by Leo McNeir
“So what’s brought him back up here, assuming it was him?”
Anne shrugged. “Dunno.”
Marnie said nothing, but she had a shrewd idea.
*
Ralph was laying his briefcase on the rear seat of the car when Marnie came round to the garage barn.
“Are you in a hurry, Ralph?”
“Not particularly. The college library’s been there for the past five hundred years. It can wait a little longer for my arrival. What’s up?”
“Donovan.”
“Oh?”
“He may be in the area, or at least he may have passed through on Saturday night.”
Marnie explained about Danny’s sighting. They reflected silently for a few moments on what the reappearance of Donovan Smith might mean.
A year or two older than Anne, half British, half German, he was the son of a late colleague of Ralph’s. Both Donovan’s parents had been killed in a road accident in South Africa when Donovan was ten years old. He had been with them and had survived the accident. Later he had gone on to start a course at university but had dropped out in the first year and gone travelling on a narrowboat that he had painted battleship grey.
His arrival in Northamptonshire had been timed to coincide with a by-election for the European Parliament. One of the candidates was a leading figure in far-right politics. With a family history of persecution by the Nazis, Donovan was a fierce opponent of extreme nationalism and, when the candidate had been killed, gunned down in the street, he had left suddenly without saying good-bye.
Ralph closed the car door. “I wonder what could have brought him back here.”
“In a word … Anne.”
“You think she contacted him, Marnie?”
“I’m sure she didn’t. We don’t know where he lives.”
“But you think he wants to see her again.”
“I’m pretty sure of it.”
“Even though he hasn’t been in touch?”
“Typical Donovan. He must know the police would like to question him about … you know.”
“So he drifts up at night and what … lies low somewhere? Where do you hide a narrowboat?”
“In a secluded spot.” The voice from behind them startled Marnie and Ralph.
Their heads snapped round. Anne was standing at the corner of the office barn.
“There are plenty of them around,” Marnie said. “He could moor under the trees on the off-side.”
“Yes. That makes sense. He’d be able –” Anne stopped abruptly and put her head on one side, listening. “Ah, that’s what I came to tell you. Celia phoned. She’s on her way. She said she hoped you wouldn’t mind if she came a few minutes early. She has a hair appointment she’d forgotten about, apparently.”
Marnie made a face as they heard the sound of a car coming down the field track.
“What a surprise.”
*
Celia looked as if she had just come from a fashion shoot. Not jealous by nature, Marnie found herself irritated by the fact that Celia always seemed to be turned out as if she was on her way to a smart social occasion. That Monday morning was no exception. No-one would have guessed she was just popping in for a talk about decor on her way to the hairdresser.
Parking the open-topped Audi, she walked across the courtyard in a pale blue floral summer dress that had never seen a chain store from inside or out. Marnie was waiting for her by the door of the office barn.
“This is lovely, Marnie, so … quaint and charming.” She extended a hand palm down, as if expecting Marnie to kiss it. “I’d love you to show me round. Is this all your property?”
“Yes, but if you don’t mind I’d like to get on with our meeting. A busy day.”
“Oh yes. I wouldn’t want to be a nuisance.”
Marnie bit her tongue, feeling once again that Celia had wrong-footed her. She turned to open the office door, but Celia put a hand on her arm.
“Do you think we could talk outside? It’s such a lovely morning, pity to waste it.”
“I was going to take notes as we talked.”
“Oh.” It was amazing how one syllable could encapsulate so much: disappointment, a rebuff, a challenge to one’s position.
Marnie indicated the bench where Anne and Danny had breakfasted at the weekend. “We could sit here if you’d prefer. I’ll fetch my notepad.”
Celia was still standing when Marnie emerged from the office a few seconds later.
“I was wondering, perhaps it would be possible to see your boat? It’s down here somewhere, isn’t it?”
As they walked through the spinney, Marnie tried hard to contain herself and wondered if even at that stage she could tell Celia she would have to postpone her project because of pressure of work. It was a very tempting thought. What made her hold back was the certainty that Celia would definitely put the word around that Marnie was in some inexpressible way not satisfactory. That would be bad news. Celia was bad news, but it would be better to keep her onside rather than make an enemy of her.
Celia exclaimed in delight when she saw the two boats nestling against the bank, Sally Ann in her dock, Thyrsis on the mainline. She ushered Celia aboard Thyrsis, by far the smarter of the two boats, and led her into Ralph’s study. Her client was charmed. They sat in the armchairs while the kettle boiled and Marnie steered Celia towards the project in hand.
It was hard going. Celia had few ideas about the house and seemed to expect Marnie to produce a master plan from her own imagination without any clues.
“I mean, that is what you do, isn’t it, Marnie?” She smiled. “You come up with all sorts of schemes and I choose the one I like best.”
“Well, er, that’s one way of doing it, I suppose. I prefer to discuss what a client likes in terms of colours, textures, style, and then I relate it to their house. That’s why I like to meet the client in their home. It makes it easier to discuss things if we can look at the rooms, their orientation, the effect of natural light and so on.”
“Oh, but it’s wonderful here, don’t you think? It’s a nice ambience for thinking about beautiful things.” She swept a hand towards the window and the view over the countryside.
Marnie struggled to make Celia focus on what she wanted at Knightly Court. She rapidly came to the conclusion that Celia expected the redecoration just to happen as if someone had waved a magic wand. After half an hour Marnie succeeded in reducing possibilities to two, possibly three, colour schemes.
“Okay, Celia, I think we’ve got as far as we can this morning.” Marnie gathered her papers together in a gesture of finality. “I’d offer you another coffee, but I wouldn’t want to make you late for your hair appointment.” Marnie hoped that was not too unsubtle.
“Oh, that would be lovely, Marnie.”
When Marnie produced the second cup, Celia gave her a faint smile.
“Sorry if I’m not quite with-it, Marnie. I’ve not been myself lately.”
“Really?” Marnie tried not to sound uninterested. This woman was making her tread on eggshells.
“Yes, ever since this graves thing happened, and everything else going on in my life, of course …”
“Celia, I don’t want to seem uncaring, but I like to keep my relationships with clients on a professional basis. I find it better that way.”
Celia got the point. “Oh, it wasn’t the affair I was thinking about. It was the witchcraft.”
Marnie sat up. “What witchcraft?”
“I wondered if Sarah was buried outside the church because she was a witch.”
Marnie shook her head. “No. That’s absolutely not the case. She was just a young girl who killed herself because she believed her family was linked with the murder of the vicar.”
“Mm …” Celia looked unconvinced. “That’s only part of it, Marnie. There were other things.”
“To do with witchcraft?”
Celia glanced towards the porthole. “I went for a walk with Hugh – that’s my husband – on Friday a
fternoon. We went to Knightly Woods.”
Marnie could see where this was leading. “You told me to keep to the marked footpaths.”
“Yes. Hugh knows the woods like the back of his hand and he took me off the path up to a clearing near the top of the hill. We came across some strange things on the ground. Hugh said they were a witches’ circle.”
“How old was this circle?”
“Quite recent. The ash looked fresh to me and there were things, goat skulls, something like corn dollies, candle stubs, black ones. I thought Hugh was just trying to frighten me, sort of teasing, you know.”
“But you think he was right.”
Celia nodded. “I asked Rob Cardew if it was true there had been witches in the area.”
“That was all in the past, Celia. Cardew’s an archaeologist.”
“I know that, but he told me there was a history of witchcraft in the county, always had been. There were trials, hangings.” She shuddered. “It was horrible, Marnie.”
“But that was then.”
“He said they were still supposed to be around and now I’ve seen the evidence for myself.”
Celia was away with her thoughts, as if in a dream world of her own. Marnie seized the opportunity to gather her up, leave the boat and walk her back through the spinney. They were almost through it when Celia turned to her.
“Do you think I have too vivid an imagination, Marnie?”
“Well, I –”
“Hugh says I ought to face up to things in a more adult way. I don’t think that’s fair.”
“Perhaps he just doesn’t want you to worry about things that he doesn’t see as a problem.”
“Meaning?” Celia’s expression had hardened.
“This witchcraft thing in the woods, maybe it was just some kind of … I don’t know … mid-summer party or something.”
“And this Sarah Anne Day business.” Celia seemed to be wandering off in her private thoughts again.
Marnie took her by the arm and led her out of the spinney. Celia turned in through the open door of the office barn and sat down. When she spoke again her voice was calm.
“I’m not neurotic, Marnie, and I can face up to things. Do you think I could possibly have a glass of water?”
“Of course. Are you all right?”
“Yes.” It was almost a whisper.
Marnie headed for the kitchen area. “Would you like sparkling water or still?”
“Anything. The point is, I can’t help thinking about that poor girl, Sarah. I keep imagining what it must have been like when they dragged her off to the gallows and hanged her.”
Marnie was squatting down by the fridge and did not see Anne walk in from the courtyard carrying an empty tray. She was only aware of Anne’s presence when she heard her speak.
“They didn’t.” Anne tried to sound reassuring. “She hanged herself.”
“Are you sure?”
Anne pointed. “Yes. She hanged herself from that hook up there, where the lavender is.”
Celia stood up quickly, staring at the ceiling beam. With a stifled exclamation she put a hand to her forehead, stumbled and fell to the ground.
*
The phone rang three times at Knightly Court before it was answered.
“Hugh Devere.”
“Oh, good morning, this is Angela Hemingway.”
“Morning, Angela. What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping to speak to Celia.”
“Car’s not here. She’s gone out. Hairdresser’s, I think she said. Take a message?”
“It’s about the archaeologists. Could you please tell Celia that Rob Cardew has phoned to say –”
“Just a second. Let me find a pen.” He opened a drawer and pulled out the message pad. “Fire away. Cardew, d’you say?”
“Yes. He’s got dates for digging test pits. He wants to –”
“Ah, hang on.” He saw Celia’s car through the window, coming up the drive. “Here she is now. You can tell her yourself. I’ll call her to the phone.”
Hugh went outside and immediately realised that something was wrong. A woman was getting out of the driver’s seat of the Audi, but it was not his wife. He rushed forward.
“I say, what’s going on?”
The stranger went round to the passenger’s side and opened the door to help Celia climb out. Hugh was aware of another car, a red Mini, following on behind.
“What’s happened?”
By now Celia was standing unsteadily, being supported by the other woman.
“Mr Devere?”
“Yes. Who are you?”
“My name’s Marnie Walker. I’ve brought Celia –”
“Why are you driving her car?”
“She had a dizzy spell in my office, so I offered to drive her home.”
Hugh looked bewildered. “What office? Aren’t you the hairdresser?”
“No. Look, I think we ought get her inside, don’t you?”
“Oh yes. Yes, of course.”
Celia had been watching this exchange with interest.
“I’ll be all right. I just need to lie down.” Her voice was weak. “I would’ve phoned you, but I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Marnie led Celia, holding her by the arm, while Hugh walked beside them.
“Had to call in for some papers on my way to a –” He stopped abruptly. “Phone! Damn! The vicar’s on the phone, hanging on for you.”
Celia looked round. Anne had now joined them and was hovering near her elbow. “Perhaps Anne could take it. Say I’ll ring her back.”
Hugh pointed. “Phone’s in that room on the left.”
Anne needed no further prompting and dashed into the house. Marnie and Hugh escorted Celia through to the morning room and settled her on a sofa by the window overlooking the terrace.
When Celia was comfortable, Hugh held out a hand to Marnie. “Very kind of you to do all this. Hugh Devere. Good to meet you. Sorry if I was a bit short back there. Rather a shock, seeing Celia like that.”
“Quite understandable. We didn’t think anyone would be here, but Celia insisted on coming home.”
“Like I said, I just came to pick up –” He looked at his watch. “Oh hell. Sorry. I mean, I’ve got this meeting with a client and –”
“I’m fine, Hugh. Really, I am. You go to your meeting. Marnie’s here. I’ll be all right.”
Surreptitiously Marnie glanced down at her own watch, but said nothing.
Hugh hesitated. “I’m sure you have your own affairs to attend to, Miss …er …‘
“Marnie Walker.”
“Marnie, right. Celia was in your office, you said?”
“We were discussing –”
Everyone looked round as Anne came into the room.
“You talked to the vicar?” Celia spoke as if she was addressing a maid.
Anne stared back and briefly considered dropping a curtsy. “I gave her your message.”
“Did she say anything?”
Anne looked quickly at Marnie. “Dr Cardew wants to start test pits in a few days’ time. He’s given Angela a schedule for the village.”
“Anything else?”
Anne looked uncertain. “Well, there was one other thing, but I’m not sure if …” She looked again at Marnie.
“What is it?” Celia sounded insistent.
“It’s about the grave.”
“Go on,” Hugh prompted.
“Perhaps I could tell Marnie afterwards?”
“If it concerns the grave, it concerns us.” Hugh’s tone was firm.
Celia looked annoyed. “There’s no need to keep things from me, Anne. I didn’t faint in the office, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just stood up too quickly and came over dizzy, that’s all.”
“Faint?” Hugh repeated.
Celia ignored him. “What about the grave?”
“Angela has heard from the police. They’ve had results back about the other body. Apparently they’re now sure it was put
there recently –”
“But I thought it was just a skeleton!” Hugh blustered.
“How recently?” Marnie asked.
“Angela didn’t say, but the police are now treating it as a case of murder.”
*
Ralph’s meetings went on longer than expected and it was nearly seven before he got back from Oxford that evening. He looked in on the office barn and found Anne writing at her computer and Marnie standing by the photocopier.
“What’s this?” Ralph’s expression was mock horror. “When I coom ’ome from ’ard day at t’pit, I expect me dinner steamin’ on t’table and a fresh pair o’ clogs warmin’ by t’fire.”
Marnie crossed the office. “You can get knotted for a start.” She put her arms round Ralph’s shoulders and kissed him on the lips.
Ralph winked at Anne who was grinning at them from her desk. “See? Oos Northerners know ’ow to turn a woman on.”
“It’s the thought of those clogs that does it. On the other hand, north London doesn’t really count, Ralph.” Marnie turned back to the photocopier. “So, you’ve obviously had a better day than we have. How was it at the coal face of All Saints’ College?”
“Fine. What was wrong with your day?”
Marnie looked at the wall clock. “Gawd! Is that the time? If you want to eat this evening it would be quicker to tell you what was right.”
Ralph considered this briefly. “Okay, how’s this for a plan?”
By the time he was back from the Indian take-away the office was shut up, the table was laid and candles were burning in the saloon on Sally Ann. Over a selection of Korma and Madras dishes, Marnie outlined the Monday highlights. Her narration lasted throughout most of the meal.
“All in all, it’s been a day I’d rather forget. Oh, and I meant to tell you: the police want to question me again about my statement. So your suggestion, my darling, about getting a take-away was perfect. I’d cheerfully go out and buy you those clogs any time.”
“And warm them for me by the fire?”
“Absolutely.”
“Getting back to your story, presumably Celia didn’t take the news about the second body very well?”
“Understatement. In fact, both she and Hugh seemed pretty stunned by the news.”
