The Haunting of the King's Head

by Amy Cross

  “You went for a walk? At four in the morning?”

  “It's only two,” I tell him.

  “No, it's four.”

  “But when I went out it was -”

  Stopping myself, I realize that something feels very wrong. I know that it was 2am when I left, and I was only down on the beach for about half an hour at most. Then I came home, and I slipped inside and shut the door, and then...

  And then I felt that hand on my shoulder.

  I instinctively turn and look around, but of course there's no sign of anyone now. All I see is Dad's bare room.

  “Sometimes you really scare me,” Dad says. “Listen, you can't go traipsing around in the middle of the night. I know Malmeston's not exactly a hotbed of criminal activity, but it's still not a safe place for a -”

  “I get it,” I say, not wanting to hear any more of this lecture. “I'll find a bucket and some soap, and I'll clean the floor.”

  “But -”

  “I'll clean it up!”

  As I hurry through to the kitchen, I'm struggling to keep from panicking. I seem to have lost somewhere between sixty and ninety minutes tonight, and this time I'm certain I didn't faint. What was I doing for over an hour, between coming through the door and then finding myself next to Dad's bed? It'd ordinarily take me thirty seconds, tops, to get from the door to that room, which leaves up to eighty-nine minutes unaccounted for. And I don't like having a gap in my memory like that.

  I grab a bucket and start filling it with soapy water, and I try to get my head together. The hand on my shoulder was obviously nonsense, that didn't really happen, I was just tired. But the rest? The rest is starting to really freak me out, because I almost feel as if I'm not properly in control of myself anymore.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Muriel Hyde

  1910...

  “Ah, Ms. Hyde,” Randolph Hayes says as I am shown through into his large, well-decorated office. “You will forgive me, I hope, if I do not stand to greet you. My legs are truly unfit for purpose.”

  I open my mouth to tell him that this is fine, but then the door is shut behind me and I shudder as I realize that I am now alone with the man dubbed 'Malmeston's Savior'.

  “I so rarely receive visitors,” he continues, his voice echoing somewhat in so large a room. “Please, come a little closer so that we might speak properly. I do so hate having to shout my side of a conversation, and my hearing is not so good these days.”

  I hesitate, and then I make my way over to his desk. I am already worrying that this trip has been a mistake, that I was foolish to believe I could ever make a man such as Randolph Hayes listen to my concerns. I represent but one of many pubs that are in his orbit.

  “And how is business in your part of town?” he asks, leaning back on a chair that creaks loudly under his considerable weight. “Brisk? Encouraging?”

  I try to work out how to begin, but in truth I do not know. I have never been particularly eloquent, so I suppose I should simply get to the heart of the matter.

  “Have you told people to stay away from The King's Head?” I ask.

  I wait, but he simply stares at me, as if perhaps he is surprised by my directness.

  “I have never,” he says finally, “in my life directed anybody to stay away from any particular establishment. That is simply not in my nature as a man.” He pauses. “Of course,” he continues, “I have conversations about my own private thoughts, and it is no fault of mine if people listen and take action. Indeed, over the past few days I have mentioned certain doubts that are forming concerning your running of The King's Head. Your harboring, for example, of certain undesirable individuals.”

  “If you're talking about Jack, then -”

  “Jack Farnham damn near killed my nephew.”

  “Jack would never -”

  “He broke his nose and fractured his jaw in a fight,” Hayes says firmly. “I know there's supposed to be no honor among thieves, and I regret that my nephew Edward can be a little angry at times, but still... blood is blood, and Mr. Farnham has to answer for his crimes. There's also the small matter of his attempts to set up his own little operation out there on the beach. Now, I won't insult you by pretending that I don't have interests in the activities that go on at night, but I do so for the good of the town. I'm not simply trying to line my own pockets. I believe that by making Hayes and Storford a success, I can lift the prospects of Malmeston and all its fine inhabitants.”

  “Where is Jack?” I ask.

  “I was reasonably certain that he has been hiding in your pub for the past few days.”

  “He left yesterday, and I have not seen him since.”

  “Then we are in the same boat, my dear,” he replies sternly. “I have men looking for him. Perhaps he has flown away entirely.”

  “He would not do that.”

  “Why not?” He stares at me for a moment longer, and then his face breaks into a great big smile. “Because he loves you? Because you love him? Because true love will somehow win the day?”

  “Have you had him hurt?”

  “No. Not for want of trying. Of course, he can avoid all of that if he simply comes to me like a man and apologizes.”

  “He's not a bad person.”

  “I know, and in other circumstances he could find a good job here at the brewery. I need men like him, men who are smart, not dull-witted buffoons like Edward.” He raises an amused eyebrow. “Do you know what I think? I think your friend Jack just has an urge to fight authority in all its shapes and forms. He doesn't think properly, he simply rebels at every available opportunity. Like a caged animal.”

  “Jack is -”

  “I don't think the company you keep reflects well on you, Ms. Hyde,” he adds, interrupting me. “According to the newspapers, women these days are starting to think they should be equal to men. They want to vote, they want to make their own choices. I suppose I can respect that in some ways, but there has to be some give and take. If women want that kind of status, then they have to hold back their own weaknesses and excesses. It does your sex no good, Ms. Hyde, for the likes of you to be turning to puddles just because some man has promised he'll treat you right one day.”

  “Tell me you don't have Jack,” I reply, through gritted teeth.

  “You're trembling.”

  “No, I am not.”

  “Yes, you are. Your hands, woman.”

  Looking down, I see that he is right. My hands, which are clutching a small purse that I brought out today, are indeed starting to shake, and they only get worse as I become aware of the problem.

  Turning to Mr. Hayes again, I feel utterly helpless.

  “Your beloved Jack is not here,” he says. “Of that, you have my word. Perhaps it's best if he's never seen around these parts again. You might even be able to prove your character, Ms. Hyde. You might become respectable again, in which case I can imagine your pub starting to recover. I hope that's what happens. Now, if you don't mind, I have some important papers to read.”

  I want to beg him to leave Jack alone, but I fear that he has already laid out his position on this matter. He is staring at me most intently, and after a moment I take an inadvertent step back. I suppose I hoped to reason with him, but I rather fear that I have perhaps made matters worse.

  “Good day,” I say finally, somewhat weakly, and then I turn and hurry out of the room as fast as I can manage.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Charley Lucas

  Today...

  “It's unfortunate,” I hear a voice saying downstairs, as I wake up in the pile of duvets on the floor in my room, “but I always said that the deal was a best case scenario.”

  “We shook on it,” Dad replies. “I thought we had a clear understanding of my obligations here.”

  “You signed the papers, Mr. Lucas. No-one tricked you. You were told a set of scenarios, and I'm sorry if you assumed that everything would go the way you wanted it, but this is a business. You have a week to make your dec
ision, and I'd be very sorry to see you give the pub up. You seem like a very capable man and I have full faith in your ability to push through this and make it work. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment at The Golden Bow and I don't want to be late.”

  “But -”

  “My great grandfather Randolph Hayes once said that one must never lose sight of the fact that this is a business first and foremost,” Hayes adds. “It's best to keep emotion out of the equation. I have a painting of him on the wall of my office, and I think about his words every single day. Perhaps you, too, should give them some consideration.”

  I hear him leaving, and I sit in silence as I realize that this situation is getting really serious. If Dad doesn't figure something out soon, we might very well end up losing the pub. All because Gary Hayes from the brewery lied to my father and then thought he could double-cross him.

  ***

  “No, mate, everything's fine,” I hear Gary saying as I walk toward The Golden Bow, “you don't need to worry. Soon we'll be able to dust off the plans for the flats and then everyone'll be happy.”

  Stopping at the side of the pub, I realize Gary's voice is coming from the beer garden. I make my way along a narrow alley, and then I step through an open gate and see him talking to a guy at the back door.

  “This was always just a bump in the road,” he continues, “and -”

  As soon as he spots me, he shuts up. I see a hint of surprise on his face, but then he manages a smile.

  “I'll be inside,” the other guy, presumably the landlord of this place, says as he disappears from sight and shuts the door. “Call me when you know for sure.”

  “Ms. Lucas,” Gary says, coming over to me with an outstretched hand, “what a pleasant surprise? Are you checking out the opposition or just -”

  “You can't change the terms of your deal with my father!” I say firmly. “It's not fair!”

  “What has he told you?”

  “That you made a promise and now you're going back on it!”

  “I made a commitment to try to do something to help out,” he replies, with a smile still lingering on his lips, “on top of the cast-iron contract that your father signed, in which he specifically agreed to a set of measures designed to mitigate the risk on both our parts.”

  “You're screwing him over!”

  “That's some very emotional language,” he says. “Listen, I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but you're not old enough to really understand what's going on. The pub business is for adults, and I appreciate that you're trying to support your father but this is not the way to do it. I'm still very much on your father's side, Charley, and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that he makes a success of The King's Head. No-one at Hayes and Storford wants to see that pub have to shut its doors again. We're very keen to turn the place around.”

  I stare at him for a moment, but there's something about his face that's bugging me. He looks really pleased with himself, as if he's struggling to hide his true feelings. I don't want to admit that I heard the details of his plans, not yet, because I want to stay one step ahead.

  “I don't believe you,” I say finally.

  “In that case, I think our conversation is at an end. And I'll be sure to mention this little incident to your father, next time I see him. I can't imagine that he has any idea you're here.”

  “He just needs a break!”

  “And he's got one. Now he needs to make it work.”

  With that, he turns and heads toward the gate.

  “You can't just walk away!” I say as I hurry after him. Grabbing his arm, I step around him and block his way out of the beer garden. “Please, I'm sorry if I came across all wrong, but I'm begging you. Isn't there anything you can do to give him some breathing space?”

  I wait, hating the fact that I'm getting desperate but also hoping against hope that somehow I'll be able to wring some concessions out of this guy. Sure, Gary Hayes is a businessman, but he has to have a heart.

  “Please,” I continue, “we'll do anything, but we need this pub. You know we can make a success of it, if we just get a fair crack.”

  “Charley -”

  “Or don't you want us to succeed?” I add. “Is that it? Is there some reason why you want us to fail?”

  “That's a rather spurious allegation,” he replies stiffly, and his whole tone seems to have changed. No longer amused, he actually appears to be rather annoyed. “You should be careful, Ms. Lucas, before you go running around making such claims. Someone with less tolerance than myself might very well consider you words to be an act of libel.”

  “I was just trying to figure out what's really going on here,” I tell him. “And, by the way, libel has to be written down. If anything, my comments would be slander.”

  “You're a smart girl,” he says. “Maybe too smart.”

  “I just want to be sure that my father's being given a fair chance,” I reply. “It wouldn't be fair if people are actively working against him.”

  At this, Hayes lets out a faint smirk, before turning once again to leave.

  “Go home,” he mutters dismissively. “You and your father have a big decision to make and -”

  “No!” I snap, suddenly grabbing him again, this time spinning him around and slamming him against the wall. “That's not fair! You can't just screw us over like that!”

  “Ms. Lucas -”

  “How dare you?” I shout, stepping closer to him and seeing a sudden shift in her eyes, as if he's terrified of me. “Do you really think you can get away with doing anything you want? You can't just treat people's lives like they're disposable, like they're just assets that belong to your brewery! I won't let you do that!”

  I wait for him to reply, but instead he simply stares at me with an expression of genuine fear. At first I assume that he's joking, that he'll break into a laugh at any moment, but I swear it's as if all the color has drained from his face. I wait a moment longer, worried that my outburst went too far, and then I take a step back.

  As soon as he has the chance, he turns and hurries out through the gate, and he runs away before I have a chance to apologize.

  Stepping back, I try to figure out what just happened. Sure, I was angry, but I've been angry about things before and this was the first time I've ever boiled over like that. At the same time, I wasn't that aggressive, so why did Gary Hayes act as if he was about to faint? He looked utterly petrified of me, which really makes no sense at all. Suddenly feeling exhausted, I lean against the wall for a moment as I try to regain my strength, and I'm genuinely shocked by the fact that I seemed to lose all control.

  For a moment there, I didn't even feel as if I was properly myself. It was almost as if something or someone else came bursting out of me. Maybe that's why Gary Hayes ran off so quickly. I still feel out-of-sorts, as if that anger is in my soul, but I tell myself that I just need to get out of this yard. I step forward, but then I spot movement and I turn just in time to spot my own reflection in a nearby window. I stare at myself for a moment, shocked by the realization that something looks wrong, and then my knees buckle and I fall, slamming down hard against the ground.

  As soon as I open my eyes, I realize what must have happened. I fainted again, although this time I'm pretty sure that I can't have been out for long.

  “Are you okay?”

  Startled, I see the landlord of The Golden Bow standing at the back door.

  “I'm fine,” I stammer, before hurrying out of the beer garden. “I'm sorry. I'm completely fine.”

  Chapter Forty

  Muriel Hyde

  1910...

  “Ms. Hyde, are you alright?”

  Stopping suddenly, I turn to see Dusty Fowler standing nearby, watching me from the corner of the street. For a moment I feel startled, and as I look around I realize that I am not sure how I ended up here. I left the Hayes and Storford building some time ago, and my mind was filled with worries about Jack. I must have momentarily taken leave of my
senses, for now here I am next to the church and I have no recollection of the past few minutes.

  “You were talking to yourself,” Dusty says as he comes over to me. “Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I was just a little worried. Are you feeling quite yourself?”

  “I am fine, thank you,” I say, hoping to avoid any further questions. “I'm sorry if I gave you any cause for concern.”

  “I understand,” he replies, before hesitating for a moment. “I'm sorry, Ms. Hyde. Truly I am.”

  “For what?” I ask.

  “For all the unpleasantness. I want you to know, I don't believe a word of what anyone's saying about you.”

  I hesitate, filled with the urge to turn and run but also knowing that I must hear what he has to say.

  “And what,” I ask cautiously, “are people saying about me?”

  “I'd feel rotten repeating it.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well,” he replies, “there are certain rumors going around, suggesting that you stole an old man's money before you came to Malmeston.”

  “That's a lie!” I snap.

  “They're also saying that maybe you gave a child away to one of the orphanages,” he continues, “before you arrived here. I'm not saying I believe that, but it's what people are whispering.”

  “A child?” I reply, shocked by the suggestion. “There was no child! That part is a complete concoction!”

  “They also say that you cut your own sister off,” he adds, “and left her a poor widow with a son to raise, when you could have helped and given them some of your money.”

  “My -”

  Stopping suddenly, I realize that this particular detail is rather telling. The rest of this wretched tissue of lies could have been gained from the York rumor mill, but there is only one person in the entire world who genuinely thinks that I did anything untoward with regards to my sister.

  “Excuse me,” I say, as I feel anger starting to burn in my chest, “but I must go and speak to someone immediately.”