‘What about Damian? Did he come down to the stage?’
‘Yes. He and Stan seem to enjoy baiting each other. Some of the things they were saying to each other were outrageous.’
‘Golly,’ said Libby.
The rest of the Pendle company were due to arrive at the Manor at around two o’clock on Sunday afternoon. Max had booked them all in at the pub for dinner, so there was nothing for Hetty to do except welcome them; nevertheless her regular Sunday roast had been put back to dinner time. Libby and Ben went up to the Manor to be on hand should they be needed, and Ben wandered into the theatre to switch on lights in case anyone wanted to look round.
‘I needn’t have bothered,’ he said, as he returned to Libby and Hetty in the huge Manor kitchen, ‘Damian’s already in the sound box listening to his bloody score again.’
‘How did he get in?’ asked Libby.
‘That Max came up with ’im,’ said Hetty. ‘Went in the minibus to fetch the dancers.’
‘They’ll be here any minute,’ said Ben looking at his watch.
‘If the train isn’t late and they haven’t had to get on replacement buses,’ said Libby, this being a regular feature of the line into London.
On cue, the sound of an engine coming up the drive announced the arrival of the company. Libby, Ben and Hetty went outside.
The minibus came to a halt, the doors opened and Max jumped down from the near side.
‘Here we are, dears,’ he said. Libby and Ben exchanged raised eyebrows. This was the first time they’d heard Max slip into theatrical camp.
A flood of young men followed him out on to the drive, chattering like sparrows. Max held up a hand and they fell silent.
‘Boys, these people are your hosts. Libby here and Ben own and run the theatre, and Hetty is your hostess at the Manor.’
‘Hello,’ said Libby, Ben and Hetty together. There was a chorus of replies and a couple came forward to shake hands.
‘Nice to meet you,’ said the blond giant who was shaking Libby’s hand enthusiastically. ‘I’m Dan Washburn. Not that you’ll remember us all by name!’
Libby beamed up at him. ‘I’ll try. And you’re very tall!’
‘I’m too big, really,’ said Dan, with an answering grin. ‘But I can do lifts like billy-o.’
‘I bet you can,’ said Libby. ‘Have you got your bags? We’ll start showing you your rooms.’
Hetty retreated to the kitchen and Ben and Libby began to lead the dancers to their rooms. They were all delighted that they didn’t have to share.
‘You wouldn’t believe some of the digs,’ confided a slight, dark young man, as Libby showed him into a room overlooking the private garden at the back. ‘This is luxury.’
‘Oh, I would,’ Libby told him. ‘I was in the business myself.’
‘You were?’ Delicate eyebrows were raised. Libby laughed.
‘Acting, not dancing. Though of course I had to learn the basics.’
‘You had to learn to move.’ The dark young man sounded slightly scornful.
‘And did you have to learn to act?’ asked Libby.
‘Ah.’ He broke into a deep and surprising guffaw. ‘Got me there.’ He put his case on the bed and stuck out a hand. ‘I’m Phillip Newcombe.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Phillip. Are you a witch?’
‘I’m Alizon, Demdike’s granddaughter.’ He put his head on one side. ‘Do you know the story?’
‘The official version – vaguely,’ said Libby. ‘Isn’t Alizon the one who’s accused of killing the pedlar?’
Phillip grinned, delighted. ‘That’s the one! John Law, he is.’
‘I’m looking forward to seeing it,’ said Libby. ‘Are you enjoying it?’
‘Loving it.’ He clasped his hands together and cast his eyes up to the ceiling. ‘Praise whoever’s up there.’
Amused, Libby left him to it and went back to see if anyone else needed shepherding to their rooms. After half an hour she joined Ben, Hetty and Max in the kitchen.
‘All safely stowed,’ she said. ‘They seem a nice bunch. If I can get them all sorted out.’
Max laughed. ‘A bit overwhelming all at once, aren’t they?’
‘They’re fine. No one complained. They all seemed very pleased with the accommodation.’
‘That’s what one of them said to me. Told me I’d be surprised how awful some digs were!’
‘Did you put him right?’ asked Max. ‘Which one was that?’
‘Phillip. Your Alizon, he told me.’
‘Ah, yes, Phillip. Can be a little wasp, but in general quite amusing.’
‘Who does Dan Washburn play? He seems very big for a dancer.’
‘Dan’s our Roger Nowell, the magistrate. Yes, he’s big, but did you get a good look at the others? Most of them are. And strong.’
‘Didn’t you say your Nowell was one of the people who weren’t keen on continuing after the incidents?’ said Ben.
‘That’s right,’ said Max.
‘He doesn’t seem the type to get frightened off,’ said Libby.
‘His wife’s just had a baby and he gets worried about being away from her for too long and in case anything happens to him. He’s less – what would you call it? – venturesome than some of the others.’
‘Sensible, you mean,’ said Hetty. ‘Want a cuppa?’
Max declined, saying that he must check on his flock, as did Libby and Ben on the grounds that they were going to have a quick Sunday lunchtime drink at the pub.
‘We’ll see you later, Mum,’ said Ben. ‘What time?’
‘Six o’clock. Time for a glass before dinner. Tell Pete and Harry.’
Harry was still serving lunches in The Pink Geranium, so Ben just put his head round the door and asked the current waitress to give him the message. Meanwhile, Libby ran back to Peter and Harry’s cottage and delivered the message to Peter.
‘We’re just going for a quick one at the pub,’ said Libby. ‘Coming?’
‘No, I’ve got some stuff to get off this afternoon. I’ll see you at Hetty’s this evening. Did all the little darlings arrive?’
‘Yes, all settled. Very butch, most of them.’
‘Oh? Shows you, you shouldn’t stereotype people. See you later.’
Ben was already in the pub.
‘Look out,’ he muttered, ‘Stuffy Stan’s coming our way.’
‘Stuffy –?’
‘Hello, you two.’
Libby turned to see Stan Willis and Damian Singleton behind her.
‘Oh, hello.’ She smiled weakly.
‘All the lads settled in?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ said Libby. ‘I didn’t see you up there.’
‘Oh, I got away as quickly as I could. I knew Damian was here having lunch, so I joined him.’
Damian smiled benignly, pale hair flopping over pale forehead as he nodded agreement.
‘We’ll leave you to it, then,’ said Ben firmly turning from the bar with two glasses in his hand. ‘Lib, Flo’s beckoning us from the other bar.’
‘See you later,’ said Libby, hoping she wouldn’t.
Flo Carpenter, Hetty’s best friend since childhood, was indeed in the other bar with Lenny, Hetty’s brother, who lived with her.
‘’Oo’s that?’ she said before Ben and Libby had even sat down. ‘One of them dancers?’
‘No, the stage manager,’ said Ben. ‘Shhh, Flo.’
‘’E looks familiar.’ Flo was frowning. ‘Where’ve I seen ’im before?’
‘He lives in London as far as I know,’ said Libby. ‘Where would you have seen a London-based stage manager?’
‘’T’isn’t ’im,’ said Lenny suddenly.
‘Eh?’ said Flo.
‘You’re thinkin’ it’s old Wally Willis. Can’t be ’im, ’e’s dead.’
Chapter Four
‘Wally Willis?’ echoed Ben and Libby together.
‘That’s Stan Willis,’ said Libby.
‘There, see?’ sai
d Flo triumphantly. ‘Said I knew ’im.’
‘You don’t,’ said Lenny. ‘That ain’t Wally.’
‘Must be ’is son, or grandson,’ said Flo.
‘Who is Wally Willis?’ asked Ben.
‘Cor, don’t you ever read yer newspapers?’ said Lenny.
‘Not these days, Lenny,’ said Libby with amusement. ‘Well-known, was he?’
‘Yeah, and not for the right reasons,’ said Flo. ‘Come from round our way, ’e did – younger’n us – ’e worked for some of the biggest names … well, you know.’ She nodded portentously.
‘Criminals?’ said Libby. ‘Well-known criminals?’
‘The best,’ said Lenny.
‘Worst,’ said Flo.
‘Not – them?’ whispered Libby, her eyes round with wonder.
‘Never ’eard of the Cat Club shootin’?’ asked Flo.
‘Vaguely,’ said Ben.
‘They reckoned that was Wally,’ said Lenny.
‘And Stan looks like him?’ asked Libby.
‘Just like,’ said Flo. ‘Even down to the specs. Little bloke, very neat. Never think of ’im as – well, you know.’
‘If it’s true,’ said Ben, ‘why hasn’t Stan changed his name?’
Flo shrugged. ‘Not many remember.’
‘You thought we should have,’ said Libby.
‘Yeah, well.’ Flo looked uncomfortable.
‘So, did he get caught?’ asked Ben.
‘Reckon ’e did. Never ’eard of ’im after – when was it, Len?’
‘Early seventies? Don’t think they ’anged ’im, though. Too late for that.’
‘Golly!’ said Libby, looking at Ben. ‘Wouldn’t you just love to ask him!’
‘No, Libby,’ said Ben. ‘I wouldn’t. And neither must you.’
Flo began to struggle to her feet. ‘Got to ’ave me nap before we goes up to Het’s. Come on, Len.’
‘Oh, you’re coming, are you?’ said Libby.
‘Wants to ’ave a gander at them young boys!’ said Lenny with a wink. Flo hit him on the arm.
As they left, Libby looked after them and nonchalantly waved.
‘Stan’s still there with Damian,’ she said as she turned back to Ben.
‘Well, they are both staying here,’ said Ben. ‘Perhaps we’d better go, too. I don’t want to talk to him, particularly now we know about his possible grandad.’
‘Are you afraid I’ll let the cat out of the bag?’ said Libby.
Ben laughed. ‘Of course I am.’
At six o’clock on the dot, Ben and Libby joined Peter and Harry at the door of the Manor. Harry peered up at the first floor windows.
‘Will we see any of them?’
‘They won’t come into the kitchen,’ said Ben. ‘We might hear them.’
‘Are you feeding them during the week?’ asked Libby.
‘Max has arranged a group discount for them, but they don’t have to eat with me. They can eat at the pub if they like.’
‘They don’t have much of a choice, do they?’ said Peter.
‘What will they do the week of the show?’ asked Libby. ‘They won’t want to eat before.’
‘No idea.’ Harry shrugged. ‘Not your problem, petal.’
Ben pushed open the heavy door and they followed him down the passage and into the kitchen where Flo and Lenny already sat at the table with glasses of red wine in front of them. To their surprise, so did two of the dancers.
‘Met Will and Jonathan, didn’t you?’ grunted Hetty, turning from where she was taking the huge rib of beef out of the Aga.
‘Er, yes,’ said Ben. ‘Hello.’
The tall, dark dancer stood up and grinned deprecatingly.
‘Sorry,’ he said in a distinctly northern accent. ‘Will and I both wanted milk for tea, so we ventured down and – er – got invited.’
‘I invited ’em,’ said Flo with an evil grin.
Will, smaller and sandy-haired, also stood. ‘We didn’t mean to intrude,’ he began.
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Libby. ‘Do sit down and finish your wine. This is Peter and this – Harry. He’s the owner of the restaurant where you can eat during the week if you like.’
Jonathan held out a hand to both Peter and Harry, and Will followed suit.
‘Vegetarian, isn’t it?’ said Jonathan. He grinned. ‘That’ll suit Will.
‘It started that way,’ said Harry, ‘but I do a few meat dishes now. Oh – in a separate kitchen, of course.’ He went round the table to kiss first Hetty’s cheek, then Flo’s.
‘I thought we’d supplied tea and coffee in the rooms?’ said Ben, filling extra glasses from the open bottle of Cabernet.
‘We both wondered if there was any chance of fresh milk,’ said Will. ‘A bit cheeky, sorry.’
‘Can’t leave fresh milk out,’ said Hetty. ‘You can come down here and fetch it. I’ll order extra.’
‘So you came down for milk and got wine,’ said Libby, lifting her glass. ‘Cheers.’
‘I brought it,’ said Flo. ‘You be quiet.’
Everyone laughed, while the two dancers looked bewildered.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Ben. ‘All just one big happy family.’
‘Tell me, who do you play?’ asked Peter. ‘I’m not terribly familiar with the story.’
‘I’m Demdike,’ said Jonathan. ‘Promoted from Abraham Law.’
‘And I’ve taken over Abraham,’ said Will.
‘Funny names,’ said Flo. ‘Why was you promoted? First one no good?’
‘He left,’ said Jonathan, looking uncomfortable.
‘Ah.’ Flo nodded wisely. ‘Temp’rament, was it?’
‘Er – not exactly,’ said Will.
‘I think it’s a company thing, Flo,’ Libby interposed hastily. ‘I’m really looking forward to seeing a rehearsal tomorrow.’
‘It’s a lovely theatre,’ said Will. ‘We went over there earlier. You’re very lucky.’
‘My Ben,’ said Hetty suddenly. ‘’Is idea.’
Libby was surprised to see Ben go bright red.
‘Well, it was sitting there doing nothing,’ he said in a strangled voice.
‘And he’s an architect, so he drew up the plans,’ said Harry.
‘And he used to be in the business when he was young,’ said Peter.
‘And Libby’s ex-pro,’ concluded Ben.
‘So there you are,’ said Peter. ‘Our own theatre.’ He noticed the dancers’ raised eyebrows. ‘Oh, yes, and I’m family, too, so Ben, Libby and I run it between us.’
‘Fancy having your own theatre.’ Will was gazing at Peter as if spellbound and Harry began to fidget.
‘What time are you meeting Max at the pub?’ asked Libby.
‘Oh, not until seven,’ said Will.
‘But I think we ought to leave these people to their dinner,’ said Jonathan, standing up again. He bowed to Flo. ‘Thank you for the wine.’
‘Oh, OK,’ said Will reluctantly. ‘Thank you for the wine. Oh – and the milk!’ He raised a small china jug.
‘So what was that about promotion?’ asked Flo, when the dancers had left. ‘You didn’t want me to ask.’
‘The first dancer left because of an incident,’ said Ben repressively.
‘Bad boy, was ’e?’
‘No, Flo. Something was done to him, he didn’t do anything.’ Ben went to help his mother lift a dish of roast potatoes to the table.
‘Well, if yer don’t want to tell me …’ Flo shrugged.
‘Not ours to tell, Flo,’ said Libby.
‘That Jonathan’s a nice boy,’ said Hetty, surprisingly. ‘Good manners.’
‘He’s at least as old as I am,’ said Harry, a trifle pettishly.
‘And Will obviously took a fancy to Pete,’ said Libby wickedly.
‘Did he?’ Peter sounded surprised.
‘Yes, he did,’ said Harry, ‘so you keep your hands off.’
Peter smiled and patted his arm. ‘It’s usually yo
u they fancy, isn’t it, dear heart? Jealous?’
Harry sniffed and got up to help Hetty.
‘Now, now,’ said Libby. ‘Little birds in their nests agree.’
‘All the same,’ said Ben later, as they all strolled back down the Manor drive, ‘they could be a disturbing bunch to have around for a fortnight.’
‘We’ll keep out of their way,’ said Peter, draping an arm across Harry’s shoulder.
‘Except when they come to the caff,’ said Harry.
‘I shall come in every night to protect you,’ said Peter.
‘And I suppose I’m going to have to mingle with them, aren’t I?’ said Libby.
‘Eh?’ Harry stopped and looked at her. ‘Why?’
‘We’ve almost forgotten, haven’t we? That’s why they’re here. Max wants me to see if I can find out what’s behind all these strange goings on.’
‘Well,’ said Ben as they resumed walking, ‘you already got those two this afternoon talking. I don’t see why you shouldn’t do the same with the others.’
‘Yes, but what excuse do I have? I can’t just sit through rehearsals every day.’
‘Do they have a lunch break?’ asked Harry.
‘I suppose so,’ said Libby. ‘Why?’
‘How about if I supply a bit of a buffet lunch and take it up and serve it in the Manor. That would give you the excuse to come in and mingle, wouldn’t it? Are they using that big sitting-room again?’
‘That’s a genius idea, Hal. But how will you find time?’
‘I prep up for lunch every day except Monday, don’t I? Won’t be a problem. I’ll tell Max, don’t worry. I won’t charge him much.’ Harry grinned.
‘You could tell him now,’ said Ben. ‘They’ll all still be in the pub, won’t they?’
‘Oh, no, I couldn’t face them all now,’ said Harry with a shudder. ‘I’ll send him a text.’
Libby and Ben continued towards Allhallow’s Lane.
‘So who have we met so far?’ said Libby.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, characters in the play – I mean dance. Jonathan who is the new Demdike.’
‘Will Davies who’s Abraham Something.’
‘Law,’ said Libby. ‘I wonder who he was before?’
‘Before?’
‘He was promoted, too, wasn’t he?’
Murder Dancing Page 3
