Singled Out (30 page)

She broke off and stared, wide-eyed. ‘Mrs Dufferin! What on earth are
you
doing here?’

‘Duval, Rosetta,’ she snapped. ‘Madame Duval! And I’m booked in for the weekend.’

‘But … well yes, I do have a booking for a Monsieur and Madame Duval, but I didn’t realise it was you! And why on earth you want to keep hounding my poor brother like this, I don’t know!’ she added more fiercely. She turned and said, helplessly: ‘Sorry, Dante: I didn’t realise.’

‘It’s not your fault. I should have looked over the visitor list instead of leaving it all to you. Duval is the name she’s been working under recently.’

‘Working under?’ I said, realising that Dante’s hands were still gripping my shoulders somewhat painfully.

‘As a medium – seances, readings, that sort of hocus-pocus. But I’m not having any of that in my home. In fact, I’m not even having you under my roof, whatever you want to call yourself, so you can just turn around and go back where you came from.’

Monsieur Duval trotted up the steps carrying two bags like a very small packhorse.

‘Where do you want these, luv?’ he said to his wife, in accents more Liverpudlian than French.

‘Inside,’ she snapped.

‘No,’ Dante said flatly. ‘I won’t have you in my house, I’ve just said. Rosetta will ring for a taxi.’

‘I’m booked for three nights, and three nights I will stay,’ she declared vehemently. ‘If you deny me entrance, I will merely camp here on the terrace. I will not be denied! There must be one last chance to call back the spirit of my poor child … my one reason for living, my little … my little … Emma!’

Under our horrified gaze she began to turn an interesting if deathly shade of mauve and put one hand to her huge and palpitating bosom.

Dante thrust me aside and grabbed her as she began to crumple. She tried weakly to fend him off: ‘Leave me – don’t you dare to lay hands on me! Killer! Murderer!’

Her husband dropped the bags and, wresting a small bottle from one pocket, unscrewed the lid and waved it under her nose.

‘Not that – the pill, for underneath her tongue!’ Dante snapped, and the little man, looking panic-stricken, opened her capacious handbag, rummaged about and came up with a small bottle.

Dante grabbed it, glanced at the label, then shook out a tiny pill and shoved into Madame’s mouth like someone worming a particularly recalcitrant cat.

It was ruthlessly efficient, and it worked. After only a few minutes she had straightened and her colour was normal enough for Rosetta to lead her inside, with one apologetic look at Dante, who stared after them looking particularly dark and inscrutable, like Mr Rochester with a bad attitude (and a bad hair day.)

I sincerely hope there isn’t a madwoman in his attic, for although Pa confidently expects me to burn. I hope to delay the experience for as long as possible.

‘Sorry about that, lad,’ Mr Duval said apologetically. ‘We’ve only been married a couple of months – a whirlwind romance it was – so I’m not too nippy when poor Louie gets these funny turns. You must be Dante Chase?’

‘Yes, and without wishing to appear rude, I would like you and your wife out of my house as soon as she’s sufficiently recovered.’

‘Yes, but it takes it out of her, this sort of thing, poor luv,’ he said. ‘You can’t send her off like that or maybe
her
death will be on your head too … though the way she explains about poor Emma, it doesn’t seem to me you could help the poor girl dying!’

‘No, but the aneurysm might not have killed her if she hadn’t been pregnant, and she was only pregnant because she thought it would bring us back together – and I don’t know why I’m standing on my own doorstep discussing my personal history with a complete stranger!’

‘Almost your dad-in-law,’ he said, with a natural cheeriness that was bound to become very, very irritating exceedingly quickly.

Rosetta came back out looking worried. She’s gone upstairs with Eddie – she said he had a lovely aura.’

‘They all say that.’ I commented.

‘Dante, she’ll have to stay now: I can’t put her out. Perhaps she’ll be too unwell to do or say anything particularly awful?’

‘I doubt it, these attacks have never stopped her before. Rosetta, this is her new husband.’

‘Reg Bangs.’

‘Does he?’ I said without thinking.

Dante gave me an evil look. ‘You’ll have to excuse the hired help.’

‘Ha! ha!’ laughed Reg. ‘I get that one all the time! But my Louie, she likes to be called Madame Duval for professional reasons. I was Rupert Swayle myself when I was on the stage, but you can call me Reg. Now don’t you worry,’ he said to Dante and Rosetta, ‘I’ll keep Louie in line.’

‘I don’t see what she hopes to gain by coming here and hounding me like this,’ Dante said. ‘I let her hold her damn seances after Emma died because I’d promised to do it and I wasn’t going back on my word, but I’m certainly not having any of that here.’

‘I’ll tell her.’

‘Tell her I’ll put her out, heart attack or no heart attack, if she tries!’ he said harshly.

Eddie appeared, looking slightly puzzled. ‘Louie wants her stuff,’ he said. ‘This it?’ He effortlessly hoisted up two large suitcases and went back in, followed by Reg carrying an assortment of smaller bags.

‘Don’t look now, but here comes what looks like the Ghost Grabbers,’ I said as another taxi drove up and disgorged two men of that incalculable age between greying and dust, and a slender white-haired woman wearing a gold-encrusted wedding sari in a shrieking shade of pink.

‘Spectrology Group, and I’m beginning to seriously doubt that this B&B thing was a good idea,’ Dante said. ‘Rosetta, if you need me for anything – desperately – I’ll be in the west wing! I’ll see
you
later,’ he added to me, before retreating.

‘Yes, headmaster!’ I called after him, though I’m not sure he heard.
Demon
headmaster would have been more appropriate.

‘Oh dear,’ Rosetta sighed, looking after his retreating back.

So did I, but not in a sisterly manner: it was well worth looking at in those trousers.

‘I hope … well, maybe this ghost-hunting theme wasn’t such a good idea after all? Why do all our guests look such total cranks? And I wouldn’t have had Mrs – Madame – Duval here if I’d known, because she’s been haunting poor Dante and it really wasn’t his fault at all.’ she said earnestly. ‘I mean, Emma had an affair with another man when he was away on an assignment, and she only went back when he dumped her! The reconciliation and the baby were entirely her idea.’

‘Oh? Her mother doesn’t seem to see it quite like that, does she? Though I suppose it’s understandable,’ I added thinking about it. ‘Poor woman!’

‘Poor Emma, too,’ Rosetta said, ‘because she was brought up on planchettes and the supernatural and then she went and fell in love with Dante, who didn’t believe at all. There was this huge power struggle between Dante and her mother when they got married which he won, but then Emma fell under the sway of this man her mother introduced her too, another medium, and—’

Dante stuck his head out of the front door again and bellowed: ‘Cass!’

‘Coming, master!’ I called sarcastically. ‘Can you manage all right, Rosetta? Eddie will have to carry their luggage up in relays, I’ve never seen so much for one weekend!’

‘Yes, you go if Dante needs you. Eddie will be down in a minute: he’s so strong and calm and wonderful, isn’t he?’ she said dreamily

‘Is he?’ I said doubtfully, wondering if she was on the pot, as it were, too. ‘I mean, yes he
is,
isn’t he? Brace yourself, here come the Spectral Spectators!’ and hurried off after Dante towards the lonely west wing carrying my own unimpressive luggage.

He showed me to a monastic little newly whitewashed room, muttered something about work and made to leave. When I imperatively called him back he turned reluctantly.

‘A table.’

‘What?’

‘I need a table to work on. In the night. I’ve started a new book.’ I said in short, easy to understand sentences.

He gave me an evil look, but did come back hefting a small papier mâché desk a few minutes later, which although a trifle ornate seemed sturdy enough.

I thanked him.

‘The only thanks I want is for you to leave my property and putative ancestors out of any of your future mental dribblings,’ he said offensively, and went off, slamming the door to his study behind him.

I went straight after him and flung it open again so that it crashed satisfyingly against the panelling: ‘I
strongly
object to the use of the word “dribblings”. My thought processes are definitely more in the nature of a free-flowing river carrying all before it,’ I told him with emphasis before turning on my heel and marching back to my cell.

Behind me Dante muttered something which was fortunately inaudible, but it was a full five minutes before he closed his study door again: quietly. I was listening.

Charles would probably say that this weekend was in the nature of a penance for past misdeeds, and I should suffer in silence. But there might be some benefits, too, for at Least over this weekend I will have lots of time to think about
A Good Heart
while I’m haunting and soaking up the ambience. Who knows, maybe I will actually see Betsy, or some of the other colourful characters reputed to infest the place?

After all the excitement I could have
killed
a pizza, but did not think I was about to get one if it was left to Dante, who seems to have forgotten the joy of food. But shortly I would sneak down to the King’s Arms to meet Francis and could eat something there.

I hung a couple of things up, set out my pallid palette of stage make-up for later, put my notes and things on the desk, then went to offer my services to Rosetta for a while.

She was in the kitchen, distractedly rattling pots and pans.

‘This is all a big mistake,’ she moaned, wild-eyed. ‘It’s all very well managing a small hotel, but then I didn’t have to do everything myself, including unexpectedly cooking dinner for five guests!’

‘But I thought you weren’t providing meals? Send them down to the pub like Orla does with hers.’

She ran a nervous hand through her curly brown locks. ‘I thought that’s what they’d do, but Reg – Mr Bangs – says his wife is too prostrate to leave her room tonight.’

‘Well, that’s a blessing anyway!’

‘Yes, but he asked if it was possible for them to have a light meal served in their room! Soup or something. I couldn’t very well refuse, could I?’

‘I suppose not: but you don’t have to cook for the other three as well!’

‘I wouldn’t, only that weird woman in the sari – she’s the sister of the small fat man and married to the tall, thin one – overheard and said she felt quite faint from the long journey and she’d like to do the same. Then the other two said in that case they only needed a snack too, because they wanted to walk down and visit the graveyard and the haunted well later in the evening when the atmosphere would be right. Right for what?’

‘Goodness knows. Where’s Eddie?’

‘He’s gone down to Emlyn’s in his van for cans of soup and garlic bread, and more fruit to make a big fresh fruit salad.’

‘If I’d known he was going I’d have asked him to get me a pizza – I’m starving! Anyway, tell me what I can do.’

‘Could you lay the table for the two men in the breakfast room? They’re quite nice actually – Mr Bream and Mr Shakespeare.’

‘Shakespeare?’

‘Yes, but Frank, not William. Then I need to lay those two big trays ready for taking upstairs.’

‘I can do that, too. I only hope you’re going to charge them through the nose for this kind of service.’

‘I certainly am!’ she said, a martial light appearing in her eyes. Then we heard Eddie’s footsteps outside and she leapt to open the kitchen door. He staggered in laden with cardboard boxes of supplies.

There was a banana in the top pocket of his bib and brace overalls which became somewhat bruised if not flambéed by the enthusiasm of their reunion.

I removed the cartons and began to set about heating bread and soup.

‘What would I do without you, Eddie?’ Rosetta said. ‘Let me just get through this weekend and never again! But Dante’s going to be so disappointed with me when we leave next week!’

I stopped slicing bread and stared at her, baffled: ‘What do you mean, leave?’

‘I’m going off with Eddie.’

‘How can you go off when you’ve got a B&B to run? And do you mean in his van?’

‘Of course! Though actually I wondered if Dante would let us use the lodge as our base, especially in winter, so we could come back from time to time? He’ll be angry at first, but I know he just wants me to be happy. And I will be, with Eddie.’

I thought she might be being a bit sanguine about that. Another thing came to me, too: ‘Eddie, Ma and Pa are staying in the village at Orla’s, Francis brought them because they want to see Jane. That’s why I’m here already, I’m hiding.’

Eddie smiled cheerfully: but then, like all the boys, he has grown out of being afraid of Pa. And Jane, of course, never had cause to be.

‘You won’t tell them I’m here if you see them, will you, Eddie? They’re looking for Jane – they think I’ve concealed her somewhere. I’m going down to the King’s Arms shortly to see Francis and find out what’s happening.’

‘I’d come too, Cass, but I can’t leave Rosetta. She needs me … bad vibes.’ He shook his dreadlocks sadly so all the little beads clicked. ‘I’ll be glad to get her out of here after this weekend. But it’s good news about you and Dante, because Rosie won’t be so worried about him if you’re here.’

‘What about me and Dante?’ I demanded. ‘There
is
no me and Dante! What do you mean?’

Eddie gazed placidly at me. ‘Isn’t that what the auction was about? The best man won?’

‘No, you pot-smoking addle-brained hippie, the richest, most pig-headed man won! And whatever he thought he was winning, he wasted his money.’

Eddie just grinned, impervious to my insults, which anyway he has heard before.

‘I think he just wanted to buy time with you so he could get to know you,’ Rosetta suggested timidly. ‘I knew he was interested in you, only he’s been through hell, what with being a hostage and seeing his friend killed, and then finding he’d lost Emma and the baby too. It’s made him—’