Tableland (25 page)

Brimcup surprised me at work today by coming out with some very impressive statements – is it a result of his change of daily newspaper? He banged his fist down on my desk, saying darkly, ‘We live in a hierarchical-structured society, matriacal figure oriented. The key factor, backed up by field research, is a lack of multi-use artifacts in recreational facility. Case histories in point have been established and structured by a confrontation with those suffering an identify crisis.'

I asked him to repeat it as I didn't seem to understand a word and he did so and I was no better off.

‘You must get into this parlance,' he advised, ‘or you'll be left behind. Don't forget the silicone chips.' Felt depressed by all this – perhaps I am suffering an identify crisis.

Had a job starting the car this morning – it must be the damp weather. Will give it a thorough inspection this weekend.

Beginning to wonder if my heart is really in beekeeping.

Photo this morning in the local paper of Diane Butt receiving yet another trophy and crown with a big smile. And the caption underneath reads, “Pensioner Wins Crate of Whisky in Raffle.”

Went to cinema in Liverpool to see thriller which Trev has been wanting to see for a long time. Found a place to park quite easily and was pleased to see only a small queue. Reached for my money and discovered I hadn't enough. Julie had only 25p and had to borrow £1 from Trev. He keeps his money in a small sporran, hung round his neck on a piece of string and under his shirt.

It took quite some time to extract the £1 note and I could sense disapproval on faces around as I grabbed it. Someone said, ‘Shame.'

Unfortunately, just when I had managed to put certain awful suspicions, which shall remain nameless, behind me, blaming them on an attack of flights of the fancies, the story line of the film triggered them off again.

There were these five old army pals, one of whom went A.W.O.L. and had a fling with the wife of one of the others. Well, the upshot was he was hunted down and stabbed in the back, not once but four times by each in turn, so that no one person felt he had struck the fatal blow. Crafty.

‘He deserved all he got,' they said.

The name of the game, so far as I could see, was loyalty with a capital L, like the three Musketeers, “All for one and one for all”. Isn't the Wheelers' motto along those lines, something about sticking together “through thick and thin”?

Wouldn't a combined assault on Les Crow, whose unpopularity knew no bounds, be seen as a public service? And who am I to question the deeds of others? Who was it who said, “Cast not the first stone”? (Or was it “brick”?) In other words, in all honesty, is it really any of my business?

Rose at what I thought was the usual time and discovered later that the clocks had been put back. This confused me all day although there was an extra hour for working on the car. Checked the plugs and battery and gave her a good polish.

Noticed Scott cleaning his small red Japanese Datsun with the names SCOTT AND DAWN pasted over the front windscreen.

It is late as I write this – 11 pm but it is really midnight.

Julie met Nina Price-Potter at the butcher's this morning, who asked her if we are going to the Hallowe'en safari party. Luckily Julie was non-committal and said something like, ‘We hope so.'

‘We will probably be bringing Geoff Savoury along with us,' Nina had said and this is another reason why I am eager for an invite. Perhaps he will remember his promise to put me in touch with Sir Robert McPennine.

Still no word from Steve re membership but hope springs eternal.

Car would not start this morning. Was just starting to walk to the station when Scott and Dawn hailed me and asked if I'd like a lift. Dawn got into the back and I sat in the front by Scott.

‘It dawns on me that I'm sitting under your name,' I quipped. Felt people were smirking as they drove past and was glad to reach the station.

Just about to leave the house for our beekeeping session when Steve materialised with a walking stick, limping heavily.

‘Don't forget the safari on Saturday night, folks.'

Had just about given up hope so could hardly believe my ears. However, this seemed to be rather short notice. Didn't wish to appear ungrateful so just said, ‘This is a sudden surprise.'

‘We talked about it the other evening – when you brought that delicious chutney over.' He must be feeling his old self again.

‘The venue is chez moi 6.45 and the idea is that we go to various Wheelers' homes – a different course of the menu to be had at each – hence safari. Savez?'

I got the general sort of idea and we went off to our class with Steve's words “masks optional” ringing in our ears.

There was an apology to Diane Butt in the local paper this morning. Under a photo – “Chartered accountant weds physiotherapist” – was a line saying, “The caption under the photograph on page one last week which read ‘Pensioner Wins Crate of Whisky in Raffle', should have read ‘Diane Butt does it again!' Our apologies for any inconvenience caused.”

Had almost forgotten about the school funraising event in all the excitement and anticipation of the safari. Crowded into the school hall in the afternoon and found the toy stall over in a corner crushed between “Household Goods” and “Plants and Vegetables”. Thought our efforts had been somewhat undervalued catching sight of them on a large tray marked “Anything on this tray 15p” but I suppose it's all in the name of a good cause. Noticed some Guy Fawkes masks so bought a couple for the festivities.

Afterwards, took dog for a walk in Barton Woods and something happened which has brought back only too clearly all my previous fears.

Eric chased after another scruffy mongrel, taking no notice of our shouts, and we saw nothing more of him for about half an hour. Eventually caught up with him in the dusk by the edge of the quarry. Trev said, ‘Don't shout at him Dad.' To be honest, I was so relieved that we'd found him, plus the fact that if I'd shouted, he'd probably have run off again, that I didn't. Putting him on his lead, I noticed he'd been sniffing at a scrap of material – torn, grubby and crumpled, but the pattern, even in the fading light, looked familiar. Can't swear to it but feel sure it was the same as the red scarf worn bandit fashion by Les Crow the night of the War Games. It was in Eric's mouth by this time but I pulled it out to get a better look. Before I could, however, Julie snatched it away and shouted, ‘Put that down, you don't know where it's been!' She threw it over the quarry, where it fluttered away out of sight.

Was annoyed by this, together with the fact that Julie insisted I wash my hands in a strong solution of disinfectant on our return home. Now smell very strongly of Dettol as we are about to venture forth on safari. She'd been wearing gloves so it's alright for her.

Feel justified in writing up the events of last night tonight as it was well past midnight when we arrived home.

Arrived at the Downes' on the dot of 6.45, Trev having departed for Craig's house with an old sheet, which he promised not to tear in his hauntings.

Felt it might be a possible chance to do a little detective work (and wasn't far wrong as it turned out) and see what I could sniff out, as it were, though at this stage, wasn't quite sure how. I only knew he'd been gone (and I say “gone” in the widest sense of the word) since the beginning of September and, so far as I could see, his whereabouts were a mystery no one could give a fig about solving. On the face of it, there's a complete indifference. Can't pretend that I cared for Les Crow but he can't have been all bad… perhaps, to quote Julie, “there was an unhappy childhood”. Felt suddenly compelled to discover Les' fate. I had to know one way or the other.

Anyway, these thoughts and my determination to get to the bottom of this business occupied my mind as I gave the Wheelers gathered in Steve's lounge the “once over”. Suddenly the old bonhomie took on a more sinister meaning as Steve, dispensing hot brandy punch and comic moustaches and hats, shouted, ‘Eat, drink and be merry, tomorrow we die.'

Doing a bit of harmless guesswork in the safety of my own home was one thing but seeing them gathered together in the flesh, so to speak, was quite another and I felt a sudden chill – even shivered. This was seen by Nev, who said, ‘Someone walk over your grave?' Everyone seemed to close in on me as they laughed and felt relieved when Una appeared with a postcard for each couple giving the schedule for the evening's jollification in a very organised way:

With the addresses in each case.

We prepared ourselves for an evening of culinary splendour and, sticking on my false moustache, I resolved to put aside my dark thoughts for the duration and enjoy myself.

With military precision, we set off at 7.10 for the Dugeons'. The night being very cold and frosty, we felt a little loth to leave the Downes' central heating but looked forward to some hot soup, perhaps, at our next port of call.

‘Can we give you a lift?' I asked Steve and we got into our car which was a little slow to start.

The chilled grapefruit segments which Ken Dugeon had prepared personally, Janice still being on her course, were beautifully served but as Julie whispered, “not very seasonable”. However, the promise of a real gourmet delight was in store for us at the Blades' house. Boeuf bourginon was rumoured – no one had ever actually been there but, Una told us, ‘They've just had a model kitchen incorporated into their conversion and I can't wait to see it. I gather Trisha Blade has won prizes for her cuisine.'

We were all shivering by the time we left Ken, who hadn't bothered to turn up the heating for such a short time.

‘It'll be warmer in the car,' I said and so it was after several false starts.

‘Whereabouts do the Blades live?'

At half-past eight we were still wondering.

‘These country lanes all look alike at night,' I said as we pored over an inadequate map which I'd found in the front locker. ‘The main problem is, I don't even know exactly where we are at this moment in time.'

It was definitely getting foggy by now and the car heater didn't seem to be working well.

‘The house is called Upper Bradstocks,' said Julie unhelpfully.

‘We shouldn't have taken the left turn at that garage – I knew that was a mistake,' Steve announced. I concentrated hard on the map. ‘Let's try the right fork here.'

Easier said than done, however, as the car refused to start.

About ten minutes later, after cleaning the carburettor, we were mobile again and crawling along in the fog.

‘Isn't that the Price-Potter's car?' Una shouted excitedly as we were dazzled by some headlights. ‘Quick, don't let it out of your sight!' The Fiat overtook us at quite a speed, so I put my foot down on the accelerator and we managed to tail it for a mile or two. We found ourselves back on the busy main road presently, where the fog seemed to have cleared, and in the light of the street lamps, Una declared firmly, ‘Oh sorry, it isn't the Price-Potter's after all.'

Thoughts of a huge tureen full of meat bubbling in a rich savoury gravy haunted us.

It was now past nine o'clock and we all felt cold and ravenously hungry so decided to cut our losses and hastened to the Spicers' for sweets, due to start at 9.15, encouraging ourselves with thoughts of hot apple pies and treacle tarts.

‘Hello – you're early,' Ron Spicer greeted us cheerily. ‘Not that it matters – Brenda has had to go and visit a friend in hospital so she left all the sweets ready beforehand in the fridge! What'll you have?' he asked as we followed him into the lounge. We have a whole range of ice creams in the deep freeze – chocolate, rum and raisin, coffee, vanilla…'

Others arrived shortly after us and to our surprise and relief had the same story to tell as ourselves, i.e. no one had been able to locate the Blades' abode. Some had gone home and cooked themselves a quick egg and chips – others told of how they'd come across a nice little pub with a roaring fire and only the thought of Brenda Spicer's sweets had made them leave the cosy inglenook.

Only Ken Dugeon never turned up and was never seen again that evening. We could only suppose he had been successful in finding Upper Bradstocks and had been pressed by the Blades into consuming great quantities of boeuf bourginon as it became increasingly obvious that no one else would turn up.

Coffee next, I thought. At least it'll be something hot, although I couldn't help feeling annoyed that the Gropes had managed to get in on this. After all, he is no more a member of the Round Wheel yet than I am.

‘We can walk to our next port of call – get the circulation going,' said Steve brightly and he and Una set off at a slightly unsteady but brisk pace despite the limp.

‘Where to now?' Julie asked although I think she was past caring. She was shivering and giggling at the same time and it was then that I had my brainwave. With a bit of rubber on the end of my propelling pencil, it took no more than a second to erase the amendment to the coffee venue. I said, ‘We're off to the Crows.'

She sank back into the car seat and gave one of her loud laughs. ‘But we can't…' she started to say, then I saw by the street lamp that she'd closed her eyes.

‘Yes we can and don't go to sleep on me, I can't remember how to get to Spinney Hey Close.' Pulled my woolly hat on and wound my red scarf round my neck to keep out the chill.

A chance to do a bit of investigating, I thought, although I didn't have anything firmly in mind at this point.

The car started first go and we found Melrose quite easily, despite Julie's directions.

I pressed the doorbell firmly while trying to encourage Julie, slumped against the porch, to keep awake. A light in the hall was switched on and, through the frosted glass, I could see someone approaching. Then the door opened slowly and Anita peered round. She looked for a moment as if she'd seen a ghost. Then, catching sight of Julie, she took a grip on herself and said, not sounding too pleased, ‘Well, what do you want?'

Julie half opened one eye and said ‘Coffee.'

I tried to peer into the hall but Anita stood there barring the way.

‘It's the safari,' I said, holding out the card for her to read.

She snatched it out of my hand and gave an unpleasant laugh, ‘You must be joking,' she said and slammed the door in our faces.

The noise quite startled Julie, who clutched at my arm. There was no doubt about it, Anita was agitated, not to say rattled.

I did a bit of quick thinking. In the porch was a shelf on which resided a small plastic watering can and an old pair of gardening gloves and in a flash I pocketed one of these last mentioned with some vague idea of using Eric as a tracker dog to follow its scent. Then – bundling Julie back into the car – she was complaining loudly that she wanted her coffee and, missing out the Gropes', we drove straight to the Goodchaps'. They seemed a bit surprised to see us so early but Suzette kindly made us some coffee, which I fell upon with numb lips.

Don't think we'd been missed at the Gropes' and had almost forgotten by now that it was Hallowe'en but Keith and Suzette had obviously tried hard to inject a suitable atmosphere into the proceedings. A hollowed-out turnip with candlelight shining though its eyes stood on the doorstep and a red lantern swung over the door.

After we had ducked for apples and roasted a few chestnuts – a few of which were edible – Keith put out the lights and joked, ‘How about Murder in the Dark, or does anyone know a good ghost story?' Felt somehow relieved when no one could remember the rules for Murder in the Dark and so Mike Grope launched into a tale with a promising start – a decaying Irish mansion, an elderly nun and something scratching from behind a wall, but unfortunately he had forgotten the ending.

Keith then told the one about the monkey's paw. It had been on television only a couple of weeks ago, and we were all able to fill in the details when he forgot something.

‘How about one for the road?' he asked presently, flinging open the doors of his cocktail cabinet.

We left in a mellow mood and I remember laughing as I put my heel into the turnip outside the front door. I could feel the stickiness on my shoes as we walked home wearing our masks.

Gave myself terrible shock. Catching sight of myself in the hall mirror, I thought for a second it was Les Crow staring back at me and let out a shout. It was the black moustache still clinging to my upper lip.

It wasn't until this morning, when I woke up, that I remembered we'd left the car behind.

Went to retrieve it after breakfast. Had a terrible job starting it. Keith came down in his dressing gown to see what the noise was and seemed a bit on edge, due no doubt to last night's jollifications, but that couldn't excuse some of his neighbours, who were almost rude.

Trev had enjoyed his evening with Craig. He had somehow mislaid our old sheet and returned with somebody's nylon floral one.