The Macbeth Prophecy (20 page)

“Oh yes.” Eve put out a warning hand, but Anita continued breathlessly, “She had a confrontation up there with a rival cult and turned them all to stone.”

Then she put a hand to her mouth and looked fearfully at the frozen faces of her sister and brother-in-law.

“She didn't by any chance peck their eyes out first?”

It was Eve Braithwaite who answered. “Not according to the legend.” She paused and added tightly, “I'm sorry to disappoint you.”

“Oh, but you haven't, Mrs Braithwaite. Far from it.”

The vicar cleared his throat again. “Might I ask why you're interested in all this?”

“I'm thinking of writing a play around some standing stones, and I want to get the background right. Perhaps you can tell me –”

“Can I get you a drink, Anita,” Eve broke in, “or are you in a hurry?”

Anita turned from Jason and her eyes met her sister's. “Oh – no, thank you, I mustn't stop. We're fully booked for lunch today. I just wondered if you've finished with that book I lent you –”

Eve had taken her arm and was leading her out of the room. At the door Anita turned. “Goodbye, Mr Quinn, I hope we meet again.”

Oh, we shall! Jason assured her silently as he smiled and bowed. “Mrs Barlow has a hotel?” he asked Douglas Braithwaite blandly.

“Yes, the Greystones, in Fell Lane.”

“I must give it a try.” He put his glass on the small table. “Talking of lunch, I hope I haven't delayed yours. Thank you so much for the sherry – and the information.”

And for my own lunch, he thought, walking thoughtfully down the High Street, I'll try the Crow's Nest and see if I can run to earth Ted's second pair of twins. Perhaps, who knows, even more. There seemed to be no end to the duplication in Crowthorpe.

But had he not been told the landlord was a twin, there would have been no way of discovering the fact that day. The blind brother who had so disturbed Ted was not in evidence and the man behind the bar was too busy to pay any attention to his distinguished customer. Damn it, who could he ask about the twins? Not the vicar, evidently. Was his reluctance to speak of the legend anything to do with the fact that his wife was one?

Jason gave himself a mental shake. He was becoming infected by Ted's imaginings. There was nothing sinister in twins as such. But four identical pairs, all living in a village the size of Crowthorpe?

Eve said, “He came straight to the point. The girl's eyes had been pecked out: could it have been a crow? I was terrified Douglas might say something. I flashed him a warning, but God, Anita, it was you I should have worried about! I thought you were going to blurt out the whole thing!”

Anita's hands twisted in her lap. “Of course I wasn't, and I didn't appreciate being bundled out like that. Anyway, Jason Quinn's charming. I know none of you like him, but I do – I always have. He's attractive and intelligent, and since he completely discounts anything supernatural, I don't see what you're all so worried about.”

“He's obviously up to something,” Matthew said slowly. “Don't forget he was quizzing the Smiths last time he was here.”

“We didn't tell him nowt,” Davy said sulkily. He turned to Philip. “He can't hurt us, can he? We only wanted to make Patsy forget, like that man. It was Granny and the crow that killed her, to teach us not to meddle, she said.”

“But if you hadn't made her unconscious,” Tom Hardacre answered sternly, “the bird wouldn't have attacked, Granny or no. You're partly to blame and don't you forget it.”

Philip rubbed his hand across his eyes, trying to close his mind to the memory of the girl's body. All his medical experience could not dull the horror of that mutilation, knowing as he did that it had been caused by a viciously stabbing beak. And it had all been so pointless; just an old woman's revenge on the two grandsons she feared and hated.

“The cops came to see Uncle Buck again,” Kim said, hoping to deflect attention from himself and his brother. “They'd heard Patsy 'ad caught him nicking lead off that roof. He were all right, though, because he'd taken Benjie fishing that evening and folks had seen him over at Scarthwaite.”

Anita stood up agitatedly. “What are we waiting for?” she demanded. “That's what I don't understand! We have sufficient power, God knows! Why can't we go ahead and reclaim the stones?”

“Nay, lass,” said blind Fred gently, “don't take on. We must bide our time till we get the word. It'll come, never fear.”

“In any case,” Matthew added, “we have to wait till Claire and Nicola come home at the end of the month and we're at full strength. After that, Jason Quinn can interfere as much as he likes, and much good may it do him!”

That evening when Madeleine brought his tray, Jason said abruptly, “How many pairs of twins are there in Crowthorpe?”

The cutlery rattled slightly on the tin tray as she put it down. “Five,” she answered, bending to put the plate in the oven.

“
Five?
Ye gods! Who have I missed?”

“Claire and Nicola Marshall, I should think. They're away at boarding school.” She made a move towards the door but he leant against the frame, deliberately blocking her way.

“Doesn't it strike you as unusual, to say the least, that there should be so many in such a small area? Identical twins are not all that common, after all.”

“There've always been twins at Crowthorpe.”

Jason frowned. “How do you mean?”

“All through history. My aunt told me. She was born here and knows all the old stories about the Twin Bear gods and so on.”

“
Twin
Bear gods?” The “rival cult” that Mrs Barlow had been so vague about?

“That's why it's called the Gemelly Circle, from the Celtic word for ‘twins'. Now, if you'll let me pass –”

“Is that so?” And it was the vicar who had neglected to mention that. “Do they have much contact with each other, all these twins of yours?”

She returned his gaze, her eyes hostile. “You ask a lot of questions, Mr Quinn.”

“And you're damned if you're going to answer any more?” He smiled wryly. “You know, far from being ‘Peachey', you're more like a prickly pear! You dislike me, don't you?”

Her head lifted. “Does it matter?”

“I'm interested to know why, since it was obvious even at our first meeting.”

“That wasn't the first time I'd seen you.”

“Prejudged by television? It seems a trifle harsh. And I don't improve on acquaintance?”

She smiled very slightly. “I'll let you know. Now if you'll excuse me, my supper's waiting.”

Damn him! she thought as she hurried back across the garden. How dared he cross-examine her in that slow, beautiful voice of his? She shouldn't have allowed herself to be drawn into conversation at all, but it had been solely for the pleasure of hearing him speak. Accustomed to the flat northern dialect, a southern accent had always attracted her, even as a child when her friends had mocked what they considered the la-di-da voices of radio announcers. Jason Quinn might be a playwright but he had an actor's voice, capable she felt sure of doing full justice to any of the world's great love poems.

Love
poems? She pulled herself up sharply as she reached her aunt's dining-room. What could that arrogant, self-centred man know of love?

“Why have you gone red?” Deidre enquired with interest, as she took her place at the supper table.

“Don't ask stupid questions!” Madeleine snapped, and ignored the expressively raised eyebrows of her uncle and aunt.

Strange how he'd immediately attached importance to the twins, though. As it happened, she had indeed noticed, over the last year or so, how often they sought each other out. It had made her vaguely uneasy, for what, other than their basic twinness, could the little gypsy boys, for instance, have in common with the old men at the Crow's Nest? She felt instinctively that there was something unhealthy in the relationship, but there'd been nobody to discuss it with, for the twins' influence was wide. Between them, they effectively blocked off confiding in the vicar, the doctor, the headmaster, the “squire” –

She frowned, realizing for the first time the stronghold they had established for themselves. If they'd been planning a takeover, they could not have been more strategically placed.

Swallowing her supper without knowing what she was eating, her thoughts turned reluctantly to the Selbys. They'd changed in the three years she'd known them. There were times, ridiculous though it seemed, when they actually frightened her – like the conversation she'd recently had with Matthew. They'd been discussing a child in her class who had resisted all attempts to teach her and was now, at the age of seven, still unable to read.

“Silly little fool!” he'd exclaimed. “I'd have forced her to learn!”

She had smiled at his vehemence. “Do you mind telling me how?”

“By willpower, of course. Since she isn't capable of deciding what's good for her, the decision should be taken out of her hands. Believe me, that doesn't apply only to children. Life would run much more smoothly if people could be gently steered in the right direction.”

“You sound like a mad professor!” she'd said with an uneasy laugh.

“Not at all, it's just a question of mind control. If you could regulate how people behaved, you'd have an ideal world!”

“Of robots!” She couldn't believe he was serious, but he'd frowned anxiously.

“It wouldn't be wrong, though, if it was for their own good.”

“Of
course
it would be wrong, Matthew! Who's to decide what's good for another human being? If you blot out people's free will, what have they left? It's – manipulation, totally and completely unacceptable!”

He'd looked at her for a moment, all the enthusiasm draining out of his face. “You're right, of course. Don't they say all power corrupts? Perhaps they have a point.”

Nor was their strangeness the only trouble she was having with the Selbys. Over the last months she'd become unhappily aware that Philip's feelings for her were deepening and she didn't know how to deal with the situation. She was fond of them both but it went no deeper than that and it never would. She'd tried to make that clear to Matthew years ago; now it seemed she would shortly have to convince Philip of the same fact.

She was washing up the supper dishes, still busy with her thoughts, when there was a tap at the back door.

Drying her hands on her apron she went to open it and was startled to find Jason with the tray.

“I was going out so I brought it back to save you having to collect it.”

“Thank you.” She reached for the tray but he didn't immediately release it.

“After all, it's a little hard having to wait on someone you so obviously disapprove of.”

She felt the colour in her cheeks again. “I'm sorry if I was rude.”

“Not rude, merely direct. It was a refreshing change.”

She took the tray from him and put it on the table. “Thanks for bringing it over.”

“And now go, and let you get on with your work?”

She looked up defiantly. “You're putting words into my mouth.”

“They were already in your head.”

“If you'll excuse me, then.” She turned back to the sink, acutely conscious of him still standing in the doorway. Should she ask him in? It seemed pointless when he'd said he was on his way out.

“Might I be allowed one more question?”

She continued rubbing vigorously at the dirty plates. “About the twins?”

“No, the school this time.”

Surprise made her turn. “The school?”

“Do you know anything about it?”

“I should, since I teach there.”

She saw that she'd surprised him in his turn. “You teach at Crowthorpe School? That's a stroke of luck. You've saved me the trouble of seeking out Matthew Selby. He's there as well, I believe?”

So he hadn't dismissed the twins after all. “He is.” She waited, leaning against the sink and watching him curiously.

“How many members of staff are there?”

“Five, including the headmaster.”

Jason felt he could discount the headmaster at this stage. He was unlikely to be the anonymous correspondent. “Would you tell me who they are?”

“If you'll first tell me why you want to know.”

He hesitated. “I suppose that's fair. I think one of them wrote to me a few months ago.”

“You think?”

“The note was unsigned.” He looked at her with sudden interest. “It wasn't you, by any chance?”

“It most certainly was not! I've better things to do with my time!”

His mouth quirked. “I rather thought you might have. But if you'd give me the names of your colleagues I should be most grateful and then I'll leave you in peace.”

“Matthew you know about. He teaches the top year. Then there's Steve Ellis who takes Form Three, I take the Seconds and Liz Davey the Firsts.”

He had jotted down the names on the back of a cigarette pack as she spoke. “Thanks. Who else has access to the building, other than the children? Presumably there are cleaners, a caretaker?”

She frowned. “This seems an awful lot of fuss about a letter. Are you sure that's all you're interested in?”

“I want to find out who wrote to me. Surely you can understand that?”

“What was it about, then?”

“It's better that I keep that to myself for the moment. One more favour, though; I'd be grateful if you didn't mention the letter to any of your colleagues.”

“You don't want them put on their guard?”

“Quite so.”

“But if they wrote to you and you came –” She broke off.
“Is
that why you came here? Because of an anonymous letter?”