Sands of Time (44 page)

Behind her, the shadow that was Lord Carstairs stirred. She did not notice.

‘Damn! Where is it?’ She leaned further across the seat. And then her fingers closed around the bubble wrap. It rustled under her touch and for a fraction of a second she drew back. Had Carstairs somehow conjured a snake to guard the bottle as he had on their boat on the Nile? Was it possible that now, here on the Orwell Bridge, there was a cobra, coiled around the bottle to prevent her from throwing it into the water? There was no snake. Almost as she thought it her fingers encountered the small parcel again. It was wedged in the far corner beneath some integral part of the seat. Gently she waggled it free, her fingers slipping on the wet paper, and then she had it. She didn’t pause to wonder why it was damp; wonder where those few drops of moisture had come from. She didn’t hear the anguished wailing from the shadows around her in the dark above the car or suspect that the guardian priests were nearing the end of their strength. Sitting up triumphantly she opened the car door and stepped out into the road. An icy wind whipped past her as she walked around the front of the car, stepped over the low metal traffic barrier and leaned against the parapet, looking down. The water was a long way below, just visible in the darkness.

Don’t do it
.

The voice at her elbow made her cry out in fear.

Don’t dare to commit such sacrilege. You will take this
bottle back to Scotland. To my house. There you and I will
make use of it as I planned all along
.

Anna stared round, terrified. The wind was tearing at her hair, her coat, bringing tears to her eyes. There was no one there. No one in sight. A lorry rattled past in the fast lane, with horn blaring, then she was alone again on the deserted bridge. The voice had not come from inside her head. It was real. External. Coming from the dark recesses of the night.

‘Who is it? What do you want with me?’ But of course she knew. Clutching the bottle she peered round desperately, trying to see him. ‘Where are you? You bastard! How did you get here?’ Terrified she turned to face the road. There were no cars or lorries in sight, no pedestrians. The road was completely empty again.

My great-great grandson proved weak and ineffectual
. The voice echoed in her head. She couldn’t see where it was coming from.
He wanted to protect you. How stupidly gallant
of him, and how convenient that you should have given him
the slip so effectively! And
, there was a short pause,
that
we should get on so well
.

How could he be speaking to her, close to her, in her ear, and yet she couldn’t see him? She turned round again, her eyes darting from left to right, frantically trying to see shadows where there were none, trying to see a figure where there was no one to see. Below the bridge the black was deeper, more opaque above the clear reflective darkness of the river. The night was suddenly very silent. ‘Go away!’ Her voice came out as a broken whisper. ‘Go away, leave me alone.’

Scotland, Miss Shelley! If you please
.

‘Where are you? I can’t see you.’

You don’t need to see me
.

‘I do. I am not getting into the car with a passenger I can’t see.’

There was a quiet laugh, nothing but a whisper in the silence.
You brought me here, Miss Shelley
.

‘If I did, it was without knowing it.’ Dear God, he had been there in the car behind her as she drove. As she stopped in the lay-by. As she dreamed. She gave a small cry of horror. ‘I may have brought you here, but I am not taking you any further. This is where it stops. This is where everything stops.’ She raised the bottle in her hand, moving towards the parapet. ‘This ends now.’

But someone had grabbed her wrist, wrestling with her, holding her arm with iron fingers. She could feel them grinding her bones, she could feel him next to her, smell the sudden waxy perfume of the pomade he wore in his hair, she could feel the enormous strength of the man overwhelming her.

But she couldn’t see him. There was no one there. She was alone on the bridge in the dark wrestling with an invisible figure. The man from her dream. He was the man in her dream. It was all coming back to her now. The smell of his pomade was filling her nostrils. It had been Lord Carstairs tearing off her nightdress, caressing her breasts. His breath on her neck. His whisper in her ear. Her face grew hot. She had wanted him so badly. She wanted him now.

Desperately she tried to wrench herself free. But he was dragging her away from the edge. Somehow he was pulling her back towards the car. ‘You bastard!’ she sobbed, struggling violently. ‘Let me go. This isn’t happening. How can it be. Let me go!’

He was stronger than she was by a long way. She couldn’t fight him. Somehow he thrust her back through the open door of the car and it closed behind her with a slam.

Scotland!
The voice was in the car with her. She sat behind the wheel panting. Tears were running down her face. Throwing the bottle down on the seat beside her she stared round the car, turning to scan the back seat. It was empty.

‘Where are you?’

There was no answer.

‘Are you there?’ She was trembling; her own voice was a whisper.

Silence.

Was he still there? She didn’t know. She could hear nothing. Smell nothing. The car was empty. Still.

‘Right.’ She put her shaking hand to the ignition key. ‘Well, in case you hadn’t realised, I am not a bloody taxi! I am not taking you to Scotland.’ But where was she going to take him? She didn’t know.

Pulling away from the kerb she was startled by the sudden blast of a car horn behind her. The first car she had seen in ages tore past in the fast lane, leaving her gasping with shock. She had stamped on the brakes and for a moment waited, her eyes closed, trying to pull herself together, until at last she managed to look up and slowly engage gear once more.

Her mind was whirling, trying to think, trying to be calm, trying to decide what to do.

I am still here, Miss Shelley!

She jumped. He spoke softly, his breath warm on her ear. It was easy to hear him above the scream of the engine.

Remember we are going to Scotland! Please don’t imagine
you can fool me. I shall know if we cease going north
.

North. She was trying to picture the map. She was heading over the river and into Suffolk. By no stretch of the imagination was she on her way to Scotland; as far as she could remember she was going east. Still towards the sea.

The car was picking up speed again. Her brain was beginning to work, sorting out her options.

A chuckle came from the seat behind her.

I can read your thoughts, my dear. A talent I always had
with women. We will turn off the turnpike at the first opportunity.
Once we get there, then we can resume our so pleasant
dalliance. But not until then, I fear
.

Anna felt the heat coming to her cheeks. ‘I don’t think so.’ She took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. ‘I am going to need petrol soon. So, my lord, I trust you understand enough about modern transport to believe me when I say we are going nowhere without it.’ Her eyes flicked to the dashboard. The needle was indeed dancing on the red. The tank was emptying fast.

There was no answer from the back.

She drove on. Ahead, the turning to Woodbridge led off the road.

Here. We will leave the turnpike here
.

She gave a cry of fear as a cold hand closed over hers. She had no choice. The car veered off the A14 and turned north.

She was past Woodbridge on the A12 when at last, in answer to her prayer, she saw a service station ahead.

Drawing up at the pumps she sat for a moment taking deep breaths. The bottle lay beside her on the seat. There was no comment from behind. Presumably her remark about petrol had somehow been understood.

She had no handbag with her. How was she going to pay for the petrol? In spite of herself she smiled. Was her unwelcome passenger going to present her with ghostly gold sovereigns to complete the transaction? Half-heartedly she leaned forward to open the glove pocket. Of course. She always left a ten pound note there, tucked into the
A-Z
for just such an emergency. And there too was her forgotten mobile phone.

She was still desperately trying to picture the map in her head. It was years since she had driven this way, but when she was married she and Felix had come up here sometimes after visiting Phyllis, heading for the coast. Exploring. Suddenly she had an idea. Aldeburgh. Somehow she must guard her thoughts. Fend him off. Keep him out of her head. She would head for Aldeburgh. There she could bring the car right up to the sea’s edge; to the wild shingle coast. And she knew exactly how she was going to convince him that that was the perfect place for them to go.

Leaving the bottle on the seat she climbed out of the car. Ten pounds’ worth was not going to get her far, but with luck it would get her to the sea. Her hands were still shaking as she unscrewed the petrol cap and reached for the nozzle. She glanced into the back of the car. It was in shadow, but there would be nothing to see anyway. Was that, she wondered, why he was seeking all this power? Was that what he wanted, to find the means to bring him back to life?

In the shop she paid her ten pounds and then ducked into the ladies. Shutting the door she stood for a moment with her back against it, her eyes closed. Had he followed her? Was he in there with her? Oh God, if she went to the loo would he be watching? She stretched out a hand in front of her. It encountered nothing. How had he done it? On the bridge, he had gripped her wrist. He had felt like flesh and blood. He had been strong. She had sensed him, smelt him.

‘So, are you there?’ She whispered the words out loud. ‘Are you so little the gentleman that you would follow a lady in here?’

There was no answer.

Had he left her then? Was he still in the car? Or was he outside the door waiting? She swallowed hard. Then she reached cautiously into her pocket for the mobile. ‘Please. Answer. Serena?’

Serena’s phone was switched off. The phone service picked up the call. Sobbing with frustration Anna left her number in a whisper. ‘I am heading towards Aldeburgh. I’m going to throw it in the sea! Serena, tell them Carstairs is with me. He isn’t in Toby any more. Help me. Please!’

15

When Serena had arrived in Lavenham at last it was after midnight and Toby was once more asleep. Phyllis led her into her kitchen where it was warm. ‘Don’t be too horrified when you see him. I hit him over the head with the poker and he’s got a terrible lump.’ She chuckled. ‘It did the trick though. Carstairs vanished!’

Serena smiled. ‘I didn’t think of that. You’re obviously a woman of action!’ She surveyed her elderly hostess admiringly as she explained who she was. Phyllis was obviously not only a very brave woman, she was also far more alert than her visitor, who after the long drive was exhausted. ‘So, what do we do? Should we wake Toby?’

They decided, on the principle of letting sleeping dogs lie, that they wouldn’t wake him yet. He too had been exhausted and he had a headache and they would achieve nothing by dragging him downstairs. After all, Anna and the bottle weren’t there and he could be no danger – or help – to her. Not now. Not tonight. Not until they knew where she was.

They didn’t have to wait long. Serena, asleep on the sofa in the sitting room by the fire, heard Toby as he stumbled downstairs. Climbing to her feet she went to meet him in the hall. ‘I heard about your run in with the poker.’ She eyed his bruise.

He nodded ruefully, his hand to his head. ‘I came down to get a drink of water. I’ve got a filthy headache.’ He followed her into the kitchen. ‘But you will be glad to hear it did the trick. Carstairs is gone.’

‘Are you sure?’ Phyllis appeared behind them. She had heard him come downstairs.

She waved her guests into chairs at the kitchen table, gave Toby a glass of water then set about making them all a pot of coffee. The cat, Jolly, was sitting in front of the Aga licking its paws.

‘I’m sure. I don’t know how, but I can sense it.’ Toby’s face was grey with fatigue and the huge bruise on his forehead was swollen. Outside it was still dark.

Serena ran her fingers through her hair. ‘You don’t think he followed Anna? After all, she has the bottle.’

‘Dear God!’ Toby stared at her in horror. ‘That never occurred to me. I thought it was me he was using. Because we were related.’ ‘It was you,’ Serena said thoughtfully. ‘But if the bottle has gone maybe he is not interested in you anymore. You can’t help him while you are here; you can’t help him unless you are with her.’

‘I wish I knew where she is. Do you think she’s gone home?’ Toby stood up and went over to the window. Lifting the curtain he peered out. There was still no sign of it getting light.