by McNeir, Leo
“How did you know?”
“How many boats do I know that have gone missing suddenly, with Gary somehow involved?”
“You’re doing it again.”
“What am I doing?”
“Answering all my questions with a question.”
“Am I? How long have I been doing that?” Marnie uttered a low growl. Beth continued: “Anyway, tell me about Ralph.”
“He just called by to see us and show us the boat. He’s renovated her himself. Or perhaps I should say ‘him’; it’s called Thyrsis … for obvious reasons.”
“Of course. He’ll be inviting you out to dinner next.”
“We’re going to the pub this evening.”
“He must be keen.”
“We’re all three going.”
“Well, have a nice time, all three of you. I’d better get on. Just wanted to see how things were going.”
“Thanks for ‘phoning, Beth. I’ll ring you in the week. Bye!”
“Oh, Marnie, you’ll have to tell me all about the vicar and the flower rota some other time.”
“The vicar? Well, that’s another story.”
“And you’ll have to explain what Thyrsis means some time too. Bye!”
*
At about the time when Marnie and Anne were getting changed to go out, Valerie Paxton was standing at the sink in the kitchen, gazing vacantly out into the garden. Her husband was pottering about in the vegetable patch. He was regarded as a good man by the whole community. And by the lights of most people in the village, they were a happy couple. But he was predictable in everything he said and did. Everything. He had no bad habits, but no capacity to surprise her. He never quarrelled with anyone, but he never expressed an original opinion, either. In fact, she could scarcely recall him expressing an opinion at all. He was thoughtful, to a degree. He would bring her a magazine when he went for the Sunday papers and he only smoked his pipe outside in the garden, because he knew how much she hated the smell. There was no time she could remember when he ever trod mud in from the garden and he always left his slippers by the back porch.
She wiped the steel surface of the draining board with a J-cloth. It was the third time she had done it in the last five minutes. Try as she might, she could no longer avoid the truth that the arrival of Randall Hughes in their world had changed her attitude to her life, to her husband and to herself. It was almost laughable. Almost but not quite. She was no longer young, but not yet middle-aged. She had kept herself trim and prided herself that she still wore the same size clothes as when she was eighteen.
She was twenty-three when she got married fifteen years ago and had fasted for weeks to look good in her wedding dress. It had hung in the wardrobe ever since. Last week she had taken it out of its cover and slipped it on. It still fitted and she compared herself with the wedding photograph on her dressing table. The only disappointment came when she looked at the tall, slim young man standing beside her in the frame. He looked too boyish to be taking on the responsibilities of husband and perhaps one day, father.
There was no question of Jack fitting into his wedding suit now. The slim figure had given way to the comfortable stockiness of a man contented with his life, his wife, his home. Already looking older than his years, he would remain like this until the day he retired. Val knew that when he reached forty next year, he would start counting the years he had to go to retirement. He would be counting his life away, and hers with it.
The porch door opened and Val heard Jack come in from the garden and struggle out of his wellingtons. He came into the kitchen and set a bunch of carrots down on the draining board. Irritably, Val put them in the sink and wiped the surface with her cloth.
“You’re a bit quiet tonight, love. Anything the matter?”
“Why should anything be the matter?”
“No reason. Only you usually chat about what’s been happening at school.”
“I don’t feel like it, that’s all. I’ve got a headache.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, love. Let me get you an aspirin.”
“No. It’s all right. Don’t fuss.” For God’s sake don’t be so understanding, she thought. That only makes it worse.
*
“What do you fancy?” Marnie looked at Anne over the top of the menu. “They’ve got vegetarian dishes.”
“Ah,” said Ralph. “How strict are you?”
“Not very. I just don’t eat meat.”
“Fish?”
“Yes. Actually, the Mediterranean fish bake sounds interesting,” said Anne. “Vegetable lasagne might be a bit heavy.”
“I’ve often noticed when dining in hall,” said Ralph, “that chefs seem to think vegetarians have enormous appetites. Or perhaps they aren’t used to cooking for them and get the quantities wrong.”
“Perhaps we do have vast appetites,” said Anne. “After all, the biggest animals on earth are veggies.”
“True enough,” said Ralph, making no comment on her sylph-like figure. All three opted for fish bakes and Ralph asked Marnie to choose the wine. She suggested a white Bordeaux, Entre-deux-mers, and Ralph went to order at the bar.
“Marnie, Ralph – I mean Mr Lombard, Dr Lombard – didn’t have to invite me as well. I don’t want to get in the way.”
“You’re not. He wanted us both to come. If he didn’t, he would’ve invited me some other way.”
“But I add to the expense.”
“I don’t think an extra fish bake is going to worry him unduly. There are times when you just accept hospitality and enjoy it. We can invite him another time.”
“Okay. I’m not used to eating out very much. It’s part of my education.”
“Good. I’m sure you’ll get an ‘A’ for the course work.” Anne was stifling a guffaw as Ralph returned.
“You two look radiant this evening. Knightly St John obviously agrees with you.”
“I think it does,” said Marnie. “Time will tell, but so far we’re enjoying it, after two whole days.”
“It’s a picture-book English village,” said Ralph. “Stone, thatch, cottage gardens. The church is very fine. Is it Norman in origin?”
“It was part of a priory based in Normandy near Le Havre.”
“My wife used to take me round looking at churches, or anything mediaeval. I was quite knowledgeable about them at one time.”
“The font here is nearly a thousand years old,” said Marnie. “And there’s some good stained glass by Burne-Jones. You’ll have to visit it.”
“Yes. I like the mixture of Early English with Decorated Gothic. I’m surprised it didn’t suffer more in the Civil War.”
Anne leaned forward in her seat and spoke in a quiet voice. “The vicar was murdered here at that time.”
“Murdered? You mean a casualty of the war?”
“He was killed in the church, 1645.”
“By which side?” said Ralph.
“I’m not really sure.” She looked at Marnie for help.
“We haven’t found an account of what actually happened,” said Marnie. “No-one knows for certain who did it.”
“An unsolved murder,” said Ralph. The waitress appeared and showed him the label on the wine bottle. He nodded and she began removing the cork. Ralph continued, “Well, I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out who did it now, unless you decide to play the detective, Marnie.”
“Would you like to taste the wine, sir?” Ralph indicated Marnie’s glass. She sipped and smiled at the waitress, who poured the wine for each of them, including Anne. Ralph leaned towards her. “I hope that’s all right for you, Anne. I didn’t think to ask if you’d prefer something different.”
“It’s fine. Perhaps if I had some mineral water I could gradually turn it into a spritzer.”
“Good idea.” Ralph ordered a large bottle.
“Talking of detectives,” said Marnie, “Anne’s the one with those talents.” The conversation moved on to the ruins of Glebe Farm and Anne’s deductions about cigarette stubs an
d trainers. From there it progressed to Marnie’s plans.
“”How long will it take to do all this?” said Ralph.
“I’m aiming to complete the work in phases, so that each stage provides the finance for the next. I have to move carefully because I’m undercapitalised. The income from the Willards contract should keep me going for about a year, enough time to get the first units rebuilt and let.”
“Am I right in thinking you’ve put everything you’ve got into this venture?” said Ralph.
“I think you’re about to tell me how courageous this action is. Am I right?”
“No. I don’t think you’re completely mad. If you are, we could use a lot more people like you in the country.”
“Anne thinks it can be done, don’t you?” said Marnie, squeezing her hand across the table.
“Yes. But I’ve got no real experience of work. I just believe in Marnie. She makes things happen. She’s a very special person.” It all came out in a rush.
“You know, Anne, I think you’re absolutely right,” said Ralph picking up his glass. “I would like to drink to your success, your joint success.”
As Marnie raised her glass, she noticed that Anne’s face was slightly pinker than usual. “What about your plans, Ralph?”
“Quite simple. I shall be writing a book and travelling around on Thyrsis.”
“Don’t you need libraries for your kind of books? Or is Thyrsis linked into the Information Superhighway by satellite dish?”
“Yes and no. I’ve brought enough material to keep me going for some while and I can pop back to Oxford from time to time, when I need to.”
“There’s a lot to be said for dropping out and going on the canals,” said Anne.
“I agree. At least, I do at the moment. Like you, I’m new to this way of life.”
“How long will you be staying?” Anne’s question had also occurred to Marnie.
“Well, this is just a short visit. I have to get Thyrsis to a boatyard for a new battery, possibly two. In fact, I ought to set off tomorrow.” Anne looked disappointed.
“I can lend you a generator for a few days, if that would help,” said Marnie. “There’s nothing worse than running out of power.”
“That would be very helpful. I had thought of going down to a marina to sort out the battery problem and going on from there, down to London, along the Thames and up to Oxford.”
“Sounds good,” said Marnie.
“On the other hand, if I did borrow your generator, I could drop it back to you shortly and set off after that. One thing I’ve learnt is that time is different on the canals.”
The meal arrived and was surprisingly good. At the end Ralph invited them back to Thyrsis for coffee. Outside, the air was pleasantly warm and they stood briefly opposite the church, looking up at its dark outline against the sky.
“Strange to think this is the scene of an unsolved murder,” said Ralph. The subdued glow reflecting across the road from the pub made the church look homely like a picture on a Beautiful Britain calendar. The lower part of the tower stood in darkness, partly obscured by the yew trees in the churchyard. Although there was no breeze, one of the trees seemed to sway. Marnie narrowed her eyes to focus in the dark and saw movement in the shadows. One part of the blackness had detached itself from the rest and was making its way round the building. It was gone in an instant, leaving Marnie unsure whether her vision had been deceiving her. “Still, it looks peaceful enough now,” Ralph added.
Marnie glanced in his direction, aware of Anne standing beside her, and said nothing. On an impulse, she linked arms with them both and led them off towards the field track that would take them back to Thyrsis and Sally Ann.
12
Word had passed round the village that the people should assemble outside the church. Most came, standing in family groups while a captain of the New Model Army addressed them on horseback. He was flanked by two other officers, and the rest of his unit, fifty or more men, sat under the trees further down the road with their horses tethered in the shade. The vicar was not present.
“And so I tell you to be vigilant,” said the captain. “There are Royalist squadrons in this area, as you know all too well. They have spies everywhere and they will stop at nothing to harass all who stand in their way.” The people stood in silence, wishing that the Roundheads would be away and leave them in peace. The sharp odour of burnt timbers still soured the air, an ever-present reminder of the dangers of a civil war, where one neighbour could be your enemy, while another was your friend.
“One of my officers will buy provisions from you.” The soldier on his left raised a hand. The captain continued. “We will pay for everything we need. The army of the Eastern Association does not rob the people.” As he spoke, Sarah Anne let her gaze wander down the road to where the soldiers and their horses were resting. Even though members of her own family wore the uniform of Parliament, she and all the villagers regarded any soldiers as a danger. She shuddered at the thought of what would happen if the Royalist army attacked the Roundheads here in this place now. Perhaps there were spies among the people standing beside her. She thought of burning thatch, smoke and flames rising into the sky, the sparks floating across the village, a torch lit at the top of the church tower, one flame burning and then concealed at dead of night. What could it mean? That night she dreamt of fires, smoke, heretics burning at the stake, the stench of war, the flames of Hell.
*
Saturday 17 June
“Did you hear that, Marnie?” Anne’s hoarse whisper rose from her makeshift bed in the saloon of Sally Ann.
“Footsteps. Someone passing,” said Marnie from the sleeping cabin, wide awake. She rolled out of bed and opened the curtain just a slit with her finger. Anne scrambled up from the floor and peeped through the curtain in the saloon. “Ralph,” said Marnie and glanced at the clock. “Quarter to seven.”
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” said Anne.
“No. I was lying there thinking.” Marnie filled the kettle and lit the gas, while Anne cleared up her bedding. “You know what day it is?”
“Saturday,” said Anne.
“Saturday. Yes. I realise that, being self-employed, I have complete freedom to work seven days a week.”
“Fine by me,” said Anne. “I’ve got loads to do. You should see my list.”
“No doubt, but I don’t think it’s right. I can’t expect you to keep going without time off.”
“I don’t mind. It’s all fun as far as I’m concerned.”
Marnie put croissants into the oven and made a pot of coffee. She pulled open the curtains in the saloon. Outside, the canal was still and smooth. Sunlight was poking among the trees in the spinney. “Breakfast on deck?”
Anne beamed at her. They turned to their supplies of clothes and quickly changed into sweatshirts and jeans. Marnie laid a tray with three sets of crockery. Anne noticed this and put three chairs round the table on the aft deck.
Coffee was steaming in two of the cups when Marnie went below to fetch the croissants. At that moment, Ralph came back from his walk, striding towards the boats.
“Morning, Anne!”
“Hallo, Ralph. Sorry, I mean Mr … er no, Doctor …”
“Ralph will do fine.” He stopped by the stern rail, breathing deeply. There was a glow in his cheeks.
“I think Marnie’s going to invite you for breakfast. She’s just gone in to get the croissants.”
“Wonderful! I’ll be back in two minutes. There’s something I want to show you.” When he returned, a basket covered with a blue and cream napkin stood in the middle of the table.
“Couldn’t you sleep?” said Marnie, pouring his coffee. “Or do you always go out so early in the morning?”
“I usually have a walk at this time. Clears the head. And Oxford is delightful before everyone’s up. What about you?”
“We have no trouble sleeping.” She passed Ralph the croissants. “Our problem is finding enough hours in the day.
There’s such a lot to do. We’ll be working today, I expect.”
“It’ll do you no harm, at least for a short time. I remember when I began my research. For the first few months I worked almost non-stop.”
“Then what happened?” said Anne.
“Someone reminded me it was Christmas. This is delicious. I usually just have a coffee. And for years I had a cigarette to go with it.” Anne raised an eyebrow.
“Me too,” said Marnie. “Now I’ve given up for good.” Anne gave her a mock frown.
“Changing the subject,” said Ralph, “I did a little research last night after we got back.” He tapped a book that he had put on the table. “Have you read this? It’s a history of the county.” Marnie shook her head and Anne squinted to read the title upside down. “This place was a hotbed of violence, intrigue and betrayal during the Civil War. You wouldn’t think so now, would you?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Marnie. “Passions seem to run high round here, especially where the church and the vicar are concerned.”
“Interesting. You see that was the cause of all the problems in those days, too.”
“Apart from the fact that there was a war going on, presumably,” said Marnie.
“Quite.”
“I don’t really understand about the Civil War,” said Anne. “What if you’re on one side and your neighbours want the other side to win?”
“That is the problem,” said Ralph. “And it happened all the time. In some parts of the country the great majority were for the King or for Parliament. Those who took a different view either left or kept quiet and tried to go about their business.”
“What happened here?” said Marnie.
“There were some pockets in favour of King Charles, particularly in rural areas. Northampton was mainly for Parliament and some places wanted nothing to do with either side, if they could help it.”
“‘A plague on both your houses!’” said Anne. “We did it in history.”
“That’s right. But the problem here was that some villages were High Church, where the vicar supported the Royalists and others were mainly non-conformist, the puritans who sided with Cromwell.”
