Creature Comforts

by Trisha Ashley

  Cameron, who had been kneeling by the pool taking photos, got to his feet. There were dew-damp circles on the knees of his arty ochre-red canvas trousers and fine droplets sparkled in his flaxen hair.

  ‘Hi, Izzy, we didn’t think even you would be at the pool this early. It’s freezing!’

  ‘It certainly is, and clammy hanging round inside this cave,’ Lulu said pointedly.

  ‘You two carry on. I’m happy to wait till you finish before I have a dip because it doesn’t seem such a good idea right now. Maybe the sun will have warmed things up a bit by then.’

  ‘I think we’re done, actually,’ he said. ‘Come on down, Lulu.’

  ‘You didn’t mention doing this last night, at the pub.’

  ‘It was an impulse,’ Cameron explained. ‘I woke up really early and thought the touch of mist would make a great background, so I rang Lulu up and suggested it.’

  ‘He woke me up to tell me,’ she agreed.

  ‘That nightdress …?’ I said.

  ‘I found it in one of the attics inside a huge leather trunk, along with loads of other Victorian clothes and a couple of hats.’

  ‘We’ll doctor the pictures of Lulu to make her look a bit more insubstantial.’

  ‘She’s pretty insubstantial already. I’m not surprised Bruce is trying to fatten her up.’

  Lulu said, ‘I’ll be a genuine wraith if I don’t put my clothes back on.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have worn them underneath?’ I asked.

  ‘No, because Cameron wanted to take some arty shots up above the spring where the Halfhidden Worm was supposed to live. I was standing on the rocks in Sacrificial Maiden pose as the sun came up, with it sort of shining through my nightgown.’

  ‘So we’re having postcards of sexy ghosts?’ I asked, staring at Cam, who coloured slightly.

  ‘It was just … easier to get the effect I wanted,’ he said.

  ‘Did the Worm come out to have his picture taken?’

  ‘We’re still working on that one,’ he admitted. ‘We need some otherworldly photos of the waterfall, too, and Lulu thought a ghostly Saxon warrior would be good, though I’m too skinny to fit the bill.’

  ‘You might persuade Rufus,’ I suggested.

  ‘Good thinking. I’ll give him a ring later. What did Saxons wear?’

  ‘Tunics and leggings,’ Lulu said.

  ‘Sounds a bit eighties,’ I commented dubiously.

  ‘Not that kind of leggings,’ she said. ‘I don’t think the Saxons invented Lycra, or even stretch cotton.’

  ‘They didn’t have cotton at all, did they?’ Cameron asked.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I said, ‘but I bet there’s a costume that will do in the Hut storeroom, like one of the shepherd’s outfits from the Nativity.’

  ‘Oh, yes, those brown Hessian tunics,’ Lulu agreed. ‘Perfect!’

  ‘I expect they’re in the big wooden chest with the Father Christmas outfit,’ I said. ‘Nothing ever seems to get thrown away.’

  ‘Hessian would be itchy,’ Lulu pointed out.

  ‘He’d be wearing it for only minutes, and he could leave his T-shirt on underneath,’ said Cam.

  While Lulu got dressed in one of the sentry huts, Cameron persuaded me to put the nightie on over my swimsuit and wade about the pool, trying to look like an ailing Victorian miss. Then I did a sort of drowning-Ophelia thing, clutching a handful of bluebells to my bosom, while he snapped away. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do with those photos.

  We all went into the cottage afterwards, where Tom, who was now up and about, made us hot coffee. The new greyhound, who had been renamed Queenie, seemed as much at home as if she’d always lived there.

  ‘There was a white horse in the outbuilding when I went to let the hens out,’ Tom said. ‘But I’d seen you near the pool, so I thought it must be something to do with you.’

  ‘It’s my sister-in-law’s horse,’ explained Lulu. ‘I rode it up here so Cam could take some pictures of it for the haunted smithy – and I’d better get her back before Kate notices she’s not in the paddock any more,’ she added, getting up.

  ‘I’m spending the day working on my business plans,’ I said. ‘I need to chase up the supplier about the clear plastic clothes bags I ordered, among other things.’

  ‘Yes, and I’ve got lots to do at the gallery, too,’ Cam agreed, so once Lulu had ridden off on the white mare, we walked together up the drive and I nobly forbore to question his story that he’d woken Lulu that morning by phone rather than, as I strongly suspected, in person … The nearest I got was remarking that Lulu was looking very cheerful that morning.

  ‘Yes, she’s soon going to be her old self again,’ he agreed, not rising to the bait. ‘See you at the Hut meeting later!’

  I’d forgotten that last night Cam had asked Rufus to join the Halfhidden Regeneration Committee until he turned up at the Lodge, on his way there, unable to pass by without visiting his new love, Pearl.

  If he had a Facebook account, his relationship status should read, ‘in a relationship, but it’s complicated’.

  Lulu, Cam and Jonas were already at the Hut when we arrived, as were the dynamic duo of Freddie and Rita Tompion, who as usual had got everything ready: a table and chairs set out, the kettle on for coffee and a packet of gingernut biscuits arrayed on a paper plate, to which I added some flapjacks.

  Rita suggested she take the minutes, and the meeting got underway to the accompaniment of Jonas sucking gingernuts that he’d dipped into his coffee.

  Freddie said, ‘First off, the Ramblers Association annual clear-up day is Sunday the 22nd. That’s when local volunteers join in with Association members to cut back the path all the way from Middlemoss to the Halfhidden Green,’ he explained to Rufus. ‘It’s generally pretty clear up to the pub, it’s just afterwards it gets overgrown.’

  ‘We’ll have to put a notice on the board outside our Lottie’s shop, asking for people to help, but there’s always a good turn-out,’ said Jonas.

  ‘I think I remember you mentioning this at the meeting,’ Rufus said. ‘Presumably it’s to keep the path open for hikers?’

  ‘Yes, and so the Middlemoss Morris Men can get up it easily,’ Freddie said.

  ‘Every May, they jog all the way up the path from Middlemoss to the village, stopping occasionally to dance,’ I explained to him, since he was looking blank.

  ‘I’m planning my first Haunted Holiday week to begin that weekend so the visitors can see some old traditions, as well as ghosts,’ Lulu said.

  ‘If the ghost trail is ready in time,’ Freddie said.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure it will be,’ Lulu said. ‘The path being cleared is a good start and Uncle Brandon asked me to put a sign up on the village noticeboard asking for volunteers to help clear the one up from the alpine nursery to the waterfall, too.’

  ‘When does he want to do that?’ asked Rita, taking notes.

  ‘This Sunday. It’s not far, so it shouldn’t take so long,’ she replied. ‘Now, I sent you all the list of suggested signposts and information boards for your comments and Uncle Brandon is having them made at a cut price by a friend.’

  ‘And we’ve nearly finished taking the pictures that are to be printed up as postcards,’ Cameron said.

  Then he showed everyone a rough draft of the haunted trail brochure. On one side was a map of the village, with the various attractions numbered to match information boxes around the edge.

  ‘That looks good,’ I said. ‘What about the blank bit on the back, though? What’s going there?’

  ‘Advertisements,’ Cam said. ‘We thought some of the attractions further afield, like the Witchcraft Museum in Sticklepond, might pay for those.’

  ‘So it would raise some money towards the printing?’ Rufus said. ‘Good idea. I know you said you’d make a small charge to everyone actually numbered on the map, which seems reasonable, too.’

  ‘Hannah Blackwell’s looking into reopening the tea garden at the Old Mill and
her daughter Shirley would move back and run it with her, if she gets permission,’ Lulu said.

  ‘We’re having a life-sized cut-out of the haunted grandfather clock made, to stand outside the shop, and Rita’s ordered in some silver clock charms and extra watches,’ Freddie said. ‘There’s not much room inside, so we thought visitors could have their photos taken next to the replica, instead.’

  ‘I’ll come and photograph the actual haunted clock, or Cam will, for a postcard,’ promised Lulu. ‘Cam’s doing the haunted falls tomorrow morning.’

  Rufus looked slightly sheepish, so I thought he must have agreed to pose for the Saxon warrior.

  ‘So, signs, boards, maps and brochures, postcards, path clearing … all on their way,’ Lulu said, with satisfaction.

  ‘Tom has ordered more pamphlets to sell at the Spring,’ Jonas said. ‘And our Cameron says he’s going to make all my stories into a book. What do you think of that?’

  ‘I think it’s a great idea,’ I said. ‘Is Tom stocking up on the souvenirs, too?’

  ‘He said he had. The replicas of that clay Venus figure always seem to sell like hot cakes,’ Cameron said. ‘Mum’s ordered resin skulls with “Howling Hetty” printed on them, though I told her they were a bit naff.’

  ‘I should think they’d sell, though,’ I said. ‘Where does Tom get those reproductions of the ancient preggie lady sculptures from?’

  ‘A potter over in Mossedge,’ Cam said. ‘His own work is good – really organic pots and ceramic sculptures – so I’ll be displaying some of it in the gallery.’

  ‘Terracotta skulls would be more tasteful,’ I suggested, ‘and pretty much the same colour as Hetty’s.’

  ‘But also more expensive,’ Cam objected, ‘not to mention a bit Damien Hirst.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s got the copyright on skulls,’ Rufus said.

  We seemed to have wandered off the point a bit, but Lulu called us to order and we sorted out the last items on the agenda. Rita promised to type up all her notes and email them round.

  Afterwards, Cam, Lulu, Rufus and I walked down the lane to the pub and had a drink in the snug. Dan, who was in his usual corner by the bar, had his back turned when we went through, but could be seen in the mirror over it, smirking horribly.

  From the way his fists clenched, I’m sure Rufus must have noticed too and I thought that unless Dan wanted to lose his job, he must be the stupidest man in the entire world.

  ‘So, all set for the Saxon warrior pictures in the morning?’ I said brightly to Rufus by way of distracting his mind, as we sat down in the snug with our drinks.

  ‘I found a big tunic and sort of cross-gartered trouser things in the Hut,’ Cameron said. ‘They’re roughly made, but should give the right effect from a distance.’

  ‘The further the better,’ Rufus said morosely.

  Chapter 20: Not so Dusty

  Harry took my hand and tried to draw me towards the car, but I resisted, my stomach full of the butterfly wings of fear.

  ‘I thought you’d do it for me, Izzy,’ he coaxed, his green eyes sparkling. Then, bending to whisper in my ear, he added, ‘After all, you must know I want you to be my girl …’

  I awoke with the words, ‘If you believe that, you’ll believe anything!’ on my lips. Had that really been another memory? Surely even my sixteen-year-old self couldn’t have been silly enough to think Harry would have ditched tall, stunning Cara, with her long, fair, silken hair, for a skinny elf with an urchin cut, who’d barely left the tomboy grazed knees and scabby elbows phase behind her.

  I had no idea, but if it was a memory, then Harry was more devious than I’d thought him and I’d been infinitely more credulous.

  Cara held all the answers, if only she would give them: but although I’d repeatedly rung her, there was never any reply and she didn’t get back to me.

  Simon was also proving elusive. He hadn’t been seen much in the village since his return and, though I was told he was living in a cottage the other side of Grimside on the Middlemoss road, no one knew exactly which one, or even had his mobile number. It was all a bit frustrating … and the only way to move forward seemed to be to go up to Grimside in the hope of finding one or both of them there.

  But not that morning, for exciting new ideas for clothes were bubbling up in my head and I was draping a length of star-patterned pink sari fabric round my dressmaker’s dummy when Lulu burst into the studio unannounced, floundered over Babybelle, who barely seemed to notice, then waved a piece of paper at me.

  ‘Thank goodness you’re here! I’ve had the smarmiest letter from Guy, pleading with me to go back to him and saying the other woman was a mistake and he was sorry for everything. I was desperate to tell someone, and Cam’s out.’

  ‘Hasn’t Guy learned to email yet?’ I asked mildly, when I’d removed the dressmaker’s pins from my mouth and stuck them in the howdah of my pewter elephant pincushion.

  ‘Apparently not.’ She dropped heavily down onto the old sofa, as if her legs would no longer hold her up, and the springs protested. ‘Solange said he was paying a student to do the website bookings, but I suppose he can’t very well ask him to write personal emails for him, too.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know – I wouldn’t put it past him,’ I said, and then read the letter, which was alternately affectionate and threatening.

  Darling Lulu,

  I’ve made a terrible mistake because the moment you were gone I realised that I really do love you and I’m missing you so much. I couldn’t bear the thought of you with another man, though I’m sure you still love me, too, and haven’t even thought of seeing anyone else …

  There was a lot more of the same.

  ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t find out about you and Cam,’ I said.

  ‘There’s nothing to find out,’ she protested, but then added, more honestly, ‘or not much!’

  I grinned. ‘You just take things slowly and see what happens. And of course there’s no way you’re ever going to leave Halfhidden and go back to Guy.’

  ‘Certainly not! Only he says if he doesn’t hear from me, he’ll come over.’

  ‘For the wages he’s offering, I expect he’s having trouble finding someone to do even half the things you used to,’ I suggested.

  ‘Yes, that’s pretty much what Solange said in her last email. Guy made a drunken pass at one of the women he’d hired to clean the gîtes, so now most of the local husbands won’t let their wives go anywhere near him.’

  ‘He’s not the brightest bunny in the box, is he?’

  ‘No, and now I can’t imagine how I fell in love with him in the first place,’ Lulu confessed. ‘What can I say to put him off?’

  ‘You’ll have to make it absolutely plain that you’re not only never going back to him, but you don’t even want to hear from him again. Tell him you’ve made a new life here and moved on.’

  ‘You’re right and I’ll also make it clear there’s no point in him turning up anyway, because my parents won’t have him on their property.’

  ‘Let’s hope he can take a hint, then,’ I said. ‘But on past form I suppose he might just ignore that and appear out of the blue anyway.’

  ‘I’d feel a bit vulnerable in the caravan on my own at night, if I knew he was around.’ She shivered.

  ‘Why exactly are you living in the old caravan in the paddock? I’ve never asked.’

  ‘Because Mum and Dad divided their apartment into two when Bruce and Kate married and moved in, and they kept the smaller one for themselves, so there’s not really any room. And I was fine with that. I mean, when I went to live with Guy in France I told them I wouldn’t be back and Bruce could take over the Screaming Skull when they retired. So when I had to come home, I felt a bit like an interloper.’

  ‘I see what you mean, though I’m sure they don’t think of it like that, they’re just glad to have you back.’

  ‘I told Bruce and Kate that I didn’t expect a share in the business, just a job. That’s why I
need the Haunted Holidays to be such a success.’

  ‘That still doesn’t explain the caravan.’

  ‘Oh, the staff accommodation was full, and anyway, I preferred being on my own in the caravan, though I’d like my own little house eventually, if I can ever afford it.’

  I thought the way she and Cameron kept looking at each other, she could well end up making her home in Spring Cottage before long. But I didn’t say so, because if she wanted a slow-burning romance after singeing her wings on Guy, so be it.

  ‘I’ve felt perfectly safe in the caravan till now. And I know this would sound daft to anyone but you, but some evenings I think I can hear old Conker munching the grass, or sighing, the way he used to.’

  ‘But that might just be Kate’s horse?’

  ‘No, because it usually happens when she’s put him in the top field.’

  ‘Then I’m sure it is Conker. When I told the old Middlemoss vicar about going to Heaven and seeing Patch there with Harry, he said he was sure all creatures capable of love would find a place there.’

  I’d been so grateful that the vicar had actually believed in my near-death experience and hadn’t just been humouring me, like Judy and Debo, so that it felt as though I’d had the equivalent of a stamp for Heaven in my passport.

  ‘Maybe Conker is a kind of equine guardian angel!’ I suggested, and Lulu smiled.

  ‘That’s a nice thought.’

  ‘As back-up, you could think about getting a guard dog,’ I suggested sneakily. ‘Debo’s got a lovely brindle bull terrier who looks fierce, but is as soft as butter. That’s probably why he got dumped: no good for fighting.’

  She looked uncertain. ‘I don’t know … I mean, I couldn’t leave him in the caravan all day, could I? And I’m not sure how he would get on with Mum’s Yorkie.’

  ‘He seems fine with other dogs and you could put a kennel in the shade of the trees by the caravan, for when he can’t be with you.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ she said.

  ‘You do that – and you might as well come and meet him now, while you’re here,’ I said persuasively, for after all, I’d successfully matched Rufus and Pearl, so I thought perhaps the same technique might work with Lulu. Debo had driven off earlier to pick up a truly Desperate Dog, so really, we needed to make room for the new one.