by Holly Bell
Hi Amanda, please could you pop round after you finish for the day if you’re not too tired. Just for a few mins. Would like to show you the space. Jane x
It was lunchtime. The rector had timed her text well. Amanda was relaxing on a silvered white oak bench, sharing lunch with Tempest, when it was delivered to her phone. She had chosen to eat in the back garden of number 12 Priory Lane, to avoid another conclave similar to Wednesday’s. But Amanda had reckoned without the determination of her fellow denizens, and forgotten that The Colonel, a life-long civilian but whose bearing and handlebar moustache had earned Henry the sobriquet, lived next door.
‘Hello there, Amanda!’ came a voice over the garden fence.
‘Ah, hello, Colonel,’ Amanda replied politely, looking up from her phone.
‘Good to see you well.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Looking forward to getting your dancing shoes out and your best frock on?’
‘I won’t be dressing up for the classes,’ Amanda responded.
‘Oh, but for the ball on the Feast of St Ursula, surely?’
‘Yes, of course, I will make an effort for that. But a ball? Is it to be anything as grand as that?’ asked Amanda sceptically.
‘It is a special occasion. There’s to be a spot of bubbly and some delicacies.’
‘Really?
‘Yes, indeed,’ the Colonel confirmed. ‘I do believe our new residents are contributing some rather fine crystal and plate.’
‘How kind,’ said Amanda sincerely.
‘I must say, they seem to be a good sort of couple,’ remarked Henry.
‘They’re brother and sister,’ Amanda reminded him.
‘So they are. And I do believe will prove to be a nice addition to our little community.’
‘I’m glad you think so, Henry. They seem to be generous-hearted people.’
‘Met them?’ he asked with interest.
‘The brother.’
‘Good, good. Excellent that you’ve already hit it off. Very promising. We were all very sorry about your last young man, and the one before that, whom we considered would have been quite perfect for you.’
‘Well, thank you for your interest, I really think I’d better be getting back to wor—’
Ding dong! Saved by the bell! thought Amanda.
‘Please excuse me, Henry, I must get the door.’
‘Of course. Cheerio!’
But Amanda’s relief was premature.
It was Pawel, the Royal Mail delivery man.
‘Hello there, Amanda. Can you take this parcel for Ruth? Probably another book; you know what she’s like.’
‘Yes, certainly,’ she agreed willingly.
‘Just need your moniker.’
‘Sure.’
He handed the electronic pad for her to sign, saying,
‘So how’s your young man?’
‘My what?’ she responded automatically.
‘Your young man at the salon. Sylvia said you two were getting on really well in there.’
‘He’s not my young man,’ Amanda replied with strained civility. ‘I was there doing an insurance quote.’
Pawel took the pad grinning.
‘If you say so! Your secret’s safe with me.’
I doubt it, thought Amanda.
She was about to close the front door when she was pre-empted by:
‘Oo-oo!’ Joan hurried up to the gate exchanging cheery greetings with Pawel.
‘Can you take this for Mrs R, love? It’ll never fit through the letterbox.’
‘Sure, Joan,’ replied Amanda, glad that Pawel, at least, had gone on his way.
‘Thanks, love. So how’s it going? You know? You and your young man,’ Joan enquired.
‘I went to the salon in my professional capacity,’ Amanda began and then wondered why she was bothering.
‘Course you did! That was a professional cup of tea he made for you and a professional smile Sylva said he was giving you too, I expect,’ added Joan with a nudge.
‘I am very fortunate in my clients, Joan, they usually are friendly. Anyway, I must be getting back to work.’
‘See you Saturday week if not before then. Bye, love!’
‘Good bye, Joan.’ Amanda closed the door and addressed Tempest. ‘And now I’d like to get on and build a bunker where I can be sure of having my lunch in peace!’
Most of the banister rail and posts were stripped of their layers of paint. Esta Reiser had said to leave the spindles for now as that would considerably add to the cost. ‘Next time I get a windfall,’ she’d said.
It was too late to move on to the next stage, and the light was going, so Amanda packed up, and bade farewell for the day to Mr Branscombe. She went out to the car just as Ruth was coming up the lane back from school.
‘Hi, Amanda!’ Ruth, her hair a couple of shades darker than Amanda’s in an echoing plait, hailed her with delight, her brown eyes behind round lenses brightening at the site of her friend and occasional tutor.
‘Hi Ruth,’ replied Amanda with pleasure. ‘How was it today?’
Ruth sighed. ‘OK, I suppose. Got history tomorrow though,’ she said, cheering up at the thought.
‘Bye, Ruth,’ came a shy voice from over the road. The ladies looked around to see a tall, mid-brown-haired teenager waving from the other side of the road.
‘Oh. Yeah, bye,’ Ruth responded politely but unenthusiastically.
‘Isn’t he Erik’s son, er …?’ began Amanda, thinking she’d seen him at her solicitor’s office on at least two occasions.
‘Kieran. Yes,’ said Ruth, rolling her eyes.
‘He seems friendly,’ remarked Amanda cautiously.
‘I knowwww,’ replied Ruth in the voice of martyrdom. ‘Just another sports moron.’
‘Really?’
‘Captain of the second XI,’ she said scornfully
‘Cricketer? Can’t be all bad, then,’ commented Amanda mitigatingly.
‘I prefer brain over brawn,’ stated Ruth.
‘He didn’t look all that brawny.’ But Amanda, not wanting to harry her young friend, abandoned the boy’s cause. ‘Is he in your class?’
‘No. Year above.’
‘Ah, then don’t school social rules dictate that you can’t have anything whatsoever to do with one another? In fact, what was he thinking? Actually greeting you in that fashion on the open street and in broad daylight! Your reputations lie in ruins!’
Ruth smiled.
‘And I – I whom you have long considered your sister-in-arms who should have rescued you from calumny stood by here.’ Amanda pretended to stagger and support herself on the Astra. ‘Stood by and did nothing! Alas!’ She put the back of her hand to her forehead.
Ruth was now giggling. ‘Oh, our school’s not like that, and you know it.’
Having successfully diverted her, Amanda continued,
‘Well, never mind about that. Are you going to lend me countenance and moral support at the new dance classes?’
‘Do I have to?’
‘Of course, not. But the rector wants me to be encouraging, and you know I’m no more the social type than you are. So if we join forces …’
‘… we’ll make one confident person!’ finished Ruth.
Amanda laughed. ‘Precisely.’
‘Dancing.’ Ruth turned the thought over in her mind. ‘I don’t know,’ she said doubtfully.
‘How hard can it be?’ Amanda asked her. ‘I mean after medieval Latin and Middle English?’
‘I guess.’
‘Thank you. I won’t hold you to it if you’d really rather not.’
‘No, I’ll come along. I’ll check with Mum, but I just know she won't hand me a get-out by saying I can’t go! It’ll be, “Oh, if Amanda’s going …” No it’s OK, I’ll come along. You off?’
‘Yes, the rector wants to show me the dance space, as it hasn’t seen the light of day for I don’t know how many years.’
‘OK, see you tomorrow ma
ybe?’ asked Ruth hopefully.
Amanda smiled. ‘Yes, I expect I’ll be here when you get back from school.’
She looked around to see if Tempest required her chauffeuring services, and found him sitting outside the rear passenger door. Amanda duly opened it.
‘If sir would please to mount the carriage?’ she asked with exaggerated ceremony. Tempest inclined his head graciously and stepped up onto the seat. Amanda gave way her customary mirth when he took up his place.
Siding into her own seat, she called out, ‘And now to the rectory. Drive on, Cadabra!’
Chapter 15
The Space
Amanda and Tempest drove to the end of Priory Lane and turned right into Muttring Lane, then left into the little Vicarage Lane. From there, she could access the few parking spaces behind the church of St Ursula-without Barnet.
Jane, hearing the crunch of tyres on gravel, came out to greet Amanda, as she applied the handbrake and got out of the car.
‘Hello, Rector.’
‘You got my text?’
‘Yes,’ Amanda confirmed opening the back passenger door for Tempest’s egress.
‘Ah,’ said the rector, struggling to keep the doom out of her voice. ‘I see you’ve brought …’
‘I’m sure he’ll behave,’ said Amanda quickly but without much conviction. ‘Won’t you?’ she asked her feline companion hopefully. Tempest looked over his shoulder and up at the sky as though he had not heard her speak.
‘Well … I’ve got the keys.’ Jane held them up. They took the path to the church hall, but, no sooner had the rector opened the lock of the front door when her phone sounded. She pushed open the portal as she checked the screen.
‘Oh, Amanda, it’s the bishop! Do excuse me. You go on in.’ She hurried back towards the rectory, leaving Amanda to enter the old hall alone. Tempest pushed past her ankles and went in first. The diffused light of a grey sky struggled through the tall dirty windows lining the long sides of the building. It was silent, so silent Amanda could hear her own breathing, even imagine the sound of each mote of dust disturbed by her moving form settling back onto the wooden boards beneath her feet.
Amanda looked anxiously at the floor. It seemed solid enough. She bounced up and down on it a few times. It held. At the other end of the space there was a stage with high, dusty, blue curtains. The hall seemed vast with not a stick of furniture and the high ceiling. It reached all the way to the rafters across most of the roof, but there was an attic space, perhaps for a projection room, a ladder by the long right-hand wall, presumably by which to reach it through a closed hatch. The ceiling had once been white, and the walls too probably. Someone had at least swept.
All of a sudden, Amanda froze. An excited giggle, swiftly cut off, had come from above. She stared upwards. There was the sound as of scuffling, then a small leg appeared … no, it was large … or was it? Suddenly a form fell, at once fast enough to be a blur and yet seemingly in slow motion, both child and adult-size.
As Amanda’s eyes followed it down, the music came, singing: ‘Roses are shining in Picardy’. The human form seemed to fall into a throng of dancers, waltzing, twirling, a medley of costumes; ladies in long dresses from the First World War, men in dinner jackets, girls in white blouses, bodices and gathered skirts, other men in jerkins and breeches.
The scene vanished at a voice from below.
‘What’s going on! I won’t have it. I demand an explanation, and I demand it be given now!’
The floor had opened at her feet. There seemed to be a man — or was it a woman? — getting up off some sort of bed. The voice and shape were a strange blend of male and female, but, as Amanda shook her head, as though to clear her vision, it resolved into that of a man with a moustache, and wearing regimentals.
All at once he looked up, staring into Amanda’s face.
‘Here! You girl!’ Amanda looked around to see if someone else was present.
‘Me?’ she asked.
‘Yes, you with the cat. Where have they all gorn? I didn’t come through The War to be thrown down here and have the whole bally party hide like it’s some sort of April Fool’s prank.’
‘Erm …’ replied Amanda, at a loss as to how to respond.
‘Come now! Out with it!’ insisted the man.
Amanda knelt down at the edge of the hole. ‘I, er … you can see me?’
‘Of course, I can see you. I injured my arm, not my head.’ She saw that he had a sling that he wasn’t using.
‘I’m afraid I don’t know about your —’
‘Oh, Amanda!’ At the rector’s voice, the military man vanished, and she turned her head to see Jane coming back into the hall. ‘I’m so sorry to have left you.’ Amanda looked back. The floor was intact. Completely. Tempest was looking at it carefully.
‘That was the bishop. He most kindly wanted to commend me on the church hall initiative and to wish me all success. Wasn’t that kind?’
‘Yes,’ Amanda agreed vaguely, still inspecting the floor.
‘Did you drop something?’ asked Jane.
‘Er … no,’ said Amanda, getting to her feet. ‘I just wanted to examine the floorboards up here after seeing the supports in the cellar.’
‘Very wise, but I did as you suggested and asked Mr Branscombe, and he came over yesterday evening and said they’d do for now. He said to see how the money comes in, and maybe spend some on proper supports, but they’re safe enough at the moment. He said he’d keep an eye on them. Well! What do you think of the space?’
‘It’s quite magnificent.’
‘Yes, large for its day.’
‘Probably a lick of paint and clean windows would make it a bit more inviting, do you think?’ suggested Amanda.
‘That’s what I said to Mr Branscombe when he caught a glimpse of it. He said he’d help out.’
‘He’s a nice man.’
‘Indeed. Well, the funds will stretch to a big tub or two of white emulsion. It’s an investment after all. Do you think anyone else would give a hand?’
‘Yes,’ said Amanda with certainty. ‘I do. Leo at the salon I’m sure would want to help. And he won't be the only one. All you have to do, Rector, is go down to the corner shop and the offers will be pouring in before the end of the day. Just leave the paint and some rollers and brushes and cleaning materials, and let people come in, as and when then can, and, likely, the job will be done by the end of Sunday.’
‘Now that’s an excellent idea. I’d better make sure the things are kept in the cupboard under the stage, and I would pop in every now and then to make sure it’s all going according to plan. I can wield a paintbrush, myself, of course.’
Amanda nodded encouragingly.
‘Thank you, dear,’ said the rector. ‘Have you had enough of a look round?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
Tempest followed them out and Jane locked up.
‘Rector?’
‘Yes.’
‘Were there any … did anyone … do you know about the history of the hall, at all?’
‘Only what I told you. It was built at the turn of the century. It was used for years until it became unsafe.’
‘There weren’t any accidents?’
‘Accidents? Not that I know of.’
‘It wasn’t bombed?’
‘I don’t think so, dear. You’d really have to ask Mrs Pagely. Why? You haven’t seen any evidence of structural damage, have you?’ asked the rector with concern, stopping on the path.
‘The walls look sturdy,’ replied Amanda.
‘Well, that’s a relief.’ Jane recommenced the short walk back to the rectory. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Thank you, Rector, but I ought to pop into the library.’
‘Well, give my regards to Mrs Pagely and Jonathan, won’t you? Are you quite all right? You look a little pale. Are you sure you won’t have some tea?
‘I’m fine, thank you, Rector. Just a bit musty and dusty in there.’
&nb
sp; ‘Of course. I should have said to wear your mask,’ said Jane apologetically. ‘But it had been swept.’
‘It’s all right. I shall next time.’
‘It just needs a good airing before we use it for the class. You are coming?’
‘Oh yes,’ Amanda promised, ‘And Ruth might too.’
‘Your Ruth?’ enquired Jane.
‘Yes.’
‘Excellent. It would be good to have some of the young people. Well, I won’t keep you. Thank you for stopping by, dear.’
Chapter 16
Setting Up
Amanda got into the car and, with relief, saw that Jane had disappeared back into the rectory.
'Granny! Grandpa!'
Senara appeared in the passenger seat beside her and Perran in the back next to Tempest.
‘What’s going on in there?’ Amanda asked agitatedly. 'Legs coming through the ceiling, bodies falling through the air, and what’s with that soldier who could see us?'
'Calm down, bian,' said Grandpa soothingly. 'You’re doing very well.'
'Yes,' agreed Granny, 'picking up on things nicely. Something even we didn’t see. Not that we looked. Aunt Amelia would be proud of you too.'
Amanda was aghast at what she regarded as their inappropriately relaxed attitude to what she had just witnessed. ‘Aren’t you going to help me at all?'
'We have complete confidence in you, Ammy,’ responded Grandpa. ‘You might as well drive home now.’
'So there’s nothing you can tell me?’ Amanda asked in frustration starting up the engine and pulling out into the road.
'Oh, there’s plenty we could tell you,' admitted Granny, 'but then how would you learn from experience? This is all part of your training. Look at it that way. All I’ll say is, it’s complicated.’
'But you’ll find a way to unpick it,’ added Grandpa.
'So your advice is?’ asked Amanda.
'Go and have a bath,’ suggested Grandpa.
'Have dinner,’ advised Granny.
'Watch a nice film with Tempest,’ added Grandpa.
'His purring will help calm you down,’ said Granny. 'Personally, he still gets on my nerves, but then he’s not my familiar. Thank goodness.’
