by Sadie Swift
My internal alarm sounded. Something was wrong.
“Dewi? Are you alright, lad?”
Concerned chairs scraped across the plain wooden plank floor. But Dewi didn’t hear them as, like a felled tree-trunk, he slowly toppled face down to the floor with a thud!
Glenys’ scream cut through the sudden shouts of surprise. The back of Dewi’s dark coat shone like it was covered with a black liquid. His friends reached him and started to pull him up off the floor, but stopped when they realised their hands were covered with bright red blood.
“Dead!” one of the men cried, and Glenys let out another scream and thudded to the floor behind the bar as she fainted.
My eyes met those of Sir Percival. What horror did we now find ourselves in?
I took a further sip of my wine, not wanting to waste it now I’d managed to get to the pub, and decided that as I was the only other female present I’d better make sure Glenys was alright.
“Miss Lo… Lemon?” Sir Percival asked worriedly.
“I’ll be with her in a jiffy,” I replied, taking a longer sip. “Need to fortify myself first.”
“It’s not that, Miss Lemon.”
“Oh?”
I glanced towards him, and saw he wasn’t looking at me but past me. Puzzled I turned to look myself and met the accusing glares of the pub’s patrons.
Something was most definitely wrong.
Two
Looking into the stern faces of the other pub’s patrons I said, “I’ll just make sure Glenys is alright. Then we’ll leave to give you space so you can sort Dewi’s unfortunate accident out.”
The glares intensified. Unfortunately it just made them look constipated. I retrieved my deerstalker and coat and slid out from the booth, hopeful that they wouldn’t attack a lady.
A dull thrum of ‘danger! danger!’ began in my head. The way the crowd looked at Sir Percival didn’t make me want to leave him on his own.
“Mr Peach has medical training. Glenys may have need of it.” I felt it best not to mention that it usually consisted of making sure that all the parts of his previous assistants were collected from the laboratory after an aetheric experiment didn’t perform quite as hoped.
I indicated with my hand that he should accompany me. I knew he had no wish to be anywhere near Glenys but his sense of self-preservation made him retrieve his hat and coat and move to follow my lead.
Silently, way was made for us to leave the booth and head to the hatch in the bar so we could tend to Glenys. Or rather, I could tend to Glenys and Sir Percival use me as a shield from her attentions.
Quiet murmurs began behind us and my innate sense of danger calmed down as the crowd’s attention turned back to the unfortunate Dewi.
Behind the bar the large figure of Glenys was lying face down. I quickly readjusted her skirt so as not to reveal too much female to the sight of Sir Percival. Her limbs didn’t appear to be broken and I couldn’t see any blood on her blouse or dark skirt. Her body rhythmically moved up and down indicating that she’d not joined Dewi in whatever the locals believed to be the afterlife.
I crouched down behind the bar and indicated Sir Percival should join me. I advised in a loud voice, “Looks like she’s alright. Wouldn’t you say?” Then in a far quieter voice I asked, “What do you think’s going on?”
Taking the hint Sir Percival replied loudly, “Yes, looks fine to me. Um, healthy girl. Good strong, er… bones.” And then “I have no idea Miss, er… Lemon. Did they think we’d actually killed him?”
“Best make sure she gets some rest. Don’t you think?” And then, whispering, “Did you get a look at the wound? Was it caused by an animal of some sort?”
“Rest would be just the ticket for, um… her.” And then, “I don’t know. The wound looked recent. But I don’t recall hearing anything when we came in here.”
A chill came over me. Had we unknowingly walked past whoever, or whatever, had killed Dewi?
I realised the pub was silent. Carefully I peered over the top of the bar. It was empty. And Dewi’s body was nowhere to be seen.
Three
After informing Sir Percival that he should lock and bolt the doors I managed to move Glenys so she was sitting up with her back to a beer barrel. Her face had taken a blow when she’d fainted and would be puffy and bruised in the morning but, apart from that, she seemed unharmed by the incident. Slowly she came to. In order to help her recovery along I accompanied her with a medicinal nip of brandy, welcoming its burning journey down my throat and the fire it created in my stomach.
“Ooh, what will you think of me? Fainting an’ such?” She directed towards Sir Percival, in the hope he’d feel manfully protective towards her.
I thought I’d better take the lead and see if I could gain some information as to what was going on in the village.
“Dreadful accident, wasn’t it. Poor Dewi. Was he out chopping wood or something?” Although how he’d manage to stab himself in the back with an axe was beyond me.
Silently she took another sip of her brandy as her eyes flicked between Sir Percival and myself. I could tell she knew something and was internally debating whether she could tell us.
“Are we alone?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“The doors locked?”
I nodded.
She let out a relieved breath and held out her empty glass for more brandy.
“Do you feel fine enough to stand?” I asked.
“I can try. If…?” she directed a longing look towards Sir Percival.
“Would you feel safer in your room here?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And we can bring the bottle with us.”
She gave an enthusiastic nod.
“A little help?” I suggested towards Sir Percival, and watched as his face rapidly changed into a frown.
Visibly he girded his loins and sighed deeply and went to stand on Glenys’ other side. With much grunting we managed to lift her to her feet. She did rather seem to lean more heavily on Sir Percival’s side than mine.
When she was steady on her feet I took hold of the brandy bottle and two glasses – I didn’t think Sir Percival would feel comfortable drinking in the presence of two females. We left our hats and coats on top of the bar for later retrieval.
Behind the bar was a small staff area and wooden stairs leading to the upper floor. Outside the pub the wind picked up driving snow against the windows, rattling the glass. I was very glad to be inside in the warm. Perhaps we could stay here overnight and not have to venture out into the cold storm to return to the large house the Department owned?
Thankfully Glenys had recovered enough to get up the stairs with little help from either of us. Her room was at the end of a wood-panelled corridor, with the landlord’s and other rooms the pub occasionally let out on either side. With it being winter they were thankfully empty. The landlord wasn’t due back for a few days yet, although I didn’t know if he could make it back if the snow kept up like it already was.
Glenys’ room was an explosion of pink frills and lace. So overwhelmingly feminine that Sir Percival had to grit his teeth and studiously examine the grain in the wooden floorboards in order that he could enter.
The wind had grown even stronger and howled outside the window that had pink frilly curtains held back by sashes at either side. Through it I could barely make out the other side of the small main street. I really didn’t want to have to go back outside and walk through the snow-storm to our accommodation.
Heat was provided by a black metal stove with a pipe leading up and out through the sloping ceiling. Embers glowed inside and there was a pile of small logs to one side ready to be used. Sir Percival headed toward it like a thirsty man in a desert seeing an oasis.
I left him to his caveman-like fire-making urges and put the brandy and glasses onto the small side table, then sat with Glenys on the soft bed. It sank alarmingly beneath her and I had to shuffle sideways or I’d land on top of her. Not som
ething I was particularly adverse to but I felt it would be inappropriate in the circumstances, and I knew she didn’t have the same feelings towards other females as I did.
“How do you feel?”
“Still a bit shaken, Miss er… Lemon.”
“Alice.” I smiled encouragingly at her.
“Alice.”
She quieted and watched as Sir Percival crouched down and began forcing small logs into the stove. Then turned to me and whispered, “Is ‘e always so intent on stuffing logs into things?”
I heard the hopefulness in her voice and felt it best to get the conversation back on track.
“That should suffice, Mr Peach.”
“Oh, um, right.” He closed the stove door and got back to his feet, then looked at me and said, “Er?”
Even though his eyebrows were no longer hairily expressive I still could tell he desperately wanted to be out of the room.
“Best have a look around and make sure the place is secure,” I suggested. Then turned to Glenys, “Oh, would it be alright if we stayed overnight. To keep an eye on you?”
She brightened considerably at the idea.
“Find a couple of rooms we could use?” I advised Sir Percival. The words had hardly left my mouth before he was out of the door. No doubt looking for one with the strongest lock for himself.
I reached for the brandy and glasses.
“I think you’ll have a bruise tomorrow. Do you have any cream for it?”
“Yes,” she indicated the lace doily-covered dressing table.
I waited before she took a sip of the brandy before asking, “What is going on here?”
Her eyes took on a faraway look. “’E’s not the first.”
“The first to die?”
“No,” she whispered.
“How many?”
“Seven.”
“Seven? Surely not?” I whispered, horrified.
She nodded.
Perhaps Sir Percival and I weren’t in the safest place in Britain?
A question nagged at me. “Why did they look at us like that?”
“Like what?”
Then I remembered that she’d been face-down on the floor behind the bar, so wouldn’t have seen the looks the others had given Sir Percival and I.
“The others in the pub? They looked at us like we had something to do with it?”
“You’re in the old Baron’s place.”
Well, yes, but that didn’t answer my question. I queried her with a look.
“They must believe you woke the monster.”
Four
I took a gulp of my brandy and nearly choked as it burned down my throat. There was a monster? Living at the Baron’s house? And Sir Percival and I had possibly woken it? Did the Department know about this? Did Mr Twocock, the Department’s receptionist, deliberately send us there? To our possible deaths? Was it an underhand way to be rid of us and our annoying habit of destroying things? (Or at least be in the general vicinity when things went permanently pear-shaped?)
But thinking back to our covert night-time arrival at the Department I hadn’t detected any underhandedness from Mr Twocock. He did though look rather startled at the sight of Sir Percival’s un-hirsuteness. Which was perfectly understandable, as even I was still coming to terms with it.
But if the Department wanted to be rid of us they had the perfect opportunity when we were within the Department’s own building. Why take the trouble to send us to hide all the way out to North Wales and encourage Sir Percival to replicate the cold aether apparatus from Venice? No. It didn’t add up. Until I had more information to prove otherwise then I would just call this horrible bad luck.
Assuming we lived through it, of course.
But what about old Mr and Mrs Lloyd? The elderly couple that lived in and looked after the place?
Did they know anything about it?
Were they at risk as well?
“’ere you all right, luv?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes.” Thinking quickly I added, “Just thinking about poor Dewi.”
“Yeah.” She looked down at the floor, then a thought occurred to her, “One less man for us girls to fight over.”
Her elbow found my side and I almost dropped my glass in surprise.
“Er, yes. Anyway, long day and all that. Best be to bed.”
“Ok. D’you think ‘e’ll tuck me up all snug an’ like?”
For an instant I wondered who she meant, but then a sudden mournful noise sounded from the corridor. Quickly realising what caused it I said, “Just listen to that wind! Good night, Glenys. Must be off to bed. Sweet dreams.”
She smiled. “Peachy ones, I hope.”
The strange wind blew again.
Five
The morning found me still alive and well. A distinct lack of cries for help and screams in the night-time indicated that Sir Percival’s defences hadn’t been breached. Moreover, from the absence of noise from outside it appeared that last night’s storm had passed. The plain grey curtains glowed from the brightness trying to find a way through them into the room.
Getting up from the warm bed I dragged a blanket around myself and tip-toed across the cold floor to stuff more small logs into the room’s stove’s glowing embers. I resolved to head back to bed until the room warmed up sufficiently.
A slight knock sounded from my door. I sighed, knowing precisely who it was.
Unfortunately the floor didn’t get any warmer while I went to unlock it.
Sir Percival’s pillow-mangled face looked at me. I noted that he was fully dressed.
“Ah, good. You’re still alive.”
“Indeed, Mr Peach. As are you.”
He glanced back in the direction of Glenys’ room, then quickly pushed his way inside.
“Is your room not to your liking, Mr Peach?” I archly asked.
“Hmm? I think she’s still asleep. Did you take the brandy bottle with you last night?”
“No.”
“She may stay asleep for a while then.”
“You believe she drank it all?”
In reply he held the door open and said, “Listen.”
I stuck my head out of the doorway and listened. A deep rhythmic rumble emanated from Glenys’ room. “She too, is still alive.”
“What she said last night concerned me.”
“About the monster?”
“Yes, and that it is somehow connected with the Baron’s house.”
“Indeed, I hope that Mr and Mrs Lloyd, will be sa–”
“I hope my apparatus will be safe,” he interrupted.
“They are an elderly cou–”
“I’ve put an awful lot of work into building it.”
It appeared that his insensitivity wasn’t linked a la Samson of the Old Testament with his previous hairiness.
“I feel is of the utmost importance that we head back to the house and make sure it is safe.”
Over the time I’d been his assistant I’d learnt that the best way of dealing with him was to count to ten. Sometimes multiples thereof. In this case I turned away and opened the grey curtains one-handed. Blinding whiteness met my eyes. I was familiar with snow, albeit the grey slushy version found in London. But this? This was beyond my experience. A smooth white blanket extended out as far as I could see underneath a crystal-clear blue sky. It was unutterably beautiful.
Sir Percival’s presence intruded on my left side. “Oh, dear.”
“It appears we may have to stay here, Mr Peach.”
He shuddered at the idea. “No. I won’t countenance such an idea. We must be away to the house as soon as possible!”
I waved a hand towards the sight out of the window. “That may be more easily said than done.”
“The apparatus must be kept safe!”
Unfortunately it appeared that his mind was made up.
“I shall await you downstairs in ten minutes time,” he announced with finality.
“Will you now?”
But my sarcas
m was lost on him as he quickly left my room and I heard his footsteps fade away along the corridor to the stairs.
Reluctantly I got dressed while looking at the wondrous image through the window. I deliberately put Sir Percival’s ten minute time span out of my mind. If he wanted to leave for the house by himself then he was certainly welcome to do so. But I knew that he wouldn’t leave without me.
I arrived downstairs (after making sure Glenys was alright, and covering up the large amount of her body that was getting chilled) to a sniff of disdain from Sir Percival. Naturally I ignored him, and wrote a note for Glenys so she wouldn’t worry that we’d been abducted during the night, and included an apology that we had to leave so suddenly.
Sir Percival gave another sniff at the sight of me leaving the note in a prominent position on the bar top. With a silent raised eyebrow I warned him that if he continued such behaviour I’d do something very nasty to him, such as quietly suggest to Glenys that he secretly rather liked domineering ladies.
I took the door key from its hook behind the bar and joined Sir Percival at the door. While he unbolted the door I unlocked it. But before venturing out I made sure my deerstalker and coat were securely buttoned to ward off as much of the cold as possible.
The air that came through the open door took my breath away. I don’t think I’d ever felt anything as cold as that; even in my youth on the harsh London streets at night. Our white breaths made us resemble steam-driven life-like automatons.
We crunched out into the thick snow and I turned to lock the door then crouched down to slide the key back underneath. I had to dig through the snow to find the base of the door. I felt ever so envious of Glenys in her warm bed.
Standing back up I asked, “Must we really do this, Mr Peach?”
With his nose showing a distinct shade of red (he was probably regretting the loss of his previous facial hair) he replied, “Yes, Miss Lemon.”