The Macbeth Prophecy (5 page)

She gave a little shiver and looked up at me. “Did I say that? I don't remember.”

Her eyes met mine unwaveringly and to my frustration I saw that she was speaking the truth. There was nothing to be gained by further questioning.

Luke Smith had now also emerged from the caravan, evicted, no doubt, by Philip. He didn't approach us, nor we him. He squatted down by the shafts and began to roll a cigarette. The shrieking from inside was by this time almost continuous and I could feel the sweat breaking out along my hair line. Presumably there was no means of anaesthetizing the poor woman. The toddlers we had seen before began to whimper and Janetta bent to soothe them.

“There now, don't cry. Mammy'll soon have a new brother or sister for you.”

They could only have been one and two years old themselves and obviously understood neither the commotion nor the explanation. I took out my handkerchief and embarked on a long-forgotten trick of twisting it into the shapes of various animals. The babies were enthralled, and Janetta too.

Time crawled by and I had begun to wonder whether the screams or the inexplicable silences were the harder to bear, when at last came a short, sharp shriek, followed almost at once by the cry of the newborn. I stood up, unknotting the handkerchief, but my relief was short-lived. Another cry reached us, and immediately a flood of screeching invective broke out, jerking Luke Smith to his feet and sending him hurrying back up the steps. Janetta and I, appalled, stood staring towards the caravan. The abuse continued unabated and at full volume for some minutes until Philip, pale and dishevelled, appeared in the doorway and came slowly towards us.

There was a strange expression on his face which I couldn't interpret. As he reached us a sudden fear grasped me. “She's not – she didn't die, did she?”

Janetta gave a little gasp and fled towards the caravan. Philip shook his head. “No, no. All's well. Very well, considering. It was a particularly nasty breech birth and there was nothing I could give her except some cheap alcohol. It had to serve as disinfectant too. God, the place was crawling! If she doesn't get puerperal fever it will be a miracle, but come to think of it that's where she's had her other confinements.”

“Then what on earth was –”

“The tirade, brother dear, was because I delivered Nell of twins. Identical twin boys,” he added heavily as I stared at him. “And the sweet, white-haired old lady accused me of – well, malpractice isn't quite the word. Witchcraft would be nearer the mark.” He drew a deep breath. “She insisted that until I arrived there had been only one baby in the uterus and by my charms I'd split the foetus in two for my own wicked purposes! Tell me, Matthew, are we or are we not living in the late twentieth century?”

“But she couldn't have believed it, surely?”

“She's not enamoured of twins, that's for sure. And to have some turn up in her own family – that was too much. Look out, here comes the proud father.”

Luke was shambling towards us rather shamefacedly. “I'm much obliged to you, Doctor. You musn't mind the Granny, she's set in her ideas. But – well, we can look after Nell ourselves now. There's no call for you to come back, like.”

“She ought really to go to hospital.”

He looked alarmed. “There's not summat you haven't told us?”

“No, no, but she needs rest after that ordeal, and the strictest hygiene. That really is essential, both for her and the babies.”

“Aye, well Nan'll see to it. She knows what to do.”

“And you want me to stay away, is that it?”

He hung his head. “There's no call to drag you up again.”

“I presume it was your own doctor you were setting out to fetch? As a courtesy I'll have to let him know.”

“Ain't no need. We don't trouble him for the babbies, only when someone's ill and herbs ain't working.”

Philip sighed. “Very well, but if she shows signs of fever –”

“If need be we'll get Dr Sampson, aye.”

And with that, Philip had to be content. Thoughtfully we made our way down to the village. “Despite what he says I'm going to contact the surgery,” Philip remarked. “I don't want anything on my conscience.”

“So Crowthorpe has another pair of twins.”

“Yes.” He gave a short laugh. “You should have seen them. Lying there squawking away, with their black hair and scrawny little bodies, they looked just like a pair of crows themselves!”

We stopped at a public call box and Philip found the doctor's number in a tattered directory which hung on a string. I waited outside, reluctant to hear the medical details of Nell's confinement.

“Sounds a nice old boy,” Philip announced as he rejoined me. “We're invited round for drinks before dinner – nineteen, Caldbeck Rise. Know where that is?”

“It'll be on the street plan. We're doing well, aren't we? Supper at the vicarage, drinks at the surgery!”

“At least I feel better now I've off-loaded poor Nell. It won't be any hardship dispensing with a return call up there.”

Dr Sampson and his wife were a pleasant couple in their sixties. To our relief, his only comment on seeing us was, “Twins, is it?” We'd become more than a little self-conscious of the relationship since coming to Crowthorpe.

“Not thinking of settling up here, are you Selby?” the doctor enquired suddenly when they'd finished their discussion. “You're just the sort of chap I'm looking for. Finding it too much for me now, all on my own. Decided I'd better take on a junior partner before I'm too old to shape him to my ways.”

“He works far too hard,” put in his wife anxiously. “I've been telling him for some time he should take things more easily, but it was only this last winter, when he had bronchitis, that I persuaded him to approach the FPC.”

Philip looked across at me, his eyes shining. “I suppose there aren't any staff vacancies in the village school?”

The doctor seemed surprised at the change of subject. “I believe there will be,” he replied, “in September. I was talking to Bob Sedgewick the other week. Why do you ask?”

For a long moment Philip and I looked at each other. Then he said slowly, “In that case, Doctor, I might well be able to help you. I've a feeling there'll be yet another pair of Crowthorpe twins before long.”

“You mean that? You were already thinking of settling here? My dear chap, that's splendid news! Of course, the correct procedure will have to be followed, but as Dora said I've already been in touch with the FPC and they admit this area is under-doctored. Subject to the usual references and so on, there shouldn't be any problem.

“And your brother's a schoolmaster?” He turned to me. “I imagine Bob will be more than interested. He's not had much response to his advertisement, he was telling me. He's on holiday at the moment, but if you were to write to him I'm sure he'd send you all the details.”

He leant back in his chair and regarded us benevolently. “It's beginning to look as if these positions were tailor-made for the pair of you!”

Which was exactly how it had struck me, and I was less than sanguine about it. It was all too neat, too convenient, the way the wheels had turned. I said as much to Philip when we had left the Sampsons and were walking down the hill for our evening meal.

“But why fight it?” he replied. “We've always wanted to get together again, and this gives us the chance. I was fed-up in High Wycombe; you were in Swindon. And don't forget we've been promised unlimited powers here!”

“That's surely not what decided you?”

“No, what clinched it was when I realised, back in that filthy, stuffy little caravan, that there were two babies waiting to be born. It seemed an omen, somehow – fate, that a twin should be instrumental in delivering twins. What's more, if I hadn't been there I doubt if either they or their mother would have survived. Old Sampson certainly couldn't have got there in time. He told me he was at one of the outlying farms all afternoon – he'd just got back when I phoned.”

“I suppose Luke was grateful enough for your ministrations, but he wouldn't have accepted you if there'd been any choice. I didn't care for that sign he made when he first saw us.”

“No, it was a bit off-putting. Odd how superstitious people still are. I remember reading that ancient civilisations considered twins to be very powerful. Some venerated them, and others left them out to die. I wonder which way the Romanies were inclined.”

“Do you realize that a week ago there were only two pairs of twins living here, and now the number's about to be doubled?”

“Perhaps that's why it feels so right for us. Eve said there have been twins in Crowthorpe for centuries. If you remember, that's why it caught your attention in the first place.”

We'd reached Lake Road and turned into a pub in the market place that we'd noticed earlier. It was called, fairly predictably, the Crow's Nest, but neither of us referred to that. There was quite a nautical air about it – fishing nets draped on the wall and an elderly-looking salmon mounted in a glass case. In the tiny dining-room behind the bar we did full justice to a home-made steak pie and when we'd finished, took our beers through to the public bar. We were curious to inspect the people who would soon be our neighbours, though how many in the small crowded room were Easter visitors it was not easy to assess. No-one came to talk to us, but they nodded across in a friendly enough fashion and we were satisfied.

A light drizzle was falling as we started to walk home and the air was quite chill. Spring wasn't in any particular hurry that year and it was still only mid-April. I was glad to reach the dry warmth of the boarding house and we went straight upstairs, pursued by the sound of the Earnshaws' television. Philip had moved to draw the curtains when he stopped suddenly, his hand still gripping the cheap material.

“What is it?” I joined him quickly, thinking he'd seen something in the street below, but it was empty. He let his hand drop and turned to face me.

“What did Eve say about that gypsy child, the retarded one?”

“That he'd spent a night in the Circle and it – I think the phrase was ‘addled his brain'. Why?”

“Come on!” Philip moved suddenly, catching up his jacket again and pulling open the bedroom door.

“We're going up there. I want to check on those babies.”

“Now? But good God, Philip –”

He was already clattering down the stairs and as I hurried after him, I heard him knock on the living-room door. “Sorry to trouble you, but have you such a thing as a torch? I must have dropped my cigarette lighter outside somewhere and I should hate to lose it.” Philip, the non-smoker.

A torch was produced amid exclamations of concern and minutes later we were hurrying along Upper Fell Lane. Automatically I turned up the path we'd come down that afternoon but Philip tugged at my sleeve and hurried me past the opening.

“We're going to the Circle first.”

“Philip, are you mad? You said you wanted to see the babies!”

“Bear with me, Matthew. I'll explain later.”

The rain was heavier now and we didn't speak as we made our way over the uneven grass of the hillside. Philip kept the torch trained on the ground immediately ahead but even so I stumbled and wrenched my ankle. It was slightly lighter up here, the huge arc of sky a paler purple than the land below, and the last quarter of the moon only just behind the clouds.

The stones loomed, blotches of darkness against the sky, and despite myself I felt a clutch of apprehension. Who knew what mysterious rites had been enacted up here in the primeval past? Surely such a wealth of worship, sacrifice and bloodshed must have left some trace behind?

Philip stopped and, head down, I bumped into him. “Now what?” I said irritably, to mask my nervousness.

“Now,” he answered grimly, “we're going to search this place inch by inch.”

“Are you ready yet to tell me why?” There was an edge to my voice, and he turned, his hand contritely on my arm.

“Sorry, I thought you were with me. You nearly always are. I want to satisfy myself that the babies aren't here.”

“Here? How could –”

“Let's just look, shall we?”

It was impossible in the semi-darkness to see far ahead and I envisaged that our search would be a lengthy one. We embarked on it methodically, flashing the beam of the torch round the base of each stone before moving onto the next one, and had inspected about a dozen when Philip suddenly lifted his head.

“My God,” he said softly, “I was right!” He set off into the centre of the Circle and the faint sound which had alerted him reached me too – a tremendous cry. I think my eyes picked out the paleness of the bundles a second before the torch found them, and I stood by Philip in the cold wet darkness, staring down for the first time at the Smith twins. Philip knelt quickly beside them, feeling the temperature of their skins.

“They haven't been here long, but these shawls are drenched. Get your jacket off, Matthew. Here, take this one.”

Gingerly I accepted the shapeless bundle, disentangled its soaking wrapper and, following his example, enfolded it in the bulky tweed of my jacket. In less than ten minutes we were hammering on the door of the Smiths' caravan.

It took a while for Luke to open it, his eyes gummed with sleep, but at the sight of what we carried he came instantly awake and fear crossed his face. Behind him a child, disturbed by our knocking, began to cry and a woman's voice called, “What is it, Luke? Not the coppers?”

“Not this time, Nell.” Philip brushed past Luke and strode over to the untidy bed where she lay. “They may well be here in the morning, though. Can you tell me how your newborn babies came to be out in the rain in the stone circle?”

She gave a cry, reaching to lift the child Philip had laid on the bed. Silently I relinquished my own charge and reclaimed my jacket.