by Leo McNeir
“What a lovely little whizz-bang!” Celia’s laughter stopped abruptly; she put a hand to her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean –”
“Whizz-bang?” Marnie repeated.
“I meant it as a compliment, honestly Marnie. It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a car like that before, well not close up anyway. I wasn’t being rude about it.”
Marnie looked at her car with its antique styling, its soft top folded back, exposed headlamps, sloping wings over chromed wire wheels, twin bucket seats of cream leather and the spare wheel slung on the back of the fuel tank. She smiled.
“Actually, I do see what you mean.”
Celia laughed and put a hand on Marnie’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re not offended.”
“Of course I’m not. It’s not a bad description.”
Celia turned to one side and lowered her voice. “I’m afraid we got off to a bad start the other day, Marnie. It was all my fault. I bitterly regret that. I hope we can start again with a clean sheet.”
“No problem.”
“Friends?”
“Sure.”
Aware that Danny had climbed out of the car and was standing behind them, Marnie introduced her to Celia who then walked off in the direction of the church, turning round briefly to smile at the car and blow a kiss over her shoulder.
*
It was a day for Sybarites. In bikinis and sunblock, Danny and Anne reclined on loungers with magazines, chatting about friends from the past, plans for the future. Danny commented that Anne seemed to have her life thoroughly worked out; she knew where she was going because she was already there. Anne’s reply was unexpected.
“Nothing’s guaranteed. What I have today I might not have tomorrow.”
Danny wondered why Anne was so gloomy when she had everything – and more – that anyone of her age could wish for. She was doing well at college and had a job that gave her a steady income throughout the year. No chasing after jobs on the Christmas post or in burger bars for Anne Price. She had her own car and a great pad. Why not be optimistic?
Surreptitiously Danny watched Anne. Lying there in the sun, she looked like any relaxed eighteen year-old, but there was more under the surface where Anne was concerned. Danny noticed that each time a boat came into earshot, Anne would look up at once until it came into view and then return to her reading.
Suddenly Anne glanced round and caught Danny watching her. “What’s up?”
Danny was flustered. “What?”
“You had a strange look on your face.”
“I, er …”
Anne swivelled round and sat up. “Something’s bothering you.”
“No.”
“Danny …”
“It’s just. I was only thinking …”
“Go on.”
“Nothing really, just well, I suppose it was about your life.”
“What about it?”
“I can see why you’re so happy here. It’s a sort of idyllic life, on the surface.”
“But?”
“Look, don’t think I’m being rude or anything, but it comes at a price, doesn’t it?”
“How d’you mean?”
“I’m not sure how to say it.”
Anne waited for her friend to continue.
“It just seems a bit strange. I mean, you don’t get out a lot, do you? It’s as if you’ve grown up so fast, you’ve left all your old life behind.”
“I’ve moved on, that’s for sure. But I’m happy here and it’s really interesting. I wouldn’t want it to be different. I know where I’m going and what I’m doing. Is that too high a price to pay?”
The sound of a boat engine intruded, and Anne’s head snapped round. Two children were sitting in the prow wearing life jackets. Anne smiled and waved as they passed.
Danny waved too. She had not intended the conversation to go in this direction and wished she could change the subject.
“Sorry, Anne. I didn’t mean to speak out of turn. You’ve got a good set-up here.”
“Yes, I have, but something’s bugging you. Was it that talk of skeletons and graves?”
“No, though that was a bit creepy. It was more about your own life. I don’t know how to put it.”
“Try.”
“Oh Anne, I don’t know. Maybe I think you concentrate too much on work for someone of our age.”
“Working with Marnie’s great, very interesting and fulfilling. How else would I want to spend my time?”
Danny sighed. “Well, you don’t seem to go to parties or have friends of your own age, or do you? I mean, even your boyfriend’s some kind of weirdo, prowling the canals at night on a boat like a ghost.”
Anne stared. “Boyfriend?”
“Anne, I have to be honest. I saw your folder , the photos, the DS in the corner.”
“How did you see them?”
“Sticking out of a drawer. That was him, wasn’t it? You spent the night with him, didn’t you?”
Anne’s face reddened. “How did you …? There was nothing in the folder –”
“I meant last night. You went out to see him.”
“Danny, I was in the same room as you last night. You know I was.”
“Not when I woke up. You were gone.”
“That was this morning. I got up early. I often do that.”
“So where were you? Look, it’s none of my business, I know –”
“I had things to do. They didn’t include seeing … what did you call him? … a weirdo, prowling around on a boat like a ghost.” Anne smiled. “Danny, I think we’ve talked too much about ghosts while you’ve been here. It’s not usually like that, honestly. We just get on with our lives.” Anne stood up. “Right. I’m going to make us a cup of tea.”
Danny managed a smile and reached for the sunblock. “Good idea.”
*
Parked under the trees at the edge of the woods, the sporty MG looked like a poster from the 1930s advertising the joys of motoring – You can be sure of Shell! Beyond it, Marnie was unselfconsciously creating another period image as she spread the large tartan blanket in dark blue and green on the ground. When Ralph hauled the vintage picnic basket out from the well behind the car seats and they began unpacking it, Marnie pondered the latest conversation she had had with Celia.
She had just dropped Danny back at Glebe Farm after the expedition to the shop and was in the barn loading up the MG when her mobile rang. Celia launched in with no introduction.
“Sorry about this, Marnie, I know it’s too silly, but I forgot to mention something when we bumped into each other just now.”
“Oh?”
“I just wanted to check with you about Monday.”
“Monday?”
“Yes. You said we could get together after the weekend, you know, to talk about redecorating the court? And I thought we’d settled on Monday. Only we didn’t fix an exact time. Remember?”
Marnie scoured her brain. Had they agreed to meet on Monday or was it less definite than that?
“Er, I don’t have my diary with me at present, Celia. Could I ring you tomorrow when I’m in the office?” She hoped that wasn’t too subtle a reminder that this was supposed to be a day of rest. “I’ll need to check my commitments.”
“Oh, yes, yes, Marnie. That’ll be fine. I didn’t mean to interrupt your plans for today. Are you doing something nice?”
“We’re going off for an outing, just getting ready to leave, in fact.”
“I won’t keep you. Are you going on your boat?”
“Not actually. We’re, er, taking the whizz-bang for a ride, just a short run up to the woods for a walk and a picnic lunch.”
At that moment Ralph came round the corner carrying the small rucksack they used for the wine. Marnie was waiting for Celia to respond, but found herself listening to air.
“Hallo? Celia, are you there?”
“What woods?” Gone was the bubbly tone. Celia’s voice was flat.
“Well, just the local one
s, Knightly Woods, you know.” No reply. “Celia?”
“Yes.”
Marnie had a sudden thought. Perhaps Knightly Woods were privately owned by the Devere family and Celia was trying to think of a tactful way of telling her they would be trespassing.
“The woods aren’t private are they, Celia? I mean, there are public footpaths marked on the map.”
“Yes, they are public.” Still the flat tone. “Though Hugh’s family used to own them years ago when he was a boy.”
Marnie was puzzled. “So it’s all right to walk there and have picnics, isn’t it?”
“Yes, only you will make sure you don’t wander from the marked footpaths, won’t you?”
“Why’s that?”
“Oh, no reason. It’s just better like that, safer.”
“I see.” Marnie didn’t see, but she had no wish to continue the conversation. “Well, I expect you’ll be getting ready to go to church.”
“Church?”
“As it’s Sunday, I mean. I can hear the bells ringing.”
“I’m not going to church this morning. I had a migraine yesterday, so I’m taking it easy today.”
“I understand.” This time Marnie thought she did understand. Celia’s change of tone was due to an after-shock from the migraine. She spoke softly. “I mustn’t keep you. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Marnie?”
“Yes?”
“You will stay on the public footpaths, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.” This was really strange. “What’s this about, Celia?”
Once again she was listening to silence, and this time it was final.
*
A bright red Mini was cruising the dual carriageway heading south at a steady sixty. Beside Anne, Danny surveyed the interior. The little car looked like new inside and out, and Danny could not help thinking that if it was hers there would be chocolate wrappings on the floor and rubbish on the back seat.
Anne glanced sideways at her friend. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“What?”
“You’re going to tell me how lucky I am.”
“You are, but that isn’t what I was thinking. Can I borrow the mirror for a minute?”
Anne checked the traffic behind her. “Sure.”
Danny swivelled the rear-view mirror towards her and began examining her face. “I think my nose is red.”
Anne laughed. “You’ve caught the sun, all right, but I don’t think you need worry too much.”
“Really? I’m not so sure. Pity it’s not Christmas. I could get a holiday job with Santa as Rudolph.”
They laughed together and Anne readjusted the mirror.
Danny looked at Anne. “I think you’ve got some colour, but you’re not burnt like me.”
“With my pale skin I have to be careful. That’s why I use loads of sunblock. I’ll put some more cream on when I get home.”
“You’re going home?”
“Yeah, after I’ve dropped you off.”
“Where’s home?”
Anne looked confused. “Where I live.”
“You mean back at Glebe Farm?”
“Yes. I’ll call in to say hallo to Mum and Dad and Richard, but after that I’ll drive back to Knightly. I’ve got work tomorrow.”
Danny watched the countryside going by. It seemed strange that Anne thought of her attic room as home, rather than her parent’s house. She knew Anne got on really well with her family and thought there was no conflict about her relationship with Marnie and Ralph. Even so, it struck her as odd that Anne had made the transition to a new way of life and felt at home in an old barn where just below her bedroom a girl had hanged herself.
“I wonder where I’ll think of as home once I’ve gone to university.”
“It’ll be different. You’ll be in digs or in a hall of residence, going home at the end of each term. I keep all my things in the attic and I live there most of the time.”
“And you’ve got used to that,” Danny observed. “Being in the barn, in your attic.”
Anne sensed something unsaid below the surface. “Danny, I don’t believe in ghosts. There aren’t any at Glebe Farm. Sarah’s not there any more.”
“I can see it doesn’t bother you, Anne. It’s just somehow, kind of funny, how you talk about her, as if she is there, or as if you know her.”
“Not really. I’ve got my own life to lead. We all have. There’s a lot of work, running a company, even a small practice like Marnie’s. We don’t have time to worry about what’s over and done with.”
“Mm …”
“Honestly, Danny, we don’t spend our lives digging up the past.”
“No. I suppose not.”
Chapter 8
Faint
“I think your friend Danny got a bizarre impression of our life here,” Marnie observed at breakfast the next day.
“I know.” Anne pushed the plunger down on the cafetière and brought it to the table in the saloon on Sally Ann. “She must’ve thought we spoke of little else but witches and dead bodies all the time.”
“I hope it didn’t spoil her weekend.”
“Oh no. She enjoyed it right enough, said she’d like to do more boating next time she comes.”
“Good.” Marnie laughed. “We’ll try to act like normal people for a change.”
Ralph joined in. “At least she didn’t actually refer to us as weirdoes, as far as I recall.”
Anne stopped laughing and looked thoughtful. Marnie noticed the sudden change.
“What’s up, Anne? Are you all right?”
“It’s nothing, just something I thought of. Coffee?”
“Thanks.” Marnie let it go.
Ralph pushed his cup forward. “Anything special happening this week?”
“I’ll be chasing the conservatory people if they haven’t phoned by midday. Then there’s the joy of a meeting with Celia some time.”
Anne looked up from pouring Ralph’s coffee. “And we have to invoice Willards for the next phased payment on the hotel project.”
Ralph took his cup. “I’m going over to Oxford this morning. Should be back late afternoon.”
Anne was looking serious again. “What’s this meeting with Celia? Is that Mrs Devere? I don’t have it in the diary.”
“She wants to talk to me about a redec at the Court, or rather their wing of it.”
“Oh yes, you said something about that the other day. Do you want me to phone her and fix a time?”
Marnie shook her head. “My guess is, she’ll get in first.”
*
Anne dropped the morning’s junk mail into a cardboard box beside her desk and took the post over to Marnie.
“What’s that?”
“One bank statement, two cheques, details of a new range from Farrow and Ball, a couple of letters, this month’s Domus magazine, notice of an exhibition in Milan, usual stuff.”
“I meant that box over there.”
“I’m collecting waste paper for the bottle bank.”
“Isn’t that a contradiction in –” The phone began ringing. Marnie looked up at the clock. Nine on the dot. “I thought as much. It’ll be Celia.”
Anne picked up Marnie’s phone. “Walker and Co, good morning. … Who’s calling? … One moment, please.”
Mouthing what looked suspiciously like Smartarse she passed the phone to Marnie.
“Good morning, Celia.”
Anne went back to her desk. She was looking through the latest design for the renovation of Willards’ Grand Junction Hotel near Hemel Hempstead when Marnie disconnected. Anne pulled the diary towards her.
Marnie groaned. “We’re meeting this morning. That’s all right, isn’t it?”
“Sure. Only we never book meetings for Monday morning. You always say it’s your time to get the week launched.”
“I know, but she’s very pushy and it’d be good to get her out of the way.”
“What time are you going to see her?”
“She wants to come here.”
“Oh? Won’t you want to look at the house while you discuss what she wants doing?”
“I know it’s unusual but she said she wanted to meet here and I just agreed. It seemed the easiest thing to do. I expect that’s how it is with Celia. She says what she wants and gets her own way.”
“So what time’s she coming?”
“Ten o’clock. I told her I needed to deal with the post and make some phone calls.”
Anne wrote in the diary. “Do I give her a job number?”
Marnie smiled wryly. “I suggest six-six-six.”
“What?”
“The Devil’s number.”
Anne looked blank. “I don’t get it.”
“Sorry. I think it’s in the Bible, The Book of Revelation. It seemed appropriate. We’re living through an odd season.”
“You can say that again.”
Marnie’s turn to look blank. “How d’you mean?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Come on, tell all. I noticed you went quiet at breakfast. What’s on your mind?”
Anne leaned forward with her elbows on the desk.
“Danny had to go to Sally to get something on Saturday night while I was in the shower. A boat went by that spooked her out.”
“Why? Did it make a noise?”
“No. The opposite. She said it was very quiet, painted so dark it was almost invisible. The steerer was the same, may have had blonde hair.”
Marnie frowned. “Ah …”
“Danny said he was a … weirdo.”
“You think it might have been …”
“Yes. Donovan.”
“Has he been in touch?”
“No. Not since he went away last summer.”
“Have you tried to –”
“No.”
“Is that where you went in your car early yesterday morning, looking for him?”
Anne’s mouth opened, her eyes widened. “I, er …”
“Where did you go?”
She regained her composure.
“I drove up to Stoke Bruerne. He wouldn’t have got much further but he wasn’t there, so I walked down to the bottom lock. There was no-one about to ask, so I just came back. A wasted journey.”
