I stumbled into Martha’s car and sat clutching the steering-wheel.
“Your change, Miss.” The man’s voice was respectfully sympathetic.
“Thank you.” I took a deep breath and drove slowly out on to the road. That was one garage I shouldn’t be able to use again.
The scene was still playing itself over and over in my head when I started on the baking later that morning.
“You’re rather pale,” Martha remarked, hanging over me and watching my every move. “Feeling all right?”
“Yes, thanks.” Mentally I resolved to leave the gateau until she was at college and my attention would not be divided. In the meantime the cheese scones, crisp and golden, were cooling on the tray, the petits fours awaited decoration and the coffee cake was in the oven.
“I do envy you!” Martha sighed. “You’re so unflappable!”
I smiled with a touch of bitterness and did not reply. Slowly, wrapped in an aroma of baking, the long day passed. Martha went to her class after lunch and I made my gâteau methodically but without the enjoyment I’d anticipated. By five o’clock when Hugo returned the kitchen was spotless again.
“Lord, what a day!” He dropped into his easy chair. “Martha, be a lamb and make me a cup of tea. I need reviving.” He glanced at me. “Your friend Ray has been excelling himself today.”
“It was probably my fault,” I said quietly. “We had rather an unpleasant confrontation at the garage this morning.”
“Perhaps that accounts for it. He was exceptionally foul, even for him. Had Pam Beecham in tears at break and there was a highly charged atmosphere every time he came into the staff-room, which to put it mildly was hardly conducive to the smooth running of the day. What happened, though? You seemed friendly enough yesterday.”
“I told him I was having dinner with Neil.”
“Ah! Well, let me repeat my warning, little sister. He can be a dangerous enemy. If I were you I should make a complete break as soon as possible. It was all right letting things ride when you were only here for a holiday, but if it’s to be a permanent arrangement you certainly don’t want to get embroiled with the likes of him.”
Nevertheless, embroiled was precisely what I was, and I knew despairingly that however much we may tug against it, the link between Ray and me would hold us together until something stronger than both of us severed it for good.
Neil called for me at seven-thirty. “All right?” he asked, and the searching glance that accompanied the question made it more than rhetorical.
“Yes, thanks.”
“The table’s booked for eight-thirty so we’ve time for a visit to the King Orry first.”
“I’m glad you could make it this evening,” he remarked when we were settled in the deep leather chairs. “I half expected Hugo would have packed you off home before this. What does he think about friend Ray’s Svengali act?”
“I didn’t tell him,” I said in a low voice.
“But I thought I’d convinced you –”
“I know, but things have changed slightly. I’m not going home, even on Saturday. The St Cyrs have offered me a partnership in the Viking.”
“You mean you’ll be here permanently?”
I lifted my chin. “Yes, but don’t worry; you won’t be expected to go on playing knight-errant indefinitely.”
“I don’t think I understand,” he said after a moment.
“Hugo told me he rather coerced you into asking me out. It was kind of you but quite unnecessary. I can take care of myself.”
His mouth tightened fractionally. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about, but let me clarify the position. I don’t belong to an escort agency, Chloe, and my services aren’t for hire. I can’t see how Hugo comes into this.”
I flushed, aware that he had put me on the defensive. “I’m sorry if I put it clumsily, but when he said –”
“I told you I had the impression he wasn’t happy about your seeing Ray, but if I was supposed to take that as an all-clear to ask you out myself, I’m afraid it was completely lost on me. I asked you out for no reason other than I wanted to. If I obliged Hugo by doing so, that’s fine, but it’s quite coincidental. All right?”
I nodded and finished my drink in a gulp. Neil signalled to the waiter for another.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s get back to Ray. Does he know you’re staying?”
“Yes, I had my first sitting with him yesterday.” I hesitated. “I gather he was causing a bit of trouble today?”
“He certainly was. Apparently he doesn’t approve of our meeting this evening.”
My fingers tightened on the glass. “What did he say?”
“Nothing to me; he ignored me completely, but he gave Pam one or two choice pieces of advice to pass on.”
“About me?” My voice cracked.
“I’m afraid so, yes. He can be pretty vicious, you know. I hope you know what you’re doing.” He looked across at me consideringly. “Why didn’t you tell Hugo the whole story?”
“You know why; he wouldn’t have let me stay.”
“In my opinion you’d be wiser not to. From the way Ray was carrying on today I’d say he was bordering on the psychopathic.”
“I’m really rather sorry for him, ’’ I said slowly.
“Sorry?”
“He’s so completely alone, Neil. To his way of thinking, he brought me over here expressly to have someone of his own, someone on his side, and now that I won’t fall into line he’s bewildered and hurt. So he lashes out.”
“He’s certainly doing that. I must say you’re more charitable than he deserves.”
“And then I have this horrible feeling that he’s in danger, threatened in some way.”
“I shouldn’t be at all surprised,” Neil returned dryly. “After today I can think of at least six people who would cheerfully slit his throat. I could myself.”
My hand jerked sharply, spilling the liquid in my glass. With a look at my face, Neil held out a clean handkerchief and I dabbed ineffectually at the stain.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. That hypnotist certainly has a lot to answer for. Whatever made you go up on the stage?”
I thought back to that fateful evening. “I think it was to annoy Mike. His father was a psychiatrist and he was being very superior about the whole thing, saying it shouldn’t be allowed. Actually, we hadn’t even realized a hypnotist was on the bill. Sue and I were celebrating having scraped through our O-levels and as no party had materialized, the four of us went on spec to the theatre.”
“Who was it who finally brought you round?”
I smiled. “Ironically enough, Mike’s father.”
“After three days?”
I nodded. Three days, during which my body had been inactive. But what of my mind? Where had it travelled during the trance which could overcome dimensional barriers? Here, to the Isle of Man, into its past and future, or simply deeper into the mind that held me, back to its ancient folk memories and forward by means of its possibly unrecognized clairvoyance?
Neil glanced at his watch. “If you’ve finished your drink we’d better be on our way.”
As Annette had told me, the Viking by night exuded a very different atmosphere from that of my last visit. Most of the tables were occupied, I noted with professional interest, and on each one a small copper lamp glowed, leaving the rafters and the shape of the longboat in softly moving shadow. Down by the hotplates Gaston was at work carving meat and spooning out luscious-smelling casseroles.
Annette came hurrying over with the menus and greeted me with enthusiasm. “Checking up on us? I hope we come up to expectations!”
When the complexities of choosing our first course had been resolved and we were alone again, I turned to Neil. “You know, we seem to have spent a great deal of time discussing the complications of my existence but literally the only thing I know about you is that you teach at St Olaf’s. I’m not even sure what subject!”
&
nbsp; “That’s easily rectified. Classics. For the rest, there’s not much to tell. I enjoy my life, but it hasn’t been wildly exciting.”
“What about your family?”
“Pretty standard, I imagine. My brother is a G.P., following in Father’s footsteps, and my sister was married a couple of weeks ago. I’d been home for her wedding when I saw you on the plane.”
“Hugo was saying you’ve been at St Olaf’s about six years.”
‘‘Yes. Sometimes I wonder if that isn’t long enough.”
“You’re not thinking of leaving? Not when I’d just arranged to stay!”
“Not at the moment, but I’m ambitious, Chloe. Sometimes that can be the very devil. I intend to have my own school one day.”
“You sound as though Vivian has been brainwashing you!”
He laughed. “It paid off for her, anyway. Have you heard that Nicholas landed the Downhurst post?”
“No, I hadn’t. I am glad. They both seemed to regard it as their last chance.”
“I just hope the strain isn’t too much for him. He’s been living off his nerves for years, but this term he’s worse than ever.”
Annette came back with our main courses. “Were the recipe books all right?” she asked.
“Marvellous, thanks. I’ve had a busy day!”
“You’re keeping your hand in, are you?” Neil commented as she moved away.
“I’ve been baking for the bazaar tomorrow.”
“I must say you’ve been incorporated into the community remarkably quickly!”
The meal was extremely good and Neil was amused by my comments as I sampled sauce and cutlet, vegetables and garnish. All of it was well up to the standards of Les Cinq Nids and my last doubts about accepting the partnership disappeared.
Subconsciously I relaxed and for the first time we were able to talk freely, to exchange ideas and points of view, without any hint of the supernatural overshadowing us. Neil was interested to hear about Paris and the cookery course and I laughed at stories of his brother Daniel’s days at medical school. And throughout the evening the atmosphere of the Viking, with its lamplight and shadows, wrapped us round and made us welcome. I wanted it to go on for ever but one by one the tables around us emptied and I knew sadly that it could be drawn out no longer.
“It’s time I took you home,” Neil said.
The wind had risen, sending wispy black clouds scudding over the silver-grey arc of the sky. Above us trees lifted skeletal arms in stark silhouette and a rustling multitude of leaves alternately advanced and retreated in the gusts that blew along the sides of the road. We reached the cottage much too soon. Neil got out and came round to open my door.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” I said.
“I’ve enjoyed it too. We must do it again.” He drew me towards him and again I steeled myself to match my attitude with his. It was a gentle kiss, undemanding, uncommitted, yet surely this, I thought on a wave of longing, was what had really brought me to the island, and again I felt pity for Ray. After a moment he raised his head and looked down at me.
“Do you still imagine I asked you out to please Hugo?” he asked softly. “If so, perhaps this will convince you otherwise.” He pulled me close again and this time the kiss was more urgent, altogether more personal. It was the memory of this, out of context, that had sent me hurrying towards him at Heathrow. For several minutes past and future hung deliriously locked in the present, until an instinct older than time alerted me to the fact that we were being watched.
I turned quickly, my eyes flying open, and gave a sharp cry. Down the lane a figure had detached itself from the shadow of the trees and was moving silently away.
Neil said urgently, “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“Someone was there – behind that tree!”
“Watching us, you mean?” He turned sharply. “I can’t see anything. You must have imagined it.”
I didn’t answer but his own denial hadn’t convinced him, because he added brusquely, “Well, I hope he enjoyed it, whoever he was.”
What had been between us was tarnished and spoilt.
“It’s time you went in anyway,” he said. “Good-night, Chloe.”
“Good-night.” I turned and walked blindly up the path to the house. ‘Whoever he was’ Neil had said, but I knew that neither of us doubted who it had been.
Thirteen
That night my sleep was peppered with fragments of dreams which melted away as I reached to examine them more closely: the stretch of coastline seen from the hill; a straw guy; Kirree Clegg’s blue, blue eyes. I came fully awake to the memory of Ray’s antagonism and Neil’s spoiled kisses. It could only have been Ray, surreptitiously hidden in the shadows watching us, determined to see for himself whether I accorded Neil more than the ‘arm’s length treatment’. Miserably I wondered what conclusion he had reached and how it would govern his actions now.
‘Evil comes home to roost’: one of Granny Clegg’s nebulous warnings. It seemed quite feasible that she was able to translate vibrations from Ray and myself into some identifiable threat.
The future seemed to be lying in wait for me like a giant bird of prey. On a wave of despair I wondered whether to run away again after all. Perhaps by avoiding any further unpleasantness with Ray it would be possible to avert the lurking danger which appeared to hang over us.
As for Neil, he might well decide our continuing friendship wasn’t worth the trouble Ray seemed bent on causing. It was only my infernal time-jumping which had accelerated my own feelings, catapulting me to our first meeting already in love with him.
This assessment, apparently already acknowledged subconsciously, took me by surprise but I had to admit its truth. Unfortunately there was no way of knowing whether our dream relationship had progressed beyond last night. I had ‘remembered’ Neil’s kisses; now, I had received them. That might be all that was due to me.
“I forgot to mention I have to go into college this morning,” Martha told me when, heavy-eyed, I finally reached the kitchen. “Some folios have been mislaid and they’re needed for an exhibition at the weekend. I shouldn’t be long though, so we can still have an early lunch and be up at the hall by two. Is all your stuff ready?”
“Almost. I just have to assemble the gâteau and put the finishing touches to the cakes.”
“There’s Hugo tooting. See you later.” The kitchen door banged behind her.
I drank a cup of coffee which was all the breakfast I wanted, and the hard knot of misery lay heavy and unmoving inside me. Mechanically I filled the coffee cake with whipped cream, spread fondant icing on the japonais au chocolat and sandwiched together the tiny meringues, decorating each with its piece of crystallized cherry. Even the delicate task of dipping the balls of choux pastry into syrup and arranging them round the Gâteau St Honoré occupied only a fraction of my attention.
After an hour or so I paused and surveyed my handiwork with a professional eye. The gingerbread and cheese scones were already stacked in tins for transporting to the hall, the petits fours arranged in sweetpaper casings. There was nothing more I could do for the moment.
I remember turning from the kitchen table and starting towards the hall. After that, I don’t know. As I reached the door à clutch of terror inexplicably grabbed hold of me and in the same instant I seemed to see an enormous lorry, headlamps blazing, charging down the hall towards me.
There was no time to question the veracity of its appearance, nor to move out of the way. I flung my arms instinctively over my head and screamed in a frenzy of fear. The next second I was thrown to the floor by the shattering impact as huge wheels crushed down on my body. Total darkness engulfed me.
I’m not sure how long I lay there before struggling back to consciousness. My arms were still clamped protectively round my head and it took a considerable effort to unlock them. Dizzily I sat up. Above me on the hall table was the vase of chrysanthemums Martha had arranged the day before. Their bitter scent pricked at my n
ostrils. Through the open sitting-room door I could see the fireplace and a corner of Hugo’s chair. It was all so normal, so safe and familiar. How could I possibly have conjured up that mind-shattering vision of a juggernaut in this tiny hallway?
Ray The name clarioned in my head like an alarm bell. Could I warn him in time? How many precious minutes had elapsed while I lay unconscious on the floor?
I hurled myself at the phone, all memory of our last meeting wiped from my mind. The number! What was the number? My incoherent prayers were answered in the form of a letter on college paper laying beside the phone. With trembling fingers I started to dial.
“St Olaf’s College. Can I help you?”
“Could I speak to Ray Kittering, please?”
“I’m sorry, personal calls aren’t allowed during school hours.”
“But it’s desperately urgent! Can you at least tell me if he’s there? Please!”
The secretary doubtless had previous experience of hysterical females phoning Ray, but the note of panic in my voice must have reached her. “Just one moment, I’ll see if I can contact him for you.”
There was a click in my ear. I chewed my lip in a frenzy of impatience as one second remorsely followed another. If he wasn’t there, what could I do?
“Hello, staff-room?”
“Could I – is Ray there?”
The voice sharpened. “Chloe? Is that you? It’s Neil. Whatever –?”
“Is Ray there?” No time for normal pleasantries – no time –
“Just a minute.”
“Hello?” Ray’s voice, unmistakably. Relief swamped me and I leant on the window-sill for support. “Hello?” he repeated more loudly. “Are you there?”
“Yes,” I whispered dryly.
“Well, what is it?”
“You’re all right?”
“To the best of my knowledge. Shouldn’t I be?”
I was shaking uncontrollably. “I thought you might have had an accident.”
“Why the hell?”
“There was a lorry, one of those continental monstrosities. It came bearing down with its headlamps blazing. I was sure you’d been hurt.”
Island-in-Waiting Page 12
