Second Night

by Gabriel J Klein

  ‘No, but I’m pretty good with motorbikes.’

  ‘Then I am quite sure that you will manage the earlier, blood-fuelled model equally well.’ He stood up and made a little bow, then shook her hand. ‘I must say that I am delighted you have accepted our offer. We will try to arrange to take a modest working luncheon together at least once a week, which will be useful for you perhaps and perfectly pleasant for me.’

  Sara cleared the table and took away the tray. Jasper was applying the final coat of paint to the doors in the office when she stopped by for a smeary, fume-laden kiss.

  ‘So how did you get on with the old boss?’ he asked.

  ‘Brilliantly! I got a fantastic job and a title over tea and coffee cake, and I start in a week.’

  ‘Huge cash?’

  ‘Enormous! We’ll celebrate down the pub tonight.’

  Jasper’s eyes narrowed. ‘And what’s the title?’

  She curtseyed. ‘You may now address me as Lady Sara,’ she said.

  CHAPTER 28

  It was no secret that Genista Peacock considered the new vicar her particular customer in the pub. She would stop whatever she was doing to serve him, regardless of how long anyone else might have been waiting. Percy only complained when his own mug was left high and dry on the bar.

  When the Reverend Adrian Windlesham had accepted the challenge of taking the living at what was known to be a generally non-practising parish, his bishop had recommended that he meet the locals on their own ground. Accordingly, he dropped in at the village pub for the occasional quiet pint as his duties allowed. When his nephew, Julien, came to stay for the weekend, they soon got into the habit of eating in the pub restaurant on the Saturday night.

  ‘Was everything all right, Reverend?’ asked Genista, with a beaming smile when he came to the bar to pay the bill.

  ‘It was very nice, thank you,’ he replied.

  Simon took her firmly by the elbow and propelled her back to the regular customers.

  ‘Can I get you another drink, vicar?’ he asked.

  ‘No, thank you, we must be on our way.’

  ‘Evening, vicar,’ said Percy, seated on the stool beside him. ‘Getting all sorted down the old rectory cottage then?’

  ‘Yes, I’m getting myself quite settled in, thank you. Everyone has been most kind, and please, all of you, do call me Adrian.’

  The group of local women who looked after the church and the flowers, had been politely impolite about Genista and dismissive of her father’s favourite tale of the mystery of the man-eating tree and the disappearance of Tom Poore. Their leader, Mrs Louisa Renfrew, was London-born and bred. Not only the owner of the village shop, she also played the church organ and considered herself amply endowed with the necessary worldly wisdom to merit the position she had assumed in the locality.

  ‘Percy Poore comes from one of the old families, Reverend Adrian,’ she had simpered over her teacup, implying that centuries of close inter-breeding had reduced the greater part of the local inhabitants to a state of – hopefully – harmless idiocy.

  But then there was the question of the site of the mysterious tree, which led inevitably to the subject of the manor and its reclusive, pagan knight. The ladies looked from one to the other, nodding mysteriously.

  ‘He’s not a church-goer, never has been, even though it’s his family vault in front of the altar,’ said Fig Petter, rather more loudly than she had intended. ‘He won’t take the parish magazine and refuses to donate to any of our worthy causes.’

  She reddened and coughed into her hand. Mrs Frances Irene Gwendolyn Petter was a grey mouse of a woman whose husband’s untimely death had been the result of a misadventure with a combine harvester. She had been left to a solitary life of pale blue cardigans and small suede boots with zips, while she cared for his loudly lamenting mother who had been cheated of the well-deserved clutch of grandchildren he had vowed to provide for her. Fig Petter’s upper lip quivered, her round, brown eyes blinking rapidly as she looked frantically to Mrs. Renfrew for support.

  ‘Sir Jonas is not an asset to the community,’ Louisa Renfrew graciously confirmed.

  Percy Poore examined the latest asset to the aforesaid community over his beer, while his daughter did her best to blush and be helpful.

  He’s not a bad looking fella for a vicar, thought Percy. I can see why our Genny’s set her cap at him. I might as well test the waters and find out how much chance she’s got.

  ‘So will your wife be joining you soon then, Adrian?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not married,’ replied Adrian. He indicated the tall, young man standing next to him. ‘This is Julien, my nephew. I was hoping there would be some young people that he could be introduced to while he is here.’

  ‘I’ve got a daughter, Bryony,’ said Genista immediately. ‘I’m sure she’d be happy to show you around, Julien.’

  ‘Of course she would,’ agreed Percy.

  But Simon had other ideas. He called to the tall, black-haired woman talking to the elderly man sitting at the ‘manor’ end of the bar. ‘What about your boys, Maddie?’

  ‘Looks like you’re wanted, girl,’ whispered John.

  Maddie had avoided Adrian Windlesham since he had spoken to her that first time in the pub. Everything about him came dangerously close to many aspects of the life she had left behind before she came to the manor. She shrugged her hair forward to hide her face and picked up a cloth, wiping the bar vigorously to put off making eye contact with him.

  ‘I have two sons and a daughter,’ she said. ‘They’re in the snooker room.’ She pointed the cloth to the door. ‘Well, at least two of them are. My other son will be here later.’

  ‘Would it be too much to ask if they might be introduced to my French nephew? He’s studying English in London for a year.’

  ‘I can do it now, if you like.’

  Julien grinned. ‘Thank you, that would be very nice.’

  ‘Let me buy you a drink while you’re waiting, Adrian,’ said Percy, determined to keep his daughter’s best interests to heart. ‘What’ll it be? Another beer?’

  Adrian shook his head. ‘It’s very kind of you but I have to be up bright and early tomorrow morning. Duty calls. You are all welcome to join us for the services,’ he said generally.

  There were various polite nods and muttered excuses around the tables. Genista came scurrying back to serve him.

  ‘I’ll do you a nice pineapple spritzer while you’re waiting, Adrian,’ she said happily.

  ‘Do him a double,’ said Percy, getting out his wallet.

  CHAPTER 29

  Jasper danced around the snooker table, head-banging in time to the band playing on the big TV screen on the wall. He set up his shot, aimed, fired and won the game. ‘Yes!’

  Laurence gave his cue to Tristan and sat down with the girls at the table. ‘See if you can slay him, Tris.’

  ‘Go on, Tris!’ cheered Melanie.

  Jasper crept behind Sara and dropped a kiss on her neck. A hand walked on pointy fingers towards her pint of beer. She slapped the hand off the table. ‘Hey! Stop that!’

  ‘Forty… three… days!’ he said significantly, tapping her head with the cue to emphasise every word.

  ‘And then what happens?’ asked Lauren.

  ‘Ma gets to serve me my first legal pint!’

  ‘And I’ll be buying it,’ said Sara.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Beer snog in the meantime?’

  ‘Not in the pub.’

  Laurence took Jemima’s hand. She took it back on the pretext of getting her drink.

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he whispered. ‘You don’t answer my calls and you haven’t been online. What’s going on?’

  Jemima sighed. ‘It’s nothing personal. I just haven’t felt much like talking to anyone lately.’

  ‘So we’ve all noticed. Are you feeling okay?’ He took both her hands. Her fingers were cold. He started to rub them.

  She pulled away crossly. ‘Yes.
I’m fine. Don’t fuss!’

  At that precise moment Jemima’s sword-absorbed world turned around. The door opened and Maddie came in with a truly awesome boy who was already looking her way.

  Be still my fluttering heart, she thought excitedly. Maybe the Goddess is looking out for me after all.

  The Master of Hounds had yet to make an appearance since the ceremony at Thunderslea. Several, less appropriate requests to view Andy, on account of the reputation earned by previous Meane Manor colts, had been turned down, with not a word mentioned to Mister Charles as Sir Jonas had been quick to assure her. So far no one had died or even looked like dying, and there had been no mention of any imminent invasion on the telly.

  Julien shook hands with the boys and kissed the girls on both cheeks. He knocked over Jasper’s cue set up on the snooker table.

  ‘Oh, pardon,’ he said.

  ‘Granted,’ said Jasper grandly.

  Julien pulled up a spare chair from one of the other tables and sat down opposite Jemima.

  ‘I have seen you already,’ he said.

  ‘Have you?’ she asked, surprised.

  ‘You were in the little shop in the village a few days ago. You have cats.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ asked Lauren.

  She had been pleased to be introduced as ‘my other son Caz’s girlfriend’, but the lack of an invitation home was becoming a sore point with her. Considering I have only just this evening been introduced to his mother, and then by his brother’s girlfriend, she thought indignantly.

  Jemima was radiant. ‘Yes, I was buying huge packets of cat food. But I didn’t see you.’

  ‘I was behind you in the queue.’

  Laurence was red in the face and furious, but Sara was glad to see Jemima smiling again.

  ‘We’re doing a late, late movie tonight, Julien,’ she said. ‘You’re very welcome to join us, if you want. We’re sharing a taxi.’

  ‘Thank you, but not tonight,’ he said, regretfully. ‘I have to go. My uncle is waiting for me.’

  Lauren seized the chance to get into Jemima’s good books. They hadn’t warmed to each other at all and Lauren didn’t need a jealous kid sister coming between her and Caz.

  ‘Then why don’t you pick up a costume and come to my Hallowe’en party instead?’ she suggested.

  ‘We’ll give you a lift,’ said Jemima immediately.

  ‘Great band gig,’ remarked Tristan, potting the black ball at the snooker table.

  ‘Not to mention the Devil on Disco for starters,’ said Jasper, patting his shoulder genially when he missed the next shot.

  Jemima scribbled her phone number on one of the beer mats and gave it to Julien. ‘Call me if you can make it and we’ll pick you up. You might as well have my email address too while we’re about it.’

  He stood up, smiling, and put the beer mat into his back pocket. ‘Thank you, I’ll do my best to come.’ He turned at the door and gave a little wave as he left. Jemima was delighted.

  ‘Where’s my guy?’ grumbled Lauren in her ear. ‘Why must he always be so late?’

  ‘He’ll be here,’ she answered, feeling a hundred times better disposed towards Lauren already.

  ‘I didn’t see him once over the half-term break.’

  ‘You were in London.’

  ‘But my dad invited him to come too. Didn’t he tell you?’

  ‘No. Why should he?’

  ‘We saw some great shows and did the museums. It was a lot of fun but it would have been so much better if he had been there too.’

  ‘Love and hassle don’t mix, Lauren,’ said Sara. ‘You either love Caz or you hassle him. You can’t do both.’

  ‘I thought love was hassle,’ said Jemima irreverently.

  Laurence slapped down his glass and went back to the snooker table.

  Jemima shrugged. ‘If Caz says he’s going to do something, he does it, Lauren. He’ll be here, just be patient.’

  ‘So right now I’m just hassling him, is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Sara.

  The door opened again, this time to admit Blue, Alan and Caz. Alan went straight to the snooker table. Blue laid his head in Jemima’s lap. Lauren jumped up and flung her arms around Caz.

  ‘You’re here!’ she cried.

  ‘I’m here,’ he agreed.

  Jasper looked at the clock. ‘Well done, bro. You’re just in time to get the last round.’

  ‘Did you walk?’ asked Sara.

  ‘I got a lift with Al.’ He sat down. Lauren sat on his lap.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said. ‘It’s been a whole week!’

  ‘Has it?’

  ‘Yes, and I’m expecting you to help me get the party together, to make up for neglecting me so shamefully.’

  ‘I’ve got a lot going on.’

  ‘I can’t believe it’s more important than being with me,’ she pouted.

  ‘I’ll be there for the party, not before.’

  ‘But that’s not until Wednesday!’

  He stroked her cheek and touched her hair. She was just a pretty, vulnerable girl at that moment. ‘We’re here now,’ he said gently. ‘Let’s enjoy it for what it is. Don’t waste time thinking about Wednesday, or even tomorrow.’

  ‘But you will be there for my party? You won’t forget or find something else to do?’

  ‘I’ll be there for the party.’

  ‘You promise? I need you to give me your solemn vow!’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ he repeated. ‘Like I said, I’ve got a lot going on right now.’

  The moon was already two days before full and her needs and wishes were irrelevant to the task ahead of him. He must prepare himself to endure a whole day sustained only by the clear waters from Brynhilde’s Spring before he cast the runes.

  It was after midnight when Genista finally got home from work. Bryony had just got in and was sitting at the dressing table. Mirror Girl was helping her to take off her make-up. They both groaned theatrically when Genista came bursting into the bedroom.

  ‘Urrgh! Will you ever learn to knock?’

  ‘Come on, into bed and be quick about it,’ said Genista briskly. ‘You’re going to need your beauty sleep tonight.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘We’re going to church tomorrow morning.’

  Completely horrified, Bryony yelled, ‘What are you talking about? I’ve never been to church in my life!’

  ‘Yes, you have. You were christened and you went to Aunty Sandra’s wedding.’

  ‘When I was six! What was I christened for?’

  ‘Because everybody is.’ Genista opened the wardrobe and rummaged through the clothes. ‘We’ll have to get some more stuff. We can’t keep turning up looking like a pair of tarts.’

  ‘Speak for yourself!’ Bryony slammed the wardrobe doors shut, putting her back to them and glaring at her mother. ‘I’m not helping you throw yourself at yet another married man. Especially not a stuffy vicar! Sorry!’

  ‘He’s not married!’ said her mother triumphantly. ‘He was in the pub all evening, so he’s not stuffy either. Ask your granddad. That boy is his nephew and he might be just right for you!’

  ‘I’ve already told you vicars are poor, Mother dear! And that means their families are usually poor as well!’

  ‘Not this time! This vicar’s travelled all over the world and his nephew’s French!’ Genista laid it on the line. ‘Look, I’m giving it until Christmas, Bry, and I would really appreciate you helping me out. We’ll never get anywhere going on like we are and this could be my big chance. Don’t spoil it for me.’

  Mirror Girl shook her head but Bryony wavered. A French boy would make a change from Carl. Mirror Girl was more often wrong than right these days and it would help pass the time while she was waiting for Caz.

  ‘But we don’t know anything about church and stuff like that,’ she demured. ‘It might be rubbish.’

  ‘Then it’s about time we found out,’ said her mother brig
htly.

  CHAPTER 30

  Daisy and John watched the full moon rising over the hills from the kitchen window. It was long past the time when they should have been home, and there was still no sign of Caz. They both knew he had taken the day off school but the coffee maker was untouched and the sugar bowl was still full. It looked like he hadn’t drunk a drop all day. John started pacing the floor. Daisy was shaking.

  ‘The sun’s been gone down nearly two hours,’ she said desperately. ‘He’s never been late before. Something terrible must have happened to him in the forest. We’ve got to go and look for him.’

  ‘And what’ll we do if he gets back before us and needs helping out?’

  Daisy sat down at the table, holding her throbbing head. ‘I don’t know! I just don’t know!’ she wept.

  John sat beside her and took her hand. ‘Now listen to me, Dark-eyes,’ he said gently. ‘It’s no use getting yourself all worked up and panicking. We’ll just have to sit it out and wait. The boy’s tough and that filly won’t let anything happen to him, you’ll see.’

  ‘But we’ve got to do something! His dinner’s spoiling. It won’t be fit to eat by the time he gets in!’

  John stood up. ‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll get these pans and plates and what have you on a tray and I’ll take them upstairs to his room. That way he can eat up there in peace and quiet as soon as he gets back and he won’t have to worry about cleaning up when he’s done.’ He loaded the big wooden tray, pointing to the row of saucepans on the back of the hob. ‘Are all these pans to go up?’

  Daisy nodded. ‘Leave the big one with the soup. We’ll put that out on the table down here with the bread so he can have a quick bite before he goes upstairs.’ She dried her eyes and took a large casserole dish out of the oven. ‘This has got to go up too.’

  She opened the door to the turret staircase that connected the kitchen with the upper levels of the house.

  ‘Can you manage all that heavy weight by yourself?’ she asked anxiously as John picked up the tray.

  ‘I’m all right,’ he said. ‘Now you stay down here and watch out for him. I’ll be back in a jiffy. Then we’ll get our coats on and have a look through the garden and the orchard in case he’s closer to home than we think he is.’