The Macbeth Prophecy (6 page)

“Oh dear Lord!” she whispered, clasping both babies to her. “Why? Why?”

“That's what I'm waiting to hear.” Philip turned to Luke.

“The Granny took them,” he mumbled. “She said as Nell needed her night's sleep and she'd bring them back in the morning. Honest, sir, we didn't know nothing.”

“Can I trust you to look after them, or shall I take them to someone who will?”

Nell was crying softly. “I'll not let them out of sight.”

“Just one thing more.” I'd never seen Philip so stern and authoritative. “Tell Granny Lee that if anything happens to these babies – if they so much as get a cold in the head – the authorities will be informed about tonight. Do you understand?”

Luke nodded, sullen but frightened, and Nell caught at Philip's hand. “Bless you for fetching them back, sir.”

“Whatever made you think they might be up there?” I asked curiously, as we went down the hill. “And what was the point, anyway? If Granny was trying to kill them it would have been better to leave them unwrapped.”

“To answer your first question, it was association of ideas. We knew that for some reason the old woman hates twins. She'd broadcast her fears sufficiently widely for both Luke and Janetta to react when they first saw us. I suppose I was thinking of that, and about primitive people either venerating twins or disposing of them, and I suddenly remembered – Benjie, was it? – who seemed to have lost his faculties after a night in the Circle. Regarding your other question, I don't think Granny was trying to kill them, but she probably reasoned it would be as well to – disarm them, as it were, before they had a chance to develop any power. If they grew up simple, the danger would be averted.”

“She put those kids out there with the express purpose of turning them into idiots?”

“That's what it looks like.”

“But Philip, that's – diabolical!”

“I agree.”

“And you're not going to report it?”

“There's no need. They'll be quite safe now.”

“Only thanks to you!”

“We found them, that's all that matters, and she won't dare try anything else.”

By the time we let ourselves into number twenty-two we were both shivering. The living-room door opened at once.

“Goodness, you are wet! Let me have those jackets and I'll dry them for you in the kitchen. Did you find the lighter?”

We looked at Mrs Earnshaw blankly for a moment, then Philip said, “Oh – yes. Yes, thank you, we did.”

“Well, that was a stroke of luck! You were so long I was beginning to get worried, but since you found it I suppose it was worth the trouble.”

Philip smiled at her and handed back the torch. “Yes, Mrs Earnshaw, it was certainly worth the trouble,” he said.

The few remaining days of our holiday were spent trying to find accommodation for our return in July which, of course, would be at the height of the holiday season. Having been in lodgings for years, we'd decided to look for a flat but Barrowick estate agents held out little hope of our finding one. We were on the point of leaving yet another office when the man we'd been speaking to suddenly said, “Hang on a minute!” and spoke into the telephone. A moment later a girl brought in a file and laid it on his desk.

“This came in only this morning and we haven't had time to type the particulars but it could just be what you're looking for: a self-contained flat at the top of a house in Ash Street. How would that appeal?”

I was already on my feet. “When can we see it?”

“Well, it's not officially on the market yet. Apparently the owner's brother-in-law and family will be there for another month. I don't know if they're thinking of letting it long-term, mind. You'd have to sort that out for yourselves. Would you like me to phone and try to make an appointment to view?” Which was how we found Rowan House. It was a tall, three-storey building in traditional Applethwaite stone and it stood in large gardens at the corner of Ash Street and Fell Lane. The Staveleys welcomed us cautiously.

“We weren't really expecting anyone so soon; we only phoned the agents this morning. Still, since you're leaving in a day or two, my sister-in-law says you're welcome to go up and have a look. It's self-contained as you can see. We had a staircase built outside, so they'd be completely independent.”

The flat, as we knew at once, was ideal. The original attic windows had been enlarged to frame magnificent views down towards the lake and the whole effect was light and airy. There were two bedrooms, a fairly large sitting-room, and bathroom and kitchen. Since the other Staveleys were emigrating to Canada they were proposing to leave their furniture which, as Philip and I had none of our own, was a further asset.

Back downstairs, we talked terms with Mr and Mrs Staveley. They had intended to let the flat for the holiday season and then find permanent tenants in the winter, but since barely six weeks would elapse between the present family's departure and our own arrival, they were prepared to hold it for us. Once again, things had gone our way.

It was only later that it struck me as strange that, with nothing settled regarding our careers, Philip and I had been confident enough of our return to pay a deposit on the flat. Perhaps, though we were unaware of either its significance or its potency, Janetta's “Macbeth prophecy” had already taken hold of us. Subconsciously, we were not prepared to relinquish the promises made.

I remember very little of the last term in Swindon, but one incident sticks in my mind since it was less than comfortable. On the day I received a letter from Mr Sedgewick inviting me for an interview, I could contain my exuberance no longer, and broke into the general conversation in the staff-room with my news.

“Isn't it the most incredible luck?” I continued jubilantly. “My brother and I will be together again, and in such lovely surroundings! It's a most attractive place, all narrow, twisting little streets and courtyards, with the lake at the bottom of the hill and the Gemelly Stone Circle at the top. And you know my passion for ancient monuments. I can potter around to my heart's content, while –”

“Just slow down a minute, Matthew,” John Dobson interrupted at last. “Are we to gather from all this gobbledegook that you intend to leave us?”

“Most certainly I do – at the end of this very term!”

“It might be kinder to be less enthusiastic at the prospect!”

“Sorry, but to be brutally frank, I can hardly wait! Philip's already applied for a post there, and I'm off for my own interview next week.”

“In other words, being brutally frank in my turn, you haven't actually landed the job yet?”

“Oh, I'll get it all right!”

“I hope you won't be disillusioned. Does the old man know of his impending bereavement?”

“Of course. I handed in my notice on the first day of term.”

“Without a definite job to go to? Haven't you heard of all the unemployed teachers walking the Embankment –”

Whatever he had been going on to say was lost for ever. Without warning, Sue Anderson, whom I'd taken out on one or two occasions, startled us all by bursting into tears and rushing out of the room.

Margaret Pearson surveyed me coldly. “Callous devil, aren't you? That poor kid's been carrying a torch for you for years. When you asked her out, she was over the moon. And now here you are, shouting to all and sundry that you can't wait to shake the dust of the place off your feet.”

“I didn't know any of that,” I defended myself. “There was never anything serious.”

“Not to you, perhaps. It was serious enough for her. The trouble is you're too damned good-looking for your own good. You've never had to worry about girls, have you? They just come flocking.”

“Oh now look,” I protested, embarrassed as much by her back-handed compliment as by her accusations.

“Can you honestly tell me there's ever been a girl you fancied who didn't come running when you snapped your fingers?”

“Well, I –”

“No, you can't!”

“Hold on, Maggie, it's not Matthew's fault if the girls all go for him. Wish I had his problem!”

The bell sounded for the end of break, releasing me from my discomfiture, but when later that afternoon I bumped into Sue, red-eyed and subdued, in the staff cloak-room, my conscience belatedly asserted itself. She gave me a watery smile and would have passed me, but I caught hold of her arm.

“Sue, I'm sorry about this morning. I –”

“You've nothing to be sorry about, Matthew. It's I who should apologize, for making such a fool of myself. It was – just the shock, that's all.”

“I didn't realize you –”

“Of course you didn't. I never intended that you should.”

“Perhaps we could have a drink together?” I asked tentatively.

“Perhaps, but not this evening.” Her control was beginning to slip again. “Goodbye, Matthew,” she finished in a rush, and, escaping from my fingers, hurried out of the door.

At least I'd tried. Putting the matter thankfully aside, I went home to phone Philip. And here another setback awaited me, and one which caused considerably more regret. When I told him of my coming interview, he replied: “The best of luck. Let me know how you get on, but I'm sure it'll be OK.”

“Let you know?” I frowned, not understanding.

“You weren't expecting me to go with you? Matthew, we're run off our feet here. A measles epidemic is in full swing, and between you and me I'm not very popular at the moment anyway. My resignation didn't go down too well.”

I tried to swallow my disappointment. “Have you heard from Dr Sampson?”

“Nothing definite. He's taken up my references and my papers are with the Cumbria FPC. It all seems to be going smoothly.”

Remembering Sue, I said suddenly, “Have you broken the news to that district nurse you were running round with?”

“I have. There were a few tantrums but we survived.”

I suppressed a smile. If I really was “too good-looking for my own good”, then so, too, was Philip.

“I presume you had similar problems?” he asked astutely.

“A few.”

He laughed. “Couple of heart-breakers, aren't we? Sorry, Matthew, I must dash. I'm on early duty at the surgery this evening. Phone me when you get back from Crowthorpe.”

His words were still with me as I started to prepare the following day's lessons, and I allowed myself a moment of self-congratulation. As usual, we'd managed to extricate ourselves from our romantic entanglements without too much trouble. Dismissing the two girls with no further qualms, I had picked up my pen when I suddenly remembered our mother's words.
A wife is something you won't be able to share.

For the first time, uneasily, I wondered what would happen if Philip and I really fell in love, and which of us would succumb first. I was aware of an immediate wave of resentment towards Philip's hypothetical wife, whoever she might be, and the unpleasant sensation lingered with me for the rest of the evening.

The long journey north was tiring with no one to share the driving, but I arrived in ample time for my interview and was taken aback to find several other men waiting in a small room next to the headmaster's study.

I'd been so sure of success that I hadn't even considered other applicants. One of them was ushered into the study as I arrived, and the others gave me a quick, furtive inspection as I sat down. From being so confident, I was suddenly panic-stricken that my application would be passed over and by the time my name was called, was more nervous than I would have believed possible.

There were three men waiting for me. Robert Sedgewick stood up behind his desk with a welcoming smile and held out his hand. “Come in, Mr Selby. I'm sorry to keep you waiting. May I introduce Mr Pemberton and Mr Williams, who represent the school managers. Now, take a seat and we'll just go through your papers.”

The interview progressed in a fairly standard manner, but my agitation had increased to the stage where I was having difficulty keeping my mind on my answers. God, what would happen if I didn't get the position? I
had
to come to Crowthorpe, and this would probably be my only chance!

“Mr Selby?”

“I – beg your pardon?”

“I was wondering if there were any questions you'd like to ask. I imagine this school is considerably smaller than where you are at the moment. Do you feel you'd be happy in such a different atmosphere, country instead of town, and so on?”

“I'm sure I should, sir. My brother and I were up here for a holiday and liked the area very much. He's hoping for an appointment here too.”

There was a pause and I surmised they were waiting for some questions. I had none; I desperately wanted the job, that was all, but I forced myself to ask, “How many children are there?”

“A hundred and twenty at the moment. We have four classes from age five to eleven, so a slight overlap is necessary – about a year and a half usually. I teach myself, of course, and there are four other members of staff.”

‘And where do the children go from here?”

“The nearest secondary school is in Barrowick. A school bus leaves every morning from the depot in the market place and brings them back at the end of the afternoon.”

I saw one of the managers glance at his watch and, feeling time run out, said rapidly, “I hope very much my application will be successful, sir. I'm sure I should be very happy here and would enjoy the challenge of a smaller school.”

“Thank you, Mr Selby. We'll let you know as soon as we have reached a decision.”

I was out in Broad Walk again and it was not yet four o'clock. I sat for some minutes in the car with the window wound right down. It was a cloudy day and rain was not far away. If only Philip were here!