He said he had been busy about the village since he had seen her earlier in the morning: ‘Has Cass telephoned you?’
‘No. Has anything happened? About that strange girl? I do hope there won’t be any — awkwardness. Has she really lost her memory, do you think?’
‘Who can say? She’s certainly not much attached to reality. However, she does have a story of sorts — or rather some cloudy childhood memories.’
‘How odd ...’ Evelyn looked as if she preferred not to hear what they were but was nevertheless impelled to ask, listening with a frown as Henry told her. When he had finished they walked in silence for a while, following the stiff-legged course of the old dog as he doddered enthusiastically from tree to tree.
‘Coincidence,’ Evelyn murmured at last. ‘But accountable at least in terms of her hearingabout Helen. Over the years Augustus — the film company — employed hundreds of people. She could have been the daughter of one of them, brought up on stories of a child in more fortunate circumstances than herself. And the publicity that accompanied Helen’s disappearance was considerable. She could have woven some romance, seeing herself as part of it ...’
A child telling herself stories — that was Leonora’s manner. But what spirit resided in the body of Leonora when she stood in the hall in her unapproachable stillness? ‘That doesn’t explain last night, though, and so few people knew about that.’
‘Three. Cass, Mandy, myself. Augustus has contact with no one.’
‘You’re forgetting the two extras.’
‘No. They knew nothing beyond what they were supposed to do. They could not possibly have anticipated any — result.’
‘Cass said something like that. And I’ve spoken to Mandy. It seems she was expecting what she termed a “manifestation” — but you would know that, of course.’
It did Evelyn no good to withdraw to indifference, the coolof course found its way through her defences. ‘Where Augustus is concerned, Mandy is inclined to a credulous — worship. She is not educated, her type succumb to suggestion, in fact, they revel in anything that awakens their superstitions.’
In short, Mandy was not a lady. Any more than Henry was a gentleman; and Evelyn, recognising her lack of tact too late, gave a nervous cough and tried to look absent-minded.
‘Wynter can’t have long to live now. He’s in his eighties, his health is deteriorating. His death would take a burden from you.’
She responded to his directness with an equally direct ‘It would’, if only — such being her nature — to make honest amends for her implication that by sharing Mandy’s social class he might also be subject to her mental inadequacies.
‘A burden you’ve carried for a long time. Seven years ago — what happened at the ceremony then?’
‘Nothing. There was a strange atmosphere, not at all like last night, though.’
‘And seven years before that?’
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t there.’
‘Your father was.’
‘Yes. How do you know? Oh, I suppose Cass told you.’
‘She didn’t need to. You all have your uses to Wynter, in his way, in his time.’
Evelyn’s mouth tightened. ‘That’s true.’
He added silently: and he would dispense with you, revenge himself on you, sacrifice you up to his gods — you know that, deep in your cast-iron soul, but you’re not going to let it come to the surface. He’d shove a drunk over a precipice, Mandy would cut a dog’s throat — you’ve lived with those nightmares and you’re coming to the end of them now ...
He glanced at her face, the strong face that guarded her utter helplessness. Living besieged in the fortress of her life she could do nothing to assist the nightmare to its end, she would do only what she must, what was expected of her, placating a terror she had longed to escape from since her childhood. If she had the will she certainly did not have the daring to produce a replacement Helen, prime her for the part, dress her up. And she was intelligent, she knew Wynter too well, knew what he would and would not accept.
She broke the silence with a sigh. ‘What can be done about that girl?’
Henry produced from his wallet the postcard and cutting he had taken from Leonora. She examined them, shaking her head, saying, ‘You’d go to these places? I’m afraid we’re putting you to a great deal of trouble.’
‘I’m doing it for Cass.’ I’m doing it because my clocks stopped at midnight and I want to knowwhy. I’m doing it because I found a pack of tarot cards and the moon of life in death fell into my hand. I’m doing it because a dead woman saidHenry will understand. And I don’t. But he spoke none of those things; Evelyn despised Mandy for her ignorance and credulity, he was not going to give her one inch in which to exercise her superiority on him.
They had reached the limit of their walk, determined by the dog, who did a complete circuit of one tree and launched himself back along the way they had come. After a few steps he stood completely still, apparently remaining upright only by the support of the lead. Evelyn looked down at him with distaste. ‘I do hope he’s not going to have some sort of fit. He has tablets for his heart. He really should be put to sleep, it would be kinder.’ Wordlessly, Henry took the lead from her and picked the dog up, it was like holding a smelly mop. He could scarcely blame Evelyn for her distaste, which increased perceptibly, mingled with relief, as she murmured, ‘Thank you. I’m afraid I couldn’t do that.’
‘He just wants a rest, I suppose.’ Henry felt the exhaustion of the dog as its head drooped over the crook of his arm and it took a contented nap. ‘Now, tell me. You all three think Helen’s dead, don’t you? But none of you will say so to Wynter. Wouldn’t it be —’ he paused fractionally on the word — ‘kinder?’
Evelyn put her hands in the pockets of her tweed suit; she had a capable, striding air, curiously out of sorts with her hesitant expression. ‘It’s awkward to explain. As a practical man you would find it — fanciful, bizarre.’
‘It’s all fanciful,’ he said patiently. ‘And so bizarre the only thing that occurs to me is that Wynter — at this stage — can scarcely be said to need to live with the hope, I can only think he needs it to die with.’
Her step faltered, she turned her face to him. ‘How did you guess?’
‘It’s the only bloody guess left. What has it to do with that film —The Marching Stones?’
‘You know the story? Yes. Well, to him it isn’t a story. That evil that was shut out from the world — he reactivated it. More than that, he believes he concentrated it upon himself. It has influenced, distorted his life, it caused Jessica’s death, it made someone — who, he cannot discover — steal Helen from him. It is a perpetual threat to his own life, he guards himself by seclusion, ritual, disguise; for years now he has not emerged from his apartment without wearing a mask.’
‘A mask made to simulate stone — like the ones you wore last night?’
‘Yes. Does that seem odd to you?’
‘No, he has to identify himself with what he most dreads — that way he can placate it, keep it at bay. He makes a concession to its power, at the same time — behind the mask — he eludes it.’
She said sombrely, ‘It’s death he eludes. A frightful death, a continuing torment. He will be taken into that evil, to suffer throughout eternity unless ... Unless Helen comes back. If he can bring her back he will know that his strength is the greater; once he sets eyes on her he will be released, death will no more be a terror.’
In Henry’s arms the old dog stirred, yawned, peered upwards. ‘All right now, old feller?’ Henry said softly and set him down on his shaky legs, passing the lead to Evelyn.
She took it in a firm hand. Her extraordinary recital — dispassionate as it had been — left her looking defensive and relieved. ‘Mandy would not, of course, tell you this. She believes — Augustus has led her to believe — that if his secret passes to strangers he becomes even more vulnerable. I would be obliged.’
‘No, I won’t tell her. Does
Cass know?’
‘No. She might have guessed, but she does not really wish to know. We’re great cowards, my sister and I.’
‘I can hardly blame you, you’ve been involved in a very weird situation for a long time. She said something once about — what was it? Acting out charades for his benefit.’
‘Yes. Occasionally, when he feels it necessary. We wear the cloaks and masks, he comes out on the gallery and directs us, as he directed the last scene of the film. Time stopped for him then, it makes no difference now that there are no technicians, that the actors have all gone; the illusion is vital to him. It regenerates his strength — and he searches through the movements and words for some clue, something that will tell him who, at that point, had already planned to take Helen away.’
‘He insisted your father work on Holme’s book — for the same reason?’
‘Yes. He read it over and over again, trying to find something that would lead him to the person who betrayed him. Uselessly, his suspicions have gone here and there, but he has never discovered anything.’
‘Mmm. The ceremony last night — how was it different from the ones that preceded it?’
‘Only in one particular. We had never recited the spell before.’
‘Where did he get it from?’
She hesitated, looking embarrassed. ‘He claims to have received it telepathically. Er — from your aunt, not long before she died.’
Henry stared along the sweep of green, saying nothing. A shiver moved down his spine.
*
Cass arrived in the afternoon, letting herself in by way of the garden, bringing light to the lowering day. But when he put out his arms to her she said, ‘I can’t stay long,’ giving no reason, her manner hurried and practical.
‘Cass. I want some time with you. Just you. I want to talk to you.’
She looked at him through her eyelashes, wriggling against him. ‘Talk. Ah-ha. A likely story. Talk ... Come on.’
It was a disaster. Her sense of haste, her inattentive efficiency spurred his lust beyond control; when his heart and breath steadied he lifted his weight from her, still holding her close. ‘I’m sorry, Cass. I don’t know why that happened. Christ, you didn’t even have time to blink.’
‘Blinking is not a requirement,’ she answered carefully. He imagined she must be wild, she had every right to be. He put his hand softly between her legs, feeling his own swift wetness there. ‘Shall I?’
‘No, don’t.’ She took his wrist and moved his hand away. ‘It’s all right, Henry. Honestly. Don’t worry.’
Her fury would have salved his pride, her indifference took it to pieces. With a kindness more humiliating than any scorn she had let him use her body, too little concerned to care that he not aroused it; he felt her unmoved flesh cool beneath his hands, she was no more involved with him than she would be with some stranger. Involuntarily, his arms tightened round her. He didn’t want the reality of her, he wanted the memory of her passion, the consolation of what had once for her been mutual desire, not concession.
‘Cass, you didn’t want to ... I understand, you women have moods. I wouldn’t have made a scene.’
‘You’re about to make one now. All about nothing. And I did want to. I did. It was nice.’
She was lying. She was tired of him, too kind, too unconcerned, too calculating to say so. The spark of anger that started in his heart was extinguished slowly by the aching prospect of loneliness; he would do a great deal to keep her, to keep himself from that loneliness.
She spoke his name in a tone that indicated he had caused her the temporary inconvenience of interrupting her train of thought, which she had now resumed: ‘Where will you go first tomorrow? I think the place that advertised, don’t you. I mean, Leonora could have just been in the pub once and picked up a card, but if she wrote to that house, or even went there ... Will you do that?’
‘Yes.’ Not even concession now, just barter. He stroked her shoulder. Damn you, you beautiful bitch.
She sat up, giving a little shiver, gathering the quilt round her; the dankness of the day had crept into the room. He said, ‘Shall I light the fire? It’s all ready.’
‘A fire in one’s bedroom, how sybaritic. No. I’m not going to stay.’ But she sat for a while, gathered into herself, talking of Leonora.
He said, ‘So you’ve adopted her.’
‘Why not? Someone must, she’s quite alone, and I don’t think she’s got anywhere to go. She can stay with me, she’s a sweet thing, her chatter does die down after a while. She told me something else today. No, don’t groan — listen. This country house of hers — honestly, poor Leonora, was there ever any such place? There were three poplars, and an immense hawthorn hedge — shades of the Sleeping Beauty — surrounding the property next door. Leonora could get through the hedge and into the house — she had her own secret way, she’d played there when it had been empty for a while. Well, it was there this girl — this friend was imprisoned. Held in durance vile were Leonora’s actual words.’
‘Naturally. And what became of her? Don’t tell me — she can’t remember.’
‘Not exactly. She just thinks she overheard the people who were keeping her there talking one day about having to get rid of her, or get her out of the way, or something. Henry, wouldn’t it be amazing if after all these years ... No, I don’t think so. But even if it is all moonshine we ought to try and find out. What do you think?’
‘I think we ought to play another game. One where I understand the rules.’
She gave a growl of exasperation and got off the bed, looking for her clothes. He went to help her but she was dressing hastily, saying, ‘No, don’t bother, I can do it more quickly by myself, you know my underwear only makes you mad all over again. I ought to start wearing vests and sensible knickers.’
‘How can knickers be sensible?’
‘You’d be surprised. You’ve obviously never encountered elastic at the knee. Why don’t you come round later and talk to Leonora.’
‘I don’t want to talk to Leonora ever again,’ he said grimly, at once visited by the irrational and unregretted feeling that he never would. ‘But for God’s sake, if she changes her story, stop me tearing off on some wild-goose chase tomorrow, telephone me —Wait a minute— I’ll come down with you.’
‘No, it’s all right,’ she had picked up her handbag and was making for the door.
‘Christ, you don’t think I’m going to let you rush in here, open your legs and rush out again.’
‘Why not? That’s what it’s about, isn’t it? Don’t begallant, Henry. Goodbye.’
She went at once, carelessly, taking the last of his pride with her.
14
Midway between the Beeches and the Merry Ploughman Henry stopped at a telephone box to call Cass. In answer to her breathless, ‘What have you found out?’ he could only say, ‘Nothing. The family are away, the house is shut up. However, I had coffee and conversation with an inquisitive neighbour. Charming woman, though.’
‘You coppers insinuate yourselves everywhere. Two cheers for charming inquisitive neighbours. But what could she tell you?’
‘Only that the family — who are friends of hers — did advertise in April. They had a stream of applicants, one of whom has been in residence since the end of May — gone away on holiday with them now.’
‘Damn, obviously not Leonora. She could have been one of the applicants, couldn’t she?’
‘Maybe. It seemed there was one who arranged an interview — by letter — and simply never turned up. That sounds more like Leonora’s style to me.’
‘Don’t be beastly. You’ll just have to try the Merry Ploughman.’
*
Easily said; the place proved hard to locate. Eventually he came across it in a tiny, rain washed fold of two hills: a square lump of a building, exceptionally lacking in any suggestion of merriment both inside and out. In its charmless bar, where he was the only customer, he drank thin bitter beer and ate sandwiches mad
e — he would swear — of blotting paper and plastic cheese.
The landlord had a hyphenated name and an air of amiability suppressed by the fumbling of the habitual drunk. His wife was a large woman whose once statuesque figure had run out to lumpishness; her manner was elevated, her accent stranglingly high English, treating even such a neutral topic as the weather to such a degree of snobbish scorn Henry curtailed niceties and got on with his story. He explained he had dropped in while passing as a favour to some friends — ‘They recently interviewed a girl for a job and she left behind some personal things they want to forward to her. Unfortunately, they’ve mislaid her address. They knew she’d been here — Leonora Lee —’
‘Her. She certainlywashere — but not for long, didn’t last five minutes, you know whatmaidsare these days. Your friends are well rid of her, we’d never have taken her on if we hadn’t beendesperate—’ Incuriously accepting his story and taking it for granted he moved in circles where such things as maids were commonplace, Mrs Lyttleton-Stampe identified Leonora, pinned her down, demolished her. ‘Wore peculiar clothes, those long skirts, so unsuitable. And ridiculous glasses. Always talking, common accent. We couldn’t keep her, of course. You would never believe how familiar she was with our guests, actually tried to hold aconversation with the Brigadier —’
Mrs Lyttleton-Stampe launched herself on gossip with an appetite that suggested long hours of doing nothing else. At some point her husband made a blurred, tutting noise and said they had ‘the reputation of the house’ to think of. ‘Not a place to touch it for miles around, ask anyone. No, we couldn’t keep her. Some sacrifices have to be made, but not class. No, never. When the chips are down, never class. Hang on to that in this day and age I always —’
Mrs Lyttleton-Stampe interrupted shrilly, ‘Of course, her name wasn’t Leonora. Idiotic.Girlsof that type always give themselves names like tarts, thinks it make them interesting. No, it wasEthel. Quite good enough for her, too. It was on her insurance card —’
‘Then you will be able to let me have her address,’ Henry persisted, gritting his teeth and being charming.
Samain Page 18
