Getaway With Murder

by McNeir, Leo

  They had become a proficient crew and negotiated three locks before the light began to fade.

  “Two more locks and we’ll be at the top,” said Beth, studying the cruising guide. She ran her finger along the page. “Then we have a clear run over the Chilterns.”

  “ It seems a pity to stop in sight of the Tring summit,” said Marnie. “Feel like going on?”

  “Have you done locks in this sort of light before?”

  “No, but I was travelling alone. We could try one and see how it goes. We’ve got the headlamp and I could take a torch. Worth a try?”

  Marnie jogged along the towpath to the next lock. The water was down at their level and she only had to push a gate open to admit Sally Ann, her headlamp lighting the way. Marnie opened the top paddles and sat on the heavy oak balance beam while the lock filled. The headlamp lit up the chamber and Marnie had to look away to avoid being dazzled. Pushing the gate shut as Sally Ann slipped out of the lock, Marnie hopped onto the deck.

  “That wasn’t too bad.” Beth muttered in agreement, concentrating on staring ahead into the beam of light. “Are you game for the last one before we stop?” Beth raised a thumb.

  The sky was clear and the first stars were appearing. Marnie gazed up, leaning against the hatch, feeling free and untroubled. Whatever the future held, for this moment she had no worries. Her job, her home, her life, her whole career, were set aside for another day and another place. The Starship Sally Ann cruised the galaxy and left the world behind. It was a tap on the shoulder from Beth, pointing ahead that brought Marnie back to earth.

  The final lock was full when they reached it and Marnie had to open the paddles to bring the level down. The nearest one was stiff and in the gathering darkness she had to use the torch to see her way across the narrow edge on top of the lock gates to tackle the second. The gate too was heavy, needing all her strength to pull it open, and it was some minutes before she could signal Beth to come forward. Breathing deeply with the effort, she pulled the gate shut and picked her way carefully by torch-light over the grass to the top gates. By the time she had opened both paddles, Marnie was glad to take a breather as the lock filled. She sat down on the balance beam with her back to Sally Ann’s headlamp, listening to the rushing of the water flooding the chamber. Marnie’s breathing settled back to normal and she enjoyed the coolness of the wooden beam as she rested in the dark with her legs dangling over the side. Gradually, the bushes and trees around the lock grew brighter, the light of the headlamp creeping slowly and steadily higher as Sally Ann rose in the lock. It was like a new dawn and as Sally Ann reached the highest point in her ascent, she lit up the whole of the lock area in an imitation of daylight.

  *

  “It’s got to be good if you insist.” Beth sounded unconvinced. She yawned.

  “It’s the best time of the day,” said Marnie firmly, pushing the bow off from the bank. She walked back to board Sally Ann at the stern, where Beth was huddled over the tiller. “You okay to steer?” Beth nodded and Marnie went below to make coffee.

  “You amaze me,” said Beth when Marnie reappeared. “I don’t remember you being like this when we were at home.”

  “Perhaps I’ve turned over a new leaf. Anyway, what’s so amazing about an early start?” Beth took her coffee with a weak smile and sipped it gingerly.

  “It’s not just the early start. How early is it, by the way?” Marnie held up her watch for Beth to see. Beth attempted a focus, eventually succeeded and winced. “Dear God! It’s not just the early start, it’s all this, the coffee, I mean, genuine ground coffee, and croissants, hot croissants … on proper plates. I’m overwhelmed.”

  “Why don’t you go below and have a wash?” Beth disappeared into the cabin. Moments later Marnie heard a muffled voice through the sound of the engine.

  “Are you a paragon, or what?” Marnie ignored the question, if it was meant as a question, and concentrated on steering Sally Ann through the light mist rising from the water. The previous night they had retired early on reaching the Tring summit, Beth using the fixed bed in the sleeping area, while Marnie had a camp bed on the floor of the galley. They had tied up not far from the marina, ready for a good start across the top of the Chilterns and down into Bedfordshire. Beth had agreed to an early start, though now she realised that she had not understood the meaning of early. It was just after six-thirty when Sally Ann picked up speed for cruising. Beth emerged from the cabin looking a little fresher than before.

  “Feeling better?” said Marnie.

  Beth blinked. “Relatively,” she said.

  “You could have had a lie-in while I drove the boat.”

  “With that engine clattering away? Anyway, you’d probably have made the bed with me in it from force of habit. The cabin looks as if we’d never been there. It’s uncanny.”

  “I don’t like clutter. Relax, enjoy the scenery. Have some more coffee.” Beth eventually felt more human. The day got underway and they travelled through the almost deserted wooded scenery, seeing a solitary angler on the bank and a heron patiently waiting for breakfast to swim by. Across the summit and past the Victorian workshop buildings at Bulbourne, they began their descent towards the Vale of Aylesbury. Marnie left Beth at the tiller to keep her occupied and set about the dozens of small tasks to be done on a journey. It gave her much satisfaction to see Sally Ann shining and clean inside and out, running smoothly, or as smoothly as a geriatric two cylinder diesel can run. She came up on deck just as they were approaching an isolated bridge.

  “How are you doing?” said Marnie. Beth nodded in reply. “Ready for some coffee?” Beth nodded more enthusiastically.

  “Lovely spot,” said Beth. “I can almost understand why you like to start so early.” Marnie turned to look ahead before going down into the galley.

  “I know this place. Yes, it’s where I first met Anne with an ‘e’.” Marnie told Beth of their meeting when Anne was about to run away from home to ease the burden on the housekeeping budget and about their friendship ever since. “I have to be careful, though, not to give her the wrong idea about my new set-up. She really ought to stay on at school and go to college. The trouble is, she thinks she can work for me, but there’s no chance of that happening, not for quite a while, at least.”

  “Do you think she’s got the message?” said Beth. “Youngsters can be very determined.”

  “Yes. I think she understands, though I half expect to see her hanging over a bridge, lying in wait for us in Linslade. She lives near there.” Marnie went below to make coffee.

  But there was no sign of Anne at Linslade or anywhere else and they chugged on through the valley of the River Ouzel, taking on stores at a supermarket by the canal at Leighton Buzzard. They stopped for lunch at a pub and watched boats passing through a short flight of three locks. Beth was beginning to judge the performance of the boaters in relation to her own new-found skill, surprised that she was as good as any of the people who passed by.

  As they navigated round Milton Keynes, Beth experienced a feeling of competence, of achievement. She saw herself as an individual human being, not in relation to her husband or to any role in life, but simply through being part of the team that ran the boat.

  In Milton Keynes of all places, she thought. Who could imagine their road to Damascus running through Milton Keynes? Her mind conjured up a vision: a caravan of camels following a dusty track across a desert, rising from a dried up wadi to find a sign pointing to the central covered shopping area, the multiscreen cinema and the pay-and-display car park. At that moment Marnie came back on deck and looked quizzically at her sister.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”

  “You look as if you’re about to start laughing. Is there a joke?” Beth laughed.

  “It would be hard to explain,” she spluttered. “I think I’ve just had an experience of self-awareness … in Milton Keynes.”

  “I do understand, actually,” said Marnie. “I
t often happened to me last year.”

  “Did it make you feel more able to do things?”

  “Yes. All sorts of things. Mainly, I learnt about coping. If ever I feel I want to do something and I hesitate before going ahead, I tell myself ‘just do it’ and somehow it works out. At least, it has so far.”

  “That’s how you’ve had the nerve to start your new life,” said Beth.

  “Maybe.”

  “Today’s the day, isn’t it? The contract will be completed and you’ll be the new owner of Glebe Farm.”

  “Yes. Tomorrow morning starts a new phase.” They watched a heron flap away from the bank, tucking its neck into its body. “Now that the time has come, I’m really looking forward to it.”

  “So am I,” said Beth. “But why tomorrow?”

  “No reason,” Marnie shrugged. “I just saw us in my mind arriving in the morning and taking possession. I don’t know what actual time things happen today. It depends on the solicitors. So I figured on arriving tomorrow.”

  “But the solicitors will do the business during office hours.”

  “Sure.”

  “If we wanted to get there this evening, could we make it?” said Beth.

  Marnie picked up the cruising guide and turned the pages. “It’s not all that far,” she said. “And there is only one lock after Milton Keynes, at Cosgrove.”

  “Then why not follow your motto?” In unison, they both said: “Just do it!”.

  They travelled on at a steady pace, meeting half a dozen boats all morning, taking turns at steering, chatting and joking: “Hey, Marnie, do you realise we’re the tiller girls!”.

  They tied up for a lunch break in the shade of a willow, with views over rolling countryside. Eating a sandwich on deck, Beth used the mobile to check her answerphone messages at home.

  “Eight-twenty,” she muttered, with the phone pressed close to her ear. Eventually, she pressed the combination of buttons to reset the answerphone. “Eight-twenty tomorrow morning. Paul’s shuttle lands at Heathrow. That’s two days earlier than expected. Must be fewer people to examine.”

  “You’ll be wanting to get back,” said Marnie.

  Beth looked thoughtful. “I shall be sorry to go. Of course, I’ll be glad to see Paul, but I’m really enjoying this trip and I wasn’t sure Sally was really my scene. I just came for the ride, maybe to show solidarity.” She grinned at her sister. “Now I feel sorry I’ve got to think about returning home.”

  “When do you want to do that?” said Marnie. “Crack of dawn? I could get you on a milk train, if there is such a thing.”

  “I suppose it would be more sensible to get a train this evening and avoid the morning rush, if you didn’t mind, Marnie.”

  “No problem.”

  After lunch, Beth guided Sally Ann on the final leg of their journey. She felt happy, glad to be helping her sister at this stage in her life. It was a bright, warm afternoon with only enough white clouds to add interest to the sky and it had turned into a mild evening as they passed under the last bridge before Glebe Farm. Through the tops of the trees, Beth caught sight of the honey-coloured stone gable of the main building and she offered the tiller to Marnie to bring Sally Ann into her docking area for the first time. Marnie shook her head and set off along the gunwale. By the time Marnie had secured the bow rope, Beth was in the engine compartment turning the stern gland.

  “Welcome to Glebe Farm,” said Marnie.

  “Welcome home!” said Beth and the two sisters hugged each other as the shadows lengthened among the ruins and Dolly emerged from the cabin to sniff the air on her first evening as a country cat. “We ought to drink a toast, some bubbly,” said Beth.

  Marnie pulled a face. “I’ve got to drive to the station.”

  “Bubbly water?” suggested Beth.

  “Good idea.” From the deck of Sally Ann they raised their glasses, real crystal glasses, to toast Glebe Farm, now and for ever. They bundled Beth’s belongings into her bag, locked the boat and made their way to the car. As the Rover bumped up the rough track, the light was fading and Marnie steered towards the church and the main road beyond the village. It was about ten miles to the nearest station and the roads were almost empty.

  “Thanks for coming, Beth. It was nice to have you aboard. You know you’re always welcome.”

  “Thanks, Mar … What do you mean, I’m always welcome? It’s my bloody boat!”

  “Sorry, I was forgetting.”

  “As usual.” Beth grimaced in mock ferocity. “Seriously, though, I’ve really enjoyed these few days. It seems ages since we set off.”

  “But you’ll be home in no time. Give me a ring to let me know you’re back.”

  Night was falling as Marnie waved her sister off and returned to the car. The drive back seemed shorter and she had the strange feeling of going home to the unknown. The signpost to Knightly St John appeared in the headlights and she pointed the car down the narrow road that would from now on become as familiar to her as the streets of London. Turning by the pub, she headed for the field gate and the track down to the farm. Her mind too full of plans to be worried about the loneliness of the place, she rounded the bend and saw the dark bulk of the buildings among the trees and bushes. For a moment she thought she saw a reflection of her headlights in a window, but there were no windows on that side, only barns and walls. How odd.

  Marnie parked the Rover behind the barns. It was a clear, still night and she paused for a moment before switching on her torch. So this was home, this collection of ruins … scope for creative modernisation. Well, there was certainly plenty of scope here, she thought. Looking up at the stars, Marnie realised she would have the same view from inside most of the buildings. Suddenly in the corner of her eye she saw a shooting star and then another, this one very low in the sky away to her right. But the buildings blocked out the sky on that side and in that moment she saw, or imagined she saw, a brief flash of light.

  Marnie stood still and thought through the situation. Could there be someone lurking among the ruins? She dismissed the idea. Psychopaths, rapists and potential axe murderers would hardly lurk in a place where no-one was likely to pass. What would be the point? Who then? She compiled a shortlist. Poachers, kids out for a clandestine smoke, a courting couple. All of these were possible. Who else? She dredged her imagination and brought up drug dealers, devil worshippers, a coven of witches, general perverts and miscellaneous deviants.

  No purpose would be served by standing in the darkness, and the thought of unwanted visitors skulking around Sally Ann all night made it improbable that she could simply go to bed and forget about them. Marnie stepped silently forward, expecting at any moment the crack of a twig under her feet. She gripped the torch firmly, ready to defend herself if needed, thankful that she was wearing light shoes in case she had to make a run for it. She paused at the corner of the nearest derelict barn and waited.

  This was the moment of truth. In the dark silence she waited for a sound, anything to reveal the presence of an intruder. The seconds slipped by without a murmur and Marnie wondered if she had been mistaken. This is absurd, she thought. I’m probably standing beside an empty barn. Ridiculous! I can’t stay here all night. She took a deep, silent breath, flexed her shoulders, turned the corner, at the same time raising the torch and pressing the switch. The instant the light came on, the torch was knocked from her hand. She gasped and instinctively dropped down on one knee. Grabbing for the torch, she heard another gasp nearby inside the barn. She looked up to find herself confronted by the intruder, who like herself was on one knee, squatting at the back of the barn, dimly lit in the beam of the torch. Marnie stood up as the intruder spoke, steadying herself on the jutting hinge that had made her drop the torch.

  “Sorry to give you a fright.”

  “Anne!” said Marnie.

  “With an ‘e’,” said the girl smiling faintly as she rose from the floor.

  *

  Marnie poured steaming hot tea into mugs in the salo
on of Sally Ann and passed one across the table to her visitor.

  “Would you like anything to eat?” The girl sat with Dolly purring in her lap.

  “Oh, no thanks, Marnie. I’m okay.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Since about two o’clock.”

  “So you’ve not had supper?”

  “Well, no. But I’m fine, really.” Marnie got up and opened the food cupboard.

  “The choice is enormous. In fact, I haven’t eaten since a sandwich at lunchtime, so let’s celebrate taking over Glebe Farm.” She rummaged among the stores. “Any preference?”

  “You choose, Marnie. I’m easy. Honest.”

  Marnie began to pull out the ingredients for an impromptu supper. She started by partly slicing a baguette and while it developed into garlic bread in the oven, she mixed a tuna salad. Anne laid the table, slightly subdued at the thought of the questions and explanations to come.

  “Why not tell me about it?” said Marnie, mixing vinaigrette in a bowl.

  “I haven’t run away from home or anything like that.”

  “Good. What about the last two exams?”

  “Not bad. The French was better than I expected. RE was okay.” Marnie checked the oven and the aroma of garlic bread wafted past her.

  “Okay, so no crisis.”

  “No. I just wanted to wish you success and happiness in your new home.”

  “And your parents know you’ve come?”

  “Oh, yes. I told them I was coming to see you.”

  Marnie took the garlic bread from the oven. “Right. Before we eat, use the mobile to ring home and ask if it’s okay for you to stay here for tonight. I’ll drive you back tomorrow.”

  They ate at first in silence and Marnie remembered the remains of the designer water in the fridge. They chinked glasses and sipped.

  “Is there something else you want to tell me?” said Marnie.