Scarborough Fair (Scarborough Fair series Book 1)

by Margarita Morris

  With her path to the door blocked, Alice lifted the skirts of Mary’s dress and ran towards the altar, looking frantically from left to right. There had to be another way out. But the man caught up with her easily and grabbed her by the arm.

  “Hello Alice,” said an all too familiar voice. “You didn’t think you could escape from me did you?”

  ~~~

  The dog could smell them. Two distinct smells: a flowery smell that reminded him of girls, and a stronger scent that he picked up around older boys. He stood at the bottom of the staircase and sniffed the air. Someone had been here.

  The girl who looked after him was following, calling him to be quiet, but it was his job to protect her. If there were intruders then he would attack them. He bounded up the stairs and into the room where he slept curled up on the bottom of the girl’s mattress. The two smells were strongest in here and mingled with something else. He sniffed. The smell of fear. He ran back out into the corridor but the smell was growing fainter now.

  The girl reached the top of the stairs. “What’s the matter Lucky?” she asked, bending down to stroke the top of the dog’s head. He barked to tell her that someone had been here, but as usual she didn’t understand a word he said. Humans could be so stupid sometimes.

  “Come on,” she said. “It’s dinner time.”

  He followed her into the room they shared and waited whilst she opened a tin of dog food. Whoever had been here had gone now, but he would stay on his guard and sleep tonight with one ear cocked. It was a cruel world and you couldn’t be too careful.

  ~~~

  Mary gratefully accepted a second cup of tea from Ellie, the fisherman’s younger sister. He was called Walter Fairbright, and on their way to the cottage he had explained to her that he lived with Ellie, their parents having died some years ago. It was the most delightful little cottage, with exposed beams and a log hearth and Mary could see Ellie kept it spick and span. There was a spinning wheel in one corner and a vase of hand-picked flowers on the parlour table. Mary settled back in the armchair, thinking how much she would like to live in such a place.

  “So if you’re just here on holiday,” pondered Ellie, “why was that horrible man following you around?” Walter had given his sister a brief explanation of the morning’s events and Ellie was bursting with questions.

  Mary sipped her tea and related to an astonished Ellie and Walter how she and her mistress, Alice, had come to Scarborough on account of Alice’s recent poor health, and how Alice’s future husband, the thoroughly despicable Henry Blackwood, had sent his man, Jackson, to spy on them.

  “But we managed to fool him by swapping our clothes in the bathing machine,” said Mary, unable to suppress a smile of satisfaction.

  Ellie clapped her hands in delight. “What a brilliant idea! Did you think of it?”

  Mary nodded. It had indeed been her idea and she was rather proud of it. After spotting Jackson in the photograph and guessing his business, Mary, Alice, George and Mrs Goodly had discussed how they could outwit Jackson and give Alice time to make an escape with George.

  “We saw the metamorphosis show at the fair,” said Mary. When her listeners looked blank she explained, “It’s a magic trick where the magician’s assistant is in a box and the magician swaps places with her. Well, that gave me the idea of swapping places with Alice. The bathing machine was the perfect opportunity. We went for a quick paddle in the sea and I looked out of the machine’s peep holes to make sure that Jackson was watching us. Then, after bathing, we swapped dresses so that Jackson would follow me instead of Alice. Alice and Mr Hartright planned to meet in St Mary’s Church, so I led Jackson down to the harbour to give Alice and Mr Hartright time to get away.”

  “But weren’t you scared?” asked Ellie.

  “Well, just for a moment,” admitted Mary, remembering the feeling of panic when Jackson had grabbed hold of her arm. “But parasols make surprisingly good weapons. And then your brother came to my rescue and I wasn’t afraid at all.” Mary smiled at Walter who smiled back, blushed and looked away.

  “But what about Alice?” asked Ellie, looking serious. “Will she have made it safely to the church?”

  A flicker of doubt sparked in Mary’s mind. But what could go wrong? The plan had been so carefully worked out. She’d successfully diverted Jackson away from Alice and George had promised to meet Alice at the church. The next step was to take a train to Whitby and spend the night there before travelling on the next morning to Gretna Green where Alice and Mr Hartright were to be married. Mary was due to meet them at Scarborough Railway Station. They had left nothing to chance.

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” said Mary.

  “In that case, would you like another cup of tea?” asked Ellie, picking up the pot. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour. Mary still had another forty-five minutes before the train left Scarborough and Walter had promised to give her a lift in his pony and cart. But should she leave now and make sure Alice was all right?

  But then Walter said, “Yes, please do have another cup,” and Mary said, “Oh, go on then. Just one more.”

  ~~~

  With the wind in his hair, the sun on his face and one and a half tonnes of high-powered machinery at his fingertips, Ryan started to relax. Driving the Ferrari always did that to him. It was a dream car, responding to the most minuscule movement, the slightest pressure from his foot on the accelerator pedal, the gentlest turn of the steering wheel. The tyres gripped the road surface and the car handled corners beautifully. Ryan loved the feeling of being in control of this monster, particularly on empty country roads like the one he was on now.

  He glanced down at the box on the passenger seat beside him. In the busy centre of town it had seemed to draw too much attention to itself, like a thief’s bag stamped with the word SWAG in bold letters. But out here, away from prying eyes, he could see that it was just a harmless cardboard box with nothing to give away its contents. And to think that he had thought the police were after him! He laughed out loud at his foolishness. They were probably just responding to some minor traffic accident caused by an old person doddering about behind the wheel of an ancient hatchback. Nothing for him to worry about.

  The late summer sun was just starting to dip in the perfect blue sky, a fiery ball of orange that cast a shimmering glow over the fields of ripe wheat. It was a beautiful evening to be out driving. There was a turning coming up on the left. The steering wheel glided under his fingers as he pulled it anti-clockwise. As the car turned there was a brief moment when the sun’s rays caught in the rear-view mirror and the glaring reflection hit the back of his retinas, blinding him. It only lasted for a second until the road straightened out but when he regained his vision his heart leapt into his mouth.

  He was right in the path of a giant tractor that was heading his way. In an instant Ryan registered the enormous five-foot high tractor wheels, the look of horror on the farmer’s face and the fact that the tractor was occupying about three quarters of the narrow country road. Then everything happened at once: the screech of tyres, the stench of burning rubber and the crunch of metal against metal.

  The Ferrari’s airbag exploded into Ryan’s face and everything went black.

  ~~~

  George was desperate to get away from his lodgings and meet Alice at the church, but his landlady, Mrs Barker, was so sorry to see him leaving early that she had insisted on making him a packed tea to take on his journey and he didn’t have the heart to tell her not to bother. She’d been so good to him during his stay, cooking him hot meals and seeing to his laundry, that it would have been ungrateful to have denied her this one last act of charity. But as she carefully wrapped up pies and slices of cold meat into a clean muslin cloth and laid them in a picnic hamper, George hopped impatiently from one foot to the other and hoped that Alice wouldn’t think he had abandoned her.

  At last, the packed tea was ready. George picked up the hamper, silently cursing its weight. The food it contained could have
fed a whole boatload of invading Vikings. At least he had left his painting things at the Grand Hotel in the care of Mrs Goodly. An easel would have been far too much to manage under the circumstances.

  George thanked Mrs Barker for her kindness, picked up a small bag containing his few personal belongings and walked as fast as he could up the hill towards St Mary’s Church.

  He arrived half an hour late, hot and flushed. He dropped his bag and the picnic hamper beside one of the gravestones and entered the church. Blinking in the dim light, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. “Alice?” he called. “I’m here.”

  The sound of his voice echoed off the stone pillars and was lost in the rafters. Somewhere high above a small bird fluttered.

  “Alice?” he called again, more hesitantly this time. There was no reply.

  He walked down the aisle, conscious of the clicking noise his boots made on the stone floor. Something was lying on the steps in front of the altar. He rushed forwards, knelt down and picked it up. It was a woman’s shawl. Being a painter, he had a good eye for detail and he recognised the design. It belonged to Mary, Alice’s maid. But what was it doing lying here in a heap on the floor? As he held the shawl in his hands, he touched something wet and sticky. He held his fingers up to the light and saw that they were smeared with blood.

  ~~~

  Mary accepted Walter’s hand as he helped her down from the cart outside Scarborough Railway Station. He seemed to be as reluctant to say good-bye to her as she was to take her leave of him. There was still plenty of time before the train to Whitby and there was no sign yet of Alice and Mr Hartright, so Mary and Walter passed the time talking about his life as a fisherman and what it was like out on the open sea. Walter came from a long line of fishermen who seemed to prefer life on the waves to life on land.

  “If you’re ever back in these parts,” he said, shyly, “I’ll take you out in my boat for a trip around the bay.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” she said. “But I prefer to keep my feet on dry land.”

  Mary would have liked to prolong their conversation indefinitely, but at that moment they were interrupted by the arrival, in a state of considerable distress, of Mr Hartright. He ran up to them, clutching his side. For a moment or two he was so out of breath that he couldn’t speak. Mary became increasingly agitated.

  “Where is Alice?” she demanded. “What have you done with her?”

  “She … wasn’t … in … the … church,” gasped George when he had recovered sufficiently to get a few words out.

  “What do you mean, she wasn’t in the church? She must have been. That’s my shawl you’ve got there!” She pointed at the garment that was scrunched up in Mr Hartright’s trembling hands.

  “Was Alice definitely wearing this?” he asked.

  “Of course she was,” snapped Mary. “It was part of our plan to trick Jackson.”

  George’s face crumpled. “Then I fear something terrible has happened to Alice. Look, there is blood on the shawl!”

  Mary clutched the side of Walter’s cart for support, but he was already behind her, supporting her with his strong arms.

  “We must go to the police,” said Walter who was the only one of the three still in possession of his wits. “Get in the cart, both of you, I’ll take you there now.”

  ~~~

  Rose and Dan walked back along the road towards the town. This time they were going downhill which made it easier and the traffic had died down a bit too.

  “You didn’t find what you were looking for at the asylum, did you?” asked Rose.

  Dan shook his head. “No. But it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry I put us in danger a second time.”

  “That’s OK,” laughed Rose. “We made it out. But you’re worried about him aren’t you? Your dad I mean.”

  “I just don’t like the look of Max and his two thugs and I don’t know what Dad is doing getting involved with them.”

  “You don’t suspect your dad of criminal activity do you? I mean, I know he breaks the speed limit now and again, but surely he’s not doing anything really serious?”

  Dan shrugged. “I honestly don’t know,” he said. Rose didn’t like the sound of that and decided not to push her questioning any further. She was interested in Dan, not his father.

  They came to the North Bay. The tide was out and the long stretch of sand beckoned. Maybe now, thought Rose, they could take that walk along the beach that she had imagined earlier. “Walk along the sands?” she asked.

  “Sure,” said Dan, cheering up at the suggestion.

  They followed the path that led down to the beach and Rose took off her sandals, carrying them by the straps.

  “Race you!” cried Rose, heading off at a sprint towards the sea.

  “Hang on, I have to take my trainers off.”

  Despite her head start, Dan soon caught up and overtook her. He’d removed his socks and trainers and rolled up the legs of his jeans. He ran straight into the sea.

  “Come on, slow coach,” he called to her.

  Rose’s feet hit the edge of an incoming breaker and the water splashed over her legs and skirt. She had been expecting it to be freezing cold, but the shallow water was actually quite warm.

  Dan caught hold of her, swinging her into the air and threatening to throw her in. Rose screamed and laughed. “Put me down!”

  Dan placed her gently down in the shallow water. Waves lapped at their ankles but Rose barely noticed the water as Dan put his hands on her shoulders, pulled her towards him and kissed her on the lips. She kissed him back as their feet sunk into the wet sand.

  A bigger wave came in then, almost causing them to lose their balance and topple over.

  “Whoa!” cried Rose as Dan held onto her. They pulled their feet out of the squelching sand and started to walk along the edge of the water with their arms around each other.

  As they walked, the wind carried the sound of an ambulance siren over their heads and out to sea.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I thought we’d take Gran to Peasholm Park this afternoon,” said Andrea when Rose came down for breakfast the following morning. “The fresh air will do her good. It’s the Naval Warfare show today. She’ll enjoy that.”

  “Sure,” said Rose. She was still floating in a cloud of happiness after yesterday evening on the beach with Dan and right then she’d have agreed to anything her mother suggested. “But what’s the Naval Warfare show?”

  “It’s a battleship show on the lake with man-powered model boats,” said Andrea.

  “Um, right,” said Rose, not really getting it.

  “It’s quite a Scarborough tradition,” said her grandmother, walking in from the kitchen and joining the conversation. “It’s been going for over eighty years now. We took you once when you were little, but the bangs scared you.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “You’ve caught the sun a bit,” said her grandmother, caressing Rose’s face. “You’ve got more colour in your cheeks than when you arrived.”

  Rose glanced in the mirror over the fireplace and touched her fingers to her cheek. It was true, she was looking a bit brighter. It’s not just the sun, sea and sand though, she thought, thinking about Dan. They had arranged to meet again later that day. Six o’clock outside the amusement arcade. Hopefully this date wouldn’t involve any armed men or abandoned buildings.

  As they were finishing breakfast Andrea’s mobile phone rang and she ran outside to take the call. When she returned five minutes later she looked harassed. “Something’s come up at work,” she said. “I’ll have to go and sort it out. But we’re still going to Peasholm Park this afternoon.”

  “I wonder what that was about?” said her grandmother to Rose as Andrea disappeared upstairs.

  “Oh, it’s probably nothing,” said Rose. “She’s always getting calls from work. They can’t manage five minutes without her. Here, let me clear the breakfast things away.”

  Rose spent the rest
of the morning ferrying boxes of books to the secondhand bookshop in town, whilst dreaming about Dan and wondering what they’d do this evening. The weather was looking good, like it might actually stay warm and dry for a few days.

  “Thank you, Rose,” said her grandmother when she had removed the last of the boxes. “You’ve been a huge help.”

  “No problem, Gran. Is Mum still working?”

  Upstairs a door slammed shut and they heard Andrea’s heavy tread on the stairs. “Sounds like she’s finished,” said her grandmother. “Come and have lunch. I’ve made sandwiches.”

  Andrea was unusually quiet over lunch but as soon as they’d finished eating and had cleared everything away she snapped back into her organisational mode. “Is everyone ready?” she asked, gathering together her handbag, keys and mobile phone. “We don’t want to miss the start of the show.”

  “Yes boss,” said her grandmother, getting to her feet. “Has anyone seen my walking stick?”

  “Here it is Gran,” said Rose, picking it up from where it had fallen onto the floor.

  Rose helped her grandmother into the front passenger seat and then climbed into the back of the car. They set off towards the park.

  It didn’t take them long to reach the entrance of Peasholm Park, near the North Bay. Andrea signalled and pulled over. “You two hop out here. I’ll go and park up the hill.”

  Rose jumped out of the car and helped her grandmother out of the front seat. Outside, her grandmother seemed much smaller and frailer than she did in her own home and Rose suddenly felt the responsibility of looking after her.

  “I’ll meet you by the lake,” called Andrea. “Save me a seat.” A queue of traffic was already building up behind the car. Rose closed the passenger door and her mother drove off.

  “Are you all right, Gran?” asked Rose, taking her grandmother’s arm.

  “Right as rain,” said her grandmother. “Just as long as we don’t have to run to the lake.” She gave a faint laugh. “I’m not as quick on my feet as I used to be.”