Authors: Trisha Ashley
‘When loads of people started to turn up, me and Kat went out for a look,’ Jake said when he returned next morning. ‘There were cars right up the lane and parked along the road for miles.’
I was glad I hadn’t known that the night before, because I would have been worried about him! ‘You didn’t get too close, did you?’
‘No, we just stood back and watched as people burst into the cottage and started partying. Mann-Drake and his guests were in the barn by then, but he must have heard the noise because he came out, saw what was happening, then ran back inside. Then some of the revellers got into the barn the back way and suddenly he and his guests all came running out of the front, half naked. It was the funniest thing! There were reporters and a local TV crew there by then, and they got the full-frontal effect.’
‘They were
half naked
?’ I repeated.
‘Well, they all had thin, wrap-around silk robes on, but it was clear there was nothing underneath, because
it was a pretty breezy evening,’ he said, with a reminiscent grin.
‘Didn’t the police try and stop it? I heard sirens.’
‘A load of police cars arrived, but that was latish, after we’d gone back to Kat’s house. Your friend David and some of his mates rang the doorbell and wanted to come in, but Kat’s mum wouldn’t let them any further than the driveway, because they were barefoot and in robes and looked as if they were out of their heads on something.’
‘How awful! But you can’t blame her, can you? What did they do?’
He shrugged. ‘There was nothing they could do, except hang about until the police got rid of the gatecrashers, which took quite a while, and then they all went back to the cottage. Most of the cars had gone from the lane this morning, so I presume they got home in the end.’
‘So it’s all quiet again now?’
‘Yes, though the cottage has been well and truly trashed. I saw that policeman, Mike Berry, on my way back this morning and he told me. Mann-Drake had to spend the night in a hotel, so let’s hope he found some clothes, first.’
The whole village was abuzz with the news and Mann-Drake’s party not only made the newspapers, but also got onto local TV – a brief shot of the guests running from the barn, including Mel and David, their thin silk robes clutched about them, eyes wide. The cameraman had rather focused on Mel…
Apparently the damage to the interior of the cottage was so bad that the renovations were all to do again. It was to be hoped that Mann-Drake’s house and contents insurance covered damage by uninvited and mainly off-their-heads
visitors, though it didn’t sound as if his guests were in a much better state.
Oh, David, I thought, what
have
you been up to?
I met Felix and Poppy in the pub right after the Parish Council met to discuss it.
‘I feel a bit deafened,’ Poppy said, sinking into her seat with a sigh of relief. ‘The meeting was in the vestry because the drain problems were being fixed at the village hall, and Mr Lees played fugues on the organ really loudly all the way through!’
‘That up-tempo version of “The Girl from Ipanema” as we were leaving was a bit of a turn-up for the books, though,’ Felix said.
‘He does seem to be lightening up sometimes,’ Poppy agreed. ‘Look at the Beatles medley he played after the protest meeting in the village hall! It must be Raffy’s influence.’
‘Did you see the TV coverage of Mann-Drake’s party?’ I asked.
‘Or
un
-coverage, in Mel Christopher’s case,’ Felix said with an unbecoming smirk, and I gave him a look.
‘Mike said he had to wait for reinforcements before trying to get rid of the gatecrashers and it was only much later, when the guests could get back into the house, that they found several items including their wallets, were missing.’
‘Yes, I heard a bit through Jake. He and Kat watched most of it happening and David and Mel tried to take refuge at Kat’s parents’ house, only her mother didn’t like the look of them and wouldn’t let them in.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Poppy. ‘I heard the cottage was such a mess that Mr Mann-Drake and his chums had to spend the night in a hotel, and they left for London this morning.’
‘Let’s hope he doesn’t come back,’ I said.
‘That’s what Hebe Winter said. She hoped his failure to extort money from the householders on the Green or make a killing from property developers, combined with having his home wrecked, would give him a distaste for Sticklepond.’
‘I should think it might well!’
‘She’s got one or two more tricks up her sleeve if he comes back,’ Felix said. ‘The water supply to Badger’s Bolt is from a spring and the pressure isn’t good, but it used to be even worse until the last owner illegally diverted a stream into it. Now the Winters have discovered the original plans for a Victorian water garden on the estate just where the spring that feeds that stream surfaces and have decided to restore it, so I’m afraid the supply at Badger’s Bolt will soon be a trickle again.’
‘When Mann-Drake called in at the cottage to look at the damage in daylight before he went back to London, Mr Ormerod – the farmer next door, whose son was invited to the party – had a slight accident with his slurry spreader and the whole front of the cottage was sprayed with it,’ Poppy said.
‘You can’t blame him for being mad,’ Felix said, grinning. ‘Several fences were broken down last night too, and some cattle got out onto the road.’
‘What happened about the slurry?’ I asked.
‘Sluiced off with a water tanker later,’ he said. ‘But the smell lingers: muck sticks!’
Grumps was collected for the next Re-enactment Society meeting by Laurence Yatton and his sister, Effie, and brought back by Hebe Winter herself, in her white Mini.
I can’t imagine how she can get behind the steering wheel in a farthingale, unless perhaps she has a hooped petticoat
that she slips on once she arrives. But it would be
lèsemajesté
to enquire.
Grumps was in very good humour and seemed quite convinced that Mann-Drake was well on the way to being repelled, though he put that down almost entirely to the efforts of himself and his coven.
When you live with someone with a sense of humour like Jake’s, you wake up on April Fool’s day with the certain knowledge that at some point he will fool, surprise or amaze you – or even frighten you half to death.
This year he’d outdone himself, because when I opened my eyes there was the most enormous spider sitting on the pillow by my cheek. Being still half awake, I gave a bloodcurdling yell and leaped out of bed.
The scream didn’t wake Jake up but
I
did, by shaking him ruthlessly. ‘How could you do that? I nearly died when I saw that huge spider!’
‘Realistic, isn’t it?’ he said, with a sleepy grin.
‘Very – but did you have to put it on my
pillow
? I could have had a heart attack.’
‘I didn’t put it on your pillow,’ he said, looking at me as if I was mad.
‘Yes you did!’
‘You’ve been having a nightmare – mine’s in the bath.’
I wasn’t sure I believed him, but when I checked there
was
a huge rubber spider sitting in the bath, so I made him get up and look in my bedroom, but of course by then there was no sign of the first one.
He was just saying, ‘There you are, I told you you imagined it,’ when out it sidled from a fold of duvet. It was big enough to saddle.
Of course I screamed again and ran out, but when Jake asked me a minute later to open the bathroom window I did, then watched from a safe distance as he tossed the invader out.
‘I don’t know how you can touch them with your bare hands,’ I said with a shudder. ‘Now, remove the one from the bath, too!’
He was hoping to catch Kat out with it later, and I only hoped she gave him hell when he did.
Easter was rushing towards us – and so was the opening day of the museum. The Easter period is generally a time of big celebrations with Grumps anyway, because he says it’s really all about the Saxon fertility goddess, Eostre, and that’s where the rabbits and eggs come in, too. One of the pamphlets he’d written for the museum dealt with the subject and of course it formed part of the display showing the overlap of Christian and pagan festivals.
That afternoon, just as I was about to go through into the museum to help Grumps, David knocked at the cottage door, all repentant and shame-faced.
‘Hello, Chloe. Can I come in?’ he asked humbly. ‘I’ve come to say I’m sorry I didn’t listen to your advice about the party, and made such a fool of myself.’
He looked so miserable that I had to let him in, though I was finding it hard to keep my face straight, after all that media coverage.
‘That picture of you running out of the barn with Mel made most of the dailies as well as the local paper and TV. It must have been a quiet night for other stories,’ I commiserated.
‘You can’t imagine how hideously embarrassing it’s been – and still is, Chloe! I don’t know how…I mean, I’m not
excusing
anything, but I’m
positive
there was something in the
drink we had after dinner, before we went to the barn for the ceremony. Then Mann-Drake passed another large cup of something round and we were all supposed to drink from it in turn. We shared one of those Far Eastern pipe things, too.’
‘Like a hubble-bubble?’ I said helpfully.
‘My memories of what happened immediately after that are a bit hazy, but by the time the gatecrashers arrived, things were getting a bit…’ He petered out, flushing.
‘Uninhibited?’ I suggested.
‘Well, yes, I suppose so,’ he admitted. ‘But as soon as I got out in the cold air, my head cleared and I felt stupid without my clothes.
Mel
persuaded me to put the robe on,’ he added resentfully, ‘and then when we could finally get back in the cottage, my wallet had vanished and all our clothes had been piled up in the middle of one room and…rendered unwearable.’
‘You mean they
peed
on them?’ I asked incredulously, not having heard about that.
‘We needn’t go into it,’ he said hastily. ‘My car keys were still there, fortunately, so we could get home. It’s lucky for me that Mel came out much clearer in the pictures than I did. They seemed to focus on her.’
‘Didn’t they just!’
‘Only a handful of people have recognised me – but that’s enough! Rumours have got about and people are talking.’
‘It’ll all die down soon,’ I said soothingly. ‘If anyone mentions it, deny it’s you.’
‘I already have. But I just wanted to ask you to forgive me for being so stupid and to tell you that I’ve learned my lesson. I’m obviously running with the wrong crowd these days and if I’d listened to you, none of this would have happened.’
‘But of course I forgive you – there’s nothing to forgive,’ I said lightly. ‘And I’m sure you’ll make it up with Mel too.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said shortly, so clearly she had spectacularly fallen out of favour, though I wouldn’t bet on her not being able to win him back round, if she wanted to.
Then he smiled at me, kissed my cheek and said, ‘You’re kinder and more generous than I deserve – and I know you didn’t really mean it about us seeing less of each other, it was just because I was being stupid with Mel. But now—’
I heard the door to the museum open behind me and then Raffy called tentatively, ‘Chloe, are you there? Your grandfather wants to know—’
He broke off on seeing David, and the two men eyed each other. Feeling glad of the interruption, I said, ‘Have you met? David Billinge, Raffy Sinclair, our new vicar. Now, if you’ll excuse me, David, I promised to help Grumps in the museum this afternoon.’
‘Yes, of course, and – we’re friends again, aren’t we?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ I said, ushering him out and closing the door with a sigh of relief.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ Raffy apologised, then added darkly, ‘and I wish it was as easy for you to forgive
me
.’
‘I
have
forgiven you – I
told
you so,’ I insisted, but he was so deep in his guilt trip that I could see he still didn’t believe me and thought I was just being kind. ‘Did Grumps send you to fetch me? And what are you doing here? Poppy said vicars are run off their feet at this time of year!’
‘We are, but your grandfather felt a sudden urgent need to discuss an aspect of the pagan/Christian significance of Easter, though I can’t stay much longer.’
‘Had any luck with the donkey for the Palm Sunday
procession?’ I asked as we joined Grumps in the museum, and Raffy grinned suddenly, more like his old self.
‘Apparently the donkey isn’t compulsory. I hope you’ll all come and join in the procession. I’m going to say special prayers over the plague pit.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ Grumps said, and I wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. I never am.
Raffy didn’t stay much longer but it was clear that I was going to have to take some positive action to show him that I really do forgive him, I’m not just saying it, or he’s going to be wallowing in guilt for ever.
So after dinner, while Jake was upstairs in his room playing music too loud and allegedly doing coursework with Kat, I got out the two halves of the large angel I’d made with the leftover chocolate from the taste test, the one with the added va-va-voom.
I wrote a message on a slip of paper, put it inside and stuck the angel together with a little melted chocolate. It wasn’t tempered, but then, I didn’t expect the angel to stay in one piece long enough to start showing a white line round the join.
Then I called up the stairs to Jake and Kat that I was going out and not to do anything they shouldn’t. (Why
did
I keep saying these pointless things?) I wasn’t sure that they heard over the music, but they were unlikely to miss me anyway. I put on my coat and set off for the vicarage.
I intended leaving my angel of peace, in its special gold box, on Raffy’s doorstep. Ringing the front doorbell and running away seemed like the best plan, then he could digest both the chocolate and the message on his own.
I went the front way to the vicarage, so I could check that there was no sign of Raffy before I nipped up the drive and left the angel in the porch.
Unfortunately Maria Minchin must have spotted me, because she bounced out of the front door just as I’d put down the box and rung the bell, ready to dash away. She’s a big woman and it didn’t reassure me that she was brandishing a rolling pin. I had to remind myself that it was her brother who had murdered someone, not her.
‘Just as I thought!’ she declared. ‘What is it
this
time? A cake? Goulash? Sausage rolls? Anyone would think I’d starved the last vicar, but let me tell you, he died of old age and not my cooking!’
‘No, it’s not…I haven’t…’ I stammered, taken aback by this onslaught.
And then Raffy’s deep voice, behind her, said, ‘What is it, Maria?’
‘Another damned fast-food delivery and I’ll not have it
in
my
kitchen!’ She pushed past him and then the door to the kitchen wing closed with a reverberating slam.
‘Chloe?’ Raffy said, surprised to find me on his doorstep. Then his eyes dropped to the gold box at his feet.
‘It’s something for you, and I was just going to leave it when Maria got the wrong idea.’
‘So I heard.’ He picked up the box. ‘Is it chocolate?’
‘Yes. You gave me an angel, so I thought I’d return the compliment and I happened to have a large one already moulded, so…’ I shrugged, and would have turned away except he reached out a long arm and more or less dragged me in, shutting the door behind us.
‘No, you don’t,’ he said, examining me curiously in the hall light. He was not looking particularly vicarish tonight, since he was wearing jeans and a plain sweatshirt…In fact, he looked much more like the old, once-familiar Raffy, from dishevelled dark curls to bare feet in heelless Moroccan leather slippers, which was quite disconcerting.
He drew me through another door into a small, warm room at the back of the house, which seemed to be a combination of den, library and music room. A guitar leaned against a bookshelf and there was a piano in one alcove with a heap of handwritten music cast down on top of it.
‘Take your coat off,’ he said absently, opening the gold box and looking down at the dark chocolate angel inside.
‘It’s a peace offering,’ I said, but I didn’t take my coat off since I wasn’t stopping.
‘But why?
I’m
the one who needs to make peace, not you.’
‘Yes, well, when you’ve quite finished enjoying the little self-flagellation trip you’re on, you might like to read the message inside,’ I suggested. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
‘No, wait!’ he said as I turned to go. ‘Look, I’m sorry—’
‘So you keep saying!’
He ran both hands through his hair distractedly, pushing it back off his face.
‘Look
, please
, Chloe, sit down while I read my message: all right?’
‘I suppose so.’ I took my coat off and sat reluctantly right on the edge of the sofa, which was low and squishy, with a kelim cover.
‘It seems a pity to break this lovely angel,’ Raffy said, but he did, then read the message inside aloud, his face inscrutable.
‘“Get over yourself, you prat! We were both young and stupid and it didn’t help that Rachel was a lying cow. We’re two entirely different people now, so let’s see if we can manage to be friends – OK?”’
He looked up and his long, mobile mouth twitched at the corners. ‘That’s not exactly poetic, but I think I’ve got the message,’ he said and then came to sit down next to me.
‘Before we bury the subject for ever, can I just say that I always meant to go back for you? I truly loved you,’ he said. ‘I should have believed in you, whatever Rachel said.’
‘And I should have believed in you too. But I did want the baby, despite everything.’
‘Oh, darling!’ he said softly, pulling me into a warm, wordless hug, and I cried into his shoulder for ages, while he held me. I suppose I’d bottled that particular grief up for so many years, it was bound to come out sooner or later.
After a bit, feeling better, I sat up and mopped my face. ‘I think we need to eat the angel, now,’ I said, reaching for the box. ‘It will make us both feel
much
better.’
I have a strong belief in the therapeutic power of good chocolate.
‘Will it?’ he said doubtfully, but he still ate the piece I passed to him and then another. We munched in a cathartic and companionable silence.
‘You make
great
chocolate,’ he said after a while. ‘I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to ask you to make some for me, for ages.’
‘You want some Chocolate Wishes?’
‘Not exactly Wishes. Poppy told me you made Easter eggs for Jake when he was little, with messages inside.’
‘Yes, it gave me the idea for the Chocolate Wishes in the first place.’
‘Wasn’t celebrating Easter a bit anti-pagan?’
‘I never said
I
was a pagan – I’m nothing at all, though having never been christened and Grumps being a warlock, I’m probably barred from the Church for ever.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so.’
‘Anyway, there’s nothing much Christian about chocolate eggs, is there? Especially if you listen to Grumps!’
‘Yes, he did rather rub my nose in the whole Saxon goddess of fertility stuff this afternoon, though it was just a coincidence that the Christian Easter fell at the same time of year as the Eostre festival. But about Easter eggs…’
‘Oh, I don’t make them now Jake’s grown up, or only a few big ones filled with truffles for my nearest and dearest. It makes a change from hearts and angels.’
‘Yes, this angel obsession of yours seems a bit out of keeping with your upbringing, somehow, Chloe.’
‘Actually, if you read Grumps’ history of paganism, they do sort of tie in together. Anyway, I’ve got a guardian angel, so I know they exist.’
That confession sort of slipped out and surprised me: it wasn’t the sort of thing I usually talked about, because people would think I was as mad as a box of frogs.
‘Have you?’ Raffy said, looking interested rather than amazed. ‘So have I! Mine first appeared to me one night when I was on tour with the band and at a low ebb. He scared the shit out of me.’
‘
He
did?’
‘Yes, he seems to be male.’
‘Mine’s sort of female…but not scary.’
‘I don’t suppose you’d done anything to be scared about, like I had. His message was to clean my act up, or else. I’d grown out of the rock-and-roll lifestyle bit by then anyway, so I did, but life seemed hollow, somehow – a bit like your Chocolate Wishes, only with no message inside.’
‘You said that was the
first
time you saw him?’ I asked curiously.
‘Yes, he came back, much later. I’d seen sense and done what he’d told me by then…but the other three band members didn’t. You remember Nick?’
‘The tall, fair one, played the bass guitar?’
‘Yes. He died of a drugs overdose, leaving a young family. And then, the night after his funeral, the angel turned up again and…well, this time it was my Road to Damascus moment. I saw what I needed to do, what I had to give – and then the right path just opened out in front of me: the one leading to ordination.’
‘I bet that was a popular decision with the rest of the band!’
‘You’d be surprised,’ he said soberly. ‘Nick’s death was a real wake-up call, and by then they were all marrying, settling down and having families. Life on the road is disruptive.’
He looked at me, eyes serious. ‘But we’ve gone a long way from what I meant to ask you, which was if you would make me some chocolate eggs with special messages inside them, so I can have an Easter egg hunt in the churchyard early on Easter Sunday morning?’
‘It isn’t long until Easter,’ I objected.
‘I’ll even pay for extra moulds, if you need them.’
‘I’ve got moulds…though I’d need more if you wanted a lot of eggs.’
His turquoise eyes locked with mine. ‘Please, to show you’ve really forgiven me in your heart, will you do this for me?’
‘I suppose I
could
,’ I conceded. ‘And they had better be milk chocolate because most of the children won’t be used to the dark stuff.’
‘Whatever you think,’ he said, smiling warmly at me.
‘I’ll wrap them in coloured foil, but if it rains they’ll have to go into little cellophane bags and I’d have to charge you extra for those.’
‘Fine. I’ll print out the messages to go inside and bring them over at some point. I’m going to make some Easter rabbit footprints here and there on the flowerbeds that morning too, for the children to find.’
‘Won’t you need a rabbit for that?’
‘Only a rabbit’s foot, and Effie Yatton says I can borrow her lucky kilt pin if I get desperate.’
‘But you might get it dirty!’
‘Yes, I’m hoping to find an alternative. And, Chloe, since you are making the eggs for the hunt, I would love it if you also helped me to hide them too, early on Easter Day.’
‘What,
me
? I’ve never even been in the churchyard!’
‘Haven’t you? Even just from a historical perspective the church is well worth visiting and the churchyard is like a
potted history of the local families, with some very interesting inscriptions.’
‘Yes, Jake said.’
‘There are several lovely angel monuments – you really should see them. And you said yourself that you’re not a believer in anything in particular, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t go into the church, is there?’
‘Granny used to go to services occasionally, but I always felt there was too much of Grumps’ influence in me, and if I even went in, then the tower would crumble, or the windows implode, or something.’
He laughed. ‘I don’t think much of your grandfather’s influence
has
rubbed off on you – and
I’m
the one things fell on, angels and all.’
I flushed guiltily, even though I didn’t see how Grumps could have pulled any of those incidents off. ‘Zillah went to your first church service, didn’t she? She isn’t in Grumps’ coven, though she used to take flasks of hot tea when they met in the open air, just like Granny did, to thaw them all out afterwards.’
‘Really?’ Raffy looked fascinated.
‘Grumps is a naturist, not up to anything kinky – he just thinks you can get closer to the essential powers skyclad. Granny never minded, though she put her foot down when he wanted to initiate Mum, and later me, into the coven, and I did the same for Jake. Luckily he’s just fascinated and interested in magic from a scholarly viewpoint – he wants to do a history degree.’
‘So am I, and in the way religions sort of weave together – or the good elements do. It’s only man who reinterprets any of the religious teachings to cause harm or misery to others.’
‘Aren’t we suddenly swimming in deep waters?’ I asked.
‘Not really, I’m just trying to prove that there’s no reason why you shouldn’t help me with the Easter egg hunt.’ He gave me a serious look. ‘Unless, of course, you really hate the idea and if so, I’ll stop badgering you.’
‘You aren’t badgering me, but I’m sure some of your myriad new fans among the parishioners would fall over themselves to help.’
‘I think my novelty’s wearing off, though they have all been very kind –
too
kind, some of them. You saw how Maria feels about all the food people keep giving me. She thinks it’s a reflection on her cooking skills.’
‘How
is
her cooking?’
‘Fairly dreadful, but it usually falls just this side of edible. I’m wondering if there’s a tactful way of sending her on a cookery course.’
‘Poppy said the congregation is still a lot larger than it used to be with Mr Harris, though nowhere near the crowds you first pulled.’
‘It’ll be down even more when they realise how boring I really am, but not as far as it was before, I hope.’
‘
You’d
stop attending if every service opened and closed with an organ fugue,’ I said. ‘Poppy told me all about Mr Lee, and sometimes even I can hear him, if the wind is in the right direction.’
He laughed. ‘Oh, he’s great! I told him I thought fugues were fine for when everyone is arriving – providing it isn’t a wedding – but I thought we needed to lighten up when they were on the way out again, and he took it on board. It helped that he used to play the organ at Blackpool Tower ballroom at one time.’
‘I didn’t know that! But Miss Winter will probably go
with that, so long as you don’t play the guitar and get people to clap. She nearly had Mr Merryman run out of the village on a hurdle for doing that.’
‘I don’t play the guitar in public, only here, when I’m writing music – I still write songs for other people.’
For I moment I thought bitterly that that had been the story of my life since we parted, listening to songs he’d written for other people. Then I caught myself up: no more looking back.
‘If I do the Easter eggs, you have to do something for me,’ I said, picking out the last shards of chocolate from the box and handing him the angel’s feet, while popping a wing tip in my own mouth.
‘What’s that?’
‘Come to the Falling Star with me and Poppy and Felix tomorrow,’ I said.
‘What time do you call this?’ Jake demanded when I went home, striking a pose like an irate Victorian papa and curling an imaginary moustache. ‘I took Kat home ages ago. We ate all the cheese, is that OK?’
‘Yes, I’ll get some more tomorrow. And I was just delivering an angel. To the vicar.’
‘I would have thought he’d already have a monopoly on those,’ he said, but he looked strangely thoughtful.