by Ian Martyn
‘No,’ Harold said, shaking his head. ‘Perhaps, as I said, I should have guessed.’ Harold turned to Connie. ‘Mephisto came to see me. They’re threatening the village if we continue to interfere.’
Connie nodded. ‘To be expected, I suppose.’
‘Hang on,’ Susie said. ‘Does Sarah know all this and about me?’
Connie shrugged. ‘It’s possible, if she’s anything like her mother. I’ve sincerely been hoping she wasn’t, which was another reason for not saying anything. Yet if she is, she would be very adept at making people see and believe what she wanted them to.’
‘And is she?’ Kirby said. ‘Like her mother?’
This time Connie’s shoulders sagged. ‘As I said, I hoped not. As far as I knew they’d never seen each other since Marianne ran off with Mephisto. But now she’s back, I can’t believe she hasn’t made contact with her daughter.’
‘And of course Sarah was missing for that time. And when we found her, all she kept saying was the name Dunstanburgh. Oh, and she did mention men with beards.’
Connie glanced at Harold.
‘Yes, I’ve told him the potential significance of that.’
Kirby turned to Susie. ‘Has Sarah said anything else about that day.’
Susie shook her head. ‘No, it’s as if it never happened.’
‘She may not know anything else,’ Connie said. ‘There again…’
At that moment the door opened and a yawning Sarah came into the kitchen dressed in a T-shirt, pyjama bottoms and flip flops. She smiled. ‘Ooh, quite gathering.’ She yawned again. ‘Sorry, is there any tea in that pot?’
Susie edged out of her way, although Sarah seemed not to notice. Sarah poured herself some tea. ‘Sorry again, I’m going to go back into my room. Got work to do.’
‘Before you go,’ Kirby said. ‘Where were you yesterday evening?’
Sarah smiled at Susie. ‘Here, why? Susie’ll tell you. I was knackered.’
‘She was,’ Susie said, looking at her mum as she said it.
Sarah waved a hand and then flip-flopped back out of the kitchen and into her room.
‘Was she?’ Kirby asked Susie when they heard Sarah’s door close.
‘Yes, she fell asleep watching some rubbish on the telly in the afternoon and then went to her room. I didn’t see her again and I was in all evening. You called remember. Why?’
Harold put his mug down. ‘I thought I glimpsed her near the Metro with Marianne. I could have been wrong of course.’
Susie shook her head. ‘I’m positive she didn’t go out. I would have known.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Connie said, grabbing her daughter’s hand. Susie didn’t resist. ‘If she didn’t want you to.’
Susie looked close to tears. ‘Not Sarah, Mum. Please, I’m sure I’d know.’
‘Funny,’ Shirley said. ‘Somehow I believed her as well.’
‘You would,’ Connie said.
‘This is going to sound weird,’ Shirley said. ‘A second or two before she actually entered, it’s like I caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye standing in the doorway. Then when I turned there was no one there.’
Connie glanced at Harold, who raised his eyebrows in answer.
‘Great,’ said Kirby. ‘So what now?’
‘Susie, why don’t you pack a case and come home with me for a few days?’
‘Mum, I’ll be…’
‘Please, dear.’
‘Alright, Mum.’ Susie said as she left the room.
Connie glanced at Shirley, then across at Harold.
‘I’ll help her,’ Shirley said.
‘And if you don’t need me,’ Harold said. ‘I’ve a shop to run.’
‘That was good,’ Kirby said when he was alone with Connie.
Connie shook her head as she stood up and refilled the kettle. ‘No it wasn’t, Jonah. I don’t like doing that, especially to my own daughter. But she can be very stubborn,’ she smiled. ‘Like her mum. And I didn’t want to argue. Also, there’s other things she needs to understand that perhaps I should have told her before now.’
Kirby nodded. ‘I know what you mean. I have a daughter myself and she takes after her mum in the same way.’
‘I know.’
‘Yes, it’s… wait a minute. You said, you know?’ Kirby narrowed his eyes at the woman who was now filling the teapot again. ‘And you called me Jonah.’
Connie laughed. ‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing sinister. I was wondering how long it’d take. I guessed it was you. Alice Kirby’s boy.’
Kirby scratched his head as the cogs in his brain whirred. ‘Wait, you’re the woman who has that place up the coast, a sort of a retreat, that Mum went to after Dad died. And it’s you who was staying with her last night.’
‘Yes, I see her from time to time when I come into town.’ She gave him a knowing half smile. ‘I thought you were supposed to be there?’
Kirby shuffled in his seat. ‘Er yes, things to do.’
Connie ignored the evasion. ‘I like your mum, Jonah. She’s an intelligent and perceptive woman, even if she tries to hide it at times.’
‘Don’t I know it.’
Connie laughed again.
Kirby nodded. ‘And Susie said her mum lived up there.’
‘That’s right. So Alice’s told me all about you,’ she paused. ‘And Jeanie, of course.’
‘I’ll bet she has.’ Kirby felt a knot of emotion forming in his chest.
‘Don’t be cross with her, Jonah. She’s worried, that’s all.’
Kirby forced himself to relax. Then he blushed, thinking about what else his mother might have said. ‘She’s been trying…’ he coughed, ‘trying to get me to meet you.’
Connie smiled. ‘I know. As I said, she’s just concerned about you, Jonah.’ She glanced towards the door. ‘It’s a mother thing.’
It was Kirby’s turn to laugh.
‘Anyway, admit it, she maybe right some times. When this is all, over come up for a few days. Get away from everything. It’s nothing “magical” I promise. Just time to think and reflect in peaceful surroundings.’
Kirby put his head back, then looked across at this woman who seemed all to easily to get past the Mr Policeman screen he hid himself behind. ‘You’re right. Mum’s right, and Anna, I know. So perhaps when this is over…’
She smiled. ‘I’ll hold you to it.’
Kirby returned the smile as he rose from the table. ‘In the meantime I’ve got to try and prevent mayhem and God knows what else.’
‘Trust Harold,’ Connie said when Kirby reached the door. ‘He’s so much more than he first appears.’
‘Oh I think I’ve learnt that already.’
thirty-three
Marianne had enjoyed her early morning walk. The countryside here was tidy, more cultured and soothing than the still wild unkempt nature of her world. Less exciting though, she thought, however that could always change. She marvelled at how the same place could seem so familiar and yet be so different. Even the animals she’d passed in the fields, the cows and the sheep, were so much more… well, domesticated. Perhaps that was it, she smiled to herself, this version of the world was just so much more domesticated. Maybe that’s why she’d come to dislike it in the end. Any wildness she might have found was only temporary. It needed a little livening up and if she had her way, which she fully intended to, that’s just what it would be getting.
She opened the wrought-iron garden gate. As her feet crunched up the gravel path, the air was cool despite the sun. The morning dew still coated the leaves and flowers of the herbaceous border to one side and the small lawn on the other. A vivid pink rose brushed against her leg as if enticing her to smell its sweet fragrance. All so very pretty. How quaint, she thought, typical Connie. A nosy black Labrador came around the corner of the cottage, tail wagging. As it saw Marianne, it stopped and started backing away, emitting a strangled whine as she looked at it. The blue painted front door opened.
‘Oh it’s
you,’ Connie said. ‘I wondered when I might get a visit.’ Connie took a few steps across the grass to lay a comforting hand on the dog which sat shaking, his eyes fixed on Marianne. Under Connie’s stroking, he calmed. ‘Go on. It’s alright, I’ll handle this.’ The dog got to his feet and backed away a few steps, growling before turning and running back around the corner from where it had come. ‘Do you get a kick out that, Marianne? Frightening animals.’
Marianne grinned. ‘And some people, Connie. Let’s not forget that.’
‘So what do you want?’
‘That’s nice. Can’t I just visit my kid sister?’
Connie shook her head. ‘No, not you, Marianne.’
Marianne put her hands on her hips as her eyes took in the cottage. ‘Very good, very you. Very boring.’
‘Boring? No, it’s never that. In some small way I try to help people and that’s never boring. Although it’s not a concept you’d be familiar with.’
Marianne fixed her gaze on Connie then smiled. ‘It’s still there though, isn’t it? No matter how much you try to hide it.’
‘I don’t try to hide it, I just choose not to use it. Not like you anyway.’
Marianne spread her arms wide. ‘Well, if there’s to be no sisterly hugs, how about a cup of tea? After all, I’ve walked a few miles to get here.’
‘I didn’t ask you to come.’
Marianne smiled. ‘And yet here I am.’
Connie shook her head and led the way along the path to the back of the house. ‘Tea and that’s it.’
Marianne started after her. ‘What, I don’t get to taste the hospitality of your little haven here?’
Connie stopped and turned. ‘Remember, I’m familiar with all your tricks. I know what it could mean if something from inside just happened to slip into your hands.’
The corners of Marianne’s mouth turned down in exaggerated mock sadness. ‘I’m hurt. As if I’d do that to my own sister.’
Connie led the way to a small wooden table and the two crude benches either side of it. ‘No you’re not and yes you would. So if you want tea we sit outside.’
Marianne sat. ‘Very well. Or is it because Susie’s here?’
Connie pointed a finger at Marianne from the back door of the cottage as she headed inside. ‘You will not touch a hair of her head, do you understand me? You will not speak to her or go anywhere near her.’
Marianne laughed and held both her hands in the air. ‘Or what, Connie? You’ll remember who you really are?’
‘I mean it, Marianne.’
Marianne’s eyes narrowed. ‘Or is it she doesn’t know?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Is that it, Connie, you haven’t told her?’
‘She knows,’ Connie said. ‘At least some of it and I’ll tell her the rest in my own good time. So you leave her alone.’
Marianne held up both hands up again. ‘OK, little sister, I get the message.’
Marianne’s laughter followed Connie into the cottage as she filled the kettle. A few minutes later, Connie emerged with a tray on which were two cups and saucers and a plate of biscuits. She poured the tea, added milk and handed a cup to Marianne, who inspected its floral pattern. ‘Oh, very Country Life.’
‘You don’t have to drink it.’
Marianne sipped. ‘At least it’s proper tea and not that herbal muck I have to pretend to like in the shop. Ooh, and home-made biscuits, how nice. You are a busy girl.’
‘Shop?’
‘Did I say shop?’
Connie put down her own cup and scowled across the table. ‘Don’t play games with me, Marianne. You know me better than that.’
Marianne raised her eyebrows as she held Connie’s gaze over the rim of the cup. ‘What you mean you didn’t know, didn’t guess?’ She put down the cup and smiled. ‘Of course you didn’t. You must be slipping, sister dear. My little emporium of oddities on Clayton Road. Mystique.’
‘That’s you?’
Marianne gave a slow nod. ‘To my surprise it’s actually doing quite well. All those trendy office types seem to go for that sort of junk. Not that I care of course. But it’s a great way to stay in touch with what’s going on. I see that self-righteous old hag Edna bustling around the streets. Oh, she thinks she’s all it and a bag of chips. She has no idea. And then there’s that Harold. They deserve each other those two, they really do. And of course the girls pop in from time to time.’ She held up her hand as Connie half rose from her seat. ‘I haven’t touched her, I promise, in any way.’
‘But Sarah?’
Marianne’s mocking smile hardened. ‘She’s my daughter, Connie. Don’t you think I want to know she’s alright?’
‘Only if there’s something in it for you.’
Marianne placed a hand to her breast as the smile returned, even if it didn’t touch her eyes. ‘Oh that hurts. Insulting a mother’s love like that. You of all people.’
‘Don’t bring our mother into this.’
‘I was just saying…’
‘I said don’t!’
Marianne paused for a second, then took another biscuit and leant back. ‘Actually, these are really good,’ she said, taking a bite and brushing crumbs from her jacket. ‘You know that policeman came into the shop the other day asking his clever little questions. What’s he called, Kirby? I sent Jane, or Titania as she likes to call herself, out to deal with him. It’s impossible to get much sense out of her at the best of times.’ Marianne paused for another nibble of biscuit. ‘You know his mother of course, don’t you? Interesting pair those two.’
‘How do you… you can leave them alone as well.’
‘Oh?’
‘Alice Kirby’s a friend, that’s all.’
‘Hmm. Well Mr Policeman better not get in my way is all I’m saying. Anyone else you want me to stay away from? Just so I know, I’d hate to make a mistake.’
Connie pointed a finger at her sister. ‘Yes, there is. Harold told me that miserable wretch Mephisto turned up at his place and threatened the village. They’re nothing to do with this, Marianne, so don’t go near them.’
Marianne laughed. ‘Oh, I love it. You’re now playing the concerned child of the village. I thought you’d turned your back on all that, Connie. You were the one who ran away, remember?’
‘From you, Marianne. I ran away from you, not them.’
Marianne raised an eyebrow and curled her lips into a half smile. ‘And Mother.’
‘Only after you poisoned her against me,’ Connie said, standing up and leaning over to pick up Marianne’s cup, putting it back on the tray. ‘Now I think it’s time you left.’
Marianne frowned. ‘And I thought we were getting on so well.’ She raised her gaze to the upstairs window where the curtains, patterned with lilac clematis, were still drawn. ‘So how much does she know? How much do you intend to tell her?’
Connie placed both palms on the table. ‘I’ve told you, that’s no business of yours.’
‘Not everything then?’
Connie scowled at her in reply.
Marianne rose from the bench. ‘Well, sister dear, I’d make it sooner rather than later. The last thing you’d want is her discovering things by accident as it were, isn’t it? The damage that could do.’
Connie pointed a finger in the direction of the path back around the house. ‘Go.’
Marianne stepped away from the table, taking another biscuit as she did so. ‘Fine, I’m going. Just remember we’ve had this little conversation.’ As she turned the corner, Marianne heard Susie’s voice.
‘Who was that, Mum?’
‘No one, dear.’
Marianne smiled.
thirty-four
Kirby had spent half the morning catching up on the dreaded paperwork. It was taking even longer than normal on account of the amount of imagination and creativity he had to employ in avoiding “sensationalism”, as demanded by the super, while giving a credible account of his time. Somehow he reckoned talk of other worlds and magic doors might lead to early retire
ment, a thought that held his attention in a positive sense for a time. He eventually dismissed it on the grounds that it also might lead to a certain amount of loss of freedom. The chief was also on his back, asking how long this “little episode”, as he’d decided to term it, was going to take. The chief was torn between wanting to totally deny what Kirby was working on and his desire not to let it get out of hand; by that he meant he didn’t want it picked up by the media.
Kirby got up from his desk and wandered towards the coffee machine, even though his mug was still half full. He paused at Shirley’s desk. ‘Any reports of Marianne?’ They’d had the techies update an old photograph of her and put it out under “missing persons”.
Shirley handed him a piece of paper. ‘Yes and no, sir. Yes, as you can see from the list, and no, as in nothing remotely credible.’
Kirby glanced at the paper. ‘Getting on a boat to go sea fishing off St Ives in Cornwall, what you think?’
‘Or the big dipper at Blackpool pleasure beach?’
‘Nothing round here.’
Shirley shook her head.
‘Well from what Harold’s saying she could walk down the street naked and no one would see her unless she wanted them to.’
Shirley’s phone rang. ‘Oh, hello… uh-huh… uh-huh… no… really?… uh-huh. I’ll tell him.’
‘And that was?’
‘Colin, sir.’
‘Colin?’
‘Constable Cuthbertson, from Alnwick. You asked him to let us know if anything unusual happened and it has. Mind you, up there I think a balloon on a stick could cause quite a bit of excitement.’
‘Yes, thank you for that insight, Constable.’
‘Sorry, sir. It’s grey hoodies, sir.’
‘Our grey hoodies?’
‘Well, let’s put it like this, they’re causing trouble.
Kirby looked at his watch. ‘But it’s only lunchtime. Call Col… Constable Cuthbertson back while I get my jacket, and tell him we’re on our way.’
‘Does he know, sir?’ Shirley asked as she parked the Focus outside Harold’s shop.
