Singled Out (31 page)

‘Bitter, twisted and suspicious?’ I finished for her. ‘And I think you’re wrong – he now knows me as well as he’ll ever want to.’

‘He was a bit narked that you gave him a vampire ancestor in the book,’ Eddie said.

I stared at him. ‘What? Did he tell you that?’

‘Yes, he said: “She’s put my ancestor in her sodding book as a corrupt, bloodsucking monster!”’

‘A very attractive monster,’ I said without thinking, and Eddie grinned.

I resisted the urge to throw something at him, since I’d have hit Rosetta too, They were still partially entwined to the point where it was hard to see where one stopped and the other began.

‘If Pa sets eyes on you and Rosetta like that, you’ll be married before you can say Eternal Damnation!’ I snapped

Eddie shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter, does it, Rosie?’

‘Not to me, but it might be easier for the baby.’

‘Which baby?’ I said, losing the thread of the plot.

‘Eddie’s baby,’ Rosetta said proudly.

‘What?
Already?
Does Dante know?’

‘No – I’ve only just started it. I’ll tell him later, before we leave.’

‘But you can’t have a baby in a van!’ I protested weakly.

‘I could, but maybe Dante will let us have the lodge when we need it. And by then, maybe you two will—’

‘No we won’t. Forget it,’ I interrupted hastily. Then I had a sudden warming thought: ‘I’ll be an auntie!’

My eye fell on the kitchen clock: ‘Look at the time!’ Quickly I swirled cream on to two bowls of soup, took the bread out of the oven and arranged the trays.

‘Put Eddie down, Rosetta, and take one of these. I have to go out and meet Francis.’

Chapter 21: The Ghost Of Her Former Self

Publication date of Cass Leigh’s next novel,
Shock To The Spirits,
has been brought forward to April 20th. If it’s anything like her previous works, it will certainly live up to its title …

Book News

I walked down to the pub, but it was still early and there was no sign of Francis, just Jason eating steak and onions.

By then, having missed lunch, I was sort of past being hungry so just ordered a sandwich and picked at Jason’s chips until it arrived.

‘Where have you been? I tried to phone you earlier,’ he said, curving his arm protectively around his plate and moving it out of my reach. ‘I can only stay at the Hall tomorrow, but I thought I could drive you up there tonight anyway, and just make it clear to Dante that you’re not doing anything that isn’t on your list!’

‘No need, thanks, Jason – I’m already up. I mean, I took my things there earlier, because of Ma and Pa arriving. Didn’t Orla tell you? They don’t believe that I’m not concealing Jane in my cottage, so I thought I’d go and hide at the Hall until they give up and go. I’m expecting my brother Francis here around seven to discuss strategy.’

‘You’re already there? Then I hope you’ve made it plain to—’ Jason had begun, single-mindedly, when suddenly his brown eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open – very Neanderthal.

When I turned round all was made clear. In fact, most of Orla was made clear even to the most casual glance, because her slinky Barbarella costume was as moulded to her curvy figure as if it had been painted on. (Which I wouldn’t put past her if the fancy took her.)

The whole room went quiet, and even Charles, on looking absently up from his papers, seemed a trifle startled. Then one or two regulars leaned over the bar wolfwhistling, which seemed to break the spell.

Orla, beaming, came and sat down with us. ‘I can see this is going to be a popular outfit,’ she said happily. ‘Who said the age of curves was dead?’

‘Not me!’ Jason said, seemingly unable to take his eyes from the grand canyon of her cleavage, temptingly revealed by the partly-open zipper down the front of what could only be described as a clingy, leather-look, gold catsuit. I don’t remember Barbarella in one of those: but hell, a woman’s entitled to a little artistic licence.

‘Do you like it?’ Orla asked softly, leaning towards Jason. With the zipper that far down I couldn’t see how she’d worked the gravity-defying trick. I’d have to ask her later.

‘Like it…?’ he murmured absently, then pulled himself together and said severely:

‘I don’t think you ought to wear that get-up in public – it’s way too revealing!’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked with hurt innocence. ‘I’m Barbarella – it’s my new singing telegram personal.’

‘Are you booked to do one tonight?’ I asked. ‘Or just trying it out?’

‘Just a trial run. What do you think?’

‘Truly amazing. If you do any stag nights, though, I’d take Jason with you for protection.’

‘She’s not doing stag nights, or any other nights, dressed like that!’ he said firmly, like a Victorian papa.

‘Sez who?’ Orla demanded.

‘How about a short gold cape?’ I suggested. ‘For between the car and the venue and back again, at least?’

‘Why? Does my bum look big in this?’ she demanded suspiciously.

‘Big and curvy, like Jennifer Lopez, and it doesn’t seem to have done her any harm.’

‘Even with a cape…’ began Jason stubbornly.

‘You’re so dog in the manger!’ Orla exclaimed provocatively. ‘You’re not interested in me yourself, but you don’t want other men looking at me!’

‘Who said I’m not interested in you?’ Jason said, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. I don’t think he’d so much as glanced my way since she’d arrived.

It was all looking very promising: they were starting to bicker already.

My brother Francis walked in, glanced around, caught sight of Orla, and stood looking poleaxed, so I seized my chance to leave them to it.

‘Would you both excuse me? There’s Francis now, so I’ll just get him in a quiet corner for a little talk. Jason, shall I tell Rosetta you won’t be coming tomorrow after all?’

‘What?’ he looked up, brow furrowed.

‘I said, shall I cancel your booking for tomorrow at the Hall?’

‘Funnily enough, I’m making my first Barbarella appearance there tomorrow,’ Orla said brightly. ‘One of the guest’s birthdays. A Mr Bream.’

‘Definitely not Marilyn Monroe then?’ I said.

She shrugged. ‘My dress is at the cleaner’s – but I don’t suppose he’ll complain.’

‘I don’t expect
he
will but his wife might,’ I objected.

‘Don’t you dare!’ Jason said. ‘If you show up tomorrow night dressed like that I’ll—’

At that interesting point I had to leap in Francis’s path and head him off before he honed in on Orla and spoiled everything. He was single-mindedly transfixed: her bosom clearly held the same lure for him as mountain peaks.

Taking him firmly by the arm, I steered him to a seat some way away with his back towards her, then asked him the state of play.

‘State of play?’ he said vaguely, then gave himself a sort of mental shake. ‘Oh yes, the parents. Pa’s been round to the cottage and seen Jane’s car there, so he’s even more convinced that you’re hiding her. But I’d told him you were away, and he could see for himself that there were no lights on, and the telephone was ringing and ringing with no one answering it.’

‘Max,’ I said resignedly. ‘I might have known he wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

‘Oh? Have you broken up with him? Trust you to do it just when you could finally get married and placate the parents!’

‘Even if I had married Max, it would never have made things right again,’ I told him.

‘Maybe not. Well, anyway, then this old bat next door opened her window and started screaming at us, and singing snatches of “Men Of Harlech”, and Pa told her she was possessed by the devil and she must be a great sinner.’

‘Oh dear! Mrs Bridges
will
keep watching
Zulu,
and it always upsets her. Perhaps I ought to steal it next time I’m in her house? Or Eddie, if he goes round there to do something for her?’

‘Is Eddie here? In Westery?’

‘Yes, didn’t you know? His van’s up at the hall because he’s helping Rosetta – she’s the sister of Dante Chase, the new owner of Kedge Hall – to run her Ghostly House party. Sort of a themed country house weekend.’

Francis looked at me like I was mad but
I’m
not the one who swings about on sheer rock faces on a bit of string.

‘Maybe I’d better not mention Eddie,’ he suggested. ‘Ma would want to see him, but I always worry that Pa will have a stroke. It’s touch and go with his outbursts lately, sober or not.’

‘No, better keep Eddie quiet if you can.’

‘Jamie isn’t still here somewhere too, is he? Only Ma and Pa were expecting him home, and he never turned up. He just sent a postcard that didn’t make sense.’

‘No, he was here, but he lost his bottle and bolted. So, what’s Pa’s next move, Francis?’

‘Well, he asked me where you were, but luckily I didn’t know. But then he asked Orla. Great outfit, by the way!’ he added enthusiastically.

‘Stick to the point,’ I told him severely.

‘Right. So Orla told him you were Dante Chase’s slave for the weekend. That went down a treat.’

‘I’ll have to thank Orla for that one. What was she thinking of?’

‘Well, you know Pa – can charm the birds from the trees when he’s sober and puts his mind to it, even if he’s damning them all to hell-fire for wanton tweeting ten minutes later.’

‘True. I suppose I’ll have to forgive her.’

‘So now Ma and Pa think you’re having some kind of dirty weekend with bondage and stuff, but at least it should put them off following you up there to demand Jane’s whereabouts. I tried phoning Phily’s house again to speak to Jane, but there was no answer.’

‘Probably out having fun.
I
remember fun – I think.’ I said bitterly.

‘Orla explained to me about the slave auction. She said you were going to frighten the guests, that’s all.’

‘Perhaps you should let Pa come up, he’d frighten them even more,’ I suggested.

‘I’m hoping that I’ll manage to get hold of Jane on the phone tomorrow and then they will have to admit she isn’t here and we can all go home. After all, I’ve been away for days and I’ve got a business to run.’

‘And mountains to climb,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll give you a ring at Orla’s tomorrow and see if you’ve succeeded.’

‘Right.’ He downed the rest of his pint and got up. ‘I’d better go before they miss me.’

I fished in my bag and handed him an Extra Strong Mint. ‘Here – suck this on the way back, or you’ll be excommunicated for devil-brew drinking.’

*   *   *

Orla and Jason seemed to be having a promising quarrel, so I just slipped out and walked slowly back. I was tempted to return to my cottage for a while, since Pa’d already visited it so it should be safe; but then thought it would be just like him to sneak back later and try and catch me out.

On the way up the drive the two male Spectral Investigators, Mr Shakespeare and the Birthday Bream passed me, going the opposite way, probably heading for the graveyard and other haunts.

They didn’t see me, since I stepped into the bushes when I heard them coming. If I was going to appear as a ghost later, I thought it better that they didn’t see me by moonlight now in case it gave them suspicious ideas.

I wonder what Mr Bream will think of his singing telegram? And what will Mrs Bream think of the change of character? Marilyn Monroe is one thing, and Barbarella is quite another. Especially Orla’s version of it.

*   *   *

I went round to the kitchen, which was empty and quiet apart from the dishwasher chugging away under the counter, and Dante sitting morosely at the kitchen table with a glass of red wine and a copy of
Britain’s Most Haunted Houses.

He frowned at the sight of me and snapped: ‘Where have you been?’

‘My bondage doesn’t start until midnight,’ I pointed out. ‘But if you really want to know, I’ve been down to the pub for something to eat and to talk to my brother Francis.’

‘Oh … sorry,’ he muttered. ‘Have a glass of wine?’ He pushed the bottle towards me and I noticed that his greeny-blue eyes glittered a bit.

I held the bottle up to the light, and there wasn’t a lot in it. ‘Have you drunk all this?’

‘Yes. I needed something to take the taste of guilt out of my mouth.’ He got up and opened another bottle and handed it to me as if he expected me to drink it straight down like a wino.

‘You’ve nothing to be guilty about,’ I said, opening and shutting cupboard doors until I found a glass, because I’m not one to leave a man to drink alone – though you’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now with
this
one.

‘I have at least one outstanding guilty verdict against me, according to my delightful former mother-in-law. She’s demanding we hold a seance here – one last one – and if I co-operate and Emma doesn’t contact her she will give up and leave me alone.’

‘So what did you say?’

‘That I wouldn’t do it. I’ve already done everything she asked me, even though I knew it was all dangerous nonsense. But Reg – who is an inoffensive little man, too good for her – is afraid she’ll work herself up into a full-blown heart attack if I don’t agree. And I suspect she’ll try and hold one secretly anyway, even if I refuse.’

‘I share your feelings about seances and that sort of thing, though probably for different reasons. But maybe it would be worth it just to get her off your back once and for all?’ I suggested. ‘Hopefully, no harm will come of it, but if it does, we’ll get the vicar to come in with bell, book, and candle and sort it out.’

‘I said I’d sleep on it, in the end,’ he said, running his fingers distractedly through his dark hair. That was probably as close to being combed it had come to for some time, and it all instantly sprang back into a wild mane anyway.

Getting up he poured us both more wine. It was good stuff.

‘Have you been in the cellar again?’ I asked, but unfortunately my innocent remark brought a reminiscent glint to his eyes, and also seemed to remind him that he had a grievance or two against me.

‘I’m afraid so,’ he said gravely. ‘And neither of us will be doing much sleeping tonight. Or tomorrow night.’

‘Oh?’ I stared at him, my glass halfway to my lips. ‘We won’t?’