Toad in the Hole

by Paisley Ray

  Edmond let out a snort and quickly hid it behind a cough.

  GG patted Callahan’s shoulders. “Oakley Court is just ahead. Mind the blind corners. The pre-partiers are getting started before the midnight showing.”

  Switching on the high beams, Callahan crept along until the driveway dead-ended in front of a Victorian Gothic country house. Moonbeams glistened on ivy that rose to leering stone gargoyles on their lookout stoops. Callahan cut the engine under the portico entrance where a group of loosely-clothed guests, wearing an assortment of lace thigh-highs, garter belts, and bustiers dawdled past the stately castle entrance before turning a corner pathway lined with boxwood topiaries.

  Travis rolled his window down all the way. “What kind of hotel is this?”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave the safety of the car.

  Callahan hopped out and opened GG’s door. Resting her hand on top of the doorframe she stepped back to look at the stone shadows cast on the landscape and dimly-lit lead glass on a first floor conservatory. “It’s been twenty years since I’ve been here.”

  “Shall I check us in?” Edmond asked.

  “They know we’re coming. Callahan confirmed everything.”

  When I stepped outside the air smelled of salty earth. Edmond disappeared up a small flight of stone steps, while Callahan began to pile our luggage on the curbside.

  A PTT—Parental Telepathy Transmission—ticked across the Atlantic and I knew this place would not meet my father’s approval. “A castle with gargoyles and people dressed for a burlesque show. Where are we?” I asked.

  Quite pleased, GG rattled, “The Oakley Court. It’s passed through a handful of owners, and became most famous for being used as the set of The Rocky Horror Picture Show movie.”

  “So that was the Creation character in gold shorts?” Travis mused.

  GG waved a hand. “I believe so.”

  “Are they filming a sequel?” I asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of. Our stay coincides with the annual convention. They have a screen out back, and die-hard fans in full costume role-play along with the film. I thought you two would get a kick out of the festivities. We were lucky enough that some guests cancelled their reservations at the last minute and I was able to move our travel plans up a day. Have you seen the movie?” GG asked.

  Travis stuttered, “Um, I may have.”

  I slid out of the car and worked a kink out of my neck. “Horror’s really not my thing.”

  “It’s Sci Fi. After tonight you may change your mind,” GG said.

  Having traipsed across miles of London tourist attractions, dodging Ahmed, and navigating the underground, I wasn’t at my best. Inhaling deeply, I tilted my chin up. “The air smells fishy.”

  My grandmother slid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “The Oakley Court rests on the bank of the River Thames.”

  Returning with room keys, Edmond passed a set to me and another to Travis. Mine said three hundred ten and Travis’s, I noticed, was three hundred twelve. If my dad were here, he’d have put us in separate buildings.

  “If you two are hungry, they’re serving a buffet in the banquet hall,” Edmond said.

  “Will you two join us?” I asked.

  Edmond’s eyes met GG’s. “We’ll be down for a pint.”

  “What about our bags?”

  “Callahan will see that they are placed in your rooms.” GG seemed distracted and I guessed the break-in rattled her more than she’d let on. “I have a few phone calls to make. I want to check in with your father, let him know we’ve settled into another hotel.”

  GG’s glance caught mine and lingered for a beat. I knew she’d forgo telling Dad that our rooms had been ransacked and whoever did it was probably looking for the brooch. He wasn’t a fan of her having gifted me a fine piece of jewelry crafted by one of the oldest London jewelers. If he knew that our hotel rooms had been broken into, he’d fly over here and personally haul our tushies back home.

  Inside the lobby, a mahogany staircase with intricately carved banisters and green floral carpeted steps lay just beyond an alcove with a corner desk concierge and a check-in station. This hotel was more like a house—a big one.

  “We’ll set off to Asprey Jewelers tomorrow morning at nine,” GG said before moving off toward our rooms.

  I looped my arm into Travis’s. “I’m starved, what about you?”

  He scowled and spoke from a corner of his mouth. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

  Moving down an oak-paneled corridor, we passed what could only be a member of the band Kiss, in fishnet stockings and leather. The generous amounts of hair on his chest and back made me think he was of Italian heritage. While I gawked, Travis reached out a hand. “Dr. Frank N. Furter, well done.”

  In passing, Frank N. Furter slapped Travis’s back. “Thanks, Mate.”

  “You know him?”

  “Not personally, just his character. And quit changing the subject.”

  “Wait a minute, it was you that changed the subject and for the record, you said you may have seen Rocky Horror. How do you know the characters if you can’t exactly remember seeing the film?”

  “And you said you were going to tell GG about the engraving. Why are you being so secretive about it?”

  “It’s Callahan. I didn’t feel comfortable saying that the abdicated king may have engraved a love note on the inside of the oyster for Wallis Simpson.”

  “Why not?”

  “That’s just not the kind of information you go spouting off. It was a big to-do back then. Bigger than Madonna singing Like a Virgin down a Venice canal. And since I don’t really know for sure, I just think it’s best to wait until after the appointment at Asprey. Let the experts tell us whether or not a king commissioned the engraving.”

  We stepped into a hunter green carpeted dining room. Round tables were fashioned into the corners and a buffet was set in front of floor-to-ceiling glass windows. As far as I could tell, it was adult Halloween outside with a disturbing number of men in European-cut, sparkling spandex swim trunks.

  After giving the attendant our room numbers, we helped ourselves to warm plates.

  “Avoidance isn’t going to make this one go away!”

  I was discovering that Travis could be a nag.

  “I’m not avoiding conflict. I’m just derailing unnecessary drama.”

  With a hand on a wooden handle of a stainless steel buffet pan, Travis read a card, “Bangers.”

  “And mash,” I read from the neighboring serving pan.

  Filling his plate, Travis stopped pestering and dropped the inquisition. I’d have to remember that food quieted his grumbly mood. A handsome escort, hot meal, warm beer, and watching scantily-clad characters playing along with a movie didn’t seem such a bad way to spend the night.

  NOTE TO SELF

  Oyster brooch is officially on my nerves. It’s putting a wedge between Travis and me. Won’t be shocked or disappointed if the “Walzy” inscription is a bunch of nothing.

  Travis’s dimples are swoon-worthy.

  CHAPTER 9

  Midnight Viewing

  The rain had stopped and the storm clouds scattered. Sweet smoke that wasn’t tobacco wafted above my head, and a light harmony of cricket chirping hummed between movie lines. Slouched in a blue and white striped folding deck chair, I untied the tennis shoes I’d snatched out of a suitcase, and rested my red-leather stained bare feet in the soggy grass blades. I’d trashed one pair of shoes today, and was damned if I was going to ruin another cute pair.

  In the car ride when Travis said he “May have seen” The Rocky Horror Picture Show, he’d been bullshitting. I watched him mouth the words, “I would like, if I may, to take you on a strange journey.” He’d been lip-syncing from the moment we sat down. The man had every line memorized.

  “Some things in life: wine, cheese, classic movies, get better with age,” he said.

  I wasn’t captured by the story the first and only time I saw it back in high
school. Ten minutes in, I realized I didn’t like it any better the second time around. The only thing the film had going for it this time was the setting around me: a towering castle on the bank of the River Thames with a dock and a handful of boats that bobbed under streaks of moonlight.

  Curly red wig hair cascaded down the back of girl in front of me. My knee clunked into Travis’s. “Who’s she supposed to be?”

  His eyes never left the billboard-size screen. “Magenta, she’s from Planet Transsexual.”

  Magenta–the girl seated in front of me, not on the screen–curled her serpent tongue into the mouth of a guy wearing a tool belt. With a tilt of her head, she winked at Travis. “What is she making-out with?” I asked.

  “That’s Riff-Raff, her brother.”

  “Eugh,” I said, louder than I meant.

  Breaking from the lip lock, Magenta poked her face between chair backs. A cloud of fermented beer puffed from her mouth to my face as she slurred. “Give yourself over to absolute pleasure. Swim the warm waters of the sins of the flesh—erotic nightmares beyond any measure, and sensual daydreams to treasure forever,” then made a weak attempt to throw her half pint toward my face.

  There were two things going for me. One, the Magenta-wannabe was directionally challenged and she hooked her arm. Two, I have more than average experience with drunken types and reflexively rolled off the low slung chair, away from her.

  “Damn, Girl,” Travis shouted when he noticed my knees resting around my neck.

  A big girl in brunette ponytails I hadn’t noticed before sat a few feet away from me, and the wayward beer meant for me splattered her lap. At least I thought it was a “her” until I spied generous clumps of Magnum P.I. chest hair below a beard shadow and heard him shout a deep, “Bollocks.”

  Reality bit. A romantic night with Travis was not going to happen, and in this crowd, losing him to a cross-dresser seemed highly probable. And that was something my ego might not survive.

  The crowd gave a loud scream.

  Travis helped me back into my chair.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, feigning interest in the flick.

  Magenta kept glancing back at me.

  “Dr. Frank N. Furter just killed Eddie,” he said.

  I wasn’t buzzed and realized there was not an adequate amount of intoxication that would lead me on a path to find this riveting. A delayed row between the pint-thrower and pint-catcher began to ensue. It started slowly with one-word insults then began to escalate. Rolling to my knees, I slid my hands into my shoes and started to crawl out of the intoxicated crowd until a hand grabbed my ankle. “Rachael, where are you going?”

  “For a cigarette.”

  “You can smoke here.”

  “It’ll taste better by the river,” I said, and tugged my foot from his grasp. Scurrying to my feet, I told myself I was overtired and probably had had too much together time with Travis.

  Away from the glare of the big screen, there was a gravel path next to the Thames riverbank and a few benches framed the ground where lawn met gravel. Unfortunately each one I passed was occupied and I glimpsed naked contortions that had to be painful when executed on a park bench. Focusing on the river, I tapped a Pall Mall and matches from my jacket pocket.

  Maybe inviting Travis on this trip was a dufus move. I mean, what did I think, that spending weeks traipsing through England would bring us together? The perked up. Yeah Rachael, that’s exactly what you thought. Travis was Travis. Cute, funny, he did have a fixation on bones and burials, but ignoring that, I liked being around him.

  Lighting a ciggie, I lollygagged my way toward a shed near a wooded area where the property ended. Three boats: a small motorboat, a pontoon, and the third, a skinny houseboat, were tied to pilings.

  A low slatted fence framed steps that led to a storage shed. I peeked inside a window, but couldn’t see anything. Water lapped the backside. A tree arched like a candy cane dipped its outermost branches into the water. I rested my backside against the shingled siding. The trip had only begun and being sexually frustrated in close proximity to Travis was going to blow. I needed a plan. A way to survive my hormones without alienating him. Early evenings back in my room? Doing my own thing in the morning. Maybe a few side trips with GG while Travis hung with Edmond. Luxuriantly, I inhaled. The English tobacco had more bite than what I normally smoked. Not necessarily a bad thing.

  The Picture Show rocked on and I wondered how late it would go. Who in this place could get any sleep? Then again, I didn’t think any normal guests besides our group would actually pay to stay here during the convention.

  There was movement on the water, a gaggle of swans made me think of Stone back home. Where was my loyalty? What was it about Travis that made me think of him, that way? I knew he was gay. Looking back at the castle, I plotted the shortest route back to my room when the lawn went dark. The flick had stopped and someone yelled, “Bloody hell.”

  Boos intermixed with shouts, demanding someone turn the projector on. People began to stand. Someone pitched a chair at the screen and soon others followed. Beyond them, near the entrance, car lights blinked in the parking lot. A dozen men with flashlights began weaving into the crowd. Shouting erupted, the hostile kind. Worried about Travis, I moved forward trying to spot the only guy not in costume.

  The exhibitionists on the river’s edge benches untangled themselves to gawk at the fracas on the lawn. A few picked up discarded clothing items, and I noticed one fellow scurrying in the opposite direction along the pathway. An oddly familiar woman in an overcoat with a silk scarf tucked around her neck moved in my direction. When I noticed her blonde hair around her face, I shout-whispered, “GG.”

  “Rachael. Thank goodness.”

  I hid my cigarette behind my back and dropped it. “What’s going on?”

  “Where’s Travis?” she asked.

  Sliding a foot over the glowing tobacco, I said, “He was watching the movie.”

  Her hand cradled mine and led me a few paces to the dock. “Listen carefully.”

  “Is it Dad? Is something wrong at home?”

  “No dear. He’s fine, but Edmond’s not. The police are here. They’ve taken him.”

  “What? That’s crazy. Why aren’t you with him?”

  “I’d gone to the ice machine, when I came around a corner I saw the police ushering him into their patrol car.”

  “It has to be a misunderstanding. You should’ve spoken to them, cleared things up.”

  “Both of us being in custody isn’t going to do any of us any good. I’ve got to call my solicitor to figure out what’s going on and get him released.”

  “He’s done nothing wrong, he should be released.”

  GG began untying a knot that secured the narrow houseboat. “While I sort things out, I need to make sure you and Travis are safe.”

  My heart rate quickened and my brain froze. “Safe?”

  “There’s been a series of events. I received a message from the front desk. My contact at Asprey. His office has been ransacked and he’s in hospital after a suspicious car accident. There are too many things out of sorts. My internal alarm bells are chiming.”

  “The brooch!” I seethed between my teeth.

  GG stood upright.

  “There’s something I meant to… there’s an engraving on the inside of the oyster,” I blurted.

  Her eyes blinked as she registered my words. “What sort of engraving?”

  “A note to Walzy and some digits. I wasn’t sure if you knew it was inside. Do you want to see?” I asked and pinched the shirt fabric under the pin in an attempt to remove it.

  My grandmother’s fingers glided down her neck and rested beneath her collar bone. Biting her lip, she gazed skyward and mumbled, “Wallis, what have you done now? Of course I want to see, but we don’t have time. My livelihood has taken me to all corners of the earth. I’ve met a few characters in my day and unnerved a few of them. Some of the people I’ve had dealings with make up their own
rules. When you get to London, stop by a jewelers named Garrard’s and ask for Sonny. He’s an old friend and he may be able to authenticate the piece, may even know something about it. Don’t bother with Asprey, there’s no point anymore.”

  Handing me a rope she hopped onto the boat deck and unlocked the cabin with a key. “I’m not sure what we’re dealing with.”

  “London? Garrards? I don’t understand. What are you doing with this boat?”

  “Rachael, GG,” Travis whispered from the shore.

  “Timing is everything,” GG said with a wry smile. “You two need to start the journey a day early while I clear things up.”

  “Journey?” Travis asked.

  “It was going to be a surprise.” In an animated motion, GG motioned her arm from the stern to the bow. “Her Grace is a narrowboat. I planned for us to sightsee London on the River Thames, before backtracking to Stratford-upon-Avon on the Oxford Canal. Rachael, leave the line on the dock, she’s still secure. You two come with me.”

  Down a few stairs, she flicked on a light inside the cabin. “There are maps in the compartment on the rail next to the tiller. The fridge is full.”

  She put the key in the engine. “Have you ever driven a boat?”

  Travis said, “No.”

  “Kind of,” I said, thinking of the handful of times I’d been on my roommate’s Bayliner on the Trent River in New Bern, North Carolina.

  “There are petrol stations for boats along the river, as well as pubs for meals. It’s not complicated. You’re going to follow the Thames the entire route to London. It’s a pleasant journey.”

  “Which side of the river do you steer on and what about your safety?” I asked.

  “I’ve got Callahan and my connections, and it’s the right side. Boating lanes are universal. Smaller vessels have the right of way, paddleboats before sailboats, sailboats before motorboats. To be safe, avoid large vessels. They can’t turn on a dime.”

  “This is crazy,” Travis said. “Why do we have to leave? At this hour?”

  Near the hotel, bright lights illuminated the grassy patch where we’d been watching the film. GG removed a wad of English bills from her pocket and handed them to me. “I know it may be hard to believe that a sweet, older woman like me could have diddled a client or two, but in my ambitious youth I moved in circles where art and people that seek it could be dodgy.”