I looked at Dad as his head fell, his eyes looking up from under the hanging fringe.
* * *
The Peacocks’ house was no less forbidding than the others we’d visited. As we neared the door, I saw lights come on across the road and past an old broken gate.
‘Lee Colman’s place,’ Harriet nodded. ‘He won’t be joining us tonight. Thank God.’
‘Harriet, there’s been enough confrontation for one night. Don’t look for more.’
‘Sorry, Gerald, dear. I was just pointing out that we don’t need anyone else spoiling our evening.’
‘Oh, Harriet, I don’t think Lee would spoil anything.’ Verity was beside her, looking quite exhausted now.
Harriet leaned towards me, conspiratorially. ‘Lord Elzevir has served an eviction notice. Been Colmans in that farm for centuries. I don’t know what Lee will do, to be honest. It does worry me.’ It clearly didn’t. This was just more gossip.
‘Elzevir wasn’t too keen on him and Verity being together,’ Marsha said quietly, her eyes fixed on Lord Elzevir’s swaying back.
The door to the house opened and two blank-looking women peered out as if they’d been woken in the middle of a stormy night by a group of strangers hammering at their door.
‘Is this the right place? Are we meant to be next door?’ Bridget leaned over the small fence to the side and peered at the adjoining cottage that had its outside light on, but the rest of the house looked to be in darkness. The curtains were all still open.
Marsha shook her head. ‘No, that’s Mrs White’s cottage, the cook.’
‘She was going to clear up and then head home, I think.’ Verity nodded towards the house. ‘I hope she’s not working too hard. She’s been wonderful. I’m so grateful, Marsha, thank you. I couldn’t have done this without all your help.’
‘It’s a pleasure, darling.’ Marsha smiled at her.
‘None of this shambles is a pleasure!’ Lord Elzevir blurted and fell to the side. ‘Are we coming in or not, Millicent?’
The two women at the door were unmoved. ‘Of course, come in.’ One of them smiled with too many teeth. Along with the high-necked white blouse and deathly pallor, there was definitely something of the vampiric about her. The other woman looked equally undead.
‘Please, enter.’ The door swung back to reveal a small, cave-like entrance with dark panelling and a pewter-grey floor. The whole effect was reminiscent of a graveyard. ‘We bear you no ill will.’ This last statement was directed firmly at Lord Elzevir.
His eyebrows flickered up a little but then his eyes closed over and he swayed again. ‘Couldn’t care less. Just so long as there are drinks.’
Harriet leaned over to me and Mother again, with her conspiratorial look. ‘Cassandra and Millicent own an interior design shop in an old hay barn. The Goth Loft. They sell all sorts of . . . well, Gothic-style furnishings. Lord and Lady Black purchased a lot from them last year and are refusing to pay for them. The landlord’s chasing the rent on the barn and now they can’t afford it.’
Mother frowned. ‘You’re remarkably well-informed about your fellow village inmates.’
‘Harriet is our resident spy for the WI,’ Tony laughed. I’d almost forgotten he was there.
‘It’s not spying,’ she said sharply. ‘It’s community spirit.’ She sealed up her mouth like a neat little envelope.
‘There’s only one spirit that’s going to salvage this.’ Lord Elzevir barged through and staggered again. This time he fell heavily into Verity’s side. Her stick dropped, sending her instantly to the ground. ‘Oh Christ!’ Suddenly he seemed a lot more sober. ‘Jesus, I’m sorry, Verity.’
She groaned and patted the floor with panicked hands.
‘Verity!’ Marsha crouched down quickly and put her hands on Verity’s shoulders.
I could hear Verity taking long, slow breaths as if she was trying to calm herself. Her legs looked buckled under her and seemed to splay out at unnatural angles to her body.
‘I’ve got you,’ Marsha said quietly. ‘You’re OK.’
Lord Elzevir looked more distressed than anyone else. He was on his hands and knees, staring in disbelief at Verity. ‘I’m so sorry. I can’t . . . I’m sorry. I . . .’
Verity put a hand on his arm to calm him. ‘It’s OK,’ she said with a smile. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve fallen.’ She looked round us all. ‘Bit unsteady on the old pins.’
‘Move aside. I’m first-aid trained,’ Gerald said firmly. ‘Let me help to lift you.’
The Peacocks stood motionless at their front door, utterly unconcerned.
‘You clumsy man,’ Bridget said, clutching the cat even closer.
Lord Elzevir glanced at her in confusion.
‘That’s where drinking too much gets you, Dingerling.’ Bridget adopted her most judgemental face.
‘Wait, wait.’ Marsha held up her hands.
Gerald paused, ready to lift her.
‘Take it slowly.’ Marsha’s voice was soft. ‘Does anything hurt? Do you think anything is broken?’ Verity started to shake her head. ‘Seriously, Verity, none of your “keep calm and carry on”. We need to know if you’ve broken anything. If we need to take you to hospital.’
‘That won’t be possible,’ one of the Peacocks said. ‘Mr Colman came over earlier to inform us the roads have flooded. They’re impassable even in the tractor.’
Mirabelle flinched. ‘You’re kidding me. No phones, roads flooded . . .’ She stared round us all. ‘This can’t be happening. I . . . I can’t do this again. I can’t be here. I can’t.’ She was shaking so hard the raindrops were spraying out from her hair.
‘Mirabelle?’ Mother leaned in closer.
‘Leave her to me,’ Bridget said sternly. ‘You had your chance.’
Mother drew back her head. ‘What the hell do you mean by that?’
Lord Elzevir was struggling to his feet, the knees of his trousers wet and torn, mud smeared down his face. ‘Shut up, you bloody—’
‘No, Zavvy!’ Marsha was almost shouting. ‘You’ve done enough. I’m going to take Verity home with Gerald and Tony. You’re going to look after our guests and see that they’re taken care of.’ She’d made it sound very much like we were to be disposed of.
‘Marsha . . .’
Marsha turned her eyes to the rest of us. ‘I’m very sorry for all this. I will make sure Verity is comfortable. Tony? Gerald? Is that all right? Would you mind helping?’
‘Not at all!’ Gerald began lifting Verity with her arm over his shoulder. ‘Get on the other side, Tony.’
‘There’s really no need,’ Verity said in embarrassment. ‘I can . . .’ She winced as her weight started to fall onto her leg. ‘My stick, please.’
Lord Elzevir grabbed it and folded Verity’s hand over the top. ‘I’m so sorry, darling.’ It was the first genuine thing he’d said since we’d met him. ‘I’m—’
She put her hand on top of his reassuringly. ‘It’s not a problem. You know I fall and I get back up again.’ She said each word positively.
‘Here we go, dearie.’ Gerald took a deep breath. ‘Tony?’
The magician swept back his long coat, and I almost thought he was about to try and levitate her to her feet. Instead, he put her other arm over his shoulder and nodded to Gerald.
They pulled her up onto her feet and I saw the vivid pain crease her face. She momentarily closed her eyes but didn’t make a sound. She was quick to smile. Lord Elzevir looked more stricken than her.
‘It’s OK,’ Verity reassured him as she stood strung between Ron and Tony, her hair dripping with rain.
Lord Elzevir narrowed his eyes. ‘This is your fault,’ he roared at Marsha. ‘Your insistence on—’
She sighed heavily. ‘I don’t care. I’m going to take Verity home and make sure she’s safe and comfortable. I’ll see you at home later.’
They began to edge towards the gate, Verity hung loosely between the two men. Marsha was slightly behind, and as they
reached the gate, she turned and walked quickly back towards Lord Elzevir. ‘Verity just reminded me to tell you not to forget the portcullis comes down at midnight. You’ll have to be inside before then, Elzevir. I’m not sure I can make it back before then, and if I do, I’ll be out like a light after this evening. Don’t wake me.’
She turned to us and lowered her voice. ‘The portcullis always comes down at midnight. Someone has to be in before then as it can only be raised from inside since he lost the controller. It lowers with the Midnight Gun.’
She leaned in closer. ‘Actually, a stroke of genius from Verity. She got Joe Greengage to set it like that when Elzevir kept coming back at all hours. Keeps old Cinderella on the straight and narrow.’ She smiled nervously. ‘You ladies should stay though. Don’t let us stop you having fun with the Peacocks.’
We all looked doubtfully at the unmoving Peacocks. Marsha turned and walked quickly back to Verity and the two men as they negotiated the gate.
‘Wait!’ Harriet called. ‘I’ll come with you. She looked at me and Mother warily. ‘I’ve got one of my heads coming on and Gerald can’t stay long. We need to get home. It’s the detectorists’ meeting tomorrow morning.’ She cast us one last apologetic smile and scurried after them.
Slowly we looked over at the Peacocks and Lord Elzevir.
CHAPTER 16: THE MIDNIGHT GUN
‘I can’t believe they’re just going to leave us here.’ Bridget looked astonished — which she never is, she just likes people to think she is. ‘And with him!’ She nodded unsubtly at Lord Elzevir. ‘This is ridiculous.’
‘Says the woman with a shaved cat,’ Lord Elzevir slurred.
Bridget clutched the animal closer and lowered her voice. ‘He’s not shaved. He’s naturally smooth!’ She was shaking. ‘Dingerling is freezing, wet and hungry. He’s not at all impressed with this evening.’
‘I don’t give a damn what Gollum thinks!’
‘Who?’
‘Be quiet, Charlotte,’ Mother sighed. ‘We just need to get inside before we drown.’
‘It’ll be fine, Bridget.’ Mirabelle was letting a little of the old frustration seep out.
‘Oh, fine! Fine is it? I’m sure you’re the best judge of fine.’ Bridget gave a sarcastic little sneer. ‘That man just knocked over his infirm sister. Imagine what he could do to us.’
We stood around awkwardly, our heads slung low, trying not to look at Lord Elzevir. He was already heading into the Peacocks’ house and the two women stood to the side, their eyes fixed on him.
We followed, a mournful little procession now, and about as far away from a safari as I could have imagined.
Inside the house, it was disturbingly reminiscent of a chapel of rest, even down to the intricate bits of lace scattered across every side table and bookcase, and the overpowering smell of lilies.
‘Poison! Poison everywhere!’ Bridget gasped.
‘OK, Bridget enough of the crazed eyes,’ Mother said out of the side of her mouth.
She was right, Bridget’s eyes were darting all over the hallway as if she’d just been thrown into a laser quest tournament in a funeral parlour. ‘You don’t understand. They’re poison! Poison!’
Mother grimaced at the Peacocks. ‘We have a little history with deadly substances. It occasionally causes some of us issues. Nothing for you to worry about.’
The Peacocks didn’t seem disturbed at all. Their unmoving faces looked like they might just have emerged silently from some Victorian photographs of the dead.
‘Lilies are poisonous to cats!’ Bridget stood firm.
‘But sadly not irritating women.’ Lord Elzevir staggered into another room without being invited. ‘Where the bloody hell is the drink?’
The Peacocks looked at each other with the same sly confirmation people use in a film when they’ve decided they’re definitely going to carry out their nefarious plan. They floated into the sitting room, and I couldn’t help looking down to check if their feet were touching the ground.
It was no less undead in this room. The situation wasn’t assisted by the fact that all the large oil paintings on the walls were of—
‘Cats!’ Bridget whispered in awe.
Not just cats, but clothed cats. Some had Elizabethan ruffs, some were in Charles II wigs. The one closest to me had what looked like a long moustache painted on it. I looked at the engraved plaque on the bottom. The simple word ‘Vlad’ was on it.
‘I knew it!’ Bridget recoiled. ‘Cat killers. I can smell them a mile off.’
‘What do they smell of?’ Aunt Charlotte enquired.
Bridget leaned closer and hissed, ‘Evil.’
Aunt Charlotte recoiled.
‘Bridget,’ Mirabelle said softly. ‘It’s all OK.’
I looked at the Peacocks with their teeth gleaming in the low light and I wondered if that really was the case.
‘These are all our pets,’ one of them explained. No one cared to ask where they were now.
Lord Elzevir stumbled into one of the small tables and a little casket rocked to and fro. We all watched in horrified silence and he grabbed it with both hands to hold it still. He sniffed. ‘I need a drink. What have you got except for virgin’s blood?’
‘We are not virgins,’ one of them declared in an eerie voice.
No one spoke for a moment.
Lord Elzevir staggered again and I feared for another small reliquary.
One of the women had moved closer to Bridget and held out a long hand. She peered into Bridget’s arms and in the dim light had the remarkable look of a malevolent nun. Bridget was suitably alarmed.
‘A bald one!’ the woman announced and grinned. ‘I’ve never had a bald one.’
Bridget looked like she was about to be hit by a train and didn’t know which way to run. I made a note of the image.
‘Where’s the drink?’ Lord Elzevir demanded.
They both smiled, but their eyes never left Bridget’s arms. ‘We brewed some nettle cordial. It’s taken years to perfect the recipe.’ One of them stood up suddenly and we all held our breath. ‘Would you like some?’ Her eyes were round.
‘For God’s sake.’ He stumbled over a stuffed rat on the floor.
‘Careful, now. That was Attila’s favourite,’ one of them said fondly.
‘Right, that’s it. The end.’ Lord Elzevir barged past us and headed towards the hall. ‘I’ve had enough of this circus. Find your own way back. You can’t miss it. Big fucking castle up the road.’ He flung back the door and swayed into both sides of the frame before falling out into the hall.
His voice was lost as I heard him open the door to the rain, but the unmistakeable tone was that of a man swearing heavily.
‘Come on then,’ Mother sighed. ‘Let’s finish this thing. Bring on the nettle juice.’
The two women were gliding over to one of the many small tables and started pouring something that looked pharmaceutical into old crystal glasses. There wasn’t any smoke drifting up but there should have been. Why Bridget didn’t choose now to start shouting about poison, I do not know.
‘Really? We’re staying here?’
‘Yes, really, Ursula. Since when do we not see something through to the end?’
‘Well, let’s think, Mother. There was the book club weekend at the Slaughter House, that was cut abruptly short by multiple murders. Then there was the Isle of Death holiday excursion — truncated by another four killings.’
‘There’s no need to split hairs.’
‘Please—’ Bridget covered the cat’s ears — ‘he’s suffered enough.’
‘I’m sorry, Mother.’ I lowered my voice. ‘I just think we should call it a night. We’ve done more than enough, surely. We’ve been abandoned in Night of the Living Dead.’
‘Ursula’s right,’ Mirabelle whispered. I looked at her in astonishment. ‘We should leave. There’s none of the villagers left.’
Mother sighed and turned towards the Peacocks, who were holding out the dark green concoct
ions with ‘Drink me’ faces. ‘I’m so sorry, but we really must g—’
‘Leaving so soon?’ one of them drawled.
We were already on our feet.
‘Yes, sorry.’ Aunt Charlotte eyed the poisonous-looking brew.
‘What about our Stingers?’ They held out the fierce-looking cocktails.
‘We’re fine, thank you.’ Mother gave one of her ‘leaving the party now’ smiles. Never before had it been more welcome.
The Peacocks followed us to the door silently.
‘Thank you so much,’ I called as Mother blustered me out into the rain.
‘Don’t look back,’ Aunt Charlotte warned.
I did.
The Peacocks were already closing the door. Their rigid faces remained unmoved, caught in a final moment of moonlight. The green drinks glowed venomously.
They didn’t speak as they slowly sealed themselves in, and the last thing I saw, lingering in the darkness, was the line of their bone-white teeth.
I stood for a moment looking at the closed door and I could have sworn I heard stifled laughter coming from inside.
We wearily turned away. All of us were bent low by the constant rain on our heads, our clothes heavy and damp.
Bridget drew in a long breath. ‘Come along, Mirabelle. Home time. Dingerling has had a narrow escape.’
Mother watched them suspiciously. She wasn’t going to let this go on for much longer. Aunt Charlotte looked away quickly. I was sure she knew more than she was saying.
But who can say what Aunt Charlotte knows?
* * *
The road back was slick and treacherous, the rain rolling down over the fields and through hedgerows. There was an agitated feeling about us now as we headed along the lane. We only had our mobile phone lights and they didn’t seem to break through the darkness at all. We were swimming blindly in the dark. Even the sky was hidden. There were no stars or moonlight. The road was barely visible in front of us.
We passed house lights dotted through the darkness but we had no idea whose they were anymore. It was a disorientating world now without anyone with us from the village. The map had gone. It wasn’t in my pocket. Perhaps I’d left it at one of the houses, although I had no idea which one. I could barely remember the order of houses we’d been in, much less the ones we hadn’t. Who lived where and who had been at each section of the party had all merged into one.
THE SUPPER CLUB MURDERS a gripping murder mystery packed with twists (Smart Woman's Mystery Book 3) Page 12