Rendezvous With Danger (4 page)

‘You didn't,' he corrected mildly. ‘It was stolen.'

‘Yes, it was, wasn't it?' I replied with a bit more spirit. ‘And I jolly well mean to get it back.'

‘That's more like it.' He leaned back comfortably in his seat. ‘You're not a Londoner, are you?'

‘Good heavens, no. All I know of London are the railway stations and air terminals. I've never spent more than a night there. I come from a small village in the Dales. Nutwood is the original backwater to end all backwaters.'

‘But you like it?'

I paused reflectively. ‘ I suppose I do. I wouldn't pine if I were away from it, but you can't live all your life in one place and not become attached to it, can you?'

‘Thinking of some places, yes,' said Stephen with a grin. ‘Are there many of you?'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘Brothers and sisters, have you many?'

‘No. Just Grandma.'

He raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

‘My father left us for pastures new several years ago. Mother died shortly afterwards and I went to live with Grandma and Great Aunt Sophie. The house is huge. It was built in the days when families really were families and there were servants to be accommodated as well. Now we just live in a few rooms on the ground floor. All the rest is locked up and empty.'

Stephen groaned. ‘A place like that in London would be worth a fortune—think of the flats it could be turned into.'

‘Not while Grandma's alive,' I said, laughing. ‘The very thought would have her on the warpath. She's what is known as a formidable old lady.'

‘And Great Aunt Sophie? Tell me about her.'

‘There isn't really anything to say about Aunt Sophie. She's a spinster and has always lived with Grandma. I'm afraid she's rather put upon. Grandma takes it for granted that Aunt Sophie is there to do all her running about and treats her as an unpaid maid.'

‘Rough on Aunt Sophie.'

‘Not really. I know it sounds unkind, but she's a natural-born doormat. She would be utterly miserable if she couldn't be doing things for others. She adores Grandma, and to be fair, her life would have been pretty bleak if it hadn't been for Grandma taking her in. The arrangement is ideal. Grandma has someone to boss around, and Aunt Sophie has someone to boss her, so they're both happy.'

‘And you? Are you happy?'

‘Me? Yes, I suppose so. I haven't given it much thought.'

‘No possessive boyfriend on the scene?'

‘No boyfriend, let alone possessive,' I said, feeling suddenly shy.

‘And what do you do in this matriarchal society?'

‘Oh, I escape from it sometimes. I work in the village library, though I must admit men are in pretty short supply there as well.' I giggled. ‘Grandma was horrified when I told her Miss Brookes had asked if I would assist her there.'

‘What on earth for?' asked Stephen. ‘ I would have thought the village library the ultimate in respectability.'

‘Ah, but you don't know Grandma. She mistrusts men and is never happy if she thinks I may become what she calls a “prey” to them.'

‘In the local library!' exclaimed Stephen disbelievingly.

‘I'll have you know that Grandma regards the library as a cross between the Playboy Club and an army barracks.'

He burst out laughing. ‘ Good grief! How did you manage to escape as far as the Continent unaccompanied?'

‘It wasn't easy!' Then: ‘ She isn't quite so bad now. I've worked at the library for five years and during that time she's gradually reconciled herself to all sorts of things that would once have been taboo.'

Just then two men, wearing large leather aprons, emerged from the doorway next to Frau Schmidt's. They disappeared behind the cart, and then returned, rolling a barrel on to the ground and into the depths of the building's cellars. I watched silently, my thoughts centred once more on my missing car. When a second barrel had rolled, with a great deal of noise, into the shop, the men jumped up behind the patiently waiting horses and with a light touch of the reins the cart rolled out into the middle of the road, made a detour round our stationary vehicle, and clattered away over the cobbled stones.

I sat and stared in front of me disbelievingly. There, the wheels thick with mud, looking the dearest sight in all the world, was my old Morris. I grabbed hold of Stephen's arm excitedly.

‘Look, Stephen! It's there! That's it. My car. Right in front of us!'

I scrambled out hastily, sped towards the car, and ran my hands thankfully over the battered bodywork. The door was open and the keys were in the glove compartment. A large white envelope was propped on the steering wheel, with Fraulein Carter written across the front in a bold, heavy hand. The message was brief and to the point. Gunther Cliburn had been called away and had been unable to wait for my return. He would pick me up at eight o'clock.

‘Isn't it marvellous!' I exclaimed joyfully. ‘ I'd given up all hope of seeing it again. Apart from the dirt it doesn't even look damaged.'

Stephen, examining it closely, agreed.

I patted the faded leather seats. ‘ You were right all along about it being taken for a joyride.'

Stephen, hands in his pockets, surveyed it thoughtfully. I laughed. ‘You're looking more worried now I've got it back than you were when it was missing.'

‘Sorry.' The frown disappeared but he still looked puzzled. ‘Just seems a little odd, don't you think?'

‘Odd? Nothing of the sort. It seems absolutely marvellous.'

Whatever it was that Stephen found odd about the car's return I dismissed with a careless wave of the hand.

‘I refuse point blank to worry about the affair any more. It's back, that's all that matters to me. How and where it's been I don't even want to know.'

‘What a typical display of feminine logic. Well, whatever the whys and wherefores it calls for a celebration. How about coming back with me to Ohringen for dinner this evening?'

‘I'd have loved to, Stephen, only …' I tapped the note in my hand. ‘Gunther Cliburn says he's picking me up at eight. I'd better see him—hadn't I?—to thank him for what he's done.'

‘We've heaps of time till then, it's only just gone three. How about a drive? And a bottle of wine to celebrate the return of your car?'

I let him take my hand, and strolled with him down the sun-dappled street to buy the wine.

Half an hour later we were skimming along the tree-lined road that skirted the banks of the Neckar.

‘I know a perfect spot. That is, if you don't mind a walk,' Stephen said, as all traces of Niedernhall disappeared in the distance.

‘A walk would be nice, but don't forget I have to be back by eight.'

‘Have no fear.' He grinned. ‘ Though all's fair in love and war.'

I let that pass and said, ‘How long a walk is it to your spot?'

‘Oh, not far. About a half a mile, but it's all cross country.'

‘I see, and what's so special about the view when we get there?'

‘Nothing. Not a single thing.'

I raised my eyebrow. ‘So why …'

He grinned. ‘You're a nosey little girl, Susan Carter. Grandma ever tell you that?'

‘Not in so many words.'

‘Well, I'm not going to put you out of your misery. You'll have to wait and see why I think our destination is so special. In fact you won't have long to wait. This is where we start to foot it.'

He drove the car off the road and halted under the leafy tentacles of a willow tree. There was a slight breeze blowing and I slipped my arms into the sleeves of my cardigan before picking up the paper carrier that held our wine.

‘Here, let me take that.' He took the carrier away from me, imprisoning my now free right hand firmly in his.

Ahead of us were meadows thick with wild flowers and the ground gradually became steeper and steeper until we entered the leafy dimness of the woods. We fell silent as, hand in hand, we picked our way between the tree-trunks, the air smelling sweetly of damp earth and moss.

‘Do you believe they have souls?' asked Stephen suddenly.

‘Trees? Oh yes, and that they cry when being felled.' I pulled my cardigan closer round my shoulders. ‘No wonder ancient peoples met to worship in woods. The whole atmosphere is spirit-laden.'

‘Talking of which,' said Stephen, ‘look down there.'

I pushed the low-hanging branch in front of me to one side and gasped.

At our feet the ground shelved steeply away forming a hollow. Here there were no trees and the sun shone down brightly on the carpet of grass and flowers. In the cup of the hollow were the derelict and deserted ruins of a tiny church. Weeds and moss had grown over the scattered stones, but one wall still stood, its arched window half submerged by brambles and thickets.

‘Oh Stephen, it's beautiful. How ever did you find it?'

‘Quite by accident. I shouldn't think there are many people aware of its existence. Even Christina's father looked blank when I told him about it. Come on, let's go down. Be careful though, it's very steep.'

For the second time that day I scrambled down an overgrown hillside, though this time, with Stephen's arm for support, the experience was more pleasant. We reached the ruins in their little oasis of pasture. The dark green pines and the steep banks that enclosed us were gloomy and forbidding, but amid the riotous jungle of shrubs and creepers growing round the twisted, crumbling stones, all was light and sunshine.

Taking the one remaining wall as a guide, we traced out on the springy turf where the others had once stood; then, my back resting upon all that was left of a roughly hewn pillar, I sprinkled a few drops of wine on the ground in a libation for the Gods.

‘Heathen,' said Stephen, taking the bottle from me and raising it to his lips.

‘Appropriate though. It must have been a place of worship long before this Christian church was built.'

‘I dare say you're right,' he said agreeably. ‘They must have been a very stalwart congregation to brave the woods and that steep descent every time they came though.'

‘I expect they came from a different direction.' I looked round searchingly at the enclosing hills. ‘See, over there, it looks as if there could be a narrow gully. The church is probably quite accessible.'

Stephen screwed up his eyes against the sun.

‘Yes, I think you're right. Let's go and look.'

‘Not me,' I said firmly, leaning my head on the cool stone. ‘ I've done all the climbing I'm going to do for one day.'

‘Lazybones.' Stephen sprang to his feet. ‘I'm going for a wander round. Shan't be long.'

It was very still. I was drifting pleasantly off to sleep when something whistled close to my ear, ricocheting off the rock beside me. Involuntarily I shrank away. Then another bullet sang through the air, glancing off the rock some inches to my left. This time I screamed, and kept screaming.

Stephen hurtled out of the undergrowth, racing across the glade towards me. The firing stopped and my knees gave way.

‘What the hell happened? Are you all right?' He grasped my shoulders roughly, face white. ‘For God's sake, what happened?'

I steadied my breathing and managed a weak smile. ‘Some fool out shooting. He couldn't have seen me down here and the shots landed inches away.' I blew my nose shakily. ‘I must have scared him to death when I started screaming.'

‘You must have scared
him
!' Stephen expostulated angrily. ‘Where did the bullets come from?'

I pointed with a still trembling hand to the trees skirting the crest of the steep bank we had just scrambled down.

‘Stay there.'

He raced over the glade and rapidly climbed the ridge, then the light blue of his shirt disappeared among the ferns and dark foliage, and the afternoon was as still, as quiet, as before.

My fear had turned to anger and I hoped Stephen caught up with whoever it was. Of all the stupid, thoughtless things to do!

I lit a cigarette, wondering what poor, innocent animal the gunman had been aiming at.

A few minutes later I caught a glimpse of Stephen through the trees, then a minute later he reached the top of the ridge. He waved his hands negatively. I waved back to show I understood, then watched as he sprang agilely down the slope and over the rough scree.

‘No luck, Susan. The bastard got away.'

‘What would he have been hunting, Stephen? It's not the open season for anything, is it?'

‘Not a clue. I'd have thought the only thing he would get here would be rabbits—or the occasional tourist.'

I laughed. ‘He nearly did that all right. I've never been so scared in all my life. Between you and me I'll be very glad when today is over.'

‘I don't blame you. Is life as eventful in Nutwood?'

‘No, thank goodness.' I frowned. ‘I think that man must have been a poacher.'

‘What makes you say that?'

‘Well, if it was legal to hunt here, he wouldn't be using a silencer, would he?'

‘I wouldn't have thought so, but then I wouldn't have thought anyone would be shooting so haphazardly in the first place. Would you prefer it if we went home?'

‘I think so. It's getting late and I've Gunther Cliburn to see yet.'

‘Ah yes, mustn't make you late for your date,' he said lightly. ‘And don't forget to ask Herr Cliburn where the police picked up your car and if they intend apprehending the men who stole it. They'll have had to tow the other one away by now and I imagine they'll already have traced the name and address of the owner. I'd be very interested to know how your car was retrieved so speedily.'

‘I'll try not to be so bowled over by Herr Cliburn's charm that I forget to ask for all the details,' I said, as we began to climb the bank. ‘After all, I'm just as interested as you are.'