It's Raining Men (24 page)

Clare opened her mouth to answer:
All the time, Lars, all the fucking time.

‘Oh, ignore me.’ Lara shook her head as if trying to whip up some sense in it. She was being a miserable cow and Clare didn’t deserve to listen to her woes. She put the stopper
back in her bottle and clapped her hands. ‘How about I come with you and take a swim in your lovely lagoon?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Clare, her eyes gleaming with pleasure. ‘That would be fabulous.’

‘Jesus Christ, Clare,’ said Lara, shining one of the BOGOF torches down the steps. ‘Are there even more steps than there were before?’

‘Oh, stop moaning. We’re nearly there.’

‘Is there a stairlift?’

Clare laughed. ‘Think how much good it’s doing your leg muscles.’

‘It’s killing my heart though.’

Clare stepped down the last turn. ‘Look, we’re here.’

‘Oh, my. It really is lovely, isn’t it,’ said Lara. She was looking forward to getting into the water. She only wished she could get as much out of swimming as Clare did.

When she slipped into the warm water she sighed with delight. ‘Oh, yes, this is definitely worth the ordeal by stairs. It’s nearly as nice as the pool at the Wellem Spa.’ She
winked over at Clare.

‘It’s far better,’ came the answer just before Clare dived down into the lagoon. The water was gin-clear and so very deep.

Lara didn’t take up Clare’s invitation to swim over to the front of the cave and out into the open sea with her. She wasn’t as strong a swimmer as Clare and was happy enough
staying in the warm waters of the lagoon. After half an hour, Lara got out and sat on a rock to dry herself off. She was so glad she had ventured down to Clare’s secret watery place. She
could understand why her friend was so delighted with her find.

‘I’m going to leave you to it,’ she said, taking one of the torches. ‘I’ll go and check on May.’ She held her hand up as Clare opened her mouth. ‘You
enjoy yourself here. I’m quite happy babysitting. I’ve got to a good bit in my book anyway.’

‘I won’t be that long,’ said Clare.

‘Be as long as you like,’ said Lara, looking up the staircase and shaking her head. This place must be like heaven for Clare, she thought. But, the way Lara was feeling that day, she
might end up drowning herself in that pool if she stayed any longer.

Gladys put down the delicate china teacup, opened up her handbag, retrieved a tissue from it and then wiped her eyes.

‘I’m frightened, Raine,’ she said. ‘I’m frightened of that woman. He didn’t want me to plate a meal up for his supper. I know they’re going to have
dinner together and he’ll be putty in her hands. He’s old and lonely and she’s a wily piece.’

Raine’s hand came out to touch Gladys’s arm, but she knew her skin was cold and wouldn’t offer much comfort.

‘Gladys, I’ve only ever seen you cry once before in all the years I’ve known you.’

‘It’s since
she
came,’ said Gladys, blowing her nose on her tissue and reaching for another. ‘How can I have got it so wrong, Raine? She’s dangerous.
I’m scared for us all. For Edwin, for the village, most of all for—’

‘Gladys.’ Raine leaned over to pat her friend’s shoulder, squashing Albert on her knee, though he didn’t seem to mind that much. ‘The world is a much smaller place
these days. It could only ever have been a matter of time.’

Gladys’s great shoulders were shaking as she sobbed, but she went on: ‘I bet there isn’t a drawer in that house she hasn’t looked in. She’s out to seduce Lord
Carlton. She even wears her hair like Mary did. He’s asked her to look at the estate ledgers and I know she’s picked up that something is amiss. And she isn’t the type to leave a
thread unpulled, that one. He thinks he can trust her but I know he can’t.’

Raine nodded. Gladys wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know already. She had tasted the bitter salt of betrayal in the wind.

Clare reached for her towel, shoes and torch and, carrying them high over her head, she swam around to the other side of the cavern, where the second staircase was. She lifted
herself out of the water and dried herself off before slipping on her shoes and draping her towel around her shoulders. She was going to find out where those steps went to. If nothing else, it
would burn off some calories.

Her calves were certainly feeling it as she made her ascent. Finally her torch picked out the last of the stairs and a door, but just as her hand reached out for the iron hoop she heard voices.
Raine’s was one of them. The tower of steps led to her cottage.

Gladys looked around her at Raine’s room and she felt more than a twinge of sadness. They were supposed to look after her and yet the place needed bottoming. She deserved
better.

‘I’m going to come up on my next day off and give this cottage a really good clean for you, Raine. Tell me they’re bringing you food?’

‘Yes, my dear, they are,’ said Raine. ‘But the cleaning is too much for them. Dorothy needs a new hip and a new knee. It takes her over half an hour to walk through the woods.
And Margaret isn’t up to bending or stretching. The others do the best they can too.’

‘Someone needs telling about this,’ said Gladys, filling up again and dabbing her eyes with her tissue. ‘We’ve all been under the impression that you’re being
looked after. Properly.’

‘I am.’ Raine smiled. ‘I have everything I need. A bit of dust doesn’t bother me.’

‘Val Hathersage could come up here and sort this place out for you. He does nothing but sleep and eat, that one. David Hathersage would turn in his grave to see what a waster his son
turned out. And to see all the trouble between the brothers.’

‘He isn’t much like them, it has to be said. Such hard-working, decent boys.’

‘That Colleen Landers led the poor boy a merry dance,’ said Gladys. ‘She smashed his heart to pieces. I bet she was less than useless when she was supposed to be helping you
out.’

‘Well, cleaning after an old lady wasn’t where her passions lay, if that’s what you mean.’

‘We all know where her passions lay,’ huffed Gladys. ‘Most of them in Spice Wood. I worried when she left the village. She was such a mercenary creature.’

‘She wouldn’t have said anything. I never doubted her,’ replied Raine. ‘For all her faults, she was one of ours. It would never be one of ours.’

‘That’s my point,’ Gladys insisted, her voice rising to a high pitch. ‘Mrs Hawk isn’t one of ours. And if she’s from Wellem, as she claims, I’m Ingrid
Bergman. And Gene Hathersage has brought more strangers into the village. He’s rented his cottage out. I heard that Daisy Unwin gave Jenny a right blasting in the café for serving
them. And not only serving them but serving them good food. Daisy thinks she should have done more to discourage them, not encourage them going in.’

‘Jenny has too much pride not to want to give the best on her menu.’

‘Agreed. She’s a wonderful cook. And Daisy gave Shirley in the pub the rough end of her tongue as well.’

‘Shirley can look after herself and Daisy Unwin will have to change her ways,’ said Raine softly. ‘She’s got problems, that young lady. The village has been a closed bud
for too long, Gladys. It needs to open up and flower. Everyone is under so much pressure to do the right thing: Edwin, Jenny, the young people . . . And as for poor Milton – he’s spent
his whole life in this village inventing things. I hear he’s working on an invisibility shield now.’ Raine laughed. ‘He should be resting, taking things easy at his
age.’

‘He’s loved every minute of it, Raine. He’s more alive at ninety-three than half of the young men in the village. He’s still in love with you, of course. You gave his
life meaning. Without you to inspire his projects he wouldn’t have found a place for himself in life.’

‘Dear Milton,’ said Raine. Clare heard the smile in her voice. ‘I can still see him as a boy, all lanky arms and legs and his mother’s ridiculous haircuts.’

‘He would die for you, Raine.’

‘I know the sacrifices they’ve all made, and would still make, Gladys. But it’s time to stop. There’s nothing here for the youth. Who can blame them for leaving? The
village needs an infusion of new blood. Enough is enough. I’m tired, Gladys. I’m tired of being a curse.’

‘You’ve been a blessing to this village. So many of us wouldn’t have been born had it not been for you. Myself, for instance, and my five brothers.’

‘You might have had sisters had it not been for me.’

‘But I might not have done.’ Gladys’s voice was firm and brooked no nonsense. ‘I hate to hear you talking like this. Please think about my offer again. Move in with me,
Raine. I’m rattling around in that house since Charles died. There’s plenty of room and you’d have company.’

‘I’ll make one more move in my lifetime,’ replied Raine. ‘And it won’t be to another house.’ She smiled. ‘You’re a good, kind woman, Gladys. Thank
you. Let fate take its course. Let the village become part of the rest of the world again.’

‘That can’t happen whilst—’

Raine finished off the severed sentence. ‘Whilst I am here. I know.’

‘Raine, I heard something about one of the women staying in Gene Hathersage’s cottage . . .’

‘I’ve met her. I saw her swimming in the sea and I waved at her to come up.’

Gladys’s mouth fell open. ‘Oh, Raine, what were you thinking?’

‘Her name is Clare. She’s a lovely girl. She’s coming to see me tomorrow. She found my lagoon, Gladys. I trust her. We have a connection. When I heard about how she looked I
thought she might be like me, but, no, that is just a happy coincidence.’

‘Oh, Raine, please be careful.’

‘I shall,’ said Raine, picking up on that. ‘Clare is no Mrs Hawk.’

Clare padded carefully down the steps so she wouldn’t be heard through the door. So, Val was underplaying the aftermath of Colleen’s departure. Clare found herself
guiltily pleased that Miss Perfect Colleen Landers wasn’t all that perfect after all. She had left his heart in little pieces. And what was all that about Daisy and Jenny? Who was Milton?
Where had she heard that name before? And why did Raine have to be careful of Clare? What were they saying about Gladys not having sisters? Questions were flooding her brain. What the hell was
going on in Ren Dullem?

May was up and drinking tea when Lara arrived back at the cottage. Her legs were knackered from climbing all those stairs. A life in power heels had a detrimental effect on
calf muscles, apparently.

‘Hello, missus,’ May greeted her. ‘One has been swimming, I see. How was it?’

‘Absolutely beautiful. You must go and have a swim. Anyway, how are you?’ Lara flicked her towel over the airer that hung from the kitchen ceiling. She thought that May looked very
pale.

‘Better for a good sleep, thanks. I need to get the cobwebs blown out of my head so I’m going for a walk. Want to come?’

‘As long as it doesn’t involve any steps at all,’ replied Lara. ‘Just give me five to have a quick shower.’

‘Is Clare staying down there?’ asked May, unlooping her handbag from the chair back.

‘Yep. She’ll have grown gills by the end of the holiday. If she hasn’t already. Oh, and remind me to tell you about my latest embarrassing episode with our landlord.
You’ll enjoy it lots.’

The air was so beautifully warm outside. Lara cast a looks-could-kill glance at those stupid clouds that weren’t real clouds. There must be a chemical plant over the
headland, she decided. They were probably all being poisoned by gas. She’d ask Jenny what caused them if they decided to call in for a coffee.

May winced for Lara when she heard about the Tourette’s incident. Then she laughed heartily, picturing it all in her head. Her friend really had got off on the wrong footing with Mr
Hathersage.

Coming up the hill towards them was a skinny man in jeans and a muscle top with a Jack & Jones logo on the front. His arms were covered in tattoos, one a picture of Marilyn Monroe. He had
bright-pink streaks in his hair and mock-croc shoes with long pointed toes. He was holding a North Yorkshire tourism guide. Behind him, travelling at a much slower pace, was another man, much
taller and heavier and sporting a more traditional look: curly brown hair, conservative jeans and a plain white T-shirt.

‘Excuse me, girls,’ said the skinny man. His voice was light and effeminate. ‘Have you any idea where the abbey ruins are?’

‘Sorry,’ said May, ‘we aren’t from around here.’

‘Hallelujah,’ said the man. ‘A friendly voice. Gideon, hurry up. I’ve found some real people who aren’t inbred locals.’ He clasped his hands together with
delight. ‘We haven’t had a sensible answer since we arrived here. One woman in a wheelchair ran over Gideon’s toe. She was like a bloody mad Dalek. Half expected her to start
shouting, “Exterminate, exterminate” at us.’

May and Lara exchanged amused glances. They obviously knew who that was.

‘Hi,’ said Gideon, finally catching up with his friend. ‘I’m Coco’s husband.’

‘Coco?’ said Lara.

‘That’s me.’ The pink-haired man showed off a ring on the third finger of his left hand. ‘I never get tired of showing it off. We thought we’d have a drive around
the area. I’ve never been here before, and if this place is anything to go by I never will again.’ He shuddered. ‘I thought that butcher was going to fillet me.’

Behind him Gideon raised his eyes skyward and puffed out his cheeks.

‘And we can’t get a bloody signal on our phones,’ Coco continued. ‘Gideon reckons there’s a jammer causing that. They obviously don’t like anyone having
new-fangled ideas here.’

‘A jammer?’ asked May.

‘Oh, the satellite signals are definitely being interfered with somewhere around here,’ said Gideon, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

‘Why?’ said Coco flamboyantly. ‘And what the buggery bollocks is going on up there?’ He pointed to a puff of grey cloud floating over their heads.

‘We think there might be a chemical plant nearby,’ said Lara.

‘No, there’s no plant,’ Gideon answered. ‘For the want of a better explanation, I’d say they were coming from a crude attempt at a cloud machine.’

‘Jesus, has Kate Bush moved here with Donald Sutherland?’ Coco snorted, and broke into the first verse of ‘Cloudbusting’.