'Please, Mr. Geake,' I tried one last time, 'I'll help you -
He sounded so reassuring, 'I'll make it quick, Lovejoy. I've never been vindictive.'
Then close to my face a voice screamed, 'Mind, Lovejoy!' I ducked, terrified, flailing to one side and almost tumbling over the frigging railing as something swiped past my face, tendrils whipping by my forehead and almost taking my eyes. There was a horrible bump behind me. The grip went from my wrist. I scrabbled for hold as I felt myself fall sideways, caught hold and clung for dear life, while that screaming went on and on and I thought, run for it you stupid little cow instead of standing there on top of the spiral iron staircase screaming your silly little head off . . . It was me screaming.
And then tried finding a foothold because I was dangling, managed to get my right leg hooked round the railing, clawed myself back to the top step. I made a dive for where I guessed the door might be, knocked myself practically cold on some iron, fell groping, groaning, found my hand taken in hers. Cold corridor air wafted over us both and we were running demented along the corridor towards the light at the end.
'Shut up, Lovejoy!' she said. 'They'll hear us!'
I didn't care. I wanted everybody in the world to hear me, alive, say I was under arrest, anything away from that madman. But she seemed to have guessed right, and had got me free, so I stopped yelling blue murder and ran obediently in silence by Holly's side, through the blinding light of the hall, out through the open door and into the night.
35
The night, cars swathing the trees, a rising wind, distant shouts, the hotel behind us glowing like a Christmas tree. And me and Holly. I had to halt, winded, after a million-league dash, beyond the lawn pond. What was that about hiding in a thicket? I was done for, gasping in a hollow, a terrible stitch in my side. No moon, of course, lazy swine too idle to come and help. We could just about see the pallor of each other's face. My stitch cramped me. The shouts began.
'This is exciting, Lovejoy!' she said.
'Shhh, you silly, er, child.' I hadn't to forget she was only sixteen. 'They'll hear!'
We'd been lucky. They'd already searched this field, moved on.
She sounded thrilled at all this excitement. 'They're looking for you! Will they kill me as well?'
I grabbed her throat. 'I'm going to get clear.'
'Fucking marvellous, Lovejoy.' She went dreamy. 'It feels -'
'You're off your head, silly mare.'
'All that attention!' She sounded envious. Water was seeping into my shoes. 'Is it for killing Chemise's meat?'
Hateful hearing a lass, practically an infant, talking crude slang. 'I didn't. Geake did.'
'Serves the bastard right,' she said piously. 'Why didn't you go back down and shoot him with his gun? I'd have done it. You bottled out.' A child telling me I did wrong not to murder? It must be TV.
A motor started up, lumbered round the fields, quartering the area where the cars had been standing. I raised my head from the grass, saw another motor start, beam headlights moving. Somebody climbed into a third. Two came from the lane leading to the Battishalls' drive. The sods were hunting in. Several blokes started to trot from the hotel. Every light in the place was on. Were they in league with Geake? Had he told them to go out and get me?
Some night creature rustled past, unconcerned.
'Look, Holly.’ I licked my lips. I could escape without her.
‘Yes, Lovejoy?'
'Help me, love. They'll find me if I stay here. My only hope is to nick a motor.' Two more cars arrived, presumably Big John's entourage joining the fun.
She giggled. 'Did you see Mr. Geake tumble? I hit him with a pot I could hardly lift! I had to guess where his head was. It must've been lovely to see him go.' She made a whining sound, falling, went, 'Thump! I wished I'd a camera. It was Mr. Geake caught old Ashley with me. The laugh's on him now.'
'Aye, hilarious.' Piety and murder are pals.
They would give chase if they saw somebody running through this country gloom. But she might get shot or something, if they were as serious as I thought. But only a swine would think of sacrificing this life-saving bird to save his own cowardly skin.
'What do you want me to do, darling?'
'Decoy.' Darling? Too many darlings spoil the broth.
'How?'
'Like this,' I said. 'When I say, run hard to our left. They'll follow you. Hide, duck and dive as long as you can. Meanwhile, I'll escape, see? I'll get to, er, Norwich.'
'Where will we meet up, sweetheart?'
Bad news this. 'Er, Havelock's Auctioneers, Norwich.’
i own you now, Lovejoy. Save a life, own the life.'
Who'd said that? ‘Yes.' I chuckled, unconvincing.
'I insist on a trial cohabilitation, Lovejoy.'
'Eh? Oh, aye, sure.' I swallowed. What do they teach them at school these days? To my surprise she pressed her mouth on mine. I pulled away, pushed her off. ‘Get going. Good luck.'
She'd need it. There'd be a good two dozen hoods after her. I saw her wriggle along the hollow until it gave out and then she ran fast. I waited until the shouts rose, then eeled through the darkness in the opposite direction. I'd thoughtfully shoved her towards tangled thickets, leaving me the open lane. Maybe, deep down, I was anxious for her to escape, at least give them a run for their money. Or maybe I meant me, more like.
Five minutes, I made the hedgerows beside the winding lane leading back to the hotel. The lights behind me were a godsent beacon. I plodded skittering along the undergrowth towards the trunk road's orange skyglow. I was shaking and damp. I heard the cries begin behind me, tried to run but only fell over more roots so slowed to a cautious trudge. No good breaking a limb. I'd never get away if I did that.
Then I heard her screams and thought, poor Holly. In fact I almost halted, maybe to turn back and try to help her. But what good would that do? Reason came to my aid in the nick of time. Holly'd saved me, true? And willingly gone haring off to decoy them away so I could make it to safety. What would be the point of throwing away Holly's sacrifice? She wanted - wanted-me to escape, game girl. It was her plan, for heaven's sake. Relieved my guilt was conquered, I moved on, edging round the thicker obstacles, silently holding the boles of smaller trees to avoid splashing in puddles. It was that caution that saved me from walking into Sheehan's roadblock.
Not long after I hit the lane, I saw a small motor, very like the Dewhursts' Morris, trundle past towards the hotel. I'd dived for cover, mistrusting any vehicle on this lonely lane. I'd gone maybe a couple of miles further when I heard the same decrepit engine coughing slowly up behind me. I ducked aside, just as I smelt cigarette smoke. Two faint red glows showed ahead, very close. I stilled.
The motor halted with a squeal of worn brakes. It was the Dewhurst sisters. I could see their outline in the dashboard sheen. Their headlights illuminated two of Sheehan's hoods standing smoking beside their huge hunched saloon.
'Did you go to the hotel?' they called.
‘Yes.' Priscilla's voice. 'There's such trouble! They were calling for everybody. They've seen somebody running across the fields. I do think the farmers will be cross, if their crops are damaged.'
The hoods talked together. One got into the saloon.
'If you join the hunt.' Priscilla said, 'would you please leave Mrs. Roberta a message? The Misses Dewhurst are rather tired and shall ring her in the morning. Would you do that, please?'
'Right, love,' in a voice that said some hopes.
They gunned the motor, screeched in a tight one-eighty. I watched their lights recede. The Morris chugged into the layby. Its engine cut.
I waited, thinking, a trap? But their headlights stayed on. Why? Then suddenly the interior light came on. They spoke quietly to each other, then Philadora stepped out, climbed into the back seat. They sat. I watched from the hedgerow.
Then Priscilla wound her window down, and called softly into the night, 'It's safe, Lovejoy.’
The interior light went o
ff. The headlights dowsed.
Frightened, I slipped close, got in, sinking to the floor in a ball. She clicked her headlights on, and drove off without a word.
36
The alleyway behind the Lorelei shop was the place for illicit snoggers after dark. I told Priscilla to drive down it, headlights searching out rutting witnesses. Then return, alight, open the back door of the Lorelei Delicatessen, and enter leaving the door open for me to nip from the motor and slip inside.
Once in, to my astonishment they were jubilant, squealing with laughter as though they'd won some unimaginable prize.
'Shush, for God's sake!' Maudie Laud's peelers might come hang-gliding by any second. I didn't want them finding us celebrating, having maimed Geake and pulled off a robbery.
'But you're safe, Lovejoy!' they said, eyes wide.
They saw my gloom. 'Find me a hiding place, love.' I addressed Priscilla, the leader. 'They'll come with a search warrant.'
'Heavens!' Priscilla was delighted, breathing wonderment. 'This, Philadora, is real life!’
'Oh, Priscilla! Our opportunity, at last!'
They applauded. I felt out of it, another wrong guess.
'Lovejoy. Tonight you shall rest, while we construct a priest hole! Like the Roundheads and Cavaliers!'
'Then tomorrow, Lovejoy,' Philadora said with a gentle blush, askance, 'our plan.'
'The future imperative!' from Priscilla.
Eh? 'Right, loves. And ta for the rescue.'
'Rescue!’ they shrieked. I had to shush the silly pair.
With the doors locked, they rushed about, showing me their flat above the tea shop, the side room where I would sleep. It was self-contained, a loo, basin, bed that let down. They provided a nightshirt, colouring as they offered it. I vaguely wondered if they had many gentleman visitors, but dutifully had a bath, noshed their hot grub, drank their tea, and was asleep in seconds. They were real planners, that was for sure.
And I dreamt a dream like Genseric the Most Terrible's, all seeming benign - at first. I dreamt I heard Priscilla saying, 'We did right, Philadora.'
And Philadora the Most Timid saying, 'Really, Prissy?'
'He has come to us as we predicted all these years.'
'Oh, yes! And we must be resolute!'
They advanced on me, slowly looming larger. . . and I woke with a scream in my throat.
Empty. The room was empty. I drank some water, mopped sweat from my body, and slept the sleep of the just.
Next day, they knocked and entered, solemn. I sat, had the breakfast they'd brought, asked for more - they had it all ready in some contrivance. They perched far as possible from me, for a while shyly averting their eyes from my naked torso. In ancient days, kings allowed their subjects to file past and watch them nosh. I felt a bit self-conscious.
'Thank you, partners,' I said simply. 'Say when I've to go.'
'Mr. Geake is dead,' Priscilla said. 'Heaven rest him.'
So Holly had guessed with unerring precision.
'Fell down the conservatory staircase,' from Philly.
The police are interviewing the antiques dealers.'
'The . . . whifflers,' Philadora brought the word out proudly, 'caught a girl called Holly. A vagrant, Lovejoy.'
I listened, watching their faces, to and fro like Wimbledon.
'She aimed to doss down in the hotel but saw nothing.'
Good old Holly. My exhalation might have been a giveaway to anyone else. But what did these know except their zodiac?
'We perpetrated a deception, Lovejoy,' Priscilla composed herself, 'by telephoning the police at regular intervals during the night, asking for your whereabouts.'
'Partners, after all!' squeaked Philadora. 'They knew nothing.’
‘I’d better be going, then.'
They shook their heads. 'The police are seeking Mr. Dill.'
'The Americans have decided to stay in East Anglia, Lovejoy. And become antique dealers.'
Rivals, or yet more partners? I wondered.
'With a golf club, in Fenstone.' Priscilla said cheerfully, 'Dame Millicent's land.'
'No obstacles, like Mr. Geake, RIP?'
'Father Jay has vanished, they think abroad. With Juliana.'
A reformed character, then. Brand plucked from the burning. Better marry than burn, some holy fraud said. Good old Juliana.
'So I'm in the clear?' I cried, ecstatic. They smiled sadly.
'No. Everybody's after you, Lovejoy.'
'But,' Philadora said patiently, 'we have the Seurat painting, the Thangliena diaries, and sundrys. The ones you made us bid for. In store.'
'Brilliant!' I cried. These were partners worth having.
'For a consideration, we will unite forces, Lovejoy.'
'Really?' They trying to do a deal with me?
'There's a meeting here in a few minutes, Lovejoy.' Miss Priscilla coloured a little. They rose. 'We suggest you bath and dress. Your linen's washed. You might care to listen. You will not be seen.'
Ten minutes, I was clean, sitting on the stairs like Christopher Robin. The tearoom door kept pinging as visitors arrived. Miss Philly served tea, coffee. Conversation was only about the auction.
'All the money will be in by weekend,' Chemise said eventually, down to hard facts.
'Can it be cleared without Lovejoy?' Mahleen homed in.
'It sure can!' from Wilmore. Hilda and Nadette agreed.
'I saved Lovejoy's life,' said Holly. 'He owes me.' She should have been in Norwich. See how unreliable birds are?
'He is our partner,' from Priscilla. 'He owes us more than anyone.' Which was a bit much, seeing I'd been born in the right hour, proving their stupid Obverse Zodiac. 'My sister and I have promised a substantial reward to the newspapers. That is why we asked Miss Laud to attend.'
'Which is?' said Maudie Laud. I almost yelped. This was getting hairy, the chief peeler downstairs.
'Ten thousand pounds, for information leading to the safe return of Lovejoy to his cottage.'
There were murmurs of appreciation. 'We have advised the media, television,' said Philadora proudly. 'We are solely interested in rescuing the poor lamb from his loneliness. He might be on a ferry to the Hook of Holland, anywhere!'
'Maud,' said Mahleen earnestly, 'no charges will be brought against Lovejoy or those who contributed to the auction?'
'No.' Maudie spoke with reluctance. 'I've seen the printed list. AH items were listed as forgeries, fakes. Perfectly legal. We would like to have Lovejoy's statement as soon as possible, though. There's an antique stolen from Dame Millicent. He might also clarify events leading to Mr. Geake's accident. And explain some details of Father Jay and Miss Witherspoon.'
There was talk about what might have happened, how the Sheehan hoods were all making statements down at the police nick. I smiled wrily. Those summaries would be useless. Good old Dame Millicent, though, bilking the insurance companies by pretending her fake Danish mock-up was antique. I couldn't wait for them to leave, and almost shouted with joy when the door pinged shut behind the last of them. I was upstairs getting my coat on when the Dewhurst sisters followed me.
'Lovejoy.' They stood like a deputation, hands folded uncertainly. Except they weren't all that uncertain.
'Ladies,' I said fervently. 'Ta. I'll be off -
'No.' Priscilla was between me and the door. 'You stay here. With us. In a state of . . .'It was her timid sister who astonishingly brought the word out.
'Cohabitation, Lovejoy.'
They were both red as fire, meeting my gape with difficulty.
'Eh?' I kept my smile on, puzzled. 'Stay here?'
'It is impossible for you to leave, Lovejoy.' Priscilla pointed to the window. 'Miss Laud has a constant police watch on our tea shop. Since you are already inside, you will be safe until you try to leave.'
'And Chemise is residing at your cottage.'
'And Mahleen has filed for divorce, to marry you.'
'And Roberta, forward hussy, has similar designs.'
'And Sabrina has taken out a summons against you for robbery. Silverware.'
'And Beth has done the same. Bilston enamels.'
'And Holly, who is impudently young -'
'And -'
'Listen.' I finally made it. 'This cohabitation thing. It's impossible. For a start -
The teashop door went ping. I felt myself pale.
'A moment, Lovejoy.' As I frantically tried to stop her, Priscilla went to the top of the stairs and called, 'Would you care to come up, please?'
A heavy tread sounded. The ultimate deterent, Big John Sheehan, stood there. He looked pleased to see me.
'Look, John,' I said. My knees gave. I sat on the bed. 'I made Tinker nick the pantechnicon, sure. Because -'
'Because the Stubbs inside was a copy? I know, Lovejoy.'
'You knew?' I got narked at that, otherwise I wouldn't have come straight out with it. 'John. You're no divvy. Only the one who -'
'Ladies.' They scuttled downstairs. 'I couldn't let somebody steal it. Not after I'd put a preserver on it.'
'You swapped it for a dud, which Nick, er, nicked for Ashley?' Big John's honour was intact among us thieves. 'But that's . . .' Unfair, treachery, repulsively devious. He was waiting. 'Great, John,' I finished.
'Can't have our honour betrayed, Lovejoy,' he said, dead serious. 'You stay here a fortnight, Lovejoy. I've fixed it with the ladies. Give me time to clear things up.'
'Two weeks?' I bleated in protest. His head tilted. 'Er, fine. Ta, John.'
'Tinker had the sense to take the van to my place in Aldeburgh.' He tapped my chest. 'Any time you want rid of Tinker, tell me, Lovejoy. Good old soldier, Tinker.'
'Right,' I called feebly after him, 'Ta again, John. Good luck with that horse!'
And sank, trembling. I heard the downstairs door ping. The two sisters came slowly upstairs.
'So you see, Lovejoy,' Priscilla said.
'Look, Miss Priscilla -'
'No, Lovejoy. Priscilla, please.' They exchanged glances.
A fortnight. I looked at them. Cohabitation?
The Grace in Older Women Page 30
