The Macbeth Prophecy (18 page)

She stood up suddenly, dropped her book on the sun-lounger and looked about her. All at once she was tired of the pool and the comatose brown bodies surrounding it, and, in search of something more interesting, set off across the gardens towards the gateway on Lake Road.

In the market place opposite, a coach had parked and its complement of tourists in shorts and open-neck shirts was spilling across the road towards her, making for the iron-topped tables in front of the Pavilion café. Their offspring meanwhile crowded round an adjacent ice cream kiosk, eager hands reaching up to the counter.

Tania hesitated. She had no destination in mind, but not wishing to be caught up in the crowd she turned off the footpath and made her way diagonally across the grass bank down to the lake. Queues were forming at the public jetty and she stood for a moment or two watching in amusement as the inept mariners scrambled in and out of their unaccustomed craft. Behind her, a voice said quietly, “Good afternoon.”

She turned quickly and to her surprise recognized one of the men who had been in the bar their first evening.

“Good afternoon.”

“I hope you're enjoying your holiday?”

She met his eyes, green-brown and oddly probing, and felt a tremor of excitement. “Not particularly.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. Though we can't compete with the south of France, we're rather fond of our little village.”

She shrugged. “It's pretty enough, I suppose. As to the south of France, that's precisely where I shall be in a couple of weeks.” He inclined his head with a smile and she had the absurd notion that that was why he'd mentioned it. Except, of course, that he couldn't possibly have known.

“Have you been out on the lake?”

“Not yet.”

“Like to try it? It's very pleasant drifting over the water on a hot afternoon.” As she hesitated, he added, “Perhaps I should introduce myself. Philip Selby at your service. Doctor of that ilk, and most respectable, I assure you.”

She smiled back, warmed by the obvious admiration in his eyes. “I don't doubt it. Is your brother a doctor too?”

“No, one in the family is sufficient. Matthew's a schoolmaster.”

“Really?” That might interest Jason.

“So what do you say, Mrs Quinn? May I take you sailing?”

“I'm not sure my husband would approve.”

“If he leaves you unattended, he has only himself to blame. What could possibly drag him away from you on an afternoon like this?”

It was no business of this stranger's what Jason was doing, but to her surprise she found herself answering, “He's trying to arrange accommodation for the rest of the summer.”

The change in her companion was startling. His head snapped up and the lazy flirtatiousness faded from his eyes.

“But – what about the south of France?”

“I said I'm going. Jason prefers to stay here. He's gone to see a place called Rowan Cottage, and if –”

“Rowan – my God! Are you telling me Jason Quinn is thinking of taking Rowan Cottage?”

“What if he is?”

Philip Selby took a deep breath. “Sorry. It's just that my brother and I have a flat in Rowan House.”

“Oh?” She waited but he appeared to think this was sufficient explanation for his reaction. The intent eyes were still on her face, though he was trying to speak lightly.

“He must have a very good reason for staying here instead of going abroad with you.”

“He wants to write,” she said briefly. Dr Selby appeared more interested in Jason than herself. As though reading her thoughts, he smiled placatingly.

“Then he'll have plenty of time to sail if he wants to, but you won't. Please come with me. I think you'd enjoy it.”

But his lapse had disturbed her and she was no longer willing to spend an hour or so in his company. That he'd envisaged a pleasant afternoon's dalliance was obvious. How had Jason described handsome men – narcissistic?

She snapped shut the case of her sunglasses with a little click. “I don't think so, thank you. I'm going back to the hotel for tea.”

“Can't I persuade you to have it with me at the Pavilion?”

She shook her head. “Jason will be expecting me. Goodbye, Dr Selby.”

He gave her a rueful bow and she walked away, leaving him looking after her thoughtfully.

That little exchange had proved useful, even if it had not turned out as he'd hoped.

Jason was indeed waiting for Tania, ready to report the success of his negotiations.

“All fixed,” he told her. “I'll go back to London with you for a couple of weeks, then Rowan Cottage is mine.”

“How long for?”

“She didn't say definitely. Five or six weeks, I gather. Perhaps longer. She's getting well paid for the privilege of having me, but it's worth it from my point of view.”

“As it happens, I've some news for you, too. I met an admirer down by the lake.”

“Oh?”

“One of the Greek gods who was here the first evening. His name is Dr Philip Selby and he was considerably put out to hear you're staying on, especially when I mentioned Rowan Cottage. He and his brother have a flat in the house.”

“Is that so? I wonder why my plans should concern him.”

“Furthermore,” she added deliberately, “the brother, Matthew, is a schoolmaster.”

“Here? At Crowthorpe?”

“I didn't ask, but I should think so.”

“Well done, my love! What else did the handsome doctor have to say?”

“He did his best to persuade me to go out in a boat with him. I'm pretty sure he had designs on me, for all he insisted he was respectable.”

“And you didn't go?”

“I don't oblige every man who asks me, Jason!' “But the sexiest you've seen in so long?”

“Yes, well I changed my mind. I didn't particularly care for him at close quarters.”

“His loss is of course my gain,” Jason said gravely.

She looked at him sharply, but his face was inscrutable. “Suppose you stop making clever remarks and order some tea,” she said.

“You're going back?” Ted repeated incredulously over the phone. “When?”

“At the end of the month, when the cottage is vacant.”

“What does Tania think about that?”

“Tania isn't coming.”

“Ah-ha!”

“No cryptic comments, if you please. I liked the place enormously and an idea for a play developed while we were there. I shall be able to lock myself away, and apart from food at regular intervals there'll be no-one to disturb me. Added to which, since the play will be based in a similar location, all the local colour will be to hand. The arrangement couldn't be bettered.”

“And what will your pretty wife do while you're away?”

“She's planning a holiday, which will fill in most of the time.”

Ted thought it wise to change the subject. “I presume you went to see the Circle?”

“Not only that, I found your twins
in situ
.”

“My God! You were taking a chance, weren't you? I trust they didn't put the influence on you?”

“No, but they weren't particularly forthcoming. Incidentally, they're not the only twins we came across.”

“Oh yes, those two at the pub. It's unnerving, isn't it? Can't be good for business – you automatically think you've had too many!”

“What pub? What are you talking about?”

“The Crow's Nest. Isn't that what you meant? The landlord and his blind brother?”

“No, it isn't. Don't tell me there are
three
pairs. I find that hard to believe.”

“I don't know about that, but the two I saw gave me the willies, especially the blind one. Mind you, I was edgy by then anyway, after my experience on the hill. I didn't see a third pair, though. Who were they?”

“A doctor and a schoolmaster. According to Tania, they were perturbed to hear I was going back.”

“I wonder why.” His voice sharpened. “A school master, did you say?”

“Precisely. Could be the sender of the note. I certainly intend to find out.”

“Jason, be careful. There's something not quite right about that place.”

“I dare say, but with due respect I don't go along with all that mind-bending rigmarole. If they're up to something, and they could well be, it's very much of this world, believe me. A drug ring, perhaps. If poor Patsy what's-her-name stumbled across it, it would be sufficient motive for murder.”

“But what about my amnesia? You can say what you like, those gypsy boys were behind it.”

“Oh come on Ted, you imagined it. All right, so you had amnesia. People do, from time to time.”

“
I
don't,” Ted retorted. “And those kids
were
responsible; I'd swear to it. Look, mate, you're a substantial part of my meal ticket. I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“Such concern! As it happens, it's your meal ticket I'm thinking about, in the shape of my next play.”

“Don't force us to produce it posthumously, that's all!”

“My God, you are a ray of sunshine! You've been telling me to take it easy and relax, and when I try to do just that, and write a bit at the same time, you're full of the croak of doom. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, I assure you.”

 

Ted was sufficiently anxious on Jason's behalf to try to enlist Penelope's help.

“You know what an obstinate devil he is,” he told her. “I wish you'd have a go at him.”

“My dear Ted, he won't take any notice of me. He never has.”

“But you must know how to get through to him! Hell, you were married to him for ten years!”

“Being married to Jason,” Penelope returned dryly, “simply means sharing his bed and his dining table. He doesn't allow you to know him any better than his television audiences do.”

“Then you won't try to dissuade him?”

“I can't, and to be perfectly frank, I don't know why you're making so much fuss anyway.”

Ted sighed and reluctantly changed the subject. “Are you going to the Lamberts' party? I can give you a lift if you like.”

Had Jason needed convincing that he should get away from London for a while, the Lamberts' party provided the final proof. Marcia Lambert was known as a celebrity-hunter, and everyone who was still in London in late June was invited to join in her frenetic pursuit of enjoyment. It was therefore inevitable that Derek Paterson should be among the guests. He and Tania had received glowing notices in the play they'd just finished, and Marcia was not one to withhold such an invitation out of consideration to another of her guests. Jason knew, tiredly, that under the laughter and brittle chat, curious eyes were watching the three of them. Deliberately therefore he sought out Derek's company.

“Hello, Jason.” The younger man looked slightly apprehensive, as well he might. “I hear you're off to the Lakes again.”

“And you to France.”

“I – yes, that's right.” He cleared his throat. “The grapevine has it you've a new play in the pipeline.”

The grapevine no doubt being Tania, Jason reflected ironically. “I hope so, yes. I'm going native to give it a chance to burgeon.”

“And Tania's deserting you, isn't she darling?” Lydia Marsh slid a long bare arm round his neck. “Any openings for a willing slave girl to attend the maestro?”

“I'm grateful for the offer but I already have one. Plain, over fifty and guaranteed not to distract me!” He bent his head and brushed his lips over Lydia's eager mouth. “If you were there, my sweet, I'd never put pen to paper!” Two, he thought, could play at that game.

He disentangled himself from her clinging arms, nodded to the rest of them and walked over to replenish his drink. Then, seeing the open window and the dark garden beyond, he went outside and stood leaning on the parapet accustoming his eyes to the darkness. “Jason?”

“Pen. Come and join me.”

“That was an uncharacteristic performance. It's not like you to indulge in flirting.”

“Is that what it was? It just seemed the right dialogue for that particular scene.”

“Lydia's all a-twitter and your wife is not best pleased.”

“Won't hurt her to be on the receiving end for a change.” He drank from his glass. “God, Pen, is it always like this or is tonight particularly bad?”

“The social whirl? I'd say this is pretty standard.”

“Can you tell me why we put up with it?”

“I, because beneath all the froth they are real people in there and I happen to like them. You –” she shrugged. “Perhaps because despite your high-flown contempt, you enjoy being lionized as much as the next man.” She paused. “Is all this soul-searching a result of having had a breath of God's clean country air?”

“Could be.”

“You're determined to go back?”

“I can hardly wait.”

“Ted's worried about you for some reason. He was telling me a fantastic story about twins and stone circles.”

“The ingredients for my new play.”

“But based on fact?”

“Based on Ted's flights of fancy, actually.”

“You found nothing up there to substantiate them?”

“Obviously there
is
a stone circle and there
are
twins. It's his interpretation of them I don't accept. However, there might be some connection with the girl's death. Ted's afraid I could get myself knocked off and there'd be no more commission coming his way.”

“That's hardly fair.”

“No,” he agreed, “I'm sorry. You'd love Crowthorpe, Pen, though I'm afraid poor Tania was bored out of her mind.”

“Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”

“We were just talking about you, Ted. Pen's been adding her words of warning to yours – possibly at your instigation. I can't imagine what you're both so bothered about.”