by Leo McNeir
“How old are these unexpected remains, did they say?”
“When I phoned the station I got put through to Cathy Lamb. She told me they’d probably been in the ground about fifty years.”
Anne got up to clear the table. “Well, at least they can’t pin that one on you.”
Marnie looked sceptical. “They’ll probably try.”
Chapter 9
Marcus Devere
Marnie was at her desk soon after seven on Tuesday, determined to get the week back on track.
Anne came down the wall-ladder in pyjamas, yawning. “You’re keen.”
“Good morning, O Wondrous Fair One. Did I disturb you?”
“Not really. I’ve been awake for a while.”
“Something bothering you?” As if I couldn’t guess, Marnie thought.
“I was wondering about … Donovan.”
“What about him?”
“Oh, you know, what he’s doing up here, if he was up here. That kind of thing. Don’t worry about it. I don’t want to stop you getting on. All right if I use the shower?”
“Go ahead.”
Anne stretched both arms in the air and yawned again. “Are we up against a deadline or something?”
“Not exactly. It’s catch-up time after Celia’s total disruption of yesterday.”
Anne was back in the office, showered and breakfasted, in little over half an hour. She immediately got to grips with the filing before settling down to study Marnie’s designs for a canalside pub. It was her favourite activity and she made notes on each drawing for discussion later in the day. When the post was delivered at eight-thirty, she leapt into action and had the junk mail junked and the rest of the items sorted before Marnie had even noticed its arrival.
On the other side of the office Marnie was working on the Grand Junction Hotel scheme, completely absorbed in the decor of the main entrance and reception area. She was engaged on one of her trademark murals when the phone rang. It was nine o’clock exactly. Marnie and Anne traded looks across the room. The call was what they both feared.
“Good morning, Celia. How are you today?”
“Much better, Marnie. That’s why I’m phoning, to thank you for taking such good care of me yesterday.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I’m very sorry to have taken up so much of your time like that. I must have been the most awful nuisance.”
“Absolutely dreadful, pain in the neck.” Time stood still. The line was silent. At her desk, Anne’s jaw dropped, before Marnie added, “Only kidding! I’m sorry you didn’t feel well. Hope you’re much better now.” She sounded sincere.
Celia tinkled a girlish laugh down the phone. “Marnie, you’re terrible! But I am, thanks, much better.”
“Great. What can I do for you? I hope you’re not chasing up the design for your makeover.”
“Not at all. As long as you’ve got it to me by ten o’clock, that’s fine.” Marnie hesitated before Celia added, “My turn to be kidding! No, that’s all it was, Marnie. Just to thank you for yesterday. Now, I’ll let you get on. I’ll not darken your doorway again. Bye!”
Marnie sat looking at the phone after hanging up.
“Was she all right?” Anne asked.
“Mm … Tell me I’m getting paranoid –”
“You’re getting –”
“But I doubt that’s the last we’ll hear from Celia today.”
“She has an amazing talent for getting under your skin, Marnie.”
“If she phones again, I’ll be very tempted to tell her to get stuffed, and no kidding.”
*
Shortly after ten, Marnie took the tray of mid-morning refreshments out to the builders working in the farmhouse. There were details to discuss with Bob, the foreman, and she was in need of a break from sitting at the desk. Perhaps her absence was fortunate. Anne took Celia’s call.
“She’s out of the office at the moment, Mrs Devere.”
“Will she be long?”
“Hard to say. She’s in a meeting. Can I help?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ve got the schemes for your project on my drawing board at the moment, if you wanted to talk about them.”
“Really?” A long pause. “I thought … I assumed Marnie would be dealing with them personally.”
“We work together on all the projects.”
“I see.”
“Marnie’s the principal designer, of course, but I assist her.”
“Actually, that’s not why I rang, but I will want to talk to her about that.”
“Can I give her a message?”
Marnie came back into the office, saw Anne’s expression and mouthed Celia? Anne nodded. Marnie walked to her desk, pointed at herself and the phone.
“Oh, one moment, Mrs Devere. Marnie’s just come back. I’ll put you through.”
Marnie picked up the phone. “Celia, hi.”
“I’m glad I caught you, Marnie. Are you free later today?”
“Today? Diary’s chocabloc, I’m afraid.”
“But you do take a break for lunch, I assume?”
Marnie grimaced. Anne reached for the diary.
*
At twenty minutes to one Anne reminded Marnie about her appointment. Muttering under her breath, Marnie made a quick note on a file and disappeared in the direction of the washroom. She returned a few minutes later, hair brushed and with a hint of Diorissimo in the air, to collect her bag and notepad. Anne had placed a folder on her desk.
“What’s this?”
“The file – such as it is – on the Knightly Court job, just in case Celia raises it.”
Marnie picked it up, looked thoughtful and placed it firmly back on the desk. “She said we were meeting Rob Cardew to talk about the dig. I’m going to keep her to that.”
Anne frowned. “Er …”
“What is it?”
“We don’t have any photos on file. To get them would mean another visit.”
Marnie considered this. “Perhaps I should take –”
“The Polaroid’s in your bag.”
Mouthing smartarse, Marnie walked to the door. Pushing it open, she turned to look back at Anne and smiled. “Thanks. You’re in charge.”
“Don’t tell Celia.”
*
Rob Cardew’s Land Rover was already parked in front of the house when Marnie arrived. Approaching the front door she found a yellow Post-it note stuck beside the bell pull:
Marnie – we’re on the rear terrace. C
*
It was a charming scene. A buffet lunch had been laid out on a round table under a cream parasol beside the lawn that seemed to have been manicured for the occasion. With much kissing on cheeks, Marnie was invited to take a seat. Four chairs were set around the table, two of them occupied by Celia and Rob Cardew, the other so far vacant. Celia explained that Angela was on her way over from a meeting with the Archdeacon and would be joining them as soon as she could.
They began eating, and Marnie opted for a glass of Perrier water, while Rob joined Celia in a spritzer. When Marnie complimented Celia on the food, the hostess made a nonchalant gesture.
“Good old M & S! I popped into town this morning after we spoke on the phone.”
When Angela arrived, Marnie thought she looked stressed, but said nothing. A spritzer soon revived her, and they began talking about Rob’s plans for the site investigations. He flipped open a notebook.
The students would begin digging test pits in the coming few days. There would be about two dozen of them, plus occasional visiting archaeologists and academics, including a few specialists from further afield. Angela and Celia listened attentively, as if being briefed for the first time, but Marnie became convinced something had changed. She said so.
“Rob, forgive me if I’m mistaken, but haven’t we been over all this before? Is there something you’re not telling us?”
The archaeologist grinned, white teeth in a suntanned face. “You’
re too perceptive, Marnie. I might’ve known you’d have spotted it.”
Celia looked perturbed. “Spotted what?”
It occurred to Marnie that Celia was unaccustomed to having someone else as the centre of attention, especially in her own surroundings, especially another woman.
“There’s been a development, hasn’t there?” Marnie said.
Rob consulted his notes. “We’ll be a slightly bigger group than originally planned, about another dozen people in all. We’ll still be camping on Mr Fletcher’s field with our own shower and toilet blocks, but it would be useful if I could find somewhere as a kind of base camp.”
“What does that involve?” Celia was determined to take back the initiative. She was the hostess, after all.
“One possibility is to put up a couple of tents. We have some large ones, army style, ex-scouting. One would be the site office, the other for dealing with finds.”
Celia glanced at the lawn and frowned. “Where would you want to put these tents?”
“Well …”
Marnie interjected. “You said that was one possibility, Rob. What else might you have in mind?”
“I did wonder. An ideal base for us would be something like a barn, for example.”
Celia spread both hands, palms upward. “We don’t have anything like that at the Court. Have you tried Mr Fletcher?”
“I haven’t, actually.” Rob’s eyes swivelled towards Marnie. “I was thinking about somewhere nearer to the action.”
Marnie took the hint. “Which one do you have in mind?”
“You have one or two small barns behind your garage.”
“Take your pick. Come and have a look some time.”
“Er …”
Marnie smiled. “You’ve already got your eye on one, haven’t you?”
Rob nodded. “I don’t suppose you have running water nearby?”
“On the corner of the garage barn there’s a stand-pipe.”
“Power?”
“We could run an extension cable out there.”
“So you’re all set up then, Rob.” Celia sounded cool.
Marnie folded her arms and sat back. “Not quite. I think there’s more.”
“Have you been discussing this with Rob, Marnie?”
“Not until now.”
“Then how do you know Rob has more to tell us?”
Marnie shrugged. “I get the feeling there’s more to this meeting than just telling us about timing that we already knew and a request to use an old barn for a couple of weeks.”
Rob was looking down at his notes when he replied. “There’ll probably be an extra group coming. They’ll be around for a while, depending on how their dig goes.”
“Their dig?” Celia looked puzzled. “Is this a separate dig?”
“It’s a kind of dig within a dig.”
“What will they be looking for?”
While Rob consulted his file, Marnie spoke in a low voice. “This is connected with Sarah, isn’t it?”
“In a way, yes.” When Rob looked up, his smile was meant to be reassuring. “If they come they’ll be looking for the graves of … witches.”
“Witches?” Celia looked stunned.
“But we know Sarah wasn’t a witch,” Angela protested.
Rob raised a hand. “Of course. Well, at least that’s always been the assumption.”
“Then why are they coming here?” Celia was growing agitated. “And who invited them?”
Rob looked pained. “There’s nothing sinister about it, Celia. We network amongst ourselves. We meet at conferences, read specialist journals –”
“About witches?” Celia looked horrified.
“About archaeology. My professor mentioned our excavation plans for the summer to another professor. Someone from the group phoned me up and asked if they could join in with us. It went on from there.”
“And you didn’t think you ought to ask our permission?” Celia’s voice had turned from cool to frosty.
Rob looked blank.
“Can I ask something?” Marnie the mediator. “Will it make any difference to the dig that you’ve planned? Presumably they won’t be digging holes willy-nilly all over the place looking for buried witches?”
“No. Some of them are historians; they’ll be researching in the County Archives. The others will be field archaeologists like my students, like me. They’ll be using geophysics and aerial surveys to examine the area around the church and look at other possible sites.”
“So it won’t seem any different, as far as we’re concerned?”
“No, but as far as my excavations are concerned they’ll bring more resources into play, which could be useful to all our work.”
Celia was quiet. Angela was lost in her thoughts. Marnie wondered if she was alone in spotting an implication in what Rob had just said.
“Rob, is there still something you’ve not told us?”
The owlish grin. “What makes you say that, Marnie?”
“I have the feeling there’s more to come.”
“Why?” Celia looked worried at being left behind. “What are you getting at, Marnie? Is there something you know that I don’t?”
“Not really.” She turned to Rob.
He glanced at his notes. “I’m not sure there’s any more I can say at the moment. I must stress that there’s nothing definite.”
Celia looked accusingly at Marnie. Angela sat back like a poker player who has thrown in her hand. Marnie was intrigued, but she didn’t like this game of cat and mouse.
“Rob, I think you ought to be frank with us.” She smiled. “If you want your archaeologists to have the use of my barn, my water supply, my electricity, plus I could even offer them exclusive use of an outside loo at the back of the farmhouse.”
Rob laughed. “I wondered if you had an ace up your sleeve, Marnie!”
Celia leaned forward. “Can someone please tell me –”
“Give us a clue, Rob,” Marnie said quietly.
“Well, I shouldn’t really comment until things are definite, but there’s no hiding place where you’re concerned, is there?”
The women waited.
“All right, let me just say this. Have you ever been on television?” Rob looked at his watch. “Now I really must be going. Thank you for a lovely lunch, Celia. Don’t worry about the dig. I’ll be in touch. Everything will be fine, I promise you.”
As Rob vanished round the corner of the house, Marnie sipped her water wondering, have you ever been on television? What was that about?
Celia stood up. “I’ll make coffee.”
“Not for me, thanks.” Marnie reached down for her bag. “I’ll have to be getting back to the office.”
“You’ll have some, Angela?”
“That would be nice, if you’ve got time.”
Marnie stood up, noticing the extra weight of the camera in her bag. “Oh, do you think I could take some photos, Celia?”
“A memento of a rather peculiar lunch?”
“No. Some shots of the house for the redecoration project. A few interiors plus one or two from the outside?”
“I thought you were anxious to dash off.”
“This will save me making a special visit later.”
“Whatever. Go ahead.”
“Thanks.”
“Tell me something, Marnie. Do you know what Rob was talking about just then, that business about television?”
“I haven’t a clue.” Marnie was emphatic.
“But you seemed to know he was holding something back.”
A shrug. “I just couldn’t imagine that some other group would have so many more resources than he did. Geophysics? Aerial surveys? Where would all that come from? It seemed a lot to me, so I thought he wasn’t telling us everything. That’s all it was.”
“I thought it was very clever of you, Marnie.” Angela was looking up from her seat, admiringly.
“Just guesswork. Thanks for lunch, Celia. I’ll be in touch.”
Marnie was glad to get away and spent the next five minutes going through Celia and Hugh’s wing taking photographs for the file. Her last image was a shot across the entrance hall. As she lined it up through the viewfinder, a voice startled her.
“I’m sorry, madam, the house isn’t open to the public.”
Before she could react, another voice, louder and more authoritative, cut in. “That’s all right, Robert. This lady is a guest.”
Marnie looked round to see a middle-aged man in a cream linen jacket standing in the doorway behind her. He was now looking over to his right. Marnie followed his gaze. In another doorway stood a much older man, with white hair and moustache, leaning on a stick. The first man inclined his head, turned and left the hall.
“I’m sorry,” Marnie began. “Celia agreed to my taking some photos for the file.”
The old man advanced slowly. “How do you do?”
“Hallo.”
The man stopped. “Your generation never replies to that enquiry. It’s odd how things have changed.”
“Enquiry?” Marnie wondered if she had missed something.
“How do you do?”
She got the point. “Very well, thank you. How do you do?”
“As well as could be hoped, thank you. I’m sorry my man confronted you like that.”
The old man was a little taller than Marnie and spoke in an accent that many would describe as posh.
“That’s all right. Thank you for coming to the rescue.”
“I saw you with Celia and your other friends on the terrace. I’m sure you have a good reason for taking your photographs.”
It did not seem to be a question, but Marnie thought she should explain.
“I’m doing a redecoration project for Celia and Hugh. The photos are part of my records for the job, to help with the design process. My name is Marnie Walker, by the way.”
“Devere, Marcus Devere. Delighted to meet you.” His grip, as they shook hands, was firm and cool. “Please don’t let me stop you taking your photos.”
“That was the last one, actually. I’m just leaving.”
Devere looked confused. “Celia isn’t here to show you out?”
“We’ve already said good-bye.”
The old man frowned. “Then perhaps you’ll permit me to escort you to your car.”
