Chas said it was clear he firmly believed he wasn’t my father and in the end agreed to provide a DNA sample to prove it once and for all. But actually, I hoped it was him, even if he was horrible, because then I’d be able just to draw a line under it and forget all about him!
Chapter Twenty-nine
Rites
When I went to collect Grumps’ chapter on Wednesday morning he was highly pleased with himself and insisted on showing me an old map of Sticklepond that he had acquired from Felix the previous day.
‘Have you found a new marker for your ley line?’ I asked, helping to hold down one curling end.
‘No, no – something quite different. A piece of extremely useful information about the lido field that I have passed on to Felix, so he may tell the rest of the Parish Council.’
‘Right,’ I said, putting his tea down on a corner of the map.
‘See here?’ He pointed, the large red stone in the silver ring he wore on his index finger glinting dully. ‘The so-called lido field has never been built on for it once formed the gardens of a long-gone small monastic house. But this map was drawn up later, after the first wave of the Black Death had swept the land, and you can see here that the area is now clearly marked as “Plague Pit Field”.’
‘Plague Pit Field? You mean there was a mass grave there for plague victims?’ I asked, startled. ‘I suppose they did have to bury them quickly.’
‘Precisely. And then over the years the name has been forgotten, until eventually the area became a popular local picnic spot, leased from the owner of Badger’s Bolt, by the council, as a public amenity.’
‘But how odd, to think what is there, forgotten.’
‘And it may well save the field from development – siting houses on top of a mass grave, however ancient, would hardly be popular with either the local people or potential purchasers.’
‘It certainly wouldn’t!’ I agreed.
Halfway through viewing the first property, while David was waffling on about knocking down walls and installing en-suite bathrooms, I told him I wouldn’t have time to come out house-hunting with him again. But unfortunately he took that as a sign that I was still piqued because he’d taken someone else to the Mann-Drake dinner party.
The song ‘You’re So Vain’ could have been written for him and he seems to have the hide of a rhinoceros.
‘No, I really meant it when I said I didn’t mind about that, David. Why on earth should I, since we’re only friends? It’s just that Chocolate Wishes is so busy now that I won’t be able to take so much time off in future, and once the museum opens I will be even busier.’
He gave the indulgent laugh that made me want to hit him and said he’d already realised we would have to wait until Jake goes to university before we could move our relationship onwards.
Honestly, I can’t imagine why I once found him pleasant, easy company! But things really came to a head in Rose Barn, the second property, because he tried to kiss me while the estate agent was tactfully waiting downstairs.
I fended him off with more vigour than tact, and he got a bit huffy…once he’d got his wind back.
‘What on earth did you do that for?’ he demanded, his eyes watering. ‘It was only a little kiss!’
‘A kiss too far and it was you who told me I wasn’t sophisticated, if you remember,’ I pointed out. ‘Put it down to that. But never mind, I expect several of your posh friends don’t object to a bit of random dalliance.’
‘You’re jealous!’ he said, enlightenment dawning all over his handsome face, and this mistaken belief seemed to cheer him up no end. I tried to disillusion him, but since I stopped short of saying outright that he was now boring me practically into rigor mortis, which would have been a bit brutal, it had no effect at all.
He turned into the Green Man car park afterwards as if everything was fine between us which, as far as he was concerned, it was. I was resolved that this was going to be the fastest drink ever, especially when he said as we were going in that some of his friends were down for the weekend and might already be there. They were, too – I could hear loud confident voices and braying laughter as soon as I opened the door.
I vaguely recognised one or two of them from six years ago, but I’d forgotten quite how awful they were – and they had clearly forgotten me entirely.
Mel Christopher – she of the grey horse, blonde hair, brown eyes and amazing figure – was one of them, and it became obvious in about three seconds flat that I was right about David taking her to Badger’s Bolt instead of me.
She was sending me clear signals that she could take David away from me any time she wanted to and I tried to signal back that she could go right ahead, with my blessing, but I think she could only transmit, not receive.
She also gave me the impression that I had a shiny nose and bird’s-nest hair, so after a bit I went to the ladies to check, which meant going through the foot part of the L-shaped room, where most of the locals gather.
There I discovered Raffy playing darts with the Winter’s End gardeners, as well as Hebe Winter’s great-niece, Sophy, and her husband, Seth Greenwood. I’d seen him at the village hall meeting and he’s tall and a bit scary-looking until he smiles: then he’s gorgeous and you know exactly why she fell in love with him. Sophy, who I’ve met occasionally in Marked Pages, waved at me, but Raffy just gave me a sombre look before turning and flinging his darts randomly at the board. One fell out and everyone jeered, but in a friendly way.
I’d rather have joined them than go back to David’s friends, because they seemed to be having much more fun. When I returned, Mel was telling the rest of them what they’d missed at Mann-Drake’s dinner party, though most of them had evidently met him at one time or another anyway, either here or in London.
‘He’s one of the Devon Drakes, darling!’ as Mel put it. So obviously it was a case of ‘never mind if he’s utterly perverted, so long as he’s in Debrett’s’.
They all thought him ‘great fun’. He was to hold a house-warming party at his cottage at the end of next week, to coincide with some magical ceremony or other – possibly very other – which they were remarkably eager to be invited to.
‘He’s had the stone outbuilding behind his cottage converted – he showed us after dinner,’ Mel said. ‘The décor is modelled on a Mithraic temple, though the frescos are copied from that Indian temple – you know the one!’
I thought I could have a good guess.
‘He said we could bring one or two friends, so if any of you wanted to come…?’ she invited. ‘It’ll be fun, won’t it David?’ She gave him a warm, intimate smile that was meant to exclude me.
‘I expect the ceremony will be a lot of nonsense, but Mann-Drake’s very entertaining and hospitable,’ he agreed, then said to me, ‘You could come with me this time, Chloe.’
‘Oh, no, thank you,’ I said hastily. ‘I’m not much of a party animal.’
‘I’d have thought it would be right up your street – isn’t your grandfather Gregory Warlock, who writes all those lurid novels?’ asked Mel, and they all laughed rather offensively. ‘But never mind, if you can’t make it, then David can be my dinner partner again, can’t you, darling?’ She flashed him a Helen of Troy look that would have instantly scuttled my boat, had I been trying to float one.
‘Lovely, I hope you have a great time,’ I said. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get on my broomstick and fly off, because I’ve got an early start tomorrow morning.’ This was only partly an excuse, because I was going with Zillah to a psychic fair in Southport next day.
It took very little effort to persuade David to stay, since not only was it still so early that there was no need for him to see me home, but Mel was now making an outright play for him and he was finding it hard to keep his concentration on me.
In fact, I was so keen to get out that I didn’t even notice that Raffy was leaving too, until I collided with him just outside.
We disentangled ourselves and he said
quickly, ‘Sorry, I’ll – go the other way.’
‘But I might get mugged on the way home on my own,’ I said plaintively. ‘Could you reconcile that with your conscience?’
He looked down at me uncertainly. ‘You’re not serious? Nothing’s likely to happen to you on the streets of Stickle-pond, is it?’
‘Who knows?’ I said, though it was profoundly unlikely and anyway, according to Grumps, nothing at all could harm me while I was wearing the peculiar little gold cocoa bean he gave me on my birthday. I could only think he had something put inside it, though what, how, or when, was anyone’s guess. A bit like me and my messages in the Wishes, it was easy when you knew how.
‘You’re leaving early,’ he said, though he did fall in beside me, his hands driven deep into the pockets of his long, black coat and his expression rather sombre. ‘I suppose you’re meeting your friends at the rival hostelry?’
‘No, they’ve gone to see a film. I would have done too, except I’d already agreed to go house-hunting with David one last time.’
‘You mean – you’ve found the right house?’ He gave me an unfathomable sideways glance.
‘No, and I’m not sure any more how serious he is about finding a country place – but if he is, he’ll have to do it without me from now on. But I’m glad I ran into you, because there’s something you need to know.’
‘Something else?’ he said slightly despairingly.
‘About Mann-Drake, not us.’
I told him what I’d learned about the proposed party.
‘So, you’re worried about your friend being drawn in, is that it?’ he asked when I’d finished.
‘No, though I would have thought he was the last man to get involved in anything like that. But Mel Christopher seems to be able to twist him round her little finger, so I expect he’ll end up staying on afterwards, when apparently there’s to be some kind of pseudo-magical initiation rite. I just thought I’d tell you because, as vicar, you ought to know what’s happening in your parish, that’s all.’
We had reached my door by then. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to think about it…And I could talk to your boyfriend, if you wanted me to?’
I’d been toying with the idea of asking him in to supper, which was an extendable curry I’d made earlier (assuming Jake hadn’t decided to wolf most of it down in my absence) but instead I now snapped through gritted teeth, ‘He is not my boyfriend!’ and went in, slamming the door.
‘Was that Raffy you were yelling at?’ asked Jake, caught frozen in the act of removing a treacle toffee cat lolly from one of the big sweet jars on the worktop.
‘Yes, but I wasn’t yelling – and don’t eat the stock.’
‘Who is not your boyfriend? I hope you mean Deadly David!’
‘Yes, of course I do. I keep telling everyone until I’m blue in the face that I’m not going out with him, not going to get engaged to him again, not doing anything with him, even seeing him again as a friend! In fact, I think he’s about to be snaffled up by the village siren.’
And I told him about the Green Man and Mel Christopher while I heated the curry and cooked rice and he laid out plates and cutlery, though when I got to the bit about Mann-Drake’s house-warming party and the ceremony for special guests afterwards, his face darkened.
‘We met him when we were out walking Kat’s dog earlier and he invited us too! It turns out she’s chatted to him a few times when she’s been on her own, but she hadn’t told me.’
‘You haven’t argued, have you?’ I asked, concerned.
‘Yes, but we’ve made it up again. I can see he comes across as totally harmless and she was just being polite, because he’s so old. But I hear he’s also invited one of the girls from Dolly Mops to his party, so he seems to be spreading his nets pretty wide.’
‘I only hope someone has warned her about him.’
‘Oh, most people my age wouldn’t be interested – it’s hardly going to be a rave if there’s a geriatric in charge, is it?’
‘Perhaps I should speak to Kat tomorrow too,’ I said worriedly.
‘There’s no need. I’ve told her not to even say hello to him in future, just turn round and walk away if she sees him coming,’ he said firmly. For a moment, with his flashing brown eyes and black hair, he looked like a Mafia version of Grumps.
Chapter Thirty
Grave Concerns
‘And my blood is still boiling at the sheer cheek of the man – first of all ingratiating himself with Kat and then daring to try and draw my Jake in too!’ I said to Poppy while we waited in the snug of the Falling Star for Felix to arrive. He’d had to go off somewhere after the latest Parish Council meeting.
‘Oh, Jake is much too sensible to be drawn in by someone like that, especially since he knows all about Mann-Drake,’ she assured me, ‘and I expect Kat was just being polite to someone so much older than herself. I hope the Dolly Mops girl is too – I’d already heard about that invitation from Effie Yatton, and that the old cowshed has been turned into a kind of pagan temple.’
‘Effie Yatton seems to know an awful lot!’
‘It’s because she runs the Brownies – it means she has moles everywhere! She says it’s clear that Mann-Drake is trying to corrupt our youth. He’s even invited the son of the farmer next to Badger’s Bolt too, so he’s casting his nets wide, isn’t he?’
‘He’s already drawn in David and some of his friends, but I’m not worried about them because they’re old enough to know what they’re doing.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought it was David’s kind of thing?’
‘It isn’t really. I think it’s Mel Christopher’s influence.’
‘Hebe Winter wanted Mike to stop the party, but of course he can’t unless they break the law in some way. Raffy said some of the rumours he’d heard about the meetings Mann-Drake used to hold at his Devon house weren’t very savoury and I thought he meant orgies, though I shouldn’t think the cowshed is big enough for that.’
‘I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been to an orgy.’
‘That’s what Raffy said when I asked him,’ she said innocently. ‘Then Felix said Mann-Drake ought to be careful about inviting young people to his parties, because there have been cases where teenagers have posted the details on internet sites and hundreds of uninvited guests have turned up.’
‘Yes, I’ve read about that – parents coming back and finding their homes trashed.’
‘We all agreed it would be terrible if that happened to Mann-Drake’s party,’ she said meaningfully.
‘Right…’ I said. ‘Did Felix tell the Parish Council about Grumps’ big discovery? He’s highly pleased with himself!’
‘Oh, yes – it was amazing about the plague pit. Fancy it being forgotten! Though the Palm Sunday procession has always stopped there for special prayers, so that’s probably a throw-back to that time. Raffy’s going to see if there’s anything about it in the church records. But it is quite nice in a way that generations of families have played and picnicked there, where their ancestors are buried, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose it is. And it will certainly put a crimp in the plans to build homes there, I would have thought.’
‘Yes, Conrad told me that the developers, Mango Homes, are coming to look at the lido field on Tuesday morning at ten and Mann-Drake is meeting them there. Hebe is organising a protest and newspaper coverage, and then they are going on to picket the Town Hall in Merchester afterwards. We’ll have to make banners and go.’
‘Are Mango Homes the ones who call the roads on their estates after fruit?’ I asked. ‘Like Raspberry Road and Galia Gardens?’
‘And Plum Place for the posh end?’ Poppy giggled. ‘Yes, those are the ones and they usually stucco their houses and paint them in ice-cream colours, so it would look like a chunk of the Cornish Riviera had been transplanted to Sticklepond.’
‘That wouldn’t fit in with the local houses at all.’
‘No, that’s what we all said. That was about t
he end of the meeting then, and I came out with Felix and Raffy. But Felix said he had to go and see a customer and dashed off, and although I asked Raffy to join us here later, he said he was very busy at the moment. Easter does seem to be, for vicars,’ she added. ‘But before he went, he said he was a donkey – that was a bit odd.’
‘A donkey?’
She nodded, her curls, which had now permanently replaced the frizz, bobbing. ‘I’m not sure why, unless I misheard, though I had told him about the Palm Sunday walk earlier and he asked me then if the donkey was compulsory.’
‘He is a donkey if he’s avoiding me, because I keep telling him I forgive him.’
‘Perhaps he needs time to forgive himself, now he knows the whole truth?’
‘Maybe, but I think he’s wallowing in it a bit too much. And he still seems to think that David and I are an item, no matter what I say.’
‘I think even Felix has now grasped that you aren’t!’
‘No, I’m not remotely attracted to him now – and thank God I never married him!’
‘So your mum actually did you a good turn, there,’ she pointed out with a grin.
‘Yes, unintentionally, I suppose she did.’
Poppy looked restively at the door for about the twentieth time. ‘Felix is ages, isn’t he?’
‘You’re getting just like Siamese twins, joined at the hip! How did the riding lesson go?’
‘I don’t think he’s a natural, but he didn’t fall off and he quite liked it, really,’ she said, giggling, then her eyes went back to the door and glazed over.
‘Felix!’
‘Poppy! ’ he replied, in a soppy voice.
They gazed meltingly at each other for a few moments (which is clearly as far as things have progressed), until he came to his senses and kissed us both in a brotherly way on the cheek and said how nice we were looking – which we were, because ever since Southport we’ve made a bit more of an effort when going out in the evenings.
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