Underbelly (3 page)

“
By all means, Father,” Reverend Stuart said. While his patience did feel stretched, he could control his temper and he was intrigued as to what else would be said.

“
What era precisely, please, Mrs Gregory?” Father Rossi asked.

“
Well, let me see. I’d been married and widowed so it must have been around 1890. She was only there for about a year. She heard stories and saw things. I can’t tell you what she told me, Father,” she said, worried about telling such things to a priest.

“
Please do. It’s important.” Father Rossi knew this woman was not the type to be reticent and he felt that she could have something highly significant to say.

Hazel Gregory looked down at her hands as she considered telling all. Any other secret she could tell in an instant. “She’d have my tongue,” she said apprehensively. “I can tell you about her lover, he’s long away. A queer man if e’er there was one, tried to get us all to do strange things. A right fool.”

“
What kind of things?” Father Rossi probed.

“
Weird things. This is going back 50 years, Father, even my memory isnae that good.”

“
Do you remember his name?”

“
She shook her head. “No, he didnae stay long. Doris could tell you more. She lives in Dumfries now, ne’er been back since about…’96, I’d say.”

Father Rossi looked to Reverend Stuart and asked him how far away Dumfries was, trying to make him feel useful. Hazel answered before he had chance: “About 170 miles, Father.”

Father Rossi asked Hazel for her sister’s address, which she gave to him, and he asked her for more information, promising her that whatever she told him would be private and that there would be no consequences for her. Unfortunately for a woman who prided herself on her memory, she had forgotten the details Doris had given her (at the time she had thought her sister hysterical) and it was only in later years that she had realised that Doris was right about Laura. She was a devil worshipper and her prolonged youth was testament to her pact and Hazel was cautious of saying too much, aware that Reverend Stuart couldn’t protect her. Father Rossi and Father Sciali on the other hand – maybe they could protect her, and she was more of a mind to impress them.

“
All right, Father, I’ll tell you more about her, but just you two,” she said adamantly, referring to the two Catholic priests.

Before he was asked to leave, Reverend Stuart rose to his feet and said graciously, “I’ll wait outside.”

“
We’ll come and find you at the church,” Father Rossi said, hoping to be talking at length to Hazel and loath to keep him waiting outside. “Thanks for your help so far, Reverend.”

“
You’re welcome,” he said disingenuously, questioning himself as he walked through the village. Why was he getting so uptight, so drawn into the whole affair? They weren’t even part of his church and he still desperately coveted Father Rossi’s approval – why, what possible benefit could he receive from him? He could be the most charitable Christian in deed but it made no difference if his thoughts were unchristian and he tried to control his thoughts, cheering himself up as he managed to acquire more groceries than he was supposed to and he dropped some off at Mary’s house, leaving himself with enough to cook a lavish meal for his visitors and he spent the early afternoon preparing the vegetables. He felt quite proud of himself for not giving in to temptation, curiosity inciting him to go and look at what was in their other cases, and when he analysed why he was proud of being tempted to sin he depressed himself. Perhaps his family were right and he wasn’t cut out to work in the church. He saw that other churchmen were flawed but normally with them it was just egotism, which was perhaps necessary, his flaws worse than arrogance. He prayed for a while and felt revitalised and reassured and thought of the impending wedding ceremony he was due to perform in two days time. It was only his second, the first proving surprisingly easy, the Grey wedding party only numbering about two dozen whereas the Chapman wedding party…The church would be packed to the rafters to celebrate the wedding of one of the village’s homecoming sons.

Fathers’ Rossi and Sciali did not return to the cottage until after six, at which point Reverend Stuart commenced cooking for them, having enough time to eat with them before conducting his service. He asked them if their day had proven fruitful and Father Rossi enthused that it had been invaluable. He did not go into detail of what had been said, instead just telling him where they had been. They had stayed with Hazel for a couple of hours before taking a walk and then going to see Margaret Lambert, a woman whose name had not been on the list.

“
Margaret?” Reverend Stuart said, thinking her a strange person for them to see. She was not one of the elders of the village (she was a divorcee in her mid 40s) and was not a Catholic and had no apparent connection to Laura.

“
Hazel told us about her son, Stuart. He was the best man at James Grey’s wedding.”

“
He was, but he doesn’t live in the village anymore. He’s living in France now as the caretaker for Germaine’s property.”

“
We understand that he’s the caretaker for two properties,” Father Rossi said, divulging no more. “After we had a brief chat with Mrs Lambert we went for a bracing walk and decided to leave it for the day. Will you assist us tomorrow please, Reverend?”

“
Yes,” he said instantly before remembering other commitments. “There’s a wedding on Friday and most of the guests are arriving tomorrow and I have to talk to them – the bride and her family are from the south of England so I’ve never met them and I want to go through the service with them. I wouldn’t expect them before dinner so I can help you until then.”

“
Decide tomorrow. Your schedule could be busy and we don’t want to be a burden. You’ve already been a wonderful help, Reverend, truly a godsend. You will not go unrewarded for this,” Father Rossi said solemnly.

“
I’ve really done very little.”

“
We view things differently,” he said, Father Sciali nodding in agreement, and Reverend Stuart was abashed by the praise, which meant a lot to him and gave him more self-belief which would prove useful for the wedding.

“
So you don’t mind, do you? It’ll only be for a few days; give you some company in case you’re feeling a bit lonely now the Yank and his wife’s gone,” Sylvia Chapman said in her usual booming voice, using her forceful personality to badger Laura into saying yes and making it sound like she was doing Laura a favour. She had reluctantly agreed to go to her son’s wedding when invited the previous week (she knew it would be hard to refuse without causing offence) and now found herself roped into housing the bride and her family. Sylvia had decided at the last minute that the bedrooms she had set aside for them in various friends homes were inadequate and were better suited to her son’s army friends and Laura’s mansion seemed the only place she could put them.

Laura was glad when Sylvia left. The same had not been true when Grey and Germaine had left, Sylvia’s words containing some truth. She had got used to their company, befriended the girl and formed a closer friendship with Grey, who now knew many more of her secrets, some revealed by her and some he had discovered for himself with his spirit helpers, informants who had condemned her. He had viewed her as a goddess and the revelations that she was not a goddess of the ilk of Venus or even Athena, but was more akin to Hecate or Hel, was effective in ending the infatuation. She was pleased when he finally accepted that they were not compatible, and was impressed by how well he accepted her dark past, never judging her and clearly not even considering terminating the friendship. Even the tales of her long years of assassination by imprecation, the secondary source of her great wealth (usury, which was regarded with contempt almost on a par with witchcraft, paid better), was not enough to make him condemn her outright. He would say that he was glad that he knew her now and not then, but he was never critical, though she suspected that his philosophy about learning from the past and doing better the next day was adapted from the movies, sounding very familiar to her.

He was back on his feet, his crutches ceremoniously burnt on a bonfire a week before he departed, and now he was out of her life, for a while at least, Laura telling him to contact her when they had decided what to do with the Cremont farm as she would assist them. The newlyweds wanted to find their own place in the world, Laura telling Grey that she was prepared to forgo the American tour which Germaine was excitedly looking forward to in her stead. The night before they left Grey had given her a small present,
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
. He told her that the book was the first for a new bookcase she might think about compiling and that if she wanted more to come to America to see them both, a tempting offer.

However, holidays had to wait. She had taken several trips over the last year but they were acceptable, as they were all working holidays. Researching witchcraft, meeting suppliers and those on the scene was permitted. The difference in the few years she’d been away was noticeable; most of the prominent figures had vanished from the British underground circle. According to a casual acquaintance of hers, a young gypsy named Megan, the Nazis had come in and carried them away without any difficulties. She wished that they had carried away her main rival for power (post Inge’s death) and while she knew that that was unlikely, she had still asked if Jemima Harding had been abducted. Megan’s laughter had spoken volumes – it would take more than the Nazis to destroy Mrs Harding. And more than her if she didn’t improve. Grey proved to be her best resource, and while Laura wasn’t keen on hassling him for information, as she did want him to rest, he was keen when she asked for help, and initiated communication with three witches. Two were helpful and passed on spells, keen to help a fellow witch when Grey explained why he wanted their help. The third was warped with a hatred of humanity, and men in particular, and put a hex on him which coincided with a deterioration in his medical condition. Grey dismissed this as chance, though Laura was not so sure and left him to rest and recover, searching the country for some new information, with limited success. With Grey and Germaine gone she had begun to transform the cellar into a den for black arts, and she had planned an animal sacrifice for the weekend, which she had to put on hold because of her visitors.

Reverend Stuart took Fathers’ Rossi and Sciali to see Billy Beckett early in the morning. Billy was the oldest man in the village, a sprightly 93 year old, and he was friendly to them all until the questions started. He asked Father Rossi what business he had prying in Miss Spencer’s affairs, offended for her, and when Father Rossi persisted in questioning him without answering his questions he asked them to leave.

“
I understand that you don’t know us, Mr Beckett. Would you be prepared to talk to Reverend Stuart?” Father Rossi asked, prepared to delegate to him. Billy accepted his suggestion and was glad to see the Catholic priests leave, mistrustful of them.

“
Why you in with that lot?” he said to Reverend Stuart as soon as they had left.

“
They needed somewhere to stay, Billy, and they’re good men. They weren’t trying to make you feel uncomfortable. They’ve been talking to quite a few people.”

“
Always about the same person I’ll bet.”

“
That’s why they’re here. They haven’t told me why they want to know so much about her, and I would like to know myself, Billy. If she presents a threat to our community then I think I need to know.” Reverend Stuart knew that Billy was a devout Protestant and not likely to refuse to tell him if he persisted.

“
She’s no threat, Reverend.”

“
Perhaps not. There is a secret though, isn’t there, Billy?” he said, sensing that he was holding something back.

“
Aye,” Billy sighed, unwilling to reveal it yet unable to refuse him. He told him how he remembered the supposed grandmother of Laura, aware that her tale of look-alike descendants was pure fiction and that she was the same timeless person.

“
I dinnae know her story, Reverend, whether she’s like Dorian Grey or some other manner of being but I know I believe that she does nee harm. I’ve only talked to her a handful of occasions ‘cause she stays out the way, but she’s nee bother. You know the story of the crows at the Tower of London, how if they go our royals lose their spoilt heads? It seems to me Laura’s the crows of our village,” he said, not elaborating further.