Dead on Cue (8 page)

Nick felt guilty that he experienced such a terrific surge of relief at the words. ‘Oh that's quite all right, Gerry. You must put your other commitments first. We want a good performance.'

‘We sure do. Bye now.'

As Nick put some bread in the toaster he wondered what ‘personal work' Gerry had referred to. And then he thought of the morris men – the Casselbury Ring troupe – and wondered if at last they were available and Gerry was fitting them into the show. He fervently hoped so.

Ekaterina woke early and was surprised to find that Gerry had risen before her and had gone downstairs. As she went along the dark corridor leading to the staircase she felt something brush against her arm but when she turned to see what it was there was nothing there.

‘Good morning, ghost,' she said cheerfully, and proceeded downwards.

The whole of the bottom half of the house was filled by the sound of extremely loud hip-hop music, shaking the ancient timbers and making the old building shudder. With a sigh Ekaterina walked along one of the two narrow corridors that ran parallel, making her way to the old servants' quarters at the back of the building. In there Gerry had converted an ancient kitchen into a kind of gymnasium-cum-rumpus room and it was from here that the music was blaring. Ekaterina stood frozen in the doorway, watching him. He was wearing combat camouflage trousers and a black vest, the habitual baseball cap rammed down hard on his head. And he was doing an absolutely hectic hip-hop routine. At the precise moment of her arrival he was wiggling his bottom at speed and then squatting down and rising up again, only to repeat the movement two or three times. Finally he raised his arms straight above his head, revealing a great deal of armpit hair, and then lowered them, palms of hands facing the unseen audience.

‘What,' said Ekaterina into the sudden silence, ‘are you doing?'

Gerry jumped and answered nastily, ‘What does it look as if I'm doing?'

‘I have no idea.'

‘I'm dancing, you silly bitch. That's what I do – hip-hop.'

‘But why now?'

Gerry mopped his sweaty brow. ‘Because I'm working out. I wanna keep fit. I don't belong to any fancy health club in Brighton.'

‘You can join it if you want to. There's nothing stopping you.'

‘Oh no? What about the money?'

Ekaterina shrugged carelessly. ‘Is your allowance too small? I can increase it if that is what you would like.'

‘What I would like is a joint cheque book.'

‘And that is what you are not going to get. I am staying in sole control of what I inherited.'

Gerry came up close to her and thrust his face within an inch of hers. ‘I think you're a parsimonious cow.'

Ekaterina stared back at him without flinching. ‘Do you really?' she said icily, and started to walk away.

A big black hand approached her face and then, thinking better of it, just as quickly withdrew.

‘You're trash,' said Gerry.

‘Has anyone ever told you how becoming you look in those clothes,' she answered coolly and, turning on her heel, made her way back into the main part of the manor.

Inwardly she was seething, thinking that this was the final straw. She had been contemplating divorce for some months but always the thought of how much Gerry was going to make out of it had held her back. But now she felt she didn't care. He could become a millionaire. It would be cheap at the price to get rid of him. For Ekaterina had not only changed in looks but also in personality. As the beautiful swan had emerged from the knives of surgeons, based in clinics throughout the world, she had at long last realized her own worth. She had felt lovely and as a result her entire life had been altered. She no longer regarded Gerry as anything other than someone who had been kind to her when she was a squinty-eyed, frightened girl. For nowadays her suspicions that he had been checking out exactly who he was marrying had multiplied. Still cold with anger she marched upstairs and slipped on some casual clothes designed for her by Valentino. Then she made up her glorious face and left the house in her snazzy sports car.

Having nowhere in particular to drive to she found herself making her way towards Fulke Castle, soon to be the scene of her husband's triumph. Or rather the hard work of the Odds would create the hit and he would take all the glory. Still furious, Ekaterina drove over the bridge and pulled up outside the castle.

The moat was sapphire blue in the morning sunshine and dotted with water fowl. Black swans with red beaks swam alongside those of dazzling white plumage, and ducks and moorhens were establishing their place with noisy quacks. Getting out of her car she saw that the trees were turning a fiery red after the warm summer and realized for the first time that the castle was built on a tiny island. Staring at it closely it seemed to her that the lovely location was like the domain of the Sleeping Beauty, a fairy-tale place with a magical quality all its own. Ekaterina drew breath as a mauve balloon appeared in the sky, its basket full of people drinking champagne. One of them waved at her and she waved back.

The oldest part of the castle was built out over the water and she noticed that up on the battlements of these ancient fortifications a distant figure was standing, surrounded by a clutch of girls of varying sizes. Ekaterina felt sure that it was Sir Rufus and she tentatively raised an arm in greeting. To her immense pleasure the man gesticulated back and indicated that she was to stay where she was. She did so, very happy all of a sudden. It took him several minutes to reach her side but when he finally arrived she saw that he was smiling broadly.

‘Hello, Mrs Harlington. I didn't expect to see you back so soon.'

‘I didn't expect to be here. But I was out for a drive and my car just led me. So I allowed it to go where it wanted.'

‘Does it often do that? Take you on magical mystery tours I mean.'

‘Sometimes,' Ekaterina answered, and thought how fine Sir Rufus looked, his hair as red as the autumn trees, his skin fresh and clear.

‘Well, now that you are here can I show you over the castle?'

‘It would indeed be a great pleasure,' she answered in her careful Russian way.

‘We'll start at the oldest part and then you can meet my daughters.'

‘That will be nice. How long have you been looking after them?'

‘Five years now. The smallest one, Perdita, was just three when her mother left me.'

‘Why?' asked Ekaterina, never wasting words on niceties.

‘She fell for a gamekeeper and moved into his cottage.'

‘Like Lady Chatterley?'

‘Just like,' Rufus answered, and they both laughed, the sound echoing off the old stones that surrounded them.

Up on the battlements his four children awaited them, going very quiet and serious as Ekaterina approached.

‘This is Perdita,' Rufus announced, and the smallest came forward and said, ‘Hello,' rather shyly.

‘And this one is Ondine. And next to her comes Iolanthe. And my eldest girl is Araminta.'

‘What beautiful names,' said Ekaterina. ‘They are quite lovely – as, indeed, are their owners.'

And it was true. Only one – Iolanthe – had inherited Rufus's red hair and striking autumn looks but the rest were also truly beautiful in their own individual ways. Araminta, who presumably took after the bolting Lady Beaudegrave, had hair a-glistening, gleaming black, and was blessed with a pair of wide, jade-coloured eyes. The other two girls were both blondes but where one was tall and languid, the other was a busy little parcel, petite and doll-like. This one, Perdita, shook Ekaterina's hand and said ‘Welcome to the castle.' Ekaterina, who had never felt in the least maternal, felt a strange stirring sensation in the region of her heart.

An hour later and they had seen over the entire castle, ending up in the Victorian part. As they had passed through the Tudor courtyard Ekaterina had noted the amazing lighting rig and sound equipment and could not help but remark to Rufus, ‘All this is for Gerry's production, I take it?'

‘You are absolutely right. I think it is going to be tremendous.'

Thinking of her husband's amazing ego and going cold at the idea, Ekaterina said, ‘I hope you are correct.'

Rufus had taken her hands in his and turned to face her. ‘I watched the last rehearsal and I can assure you that there was absolutely no hanky-panky.'

‘'Anky-panky,' she repeated in her delightful Russian accent. ‘I do not know this expression. What does it mean?'

‘Dubious goings-on,' replied Rufus, and his four girls tittered in harmony.

It was inevitable that he should invite her to join him for lunch, which they ate at a very ancient pub called The Brown Trout. The girls were all very well behaved but Ekaterina was well aware of the discerning gaze of Araminta, the eldest. Those jade-green eyes barely left her and she wondered if she was making a good impression. Once Ekaterina glanced up and caught Rufus looking at her with his bright amber gaze and there could be no doubt that she was creating an impact on him. Once again she had that strange feeling that somewhere inside her an icicle was melting.

By the time she returned home she was feeling guilty but happy and she walked into the moated manor house humming a little tune.

‘Gerry,' she called, ‘where are you?'

There was no reply but from his study she could hear the television blaring loudly. Putting her head round the door she saw him, trainers on an antique table, still wearing his smelly hip-hop clothes and fast asleep with his mouth open. Giving a deep sigh, Ekaterina withdrew to the drawing room to read
Vogue
.

After evensong Nick would gladly have slumped in front of the television but had promised Kasper that he would meet him for a pint so made his way to The Great House. Inside, Jack Boggis was relating a tale to a small man who, so legend had it, suffered extremely with poor health. And indeed the fellow was going white as a sheet as Jack held forth.

‘Trouble is that the drive to Devon gave me a terrible attack of piles,' snorted Boggis, laughing and showing pale pink gums. ‘As soon as I arrived I said to the woman I was going to see that my arse was killing me.'

The other fellow, who Nick believed was called Alfred Munn, asked in a ghostly whisper, ‘And what did she say to that?'

‘I think she was a bit annoyed because she never answered directly. But the look on her face was enough to make me die laughing.'

He took a deep quaff of ale and then guffawed so loudly that the people at the next table gave him a funny look.

Kasper rolled his eyes. ‘As if we wish to know that.'

‘You must hear a thing or two in your profession, though,' Nick remarked rather waggishly.

‘And so must you. The secrets of the confessional and all that.'

‘Quite. Anyway, when are you coming to see the Son et Lumière?'

‘The first night. Is it going to be any good?'

‘I saw a bit of the rehearsal the other evening and quite frankly I felt moist about the eye. With admiration, I hasten to add.'

‘In that case I can't wait. I shall be in the front row.'

Nick turned to Jack. ‘Excuse me interrupting your conversation, Mr Boggis, but I wondered if you would be attending the Son et Lumière that is being put on at Fulke Castle?'

‘No. I don't go to local am-drams. Don't like 'em and can't pretend I do. So that's your answer, Vicar.'

‘I'd like to go if I can find anyone to give me a lift,' piped up Alfred.

‘I'll do that,' Kasper offered valiantly. ‘I'm going on the first night.'

‘Then I'll ring up for a ticket.'

Jack turned purple but said nothing. Unchristian as it was, Nick thought him a thoroughly objectionable old bore. He turned to Alfred.

‘Thank you very much, Mr Munn. I'm sure you'll enjoy the show.'

‘I'll pick you up at seven,' Kasper added.

‘I'm looking forward to it.'

The vicar and the doctor regarded one another and neither could resist grinning.

‘Round one to us,' whispered Kasper.

‘Agreed,' said Nick – and they clinked glasses.

I
t was dress rehearsal night and all the cast had arrived early at the castle with the exception of Paul Silas who huffed in late saying that he had been held up at a business meeting. As ever, Gerry was rushing around with a loudhailer bellowing instructions at the lighting people who completely ignored him. They had been there all day and had been wonderfully looked after by Rufus's housekeeper who had kept them supplied with teas and coffees and rounds of sandwiches at lunchtime. Gerry had also been in conference with the sound man but this conversation had been ‘sotto voce' and as all the cast were busy getting into their costumes nobody had bothered about it. Eventually Gerry had produced a stopwatch and given the order to start from his position in the back row of the audience. The sound tape had come on and Rafael Devine's wonderful voice had filled the auditorium.

Paul Silas, who had just mounted his horse, was a few seconds late making his entrance but this in no way ruined the scene which Rufus, who had just slipped into a darkened corner to watch, found as moving and heart-stirring as had Nicholas. Eventually the opening spectacle went black. Then followed the next scene – the building of the castle.

The third act was set in the year 1152 and contained the whole cast, dressed as servants and church officials and starring Sir Greville Beau de Grave – played by Mike Alexander – in trouble with the See of Canterbury. The pageant changed once more and this time to the most amazing battle scene. King John was besieging Fulke Castle. There were mounted riders everywhere and two figures fighting fiercely up on the battlements. Rufus, looking round briefly, noticed that Gerry had gone backstage. But the next second his full attention was back on the action as, with a terrible cry, a body came hurtling over the ramparts and crunched on to the ground below. He half-rose from his seat, thinking for a minute that it had been real, then relaxed as he took in that it was merely a theatrical effect, that it was a dummy that had hurtled to the ground before his eyes.