[Churchminster #3] Wild Things

by Jo Carnegie

  PC Penny rocked on his heels in what he thought was a superior manner and turned over another page of his notepad. ‘You say the door was ajar when you got here, madam?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Joyce tearfully, ‘but I just thought someone had left it open from evening prayers. Oh dear, what a dreadful thing to happen!’ She burst into tears again.

  Angie Fox-Titt put a comforting arm round her. ‘There, there, darling, don’t let yourself get in a state.’

  ‘Bloody bad business though,’ Freddie Fox-Titt said. The four of them surveyed the wrecked interior of the church. Flower displays had been pushed over, bibles ripped and shredded, pew cushions scattered. Worse, the vandals had sprayed the words SCUM in red paint along the back wall. Even PC Penny, who worshipped at the altar of CSI: Miami, felt a sense of utter sacrilege.

  ‘At least they haven’t smashed the windows,’ Angie tried to console the others. ‘And all the valuable things are locked up for special occasions.’

  ‘That may be, Mrs Fox-Titt,’ PC Penny said. ‘But from now on, I suggest the church door is kept locked. You can’t be too careful.’

  Angie bit her lip, nodding unhappily. ‘Do you think it’s those gatecrashers from Churchminster’s Got Talent?’ Freddie asked. ‘They were a pretty rum lot.’

  ‘We will be following up all lines of inquiry, don’t you worry about that.’

  ‘It’s just such awful timing,’ Angie told PC Penny. ‘With Britain’s Best Village coming up, this is the last thing we need.’ She sighed again, making her impressive chest heave. PC Penny averted his eyes hastily.

  A scene of crime officer was called down to fingerprint the church, and didn’t hold out much hope of success – ‘Hundreds of people have been in here, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack’ – but he did what he could, packed up his bag and left. That evening, when St Bartholomew’s was declared a free zone again, the Garden Party went down to put it back together. Apart from the bibles, which would have to be replaced, it seemed no real damage had been done.

  With a bit of elbow grease, Jack had got rid of the graffiti. He used a special concoction he bought over in a bucket. ‘I’ve worked in enough inner-city pubs to know how to get rid of this stuff,’ he said grimly.

  Afterwards, Clementine, Calypso and Brenda walked back over the green towards their own houses. Everyone was tired and depressed at what had happened, but Brenda tried to lift the moment with her chatter. ‘’Ere, I’ve got a bit of gossip for you. My Ted saw all sorts of vans outside Devon Cornwall’s place when he went to work the other morning. Ted reckons he’s moving back in!’

  ‘Last I heard he was in Bangkok,’ Calypso said. ‘Playing to sell-out arenas. I can’t imagine why he’d come back here.’

  Brenda sighed, she was a huge fan of the rock star. ‘Fingers and everything else crossed he does, my “Devon is a Dish” T-shirt could do with an airing.’

  Three motorbikes in close convoy were driving rather too fast round the other side of the green. The riders were all in full leathers and blacked-out helmets.

  ‘That’ll be the paparazzi,’ said Brenda knowledgeably. ‘They were in the shop earlier asking if there was another way to get into Clanfield Hall. I said not unless they wanted to risk getting pellets in their bums from his nibs and his air gun!’

  The three watched as the bikes zoomed out of sight towards the stately home. Clementine frowned; more photographers had appeared in the village recently. They’d clearly never heard of keeping to the speed limit.

  ‘Of course, I didn’t tell them he had been in,’ said Brenda self-importantly.

  Calypso spun round. ‘Who?’

  ‘Rafe, of course! He was all disguised up in a baseball cap and sunglasses, but I knew it was him from the moment he walked in. I bleedin’ near wet me pants, all me bingo friends are green with jealousy.’

  Calypso’s stomach dropped unpleasantly. If Rafe had visited Churchminster, why hadn’t he been to see her? Despite the high octane they’d left on, she hadn’t heard from him since. Calypso didn’t like the way she felt so put out.

  ‘He didn’t stay long, just to buy a box of chocolates and a newspaper,’ Brenda said. She gasped theatrically. ‘I wonder who the chocolates were for?’

  Obviously not me, thought Calypso, hating how disappointed she felt.

  At the crossroads Brenda left them and continued on to Hollyoaks Cottage. Calypso studied her grandmother. ‘Are you all right, Granny Clem?’ she said.

  Clementine gave a weak smile. ‘I’m fine, really, darling.’ She looked back at the church. ‘Why would someone want to do that? It just seems so mindless.’

  Calypso shook her head. ‘God knows, probably just some local thug’s idea of a good time. But PC Penny says he’ll step up the patrols in the village, and he’s confident he’ll find out who did it.’

  Clementine had dealt with PC Penny before. He reminded her of a dreadful yapping Yorkshire terrier her friend Elizabeth Etherington had once owned. ‘We’ll see,’ she said pessimistically. ‘I really hope that we don’t get any more reporters sniffing around, we can’t afford any negative press in the papers.’

  Calypso looked up at the darkening sky. ‘Do you want me to walk you back to Fairoaks?’ she asked.

  ‘No, you go inside and have some supper. I’ll be fine.’

  After bidding her grandmother goodnight, Calypso started towards No. 5. A few moments later, the one person she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about telephoned her.

  ‘Hey there.’

  The line was crackly, Clanfield Hall always did have crap reception.

  ‘Hey, yourself,’ she responded, trying to quench the sudden feeling of joy. ‘I was beginning to think you’d dropped off a cliff.’

  She could hear the smile in Rafe’s voice. ‘Why, have you been missing me?’

  ‘You should be so lucky,’ she retorted, but a tingle of happiness went through her body.

  Rafe chuckled. ‘Sorry I haven’t been in touch. We’ve been doing fifteen-hour days and I haven’t been good for anything when I’ve got home.’

  Calypso didn’t bring it up about Brenda seeing him in the shop; she didn’t want to sound like a stalker. She wondered why he hadn’t mentioned it, though – and who were the mystery chocolates for?

  Rafe didn’t notice she’d gone quiet. ‘Anyway, to make the most of my absence, I’d like to take you out again.’

  ‘Crisp sandwiches again?’ she asked, but the sharp remark seemed to be lost on him. He’d obviously got used to her being a sarcastic cow by now.

  ‘Are you free this Saturday?’

  ‘I think so,’ Calypso said, in spite of herself.

  ‘Great! I’ll pick you up at 9 a.m. Look, I’ve got to go, we’re doing another evening shoot.’

  ‘Wait!’ she said. ‘What do I wear? Where are we going?’

  ‘It’s a surprise. Wear something pretty. Oh, and bring your passport.’

  ‘Passport?’ she started to stay, but the line crackled again and went dead.

  Chapter 25

  THE SMELL OF pork filled the kitchen. Camilla inhaled blissfully; the joint from Daylesford Organic was an extravagance, but it was going to be delicious. She finished pouring the chocolate mousse mixture into glass ramekins and put them in the fridge to chill. Next, she set the kitchen table and filled a vase with flowers hand-picked from the garden. She and Jed always preferred the cosiness of eating in here to the dining room. Camilla had decided on her way to work that morning to surprise him with a special dinner, and had spent the afternoon shopping for all his favourite things. As she put the finishing touches to the dauphinoise potatoes she smiled, looking forward to the evening ahead. Jed had been rather preoccupied the last few days, and Camilla was sure it was to do with work. A nice dinner would take his mind off things.

  At 9.15 p.m. Camilla tried Jed’s mobile for the umpteenth time. Still off. She was getting really worried now. Where could he be? Surely if he was working this late he would have phoned to
tell her.

  It was gone 10 p.m. by the time Jed finally walked through the front door. Camilla came rushing out into the hallway. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Sorry, I got caught up at the Hall.’

  Camilla thought of the dinner congealing in the kitchen. Irritation flared up. ‘You could have phoned, darling!’

  ‘Will you get off my back?’

  Camilla looked surprised at his uncharacteristic sharpness.

  Jed caught himself. ‘Sorry babe; it’s just been a long day. I should have called.’

  ‘You’re working too hard at the moment,’ she told him, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes. She followed him through to the kitchen. Jed stopped dead at the sight of the table, all laid out. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘I thought I’d cook us a nice dinner …’ she trailed off.

  Jed sighed. ‘I’ve really fucked it up, haven’t I?’

  He looked so tired and rundown that despite the fact dinner was ruined, Camilla felt sorry for him. ‘Look, I can make you something else. What do you fancy?’

  ‘I’m not that hungry, don’t worry.’

  ‘Do you want me to run you a bath, then? We can get in together.’

  A bath – or rather sex in the bath – was one of Jed’s favourite things.

  He shook his head, avoiding eye contact. ‘I don’t think I’m good for anything. I’ll probably just hit the sack.’

  ‘Jed!’ she said, as he went to walk out.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You haven’t even kissed me yet.’

  He came over and dropped a perfunctory kiss on her cheek. ‘Night.’

  Camilla was left alone in the kitchen, wondering what on earth had just happened between them.

  The hairy man looked up from the toilet seat, overalls round his ankles. He was reading a copy of the Sun.

  ‘All right, love?’

  ‘Oh, I say!’ exclaimed Frances and shut the door quickly. A smell of nether regions curled out distastefully into the corridor. ‘Could you please lock the door in future?’ she called out irritably. ‘You’re not even meant to be in this part of the house, there’s a perfectly good lavatory in the east wing.’

  ‘Gary’s blocked it up with a massive shit, dirty bugger,’ the man called back cheerfully. ‘Can you get me some more bog paper? You’ve run out.’

  Frances tutted and went to tell Mrs Bantry. She’d already found two heavily tattooed men asleep in the library, their feet up on a Regency reading table that had been in the family for over two hundred years. Frances needed to have a word with Dan.

  As she approached the east wing, Frances was aware of the utter quiet. For the past few weeks the house had been alive with noise and chatter from the film crew, but today everything was strangely silent, bar the intermittent sound of muffled voices upstairs.

  At the foot of the sweeping staircase stood a group of the crew, some of whom Frances recognized. They greeted her with hushed voices.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Frances asked.

  One of them, a tiny girl with a chipmunk face, called Ellie, chirped up, ‘It’s a closed set today, Rafe and Sophia are filming a love scene, and she doesn’t want anyone else up there. We’ve all been told to keep quiet.’

  Frances had had enough of being told what to do in her own home. ‘Do you know where Dan is? I need to speak to him.’

  ‘He’s upstairs, in one of the bedrooms,’ Ellie said. ’But really, you can’t go up there …’

  ‘I can go anywhere I want in my own house, young lady,’ Frances said imperiously as she started up the stairs.

  At the top there was another girl, studiously checking her clipboard. When Frances enquired after Dan she pointed at the Blue Room, one of the bedrooms down the corridor.

  ‘In there,’ she mouthed. ‘But keep your voice down!’ Frances frowned, but walked on quietly. The love scene was obviously taking place in the palatial Red Room, as it had a sign saying ‘Closed Set’ on the door. Knocking on the Blue Room’s door Frances went straight in, without waiting for an answer.

  Dan was sitting on an uncomfortable-looking high-backed chair, working away on his BlackBerry. The cavernous room had been turned into a makeshift office, with computers and monitors everywhere. A coffee vending machine stood in one corner, while the four-poster bed had mounds of paper, bits of cable and abandoned headphones piled on top of the covers.

  Dan jumped up, surprised to see her standing there. ‘Hello, Lady Fraser!’

  ‘Daniel, I have just found a strange man using my own personal lavatory,’ she said. ‘And yesterday I found two tattooed gentlemen eating fast food in the library. They even left their litter behind for Mrs Bantry to clean up. It really isn’t good enough.’

  The locations manager flushed. ‘That’ll be the sparks. I’m sorry, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.’

  ‘Sparks?’

  ‘The electricians, they’re the ones who set up those huge lights you’ve seen. Once their job’s done they have a habit of roaming.’

  ‘Well, make sure they don’t roam again, please.’

  Dan looked contrite. ‘I will, Lady Fraser. I can’t apologize enough.’

  ‘Apology accepted,’ she said, slightly mollified.

  Dan put his BlackBerry down, offering another olive branch. ‘Do you want to see a bit of filming? I’m sure I can sneak you in for a few minutes.’

  ‘Isn’t it a closed set?’ Frances wasn’t entirely sure it was appropriate for her to go and watch.

  ‘Rafe and Sophia are behind screens, so you won’t see them,’ Dan assured her. ‘It’s quite fun to see the whole set-up, though.’

  Frances’s curiosity got the better of her. ‘If you insist.’

  Outside the Red Room Dan put his finger to his lips. ‘We’ll stand at the back for a minute.’ Silently he pushed the door open and Frances followed him in.

  It was easy to see why they’d picked this room: with its high vaulted ceiling, four-poster bed and deep red curtains and furnishings, it oozed sensuality and romance. Frances couldn’t see the bed today, however, as the far end of the room had been blocked off with two large screens. Behind it, they could hear the distinctive tones of Wes Prince as he discussed camera angles.

  A lone person, who Frances recognized as Sophia’s dresser, stood on their side of the screen, holding a large fluffy dressing gown.

  ‘It’s only Wes and Pam, plus one cameraman and a sound guy,’ Dan whispered. ‘Love scenes are pretty intimate, so you can imagine why the actors don’t want all the sparks and carpenters watching.’

  ‘Pan in on Sophia’s face, Keith, we want to catch the emotion,’ Wes instructed someone. ‘OK, start rolling!’

  Dan put his finger to his lips, signalling for Frances to keep quiet. A young, female voice could be heard behind the screen: tender, passionate, euphoric in its emotion.

  ‘Oh, Theodore, my world has been one of shadows and darkness since you left. I never thought I would feel whole again, but now here you are, in as much flesh and blood as I dare to imagine, because the whole thing feels like a dream. My darling! Tell me you’ve come back to me.’

  A second voice, masculine yet tender in tone. ‘Only when I had lost what I had, did I really know what it meant. It’s only ever been you, Evangeline.’

  The intimate exchange brought an unexpected tug at Frances’s heart. She suddenly remembered the raw power of being completely in love, where a simple touch or kiss could bring joy into one’s heart, fill one’s world with vibrant colours. Would she go through her whole life without ever having that again? Frances was aghast to find her eyes filling up.

  Suddenly there was an angry shout from downstairs. ‘Where’s my bloody wife?’

  Frances quickly blinked the tears away. Ambrose! She heard heavy footsteps up the staircase, but before she could rush out and try to placate him, he stomped in, closely followed by a tail-wagging Sailor.

  ‘Frances! One of these bloody idiots has parked in front of the Range Rove
r, I can’t get out.’

  ‘Ambrose, let’s discuss this outside,’ she hissed.

  Wes’s satsuma-coloured face popped round the screen, incredulous. ‘What’s going on here?’ He caught sight of Sailor and his eyes widened. ‘Is that a fucking dog? Get this lunatic and his mutt out!’

  Ambrose shot the director a filthy look. ‘This lunatic and his mutt happen to own Clanfield Hall, so if you don’t keep a civil tongue in your head, I’ll have the whole damn lot of you thrown out!’ His eyes swivelled to a bare portrait-sized space on the wall. ‘And what the dickens have you done with Great-uncle Algie?’

  ‘Wes?’ Sophia’s voice came from behind the screen. She didn’t sound happy.

  As Pam poked her face out, looking startled, Dan turned to Frances beseechingly. ‘I’ll get someone to move the van if you can just get him out …’

  But as Frances pulled on her husband’s sleeve, the sheepdog shot past them yapping and disappeared behind the screen. There was a huge commotion and the sound of things being knocked over.

  ‘Get down, you stupid animal!’ Wes Prince shouted. ‘Jesus, stop humping Sophia’s leg!’

  Amidst the screaming Frances closed her eyes and wished, just wished she was a million miles away.

  Half an hour later, she was still seething. They were in Ambrose’s study, facing each other like two combatants preparing for battle.

  ‘What in heaven’s name is wrong with you?’ she cried. ‘You can’t just march in and disrupt everything. Dan says they’re going to have to reshoot the whole scene at a huge expense of time and money. Sophia Highforth was so distressed, she’s had to take the rest of the day off.’

  Ambrose grunted. ‘Shouldn’t have blocked me in, then. I think you, along with everyone else Frances, seem to have forgotten this is our home.’

  Frances sighed. ‘You could have found a more civil way of asking them to move!’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘For Christ’s sake, you’re the one who invited this circus in.’