh, go for your walk then. I can’t have you dying of boredom. In fact, I’d come with you but I have lots of things I must do in the house.’
Esmond went out, vastly relieved that Belinda wasn’t coming with him. He strode up the meadow towards the wall and the pine wood and once he was out of sight of the Hall hurried along to Jeremy’s cabin. His friend and accomplice (as he now thought of him) was sitting on the steps enjoying a cup of tea. He was unusually well dressed in a tweed suit.
‘I’m afraid the wedding isn’t until nine o’clock tonight,’ Esmond said. ‘That clergyman has six other weddings today. Sorry about that.’
‘Nothing to worry about. Anyway, I’ve finished cleaning the chapel and even polished that tombstone,’ he said. ‘It’s got the strangest inscription on it. You’ll neve
r guess what it says.’
‘The name of that skeleton bloke underneath?’
Jeremy shook his head. ‘Not on your life. No one’s name. Want to try again?’
Esmond shook his head. ‘No idea. What does it say?’
‘You really want to know?’
‘Of course. Don’t keep me in suspense.’
‘All right. It says, “Who takes me from my tomb will meet his doom. Who does not let me lie in peace will never die in peace. Hell awaits the stranger’s hand. Best be off my precious land.” Grisly threats, don’t you think?’
‘Certainly very weird. Why didn’t we see this yesterday when we used the jack to lift that slab?’ asked Esmond.
‘Because it hadn’t been cleaned for goodness only knows how many centuries. It was only when I used metal polish time after time that I spotted it.’
‘Very peculiar,’ said Esmond, dismissing it from his mind.
That evening Esmond was back in the Hall dressed in his suit and his brand-new shoes. To his surprise, Belinda introduced her bridesmaid, an ancient old woman who he could only suppose was some kind of Grope retainer or nanny. Myrtle had sent word from her room that she was much too poorly to attend and no one else from the family had been invited to join them.
They sat in the big drawing room and chatted while waiting for the Rev. Horston who arrived looking, as Belinda had predicted, tired but on time at nine o’clock. He was clearly relieved that there were no guests.
‘Ah well, we may as well proceed with the ceremony,’ he said as they rose and, led by the bridegroom, crossed the courtyard to the tiny chapel where Old Samuel had lit an inordinate number of candles. Outside the sun was setting but the chapel windows were so small and splendidly stained that even the weary parson was impressed. Esmond introduced Old Samuel as his best man and the Rev. Horston conducted the marriage remarkably quickly and without any awkward questions. Belinda had been right: he wanted to get back to his vicarage and go to bed as soon as he could. She gave him several hundred pounds more than he had expected and he drove off a well-contented man.