But before Strudel had time to answer, they heard the creak of floorboards and Sir Repton shuffled back in. ‘I’ve parked it in the airing cupboard,’ he said.
Chapter sixteen
Sir Repton confirmed that there was nothing to eat at Mount Cod.
‘I’m afraid Cheryl has, unexpectedly had to drive Lance to see a chiropractor in London,’ he explained.
‘Couldn’t he have taken the train?’ Laura asked.
‘He said it would be quicker in the Land Rover and they could be back in time for him to put the chickens away. Matilda was always most insistent he follow a strict code of avian husbandry. There’s nothing a chicken likes less than a lack of routine.’
‘I tell you what,’ Jervis said. ‘I’ll drive us to the Hare and Hounds in Chipping Codswold for dinner.’
They arrived and found a table beside the inglenook fireplace in the restaurant area. The waitress brought them menus and while they waited for the wine they decided unanimously to have the lamb shanks.
‘I could probably have found some leftover canapés from the wedding last weekend. Quite often the girls leave a plate or two of smoked salmon in the kitchen,’ Sir Repton said, as they waited for the food to arrive. ‘But then again I’m never sure about seafood if it’s been left out overnight. It must have something to do with my late father-in-law, Sidney Laverack.’ Sir Repton twisted the stem of his wine glass. ‘Many was the flounder brought home unsold from market and turned into fishcakes by his wife that I had to endure during my courting days. Sidney didn’t care for wastage.’
‘I tend to agree. I’m not one for leftovers,’ Jervis said. ‘Mind you Strudel’s rollmops last forever. But I gathered from Tam and Pom, that they are thinking of expanding their catering operation.’
Sir Repton looked up. ‘Are they?’
‘A new kitchen is what they are saying.’ Strudel adjusted the diaphanous turquoise scarf she was wearing round her neck.
‘They said it was absurd the caterers took half the profit,’ Jervis continued. ‘Sound business sense I’d say.’
Sir Repton took a sip of wine. ‘Did they say where this new kitchen was to be situated?’
‘Really Repton,’ Laura said. ‘You mean you don’t know? We’ll talk to them tomorrow, together. You must have these things set out clearly.’
‘Good idea,’ Sir Repton said. ‘That’s enough talking shop for one evening. Now tell me more about Ancient Eros. Is there a joining fee?’
The lamb arrived and the conversation turned to the topic of food in general. They discussed Mr. Parrott’s cutbacks at Wellworth Lawns.
‘Eddie hasn’t always been so frugal,’ Sir Repton said. ‘I remember Matilda had to admonish him for pandering to the cast who wanted bacon butties in the interval during a run of Les Misérables. Mind you it was an interminable production.’
‘Well, we’re making up for it now,’ Laura said.
‘It is indeed most delicious’. Strudel looked at the substantial bare bone on her plate.
‘Helluva beast.’ Jervis stifled a burp.
Laura was trying to remember what exactly the shank was when she heard the click of the front door latch. She turned to see who had arrived and to her amazement she saw that it was Angel Hobbs. She appeared to be on some sort of a mission, her Mohican hair brushing the low beams as she strode across the flagstones towards the bar, but then she noticed them.
‘Uncle Repton,’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’
Sir Repton gripped the arms of his chair.
‘I should have warned you about this place,’ she continued. ‘I’ve had them in my sights for some time now.’
‘Whatever for?’ Laura asked.
‘Passing meat products off. Hand reared on our own farm, my foot. I mean did they tell you what that actually was?’ Angel pointed at the bone on Strudel’s plate.
‘Lamb shank?’ Sir Repton offered meekly.
‘Lamb shank?’ Angel said. ‘That’s no more lamb shank than I’m a flying buttress.’
‘All done?’ said the waitress, who had appeared to collect the empty plates.
“I’ll have that.’ Angel picked up the bone from Strudel’s plate and brandishing it, she marched towards the kitchen, pushing through the swing door.
‘You’ve cooked the mule, you bastard,’ she bellowed.
The door swung shut.
The waitress carrying the plates pushed the door open with her foot.
‘The mule’s in it’s stable if you’d bothered to look,’ they heard a man shout.
As the door swung open again they heard the man call out, ‘One of you, come here and give us a hand with this fat dyke.’
‘Would you like to see the sweets?’ the waitress asked, handing out menus and ignoring the clatter of pans followed by a screech and, ‘Oww, my hair,’ that came from the kitchen.
Then they heard another door slam.
‘We’ve got a nice sticky toffee pudding on,’ the waitress said.
Laura turned to her fellow guests who shook their heads. ‘I think we’ve probably had enough, thank you,’ she said.
The kitchen door swung open again and the manager hurried behind the bar. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t be surprised if she’d escaped from Woldham psychiatric unit. Anyone for an Irish coffee on the house?’
Sir Repton said he’d take him up on the offer but without the coffee or the cream. They all agreed and ordered whiskies.
‘My niece can be something of an embarrassment at times,’ Sir Repton admitted, finally relaxing his grip on the arms of his chair.
‘Bit of a firebrand you’ve got there to be sure,’ Jervis said, looking at the bill. ‘Shall we go Dutch?’
It was after midnight by the time they left the pub but Jervis’ driving was distinctly improved by his alcoholic intake and he drove with considerable caution back to Mount Cod. He parked the car in the driveway and they walked up to the front door.
From within the house Laura could hear Parker howling. She had left him there contentedly curled up in a basket with Sybil Thorndike, but now he sounded most distressed. As Sir Repton opened the front door Parker bolted out. He must have eaten something, Laura thought, as he bounded down the steps past her and disappeared into the moonless night. She dropped her bag in the hall and ran after him.
Stopping where the gravel met the grass at the edge of the driveway she called him. A wind had got up and her words were carried away. She began to walk around the side of the house until she reached the covered walkway that led to the wedding guest’s entrance.
It was now pitch black and she decided to go back and get the torch from her bag. She felt her way, one hand on the brickwork, her hair blowing into her face, until she reached the thick round column on one side of the porch. She edged her way up the steps. The front door was wide open but for some reason there were no lights on inside. As she walked in, she could hear a sort of choking sound. She fumbled around for the light switch and eventually found it.
The hall was of a sudden illuminated.
Laura’s gaze was immediately drawn to the sight of Strudel on her knees. She had somehow managed to get her scarf wrapped round a wooden ball on the bannister rail of the staircase.
‘Help me,’ Strudel croaked. ‘I am strangulating.’ She pulled desperately at the scarf.
Laura rushed round Sir Repton who was lying face down on the marble floor and past Jervis who was sitting next to him, his legs splayed; eyes wide open; short greying hair standing up at an angle like and elderly Tintin.
‘What on earth were you doing?’ Laura said, disentangling Strudel. ‘Why didn’t you turn on the lights?’
‘The darkness was part of the evil happening,’ Strudel cried. ‘A whirlwind of the Devil swept me off my feet. It was terrible.’
‘The wind must have caused a temporary power cut,’ Laura said.
‘Paranormal Twister, more like. Damned unnerving. I’ve never known such blackness.’ Jervis’ normally ste
ady voice was tinged with what Laura realised was something akin to fear.
Sir Repton lifted his head. ‘You cataracts and hurricanes, spout. My god, she nearly did for us.’ He sank back to the floor.
Laura looked around for damage but everything appeared to be in order bar a few leaves that had eddied into one corner. ‘The wind must have gusted in through the open front door,’ she said. ‘I could feel it gathering strength when I was searching for Parker. It must have taken you all by surprise.’
At that moment Parker trotted in, sniffed the air and took himself off into the sitting room.
‘I am assuring you Laura,’ Strudel said, rubbing her neck. ‘This was not a mere blowing of the wind.’
Jervis ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Never in my life…’
Sir Repton lifted his head again. ‘The wench has brought this upon us,’ he said, before his head sank to the floor again.
Laura went to him, rolled him over and tapped him smartly on the cheek. His eyes flickered open. ‘Jervis come and help,’ she said.
Jervis managed to get him to his feet, and with Sir Repton leaning heavily on his shoulder, took him up to bed.
Laura, likewise, hauled Strudel into the sitting room, where the dogs lay fast asleep curled up on a sofa together. She laid Strudel down on its pair and sat down beside her.
‘It must have been the doubles you ended up drinking,’ Laura said. ‘Whisky after wine’s asking for trouble at our age.’ As Strudel sobbed, Laura recalled a monumental hangover she had incurred on a skiing trip in Switzerland. She and her first husband Tony had been caught in a blizzard in Gstaad with a charming young commercials director named Hugo. My what a night that was. The three of them, high as kites under the soft feathery duvet in his chalet. It was the first time Laura had encountered the Swiss style of bedding. She could feel her cheeks glow as she wondered what the Brigadier would have thought.
Beside her, Strudel gave another little sob. ‘This was not of alcoholic effect, it was a supernatural occurrence of that I am sure. I was in fear for my life… Oh where is Jervis?’
‘Calm yourself Strudel, you’ll only make matters worse if you become hysterical. I’m sure Jervis won’t be many minutes. Then he can take you up and you’ll be right as rain in the morning.’ Laura patted Strudel’s wrist. ‘But while you are here, you still haven’t told me what it was Tam and Pom said about Matilda?’
‘I am feeling faint…’ Strudel put one arm over her eyes.
‘Strudel, wake up. What did they say?’
‘They are saying…’
Laura moved Strudel’s arm and leaned in close to her. ‘What did they say?’
Strudel sighed. ‘One of them is saying, they are finding Matilda is in her wheelchair, after her operation…’ Strudel’s eyes flickered.
‘Where?’ Laura demanded.
‘At the top of the stairs with Sir Repton.’ It was Jervis. ‘They gave us the distinct impression it was after a particularly gruesome row between Sir Repton and his wife and if they had not been passing, there could have been a nasty accident.’
Chapter seventeen
Laura’s thoughts were in turmoil again. It was like someone was pulling the lever of a one-armed bandit and every time the windows juddered to a halt, her suspects faces appeared. She had decided that she would try out the bed in Bridlington, as it was meant to be more comfortable. It was, but still she was unable to sleep.
She stroked Parker under the covers. ‘Have I made another error of judgment? Bing; up came Repton’s face. Could it be him after all, or has Strudel got the wrong end of the stick?’ Both Strudel and Jervis had acted in a wildly histrionic fashion to what can only have been, at most, she thought, a freak of nature.
She closed her eyes again. The house was quiet, but, bing; up came Tam and Pom. Were they telling the truth in their implication against Sir Repton? She rolled onto her side. Bing; or was Cheryl nearer the mark? She turned again. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking on the twins’ behalf that Matilda should be in her wheelchair at the top of the stairs, precariously close to a successful mercy killing?
Hearing the soft rustle of the old satin eiderdown as it slipped onto the floor, she sat up, reached for the bedside light and leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve it. She was now wide-awake. Perhaps the Brigadier’s diary would act as a soporific? She had brought 1959 with her – the Brigadier must have been 30. She picked a random page in January. ‘Malaria better. Arrived in Nairobi. No Mao Mao action to report. Pleasant accommodation. Met Thesiger in the bar and decided to accompany him up country. Cleaned service revolver after dinner.’
Laura followed his progress as she turned the pages, weeks of nothing more than game figures as he shot his way down to the border of Tanzania. Fancy killing all those creatures, but then that’s what they did back then, she thought before finally falling asleep somewhere between the fourth rhinoceros and the thirty-third impala.
Parker woke her the next morning as he burrowed up the bed, his warm wet nose snuffling into her elbow. She lifted the bedclothes slightly. An endearing smell of rotten dog breath greeted her. He crawled up and licked her on the chin.
‘No breakfast in bed here, I’m afraid,’ she said.
She got dressed and took him downstairs. Sybil Thorndike came trotting out of the sitting room to join them. Unlocking the back door, she took them for a short walk.
When she returned to the kitchen Jervis and Strudel were sitting at the table, drinking tea.
‘I am no longer staying here more than one minute,’ Strudel said. ‘Jervis will pack the car and we will be making the scarper as my Ronny would have said.’ She took a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. ‘My nerves are in tatters. There is no way we can bring our clients here.’
‘Out of the question,’ Jervis agreed. ‘Shall I bring your bag down for you, Laura?’
Laura thought for a moment. ‘Actually, I might stay on a day or two.’ She watched as Strudel raised her eyebrows in astonishment.
Sir Repton was overcome with emotion that Laura had decided not to abandon ship.
‘I completely understand your friends wanting to leave this godless place,’ he said, as they stood in the drive and waved Strudel and Jervis goodbye. ‘But you are like a mighty oak, supporting me in my hour of need.’
‘No need to be overdramatic, let’s take a stroll shall we? Was Matilda fond of gardening?’
‘Oh yes. Voracious. That is, before her toe incapacitated her. But even then I would wheel her round the garden if the weather was clement and she took great pleasure in seeing that Lance or Kevin did things to her satisfaction.’
They walked around the side of the house and took the path leading down towards the bog garden.
‘Matilda was a stickler for double digging,’ Sir Repton continued. ‘Just a pity Lance’s spade should have slipped that morning planting leeks down by the lodge.’
Laura turned to him. ‘What happened?’
‘Unavoidable, even Matilda had to agree that the ground was far too wet. Lance had his weight on the spade but he lost his balance as the sod broke loose and fell, inadvertently knocking Matilda into the mire.’ Sir Repton sighed. ‘She was not best pleased when I referred to the old thespian adage “break a leg” when I visited her in hospital.’
He bent down to pick up a bit of branch that had fallen on the path. ‘Poor Lance…’ He swung his arm and bowled the stick overarm frowning in dissatisfaction as it landed at his feet. ‘Still he got over it and it’s probably fortuitous in the long run that Kevin and Robert’s other men run the show now.’
As they walked on, Laura wondered what it was that Lance had “got over”; an earful from Matilda, no doubt. Her thoughts were interrupted as they passed a large newly dug hole where she remembered from her last visit, a rather fine specimen shrub had stood. Why would it have been moved? She racked her brains trying to think what the Brigadier might have said. “The cloven hoof of the wildebeest marks the way,” was one of
his favourite idioms, but what use was bush talk now? – Except for not beating about it.
‘Are you short of money, Repton?’ she asked.
He was taken aback. ‘Whatever makes you say that?’
‘Well, it looks to me like you are selling things off.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The Cornus Kousa that was planted here, for example; you can get good money for a plant that size.’ Laura pointed at the hole in the ground. ‘Don’t tell me Tam and Pom have had it moved, I mean it’s hardly creating a vista for another photo opportunity.’
Sir Repton stared at the hole. ‘This is a tragedy,’ he said. ‘Matilda and I planted it on the occasion of my nomination for the award for best actor in 1982. But why would Tam and Pom want to move it?’
‘You must ask them. Right now. It’s not just the plant; remember the bench and the pagoda?’ He hadn’t denied being short of money but then his genuine grief at the missing shrub was evident. Laura was concentrating hard as she accompanied him back to the house. It must be those two girls, and whatever they were up to Matilda must have found out. That’s why they had tried to lay the blame at Repton’s door by suggesting to Strudel and Jervis – two perfect strangers – that there were safety issues with Matilda.
They reached the stable yard and Laura left him outside the State of the Union office.
‘Don’t mince your words, Repton,’ she said taking the dogs and heading for the back door.
‘Lance, come here right now!’ Cheryl shouted from the kitchen.
‘It’s me actually,’ Laura said.
‘Mrs Boxford, what are you doing here? I thought you’d all gone.’
‘Apparently not, I do hope it is not an inconvenience to you.’
‘Not really, I’m off out but Repton didn’t tell me, so you’ll have to look after yourselves. There’s bread and cheese and, hold on…’ She reached into a cupboard above the toaster and pulled out a can of pilchards. ‘You can heat these up. Full of omega 3; just what you need at your age. Put them on toast for your tea, if you’re staying.’ She glanced up at the kitchen clock. ‘Would you look at that; I must run.’ She handed Laura the can and walked out.
The Haunting of Mount Cod Page 11
