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Meanwhile Gardens:
An Urban Adventure
Written by Charlie Caselton
Chapter
Ninety-Seven - The Family Jewels
The coffin was covered in the same faded green
velvet as the chair, the sides and corners lined with dulled
silver studs.
"The seventh Earl of Rosleagh." Senior said.
Instead of revulsion or fear Rion felt a strong sense of fascination.
On the shelf immediately above the Earl was a smaller coffin
covered in the same faded velvet. Beside it was a bouquet
of ceramic flowers, gleaming porcelain roses with intricate
lead leaves, kept as if fresh under a dome of glass.
"The Countess?" Rion asked the twins who nodded.
"She died many years after the Earl and used to come here,
almost every day Gorby said, to be with her husband and children."
"Children?" Rion asked.
She followed the twins' gaze to the top shelf. In a row were
six small coffins ranging in size from, perhaps, a five-year-old's
to the tiny coffin of an infant.
"Don't worry they can't get out." Junior joked. "They're thrice
buried - wood within lead within wood."
Rion, her eyes welling up, simply stared at the sad row of
six on the upper shelf.
Senior switched off the fire. He opened the door a fraction,
satisfied himself that the light in the corridor was switched
off then opened the door wider. Rion felt the deliciously
cool draft clear away the stale, fumey air.
"Now for your side of the agreement." Senior said moving closer
to Rion who instinctively shrank back. He smiled. "I'm not
- " He corrected himself. " - we're not going to touch you."
Rion kept her back to the bars.
"For your increased freedom while we're around all we ask
is that you keep quiet."
This puzzled Rion. Had she been screaming in her sleep she
wondered?
"Do you see there?" Senior pointed to a small box at the feet
end of the Earl's coffin.
Rion nodded.
"We want that and intend to get it but you mustn't let anyone
else know." He pulled closer.
Rion shrank back. "What's inside?"
"The family jewels!" Junior crowed. He grabbed a sword from
the door, poked it through the bars and wormed the flat of
the blade under the box. He levered it up and let the studded
box fall, the gems inside rattling satisfactorily.
"Beck!" His brother silenced him with a glare.
"Doesn't the same key fit? I mean can't you just open the
bars like you did on my side?" Rion asked.
"They were sealed up after the Countess was laid to rest."
He pointed to the locks that had been soldered shut. "She
wanted the family together for all time, never to be disturbed."
"And you intend to - ?"
Senior slowly moved his head up and down. He took a metal
file from his pocket and made sawing motions. "Very carefully.
But if you tell - " He scraped the file across his throat.
The meaning was clear.
The twins jumped at hearing a distant sound followed by the
timer clicking on. "Quick!" Senior whispered urgently as he
bundled Rion into her side. He closed the bars, looked around
desperately for the key before realising his brother had it.
Junior quickly threw it to him but before Senior had the time
to lock Rion in the door groaned open.
Gorby entered. In his hand he carried a newspaper. After some
curt whispering to the twins they all left, locking the door
behind them.
Rion heard them vanish down the flagstone corridor. After
a second she realised she hadn't been locked in her side.
She slowly opened the bars before hearing feet dash down the
corridor. A key turned in the heavy vault door and Senior
rushed in.
"I have to do this." Senior took the key from his pocket,
locked Rion back behind her bars and replaced the key on its
nail by the heavy oak door.
"Wait!"
Rion's call stopped Senior at the door. He looked back.
"Where is Rosleagh?" She asked.
"Ireland I think."
"Is that where we are?"
Senior simply hurried out, making sure to lock the vault behind
him.
Rion was left with the Earl and Countess of Rosleagh and their
six children, wondering how on earth she had got into their
family vault in Ireland and what had caused the twins and
Gorby to make such a speedy departure.
Although it was scant consolation, Rion thought, she at least
had all the time in the world to think about it.
Chapter
Ninety-eight - Hold The Front Page
Ollie had picked Jake up from
hospital that morning. They had quickly decided to set off
for Bridlington in order to track down Rion's parents and
hopefully Rion.
Before they set off Jake had insisted on collecting something
from his home. As he clambered back into the van Ollie saw
what Jake had picked up - the battered tobacco tin no doubt
filled with the cemetery's finest.
"What's this one called?" Ollie asked with a smile.
"'Kensal Green'." Jake replied "I've been dying for a draw
for what seems like ages."
"You were only in St Mary's a week!"
"Ah, but a week without weed is a long week indeed."
Ollie laughed. "I would have brought some in for you, baked
a cake with it or something, if I hadn't been so damn preoccupied."
Jake waved away his concern. "No matter." He opened up the
tin, took out the Rizla and began rolling a joint on the Road
Map of Great Britain. "My tolerance will be lower now anyway."
He grinned. "It'll be a better buzz."
They were soon zooming up West End Lane onto the Finchley
Road and Hendon Way. With Hum already asleep in the back they
manoeuvred their way through the junctions of Brent Cross,
merged with the correct lane and found themselves at the start
of the Ml. The vast concrete motorway stretched northwards
before them.
Jake lit the joint he'd been waiting so long for and, out
of respect to the driver, passed it to Ollie first.
"Where's this on the scale between 'mausoleum madness' and
'headstone homegrown'?" Ollie asked. "If it's the former it's
best I don't have any."
Jake smiled. "'Kensal Green' is probably the lightest, most
scintillating of all the crops. It's the mimosa of marijuanas."
Ollie took two quick puffs and handed it back to Jake, waving
the joint away when it was offered back to him.
"How about some tunes?" Ollie reached over and opened the
glove compartment, causing a stream of cassettes to spill
over Jake's feet. "If there's anything embarrassing in there
it's probably Nicky's." He said covering himself in case some
tape of excruciating naffness was found.
Jake sifted through the tapes. He grunted occasionally over
the selection before finding one that met with his approval.
He slipped it in the machine and pressed rewind.
"Is she seeing anyone?" Jake asked.
"Who? Nicky?"
Jake nodded.
"She's been off men for a bit." As soon as Ollie said that
he realised it might give the wrong impression. "I don't mean
she's into women or anything - at least not that I know of
- " He added hastily. "Why?"
The tape clicked to signify it was fully rewound. Jake ignored
the question and pressed the play button instead. He sat back
in his seat and gave a satisfied sigh. "I love this tape."
Ollie listened to the vocals at the start of Free All Angels
by Ash. He smiled as the guitars kicked in. "Mmmmm. I love
it too." He was buzzing lightly now. Jake had been right.
The 'Kensal Green' batch had all the sparkle of a champagne
cocktail.
They listened in silence to the crashing, tuneful music until
the song came to an end and Ollie's attention came back to
the heavily vibrating van. He looked at the speedometer to
find he was doing 85mph. "That song always gets me going."
He eased off the accelerator until they were doing a quieter,
more legal 70mph. It wouldn't do to get stopped, not with
a tin full of grass and the van smelling like a gathering
of Rastafarians had taken up residence.
"Do you mind if I forward it?" Jake asked.
"Go right ahead."
"You know I saw them in concert a couple of months ago."
"Nicky and I saw them at the Astoria."
"Upstairs or downstairs?"
"Downstairs."
"Left or right side?"
"If you were facing the stage it would be on the left. We
were next to the speaker stack, although I think the fact
that Matt Dillon was in the vicinity - "
"With Brad Pitt?"
"Yeah." Ollie laughed. " - was the deciding factor in Nicky's
choice of location."
"I was in the same place!" Jake stopped the tape. He played
a snatch of music, realised he had gone too far and pressed
rewind. "It was so great wasn't it?"
"It was so great I bought the T-shirt and the poster. I felt
like I was 12 years old."
"The only thing that bugged me - " Jake pressed play on the
tapedeck to be met with the fadeout of a song, "was they didn't
play my favourite track."
Ollie grinned. He knew what was coming up. "Mine neither."
Jake sang along with the wistful vocals and insistent strings
that opened the ballad, a direct contrast to the previous
crashing tracks.
Someday we'll leave this town it wears us down
we'll leave somehow all it's harm and all it's charm, oh someday.
Jake sang his way through the verses until
the gentle guitar closed the song. He closed his eyes in bliss.
"Can I rewind it?"
"You're in charge." Ollie looked at the fields speeding by.
"You know if I won the lottery I'd have that song on permanent
loop in my Jag. As soon as I opened the door - bam! there
it would be."
"Yeah." Jake said dreamily. "If I won the lottery I'd have
the gasometers opposite me painted acid yellow and Trellick
Tower painted turquoise."
"The day the world turned day-glo?"
"You bet."
"There's a gasometer on the way to Brighton that's painted
bright blue." Ollie said remembering with a pang of sadness
the many journeys he had made to the south coast with James.
"I'd vote for a council with such an enlightened policy wouldn't
you?" Jake fumbled with the stereo.
"Are you eligible to vote?"
"Not at the cemetery where would they send the forms?"
Ollie smiled, enjoying the grass, enjoying the drive, the
music and Jake's company.
And so the miles went by. The tape was rewound, the friendship
strengthened, joints rolled, crisps, chocolate and fruit pastilles
eaten. Free All Angels was played and replayed. 'Someday's
plaintive chorus, "..safe from harm was it a dream I had?
when did it turn bad? safe from harm - was it a dream?" took
on added poignancy the further North they drove but it was
only when they stopped to refuel outside Doncaster that the
reason for their journey was rammed home to them.
When Ollie finished walking Hum he returned to the van to
find Jake, his arms filled with crisps and other goodies.
"I didn't see you as a Page Three sort of guy." Ollie joked
seeing a copy of The Sun under Jake's arm.
"I thought you should see this." Jake unfurled the tabloid
newspaper. On the front was Nicky's black and white picture
of Rion under the headline.
"Top Supermodel Missing!"
Chapter
Ninety-nine - Practice Makes Perfect
Rion woke to the sound of metal
upon metal. With the heater switched off it was cold in the
vault, but the chill was preferable to the stuffy, gas-fired
fumes of before.
She yawned, stretched and looked at her watch. Although she
had only been asleep for little more than an hour it felt
like days. Sleep had turned into something of a pastime here.
With nothing to read, and precious few people to talk to,
there was little else to do.
Through the heavy door open ajar she could see shadows dancing
in the gloom accompanied by the occasional grunt of exertion.
"Gorby said it'll make her more valuable."
From his voice Rion could tell it was the twin she had named
Senior. So she was being held for ransom!
"But won't it make it more dangerous?" Beck, the junior of
the twins, asked.
The shadows came closer together. Another clash of metal brought
a grunt before they danced apart. It seemed to Rion the twins
were involved in a fencing match. She looked over to the door
where the curious long swords were normally kept but the weapons
weren't in place. The twins must be fencing enthusiasts or
something peculiar.
In this Rion was not far wrong.
"Why should it?" Senior asked.
Rion could see the outlines of the Rosleagh boxes through
the fine mesh. She felt comforted by their presence, and oddly
grateful, it was like they were watching over her in a benign
and loving way.
Rion looked around the vaulted cell to see if anything had
changed since she'd been asleep. The guttering candle had
been replaced by a tall, cleaner burning one, the Countess'
chair still faced her family and a Sainsbury's bag lay crumpled
on the floor beside it. Her attention went back to the newspaper
on the chair. She could see it was The Sun, if only she could
see the date.
Rion's scream brought the twins rushing in. They found her
one hand over her mouth, the other pointing at the tabloid
newspaper on the other side of the bars.
"Is the fire on?" She desperately wondered if the leaky heater
was again affecting her vision, but she could see the gas
bars were unlit.
Her voice caught in her throat as she looked at the paper's
front page. There was no mistake - well there had to be a
mistake she thought, what else would explain her face on the
front of 'Britain's biggest selling newspaper'?
"Didn't know you were a supermodel." Beck's voice contained
a hint of admiration and more than a hint of jealousy.
Rion didn't know either. "I - er - " She began. She had to
play this cool she realised. This meant that speaking, at
least at this stage, was inadvisable. Abandoning any attempt
at putting her thoughts into words Rion simply gestured through
the bars for the tabloid to be passed to her.
Chapter 100 - WhiteSlaved?
The photographer used her sweetest of
voices. "Justin it's Nicky." She thought about adding 'again,'
but decided that might sound facetious. She wanted to stay
on his good side. At least at this stage.
"She's gone home." Lady Peter's personal assistant replied.
"Did you give her my messages?"
"Of course." Justin didn't bother to hide his irritation.
"Give me her number Justin. It's important."
The pa's sigh was clearly audible down the phone.
Nicky paused for a second. Although she felt ridiculous saying
the next part Nicky thought she should give it a try. "Angie
would want you to give it to me." Isn't that how they do it
- plant a hypnotic suggestion in their mind, give it added
emphasis and let them obey you?
"Do you want the obvious answer to that?"
Nicky realised her suggestion hadn't been hypnotic enough.
Before she could repeat it Justin continued in his brusque
fashion that bordered on unpleasantness.
"Lady Peters has had a very busy day. I know she and Sir Edwin
have things to discuss. I'll tell her you phoned. Again."
"She would want - " Nicky began.
"I can't give you her home number. She left strict instructions
not to be called."
"But - "
"But nothing."
"Well fu - " Nicky caught sight of Auntie Gem covering her
ears. Thinking of an inoffensive expletive all she could come
up with was, "Go boil your head!" which she shouted into the
mouthpiece.
Auntie Em pulled the phone from her and placed it on the handset.
"You don't want to say anything you might regret."
"Don't worry. He'd already put the phone down."
"Try Johnson again." Auntie Em suggested.
The lifestyle enhancer, incommunicado all day, answered after
the first ring.
"Sweetie its Nicky." The silence was broken by what sounded
like a muffled sob. "Johnson?"
"It's too terrible isn't it?"
"About Rion?"
"I blame myself of course."
Typical, Nicky thought, make it about you. Much as she loved
Johnson he never missed a chance of moving centre stage. She
didn't encourage him by asking him exactly why he was to blame.
"Do you think she's been white-slaved?"
The question threw Nicky slightly. "I - "
"Or starring in a blue movie?" Johnson continued, his voice
beginning to rise in hysteria. "I've been reading all these
dreadful, dreadful stories about this date-rape drug - "
"Johnson I need Angie's number."
" - being slipped in drinks and the girls unknowingly finding
themselves in a porn film - "
"I need Angie's number Johnson."
" - or waking up to find themselves being gangraped - "
"Johnson - "
" - or worse!"
Nicky couldn't - and certainly didn't want to - imagine anything
worse. She sighed. "We're all upset about Rion but there's
a good chance nothing untoward has happened to her."
"After nearly a week?"
"Ollie and Jake have gone to Bridlington to see if she's gone
home and - "
"That's the last place she'd go!"
"And the first place to look."
"Maybe at this very moment she's lying in a ditch or - " Johnson's
voice trembled with emotion as his mind raced through all
the macabre possibilities that Nicky was simply unwilling
to hear.
"'Johnson I need Angie's number urgently. It's about Rion."
Seeing Nicky was reluctant to listen to his paranoia Johnson
reeled off the Holland Park number. "Don't tell her I gave
it to you."
Nicky put the phone down to find Aunties Gem and Em looking
at her from the sofa.
"What did he say?" Gem asked.
Unwilling to give them a glimpse into Johnson's fevered and,
hopefully, unfounded imaginings, Nicky said. "I have the number."
Chapter 101 - How many
times can you read a tabloid?
The editor of Ultra switched
on the fire in the panelled library. Her husband sat in his
favourite armchair engrossed in that day's Sun. He had read
and re-read the leading article on the missing young girl.
The fact that anyone could, indeed would, read a tabloid more
than once was unusual in itself. For anyone with a Cambridge
degree, even a Third such as Sir Edwin received, was unheard
of.
Angie refilled the Baccarat tumbler with Laphroag and handed
it to her husband. "Well?" She inquired.
"The only thing I'm not too keen on is the 'beleaguered husband'
bit."
Angie rolled her eyes. "Really Edwin," She said, unable to
hide her exasperation. "With Peters & Peters under fire from
consumers and ministers alike, the value of the company in
freefall and a PR blunder of such enormity it'll need a mountain
of sandbags to shore up, I think beleaguered is the kindest
description they could use."
"Perhaps."
"Afterall they could have used, 'useless'."
Edwin looked hurt. "Alright."
"'In the shit' would fit." Angie continued.
"It's nice to see your poetry skills haven't left you." Edwin
sniped. He couldn't figure out how they had started bitching
when all he had wanted was to thank his wife for taking the
focus off him.
"Or even 'totally fucked'
"They would never say that!"
"Oh?"
"It's a family newspaper."
"As the half-naked girl on Page 3 testifies."
The ringing phone stopped their bickering turning into something
nastier.
"Is Conchita in?" Edwin looked anxiously at his wife.
"I told her to take the night off."
"Answerphone on?"
Angie shook her head. "It's probably for me anyway." She said
as she picked up the phone.
"Angie?"
The editor knew immediately who it was. "Nicky. Sorry I haven't
been able to call - things have been so hectic."
"Some days are like that."
"If only they were just days sweetie." There was a pause before
Angie purred. "Where did you get this number?"
"You gave it to me at Wanda's - remember?" Nicky lied, remembering
the editor's merry state after several glasses of Krug too
many.
"Of course." Angie was sure she hadn't given Nicky her home
number. She made a mental note to tick Johnson off. "It's
just that I have to be careful otherwise all sorts of people
- stylists, writers, photographers - " Angie let the point
sink in. " - not you of course - " She added quickly, but
not quickly enough. "will be phoning me at all hours."
Nicky let the intended slight slip.
"It's about Rion isn't it?" Angie continued. "You might think
it strange but I just had to help. Especially after her photo
came in with Johnson's - it's like fate isn't it?"
Auntie Em listening on the extension with Gem rolled her eyes.
"Also she was going to be Johnson's assistant therefore directly
linked to us, directly linked to the family at Ultra."
Poor Rion, Nicky thought, from one dysfunctional family to
another.
"Of course I felt personally involved. When I saw the photo
I called up Johnson straight away and said, 'that girl would
be wasted assisting you' I said it in a more diplomatic way
of course - "
"Of course."
"She should be in front of the cameras." The editor continued.
"Such bone structure and those eyes - "
"So you did it out of the goodness of your heart?"
"What else could I do? I had to help."
"Making up some story and getting her on the front page of
The Sun - "
"Was the best thing, no? Firstly, people will be looking out
for her, and secondly it'll do wonders for her career whenever
she does show up."
Edwin chose that moment to make up for his earlier seeming
ingratitude.
He opened the small fridge that some trompe-l'oeil specialist
had disguised as part of the library shelves, and removed
the everpresent bottle of Roederer 1989. Brandishing two fluted
glasses at his wife he smiled and began to open the champagne
they were so fond of.
"It's very upsetting I know - "
The pop of the cork was clearly audible at the other end of
the phone.
" - and I can't tell you how devastated I am, but something
good will come of it. You'll see."
As the phone clicked off Auntie Gem asked. "Was that a bottle
of champagne being opened?"
"No doubt to mark her devastation." Nicky said dryly.
"But how does she know Rion?" Auntie Em asked.
"She doesn't. She's just up to something."
"By the sound of popping corks it seems to be working."
"So she doesn't care about the girl?" Auntie Gem enquired.
"All she cares about are her position, the magazine's circulation
and her husband - in that order."
Knowing Sir Edwin's crime, and unwilling to see him get away
with it, Auntie Gem was sure more than ever, that she had
to do something. Obviously it was too late to do anything
this Friday but next it would be perfect.
Chapter
102 -Sausage or Fish?
It had been easy to find the Ward
household. All it had taken was a question to the landlord
of the Hod & Carrier in the centre of town. Among the pub
regulars, who were surprised as any to have found the family
of a supermodel in their midst - even a supermodel no-one
had heard of nor seen in the media - the consensus was that
the Wards lived on the estate on the outskirts of town near
Hildethorpe.
Jake and Ollie doublebacked on themselves and headed along
the deserted, windswept seafront.
"Is this where Dracula came ashore?" Jake peered through the
windscreen at what should be Bridlington Bay but the night
and the rain kept the immense sands from view.
"Wasn't that Whitby?"
"Or even Grimsby?"
Ollie sighed out noisily. "Imagine living somewhere like Grimsby
- maybe it's a lovely place but the name alone," He shuddered.
"would soon have you on Prozac."
Jake agreed. "Life would have to be grim in Grimsby."
"Whereas somewhere like Redcar couldn't fail to be a fun,
soft-top down, wind in the hair kind of place could it?"
"You've never been there have you?"
"No."
"It would only lead to disappointment." Jake said knowingly.
They stopped for directions at a chippie to find they were
closer than they thought. Standing behind a trio of raucous
teen girls who guffawed at everything they said, then mimicked
their southern accents, Jake and Ollie succumbed to hunger.
On the counter were copies of that day's Sun.
"You're gay aren't you?" One of the trio asked Ollie.
Before he could answer the second girl pointed to a particularly
large sausage in batter. "You'll be having the savaloy then
won't you?"
"Rather than the fish!" The first one added.
The girls fell about laughing. Not for the first time Ollie
wondered at the perception, and foul language, of teenage
girls.
"Is he your boyfriend?" The third asked curiously.
"No. He's straight."
"So there's a chance for us is there?" The middle one flicked
her hair in an exaggerated fashion that bought another bout
of uncontrollable giggles from her friends.
Jake winked at her. "Depends doesn't it?"
"On what?" The first one asked.
Jake pointed to the copies of that day's Sun that lay on the
counter. "On you telling us what you know about Rion."
"D'ye mean Marion Ward?" The middle one sneered.
Ollie nodded, remembering that she would be known as Marion
up here.
"She used to work in Tanya's Salon."
"Plain as wallpaper."
"Dull as piss."
"Quiet as a mouse."
The girls stared them down.
"Where is Tanya's Salon?" Ollie asked.
"Buy us our tea and we'll tell yeh." The first one said.
Ollie went to the payphone on the wall. "Is Directory Enquiries
192 up here as well?"
"We're not another planet you know." The first girl said.
Ollie dialled the three numbers. He got no further than 'Bridlington'
before one of the girls pushed the receiver down.
"We'll tell yeh."
At that moment the assistant grabbed a newspaper from the
counter and wrapped their order. Beneath the plaice and chips
liberally doused in vinegar Rion's face stared out at them.
Chapter
103 - Who Wants to Know?
It had been a long day. Remembering
Rion's account of her family life Ollie and Jake were unsure
as to whether they could deal with a man such as her father
at this time of night. They decided to head for Tanya's Salon
instead.
They found the 'Ladies Hairdressers (Men accepted)' easily
enough. It was in the middle of a small shopping arcade at
the back of the main street. Several lights glowed through
curtains in the flats above the precinct.
Peering through into the darkened salon they were surprised
by a voice from the flats. "Don't be doing anything silly
now lads."
They looked up to find a woman leaning out the window above
them.
"Do you know where we can find Tanya?" Ollie asked.
"She's gone away."
"Just our luck." Jake said to Ollie before shouting up. "When's
she going to be back?"
"If you're journalists she won't talk to you."
"We just want to ask about Rion."
"So you are journalists."
"No - we're - " Ollie began. He looked up to find the woman
shaking her head in disgust. As she was about to close the
window he shouted up. "Tell Tanya we're friends of Rion from
London."
"And how's she to know that?"
"Tell her it's Ollie of Meanwhile Gardens Mews."
The window slammed shut.
"It was worth a try." Ollie shrugged his shoulders. "Where
to now?"
"Somewhere to stay?"
Ollie looked around the deserted mini-mall. It had begun to
rain again.
"Well, I'm not camping on the beach that's for sure, and neither
is Hum - even if he is dressed for it." The hound smiled up
at him uncertainly, pleased to be out of the van but uncomfortable
in the chunky red coat Auntie Gem had knitted for him.
"I don't know. I could easily rustle up a shelter, there's
probably masses of driftwood and - "
"No! A November night dodging raindrops on Bridlington beach....
such a thought should never, ever be imagined. Besides what
would Dr Gidwani say?"
Jake threw up his hands.
"Better a lumpy mattress in some b&b than - "
" - a sandy one on Bridlington Beach?" Jake was unconvinced.
"Starched sheets and paper thin walls over fresh air?"
Ollie wasn't listening. His attention had been taken by a
light that had come on at the end of the salon behind him.
"Jake shhh!" He pointed to the silhouette coming towards them.
"Maybe she'll know where we can stay."
They watched as the figure appeared to glide through the corridor
of upright hairdryers in the darkened salon. As the figure
came closer they could see it was the woman from the window.
She unlocked the glass door and beckoned them in. "I'm Tanya."
Chapter
104 - West Country?
The woman led them between the
portable basins to a smaller room entered by saloon doors.
This side room didn't have such an overpowering smell of hairspray.
It was also filled with sunbeds.
Near the entrance was a table piled high with women's magazines
- the same magazines Rion would have escaped in Ollie thought
sadly. Posters of empty tropical beaches lined the walls.
Tanya gestured to the tanning machines. "I don't use them
myself but my clients can't get enough of them. It seems the
more unsafe they're declared the more they want them." She
went over to a sink beside which was a sideboard filled with
mugs. "Tea?"
As she filled the kettle with water Ollie took a good look
at the woman he knew to be Rion's best friend. She would be
about five foot were it not for the thick platform slip-ons
she wore. She was probably in her forties Ollie thought, but
looked several years younger - a testament to the creams and
therapies open to her as owner of a beauty salon. Her blond
hair was not obviously coloured. It was lightly teased and
swept back in the fashion of a restrained Dolly Parton.
If there was such a thing.
"Sorry I was abit unfriendly before. There've been a couple
of break-ins round here. Who's your friend?"
Jake went over with his hand outstretched. "I'm Jake."
Tanya smiled. "Pleased I'm sure." She returned to her tea-making.
"And this is Hum." Ollie gestured to the hound who was on
his best behaviour.
"Milk and sugar?"
"Please." Jake and Ollie said in unison.
"Rion used to talk alot about you. You sent her savings to
my house." Ollie said.
"I used to pay her a pittance of her wages in cash, the rest
I kept safe for her. Her father just drank everything she
took home." Tanya bought a plate of chocolate digestives towards
them. She sat on the only chair, a rickety white plastic number.
"Have a seat." Ollie and Jake sat down gingerly on the closed
sunbeds. "Several journalists have been asking odd questions.
Really," She snorted in disgust. "you'd think from the article
that the Ward house is a place of happy childhoods, I tried
telling them it's really 'West' country but - "
Ollie and Jake looked questioningly at each other. "Are we
in the wrong place then?" Ollie asked.
"Should we be in Bristol?"
"Devon?"
"Somerset?"
" 'West' country?" Tanya repeated then seeing their confusion
explained. "As in 'Rosemary and Fred'?"
"Ah." Ollie and Jake got it.
" - but it wasn't the angle they were looking for. Mar - "
Tanya corrected herself. "Rion was lucky to get out when she
did."
"We were going straight there but decided, from what Rion
said, that perhaps Mr Ward should wait for the light of day."
"Although I'm not sure whether he's worse drunk or hangover
- those are the only to states you'll find him in. Either
way he's horrible."
As the kettle whistled to a boil Tanya got up and emptied
it into a teapot in the shape of a thatched cottage,
"What's happened to Rion? Has she vanished?"
They told her all they knew.
When they'd finished Tanya said. "The only reason she'd come
to Bridlington would be to see me and I haven't heard from
her since she phoned all bubbly after the photo shoot with
your friend."
"Johnson?"
"No, the photographer."
"Nicky?"
Tanya nodded. "Since then - nothing. But she's ok. I can feel
it."
"We have to believe that."
"No. She is ok." Tanya said with certainty. "Rion and I -
" She looked at the floor for a second before returning her
gaze to Ollie and Jake. " - you might think this stupid but
- " Tanya shrugged her shoulders to show it didn't matter.
" - Rion and I have some sort of bond, it's what makes us
so close."
"Like telepathy?"
Tanya wasn't sure. "Not as clearly defined as that. It's not
words or anything, just feelings. I would always know exactly
how she was at every second of the day. That's why it was
so great when she went to London - yes there were bleak moments
but in general happy feelings, sometimes verging on the joyous,
came through."
"How is she now?"
Tanya paused for a moment to find the right words. "For the
past week I've been sensing she's more confused than fearful.
Something's happened alright, but what and where I couldn't
tell you."
She got up to fill the kettle. "What I can tell you is she
certainly wouldn't come back to see her family."
The following morning, having
spent the night cocooned in the sunbeds, the brittle tanning
elements softened by blankets, Ollie and Jake bade Tanya their
farewells.
"Sorry again about the accommodation but it would have been
more comfortable than upstairs. You wouldn't have got a wink
all night with my lot."
Ollie quickly scribbled his number on a scrap of paper. "Call
me if anything changes."
Chapter
105 - Floats Like a Butterfly
The Ward household stuck out from
the other dismal semis on the estate by its hideous stonecladding.
Jake checked the number again. "This is it. 60 Sewerby Avenue."
As the van drew up outside they could see the net curtains
twitch.
Ollie looked at Jake. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
With Hum growling by their side they went through the latch
gate into the front garden that had been completely concreted
over. "'West Country'." Ollie pointed to the expanse of stone
where not even a weed could be seen.
Jake shuddered. "Let's hope there's just soil under that."
The door opened before Ollie could knock. A young woman stood
before them. Ollie figured she must be about twenty, although
with her hair in pigtails she looked alot younger. Behind
her he could see two other young women, Rion's sisters Ollie
guessed, peering out from the first doorway. They also had
their hair in braids and looked equally childish.
"Yes?" She enquired in a peculiar mix of insolence and nervousness.
"Unless they're offering money I'm not talking." A man's voice
slurred from a nearby room. A crashing sound followed. Ollie
and Jake watched as the other two sisters were elbowed out
of the way and a man lurched into view. It could be no one
else but Mr Ward.
"Did you hear me?" He staggered to the door and stared at
them through bleary eyes. He slapped his nearest daughter
on the head. "Get me a Guinness if you know what's good for
you." The unfortunate girl scurried out of view. "I've sold
my story to the Sun but," He bared his grey, chipped teeth.
"I'm open to other offers."
Ollie again felt comforted by Hum's low growling.
The first daughter ran back with a can of beer which she opened,
lightly spraying her father with foam. "Now look what you've
done!" He roared. The girl dodged out of his way and ran back
inside the house. Mr Ward turned his attention to the two
young men on his doorstep. "Did you hear me?" He asked again.
As Rion's father took a large sip from the can Ollie made
a point of looking at his watch. It was 10.30.
The gesture did not go unnoticed by Mr Ward. "The stress of
Marion vanishing has done this." He leered at the can of beer
in his hand. "My contract with the Sun is exclusive." He put
his face up to Ollie's. "Know what that means?"
The rancid alcohol fumes caused Ollie's eyes to water.
"It means I can't talk to anyone else but," Mr Ward's face
changed to something that on anyone else would probably be
a smile but on him was more like a scowling smirk. "give me
fifty pounds and - "
Unable to stomach any more of this Jake interrupted. "Mr Ward."
"Alright. alright, I'll do it for twenty five."
"Mr Ward." Jake began again.
"A tenner and that's my last offer."
"We're not - "
"Give us a fiver and I'll see you right."
"We're not giving you anything." Ollie said firmly
Mr Ward squinted at them, confused all of a sudden. "You what?"
"You heard." Jake said. "We're friends of your daughter's
from London. We came up to see if you might know where she
might be but it's obvious she wouldn't come here."
"Now lads if - "
"You burnt her wrists with cigarettes you fucking monster."
At first surprised at where the conversation was going Mr
Ward regained his natural state. "So what if I did?" He grinned,
wiping his nose on his sleeve. "She's my daughter isn't she?"
"So what if you did?" Ollie repeated enraged. "This is what!"
He clenched his fist and sent it straight towards Mr Ward's
eye. Rion's father fell back, his head hit the floor with
a satisfying crack.
Jake was stunned for a second. "Ollie?"
Ollie rubbed his hand. As a nervous reaction he gave a winded
laugh. The three daughters whispered from the end of the hall
but did nothing.
"Is he...?" Jake didn't dare say the word.
Ollie looked at the supine figure. "Oh my God." He said nervously,
realising for the first time what he might have done.
Jake pulled him by the shoulder. "C'mon."
Hum rushed into the house and gave a quick nip to the man's
exposed ankle before running out again.
As they left through the latchgate they heard Mr Ward groan.
"C'mon!" Jake said more urgently.
Before they had gone more than a few yards a bellow was heard
that showed Mr Ward was conscious once more. Ollie and Jake
hopped in the van, did a quick U-turn and sped out of the
estate.
Jake laughed. "Rocky Marciano, Muhammed Ali, Ollie Michaelson!"
"Do you think he's alright?"
"I hope not! I bet he won't even remember it though. Guys
like that are in permanent blackout." Jake chuckled and gave
Ollie a playful punch. "Floats like a butterfly, stings like
a bee!"
Chapter
106 - You're What?
What was going on? What was going
on?
Rion still hadn't got over the picture of herself on the front
of yesterday's Sun. 'Tipped for the top by the editor of top-selling
Ultra' ran the headline. What was going on? she asked herself
for the umpteenth time.
As soon as she saw the accompanying picture of Lady Peters
she knew exactly who she was: Jake's lady friend with the
dazzling turquoise pumps. But why hadn't Jake told her about
the editor of Ultra when he knew Rion's ambition was to work
there?
Perhaps he didn't know. That could be the only explanation.
The connection must have been through Nicky and Johnson. Rion
was certain they knew Lady Peters, they had said as much hadn't
they?
But why was Lady Peters tipping her, tipping Rion for the
top? And the top of what exactly? She felt like wailing. It
seemed so unfair! Here she was being acclaimed for something,
when she was hidden God only knew where unable to take advantage
of God only knew what.
What was going on??
A raucous filing broke into her thoughts. After a brief stint
with a powertool Senior and Beck had returned to manually
severing the cast iron bars.
"I bet you wish you had that electric saw!" Rion said with
her knack for stating the obvious. The miniature Black & Decker
they had brought in yesterday, whilst making their work easier,
had nearly been their downfall. Rion's surprise appearance
on the front of the Sun had meant frequent unannounced visits
from Ted, Mary and Gorby who came to wonder at their newly
valuable prize. The sound of a powerdrill would have been
hard to explain.
Rion had hoped to engage the twins in conversation but Senior
simply grunted whilst Beck ignored her completely.
"How long do you think it'll take you?" She asked.
Senior shrugged his shoulders. "As long as it takes." Rion
watched as he carried on sawing with Beck. It seemed every
few minutes another fresh blade was needed, the teeth of the
previous one soon dulled and bent useless.
"They didn't want to make it easy for you did they?"
Rion got tired just watching them and then got tired of watching
them but there was nothing else to occupy her mind in the
Rosleagh vault. Her several attempts at conversation had been
discouraged - what subject could she pick that would bring
forth more than a grunt and a monosyllabic reply? In the corner
by the door Rion saw what could provide a good topic. She
waited until the next break, which wasn't long in coming.
"What do you do with those swords?"
Beck brushed his hair away from his face. "You'll find out
soon enough."
Rion had already decided she didn't like the more junior of
the twins. The combination of weakness and power reminded
the girl of her father.
"Shhhh." Senior glared his brother into silence.
"Do you fence with them?" She continued.
"Something like that."
"If this was 'Give us a Clue' I'd be out by now wouldn't I?"
The twins didn't even grunt a reply.
Rion tried again. "Well, what makes them so special?"
Senior looked at the floor in a gesture of humbleness that
made Rion suddenly warm to him. "You'll only laugh." He said.
"People always do."
"People that don't understand always do." His brother corrected.
"Try me."
Senior held Rion's eye for several seconds, closely examining
her face for any reaction to what he was going to say. Just
when Rion was tempted to look away Senior broke the silence.
"We're Morris Dancers."
Chapter
107 - I'll try anything once except.
Conscious of the watching twins'
Rion knew her first reaction - a smirk - would be the wrong
one. She managed to control herself by opening her eyes wide
as if madly interested.
"You don't think that's funny?" Beck asked.
"Most people do." Senior added.
"Someone even wrote a book called, 'I'll try anything once
except Incest and Morris Dancing." His brother said in disgust.
"Maybe if they knew more they wouldn't laugh, I mean loads
of things seem funny at first don't they?" Rion gushed.
The answer seemed to please the twins.
Encouraged Rion carried on. "What people see are men with
bells on their toes waving hankies in the air - " Rion saw
the twins exchange a quick look and realised she mustn't be
seen to be taking the piss. " - when I'm sure there's much
more to it than that isn't there?"
Senior was unsure for a moment whether to confide his passion
or not. Again he examined Rion's face but could discern no
hint of amusement. "Much more!" He said, suddenly unable to
contain his enthusiasm.
"People only mock what they don't understand." Rion echoed
Beck's earlier thought. She knew she was on the right track
when Senior jumped up, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight.
"Exactly!" Senior strode to the end of the vault, executed
a neat spin on one heel then strode back. "They don't realise
that the dance is a sacred act - dance is religion and religion
is dance." He pulled his brother to his feet. "C'mon. I'll
be the Foreman."
Beck wasn't as willing as his twin but upon his urging followed
his steps. Their legs swayed and flashed as they moved in
complex co-ordinated rhythms. Occasional high leaps punctuated
the steps as they came to an end of the stanza. The moves
were then repeated backwards.
Although at first finding it difficult to conceal her amusement
Rion was soon gripped by the hard and fast pace of the dance.
Mesmerised by the swirls and patterns she was relieved when
the twins, with a final leap, came to face each other and
stopped. Breathing heavily the twins broke the trance and
moved away from each other.
"Well?" Senior asked, his chest rising and falling.
Rion didn't know what to say and so, impressed, just opened
her mouth and shrugged her shoulders.
"Those steps are the same as the ones danced in the courts
of Celtic warlords."
Rion managed to regain her powers of speech. "It's so complicated."
Senior smiled. "The more intricate the steps the more the
need to concentrate the more the conscious mind is occupied
the more the spirit is able to soar."
As Rion took all that in Beck spoke up. "Every birth, marriage
and celebration, each planting, harvest and change of the
moon, each sacrifice," Beck paused. "each death - "
Rion didn't notice as again Senior's eyes glared at his twin
to stop.
" - for all of these the dance is needed."
"It's the way to communicate with the Gods."
"But the success of everything depends on the accuracy of
the steps, of the ritual."
Deciding his brother had spoken enough Senior pulled him to
his feet. "Let's show her something different." He went over
to the door, picked up one of the long swords and tossed it
over to Beck who caught it with ease.
Rion, all trace of amusement gone, watched entranced as the
twins again went into the demanding, repetitive steps this
time accompanied by intricate swordplay.
Chapter
108 - Hum on the Trail
The journey up from Bridlington had been easier
than the journey down. They had made much better time - at
least forty minutes Ollie calculated - on the previous day.
As Ollie swung the van through the gates to Kensal Green cemetery
Jake gestured for him to pull over.
"Let's walk down. It deflects attention and - " Jake yawned.
" - I need to stretch my legs."
"So does Hum."
In his red coat the hound bounded past the monuments and mausolea
of Centre Avenue. Ollie didn't bother calling to Hum who wouldn't
come to him anyway. The dog knew Ollie waited with collar
and lead - there were too many scents in the cemetery for
him to waste time at his master's side.
Ollie never ceased to be amazed at the tombs on this, the
cemetery's main thoroughfare. Pyramids, sphinxes, winged cherubs,
griffins, canopies, columns and sarcophagi all vied for attention
in the maze of burial plots.
As they came to the Anglican Chapel Jake stopped, the top
of his tree visible above the hillock in front of them. "It's
good to be home isn't it?"
Ollie smiled. "It will be when I get there."
Before Jake could head for the canal they were stopped by
a woman's distant voice.
"Ollie! Ollie!"
They turned to see a figure hurrying along the muddy track
beneath the huge chestnut trees. Ollie waved, instantly recognising
who it was. "What's Nicky doing here?"
Within a few moments the photographer arrived breathless beside
them. "You drove right past me!" Unused to the sudden bout
of exercise Nicky steadied herself against Ollie. "I was having
lunch at the George - "
Ollie looked at his watch. "Until four 'o clock?"
"It was with a stylist," Nicky gasped. "and you know how they
can talk."
Ollie nodded in sympathy.
"Good trip?"
Jake put his head to one side and thought for a second. "It
was interesting." He conceded. "I'm sure Ollie'll tell you
about it later."
Whilst Nicky caught her breath Ollie whistled for Hum.
"Where's the hound?"
"Last seen scampering - " Ollie gestured through to the colonnade
on the near side of the chapel. " - thataway."
Ollie whistled again - but no Hum. For the third attempt he
whistled with more authority, more threat, more of a 'if you
don't come back now I'll be very angry' kind of edge.
Nothing.
"You'd better go ahead." He said to Jake. "Who knows where
Hum might be."
"Make sure you stop in before you go. There's a tin of 'Kensal
Green' with your name on it." He bowed his head in farewell
and set off down Terrace Avenue towards the canal.
"A batch of sparkling marijuana never did anyone any harm
eh?" Nicky took his arm as they wandered beneath the porticoes
onto the flagstone terrace.
"Hum." Ollie called as if he had a present for him, a frisbee
perhaps, or rawhide bone. He expected the dog to come tearing
out of some hiding place at any moment, to jump up - eyes
sparkling with amusement - before sitting at his feet, tail
wagging, awaiting the patting and petting that would tell
him all was ok.
"Do you ever think of dog training?" Nicky asked, her breathing
practically back to normal.
"There are times I think of little else." Ollie replied. "Hum."
He called again, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice.
Nicky put up her hand as a muffled barking was heard. "What's
that?"
Ollie listened but the unclear sound had stopped. "Hum?" Again
they heard a muted barking. They followed the sound, which
appeared to be coming from the side of the chapel. Ollie whistled
once and was rewarded with another round of barking. "It sounds
like he's scared but where is he?"
They ran to the back of the chapel, soon discovering a metal
grille about 18 inches wide that lined the side of the building.
"What's down there?" Nicky asked.
"The cellars or foundations I imagine."
"Hum!" Nicky's call brought forth a pattering of feet. "Here
he is!" The dog, looking snug in his little red jacket, appeared
out of the darkness below them.
"How did you get down there?" Ollie asked in exasperation.
Hum gave a friendly bark in reply before heading back into
the shadows.
"Hum!" Ollie put the authoritarian tone in his voice. It did
the trick. The hound returned under the grille. He looked
at the worried faces above him, wagged his tail and grinned
before vanishing into the darkness once more.
"Dog school, dog school, dog school." Ollie muttered. "Try
and keep him here if he comes back."
"How??"
"I'll go and see if anyone's around." Ollie dashed to the
front of the building but the chapel, as always, was closed.
A clumsily typed notice on the door told him that tours of
the cemetery and catacombs took place every Sunday at 2:00pm.
Ollie suddenly had a dreadful thought. He ran back to where
Nicky waited above the grille.
"Can't we just leave him there for a couple of days?" Nicky
said. "It might teach him a lesson."
"It's tempting." Ollie had to admit. "but I think we should
get him out as soon as possible because - "
"You're too soft on him Ol."
" - because I think he's in the catacombs."
Nicky came to the realisation Ollie had come to moments before.
"You don't mean - ?"
"I do. Imagine the fun he would have with shrouded corpses."
"Or human bones." Nicky shuddered, macabre images of a marrowhungry
Hum filling her mind.
They quickly found what they were looking for. Beside the
colonnade a section of metal grille had rusted and collapsed
inwards. About ten feet below stone glistened damp and hard.
Looking down they could see a narrow ledge running halfway
along the wall.
"If nothing else we'll at least be able to get back out."
"We?" Nicky asked.
"Of course." Ollie began lowering himself through the narrow
space. "I'm not going in there alone."
Cursing Hum Nicky followed.
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