The Macbeth Prophecy (4 page)

She paused again, following some thought of her own. Then she shrugged it aside and finished briskly, “And the third caravan belongs to old Granny Lee, Nell's mother. She lives with her son Jem and his wife, who've been married only a month or two.”

“And it's this young one who reads the tea leaves?” I persisted.

Anita smiled. “You're not going to let me forget that, are you? I don't know about tea leaves, but she can use Granny's crystal. They always have a tent at the Bank Holiday Fair. Go along tomorrow if you dare, and let her tell your fortune!”

“There's a fair tomorrow?”

“Certainly, down in the meadow by the lake. It's quite a gala occasion, people come from miles around.”

Eve stood up. “If you've finished your drinks, I'll take the meal through. You must be ravenous.”

We were still seated round the table when Douglas Braithwaite returned with his two sons. He was a pleasant-looking man in his early forties, but although he greeted us politely there was a slight reserve in his manner. However, any hint of awkwardness was covered by the boys.

“Mummy, they're putting up the stalls for the fair!” young William broke in excitedly. “Can we go down first thing in the morning?”

“There's a Ferris wheel, too,” Edward added. “You can see almost to Barrowick from the top!”

For the sake of politeness we stayed a few minutes longer, joining in the general conversation. Then Philip caught my eye and we rose to go. Douglas Braithwaite walked with us to the gate.

“You know the quickest way home? Cut through Broad Walk there, and along Ash Street to the end of Honeypot Lane. You'll soon find all the backcracks.”

I opened my mouth to say we'd only be here for another week, and closed it again. Somehow I didn't think we'd be able to leave Crowthorpe quite as easily as that.

Easter Monday dawned with a late frost on the grass but by mid-morning the sun had melted it and was shining out of a cloudless sky. The wind was southeasterly and carried the sounds of the fair up the hill to our open bedroom window – odd snatches of tinny music and the blaring loudspeaker.

“What shall we do?” I asked Philip as we stood staring down into the quiet street. “I don't want to spend the whole day at the fair, do you?”

“Heaven forbid! We'll just look in for an hour or so this evening. We'd better go out somewhere, though, I have a suspicion Mrs Earnshaw is hovering with the Hoover. We could take the car and explore a little further afield. We've not been out of the village yet.”

Crowthorpe was surprisingly congested. Crowds were pouring down Fell Lane and there was a queue of cars coming from the Barrowick direction into which we had to filter to reach the road to Caldbeck. As we crawled along Lake Road we had ample opportunity to look at the brightly coloured booths and marquees set up in the meadow by the lake. Down here the noise and excitement was intense and as we reached the corner and turned north, we met another stream of cars coming into the village.

“At least now the queues are in the other direction,” Philip commented. “If you ask me, we're well out of it.”

Caldbeck was peaceful by comparison and we joined the trickle of visitors making their way to the church and John Peel's grave. From there we drove back to Keswick by another route, taking time to search for and find Castlerigg stone circle in the hills beyond. I wondered if it too had some dark legend attached to it, but any atmosphere was dissipated by a crowd of Japanese tourists busily photographing the site.

On the way home we stopped in Barrowick for our evening meal, and by the time we approached Crowthorpe it was almost dark and the lights and music reached out to us across the lake. We were lucky enough to find a parking space in the market place off Lake Road, and joined the crowds still flocking along to the fair.

“No wonder it's become traditional,” I remarked. “It must be quite a moneyspinner.” Fairy lights strewn in the trees lighted the path from the main road to the uneven grass of the meadow and as we stepped off the concrete we were caught up in the general excitement, part of the holiday crowd. From somewhere overhead a loudspeaker was blaring out the latest pop tunes, interrupted at regular intervals by the even shriller screams of the passengers in the roller-coaster which had been set up in the lee of the hill.

Despite our recent meal we stopped to buy a bag of freshly cooked popcorn, eating it as we walked along and burning our fingers.

“Pity we haven't a couple of girls with us,” Philip said with his mouth full. “I'd welcome a spot of dalliance by the darkening waters!”

“There are plenty about. Take your pick!” We were causing our usual stir and a couple of giggling girls stood nearby watching us.

“There really are two of you, aren't there?” one of them asked, catching my eye. “I thought at first I was seeing double!”

I bowed. “Madam, we are twain.”

“It's uncanny, really – like Tweedledum and Tweedledee.”

“That,” said Philip, wiping his greasy hands on his handkerchief, “does positively nothing for our image!”

“Sorry – they were short and fat, weren't they? How does it go – something about a crow ...”

Her friend obliged her: ‘“Just then flew down a monstrous crow, as black as a tar barrel, which frightened both the heroes so, they quite forgot their quarrel.'” She laughed. “It's good, that. ‘A monstrous crow' – and here we are in Crowthorpe!”

I said thickly, “If you'll excuse us –” and amid their murmurs of disappointment, I steered Philip into the densest part of the crowd. “Come on,” I added with a touch of desperation, “I'll take you on at the coconut shy.”

“Well done!” said a voice behind us as I managed to dislodge one of the giant coconuts, and I turned to see Douglas Braithwaite with one of his sons.

“Now you'll be lumbered with that for the rest of the evening!” he added with a laugh as the showman handed it over to me. “So, Messrs. Selby, what do you think of our little village? At least it has the distinction of being the only one hereabouts which has positively no connection with the Lakeland poets! Neither Wordsworth, Coleridge nor Ruskin ever slept here!”

William tugged at his father's hand. “Dad, you promised me a go on the Dodgems!”

“Here.” I pushed the coconut into his arms. “You take this. I wouldn't know what to do with it.”

They were swallowed up into the crowd and Philip and I allowed ourselves to be pushed along by the general flow. Our conversation with the girls still hung on the air between us and the fortune-teller's tent caught me by surprise. I'd forgotten about Janetta Lee.

“Learn What is Written for You in the Star's!”
invited the large, uneven letters.

Philip grinned, reading my mind as usual. “Go in and correct her grammar at least!”

I lifted the tent flap and peered inside. It was very dim, but a revolving red light from the merry-go-round lit it every few seconds with a lurid glow. A singsong voice came out of the shadows.

“Come in, pretty sir. Want your fortune told? Then cross me palm wi' fifty pence.”

I let the flap fall behind me and took the empty chair opposite the girl. She looked extremely young, not more than eighteen, with lustrous dark eyes and long jet-black hair. I caught myself wondering if she'd be prepared to accompany me down to the lake. Then I heard her gasp, and knew with resignation that Philip had come in behind me.

“Might as well make it two for the price of one!” he said cheerfully. “Since we were born at the same time, it follows we must have the same fate. Right?”

She had flinched back in her chair and her eyes were now plainly frightened. “Please, young sirs, I made a mistake. I've got another appointment – the gentleman will be here directly. I can't –”

Philip bent forward and with deliberation placed a pound coin in front of her. “Don't worry, I was only teasing. You shall have your pound of flesh – or your pound sterling, at any rate.”

She looked at him blankly. “Sir, I –”

I pushed the crystal ball towards her. “Come on, now, you've got our money. You must keep your side of the bargain.”

Her eyes fell unwillingly to the crystal and the cheap jewellery jangled on her wrists as her hands came up to cup it. When she spoke again, her voice was different from the light tones with which she'd greeted me, a low throbbing whisper which added import to the words. “You must stay in this place.”

Philip made a sudden movement and I leant forward the better to catch what she was saying.

“Great power awaits you,” she continued haltingly. “Over body and soul, life and death. It is your destiny to bring about –”

“Janetta! Howd thi tongue, lass!”

Philip and I turned swiftly and the girl slumped forward, her forehead resting on the crystal ball. Just inside the tent stood a small elderly woman in a black and red shawl. She was staring as though hypnotized at Philip and myself, both of us now on our feet.

“You will please go, gentlemen,” she ordered, her voice shaking. “The girl sees nowt. She was deceiving you.”

“She was doing very well,” I protested, since the girl was clearly incapable of defending herself.

“Please go!” The woman swooped forward, snatched up the pound coin still lying on the table and pushed it into my hand.

“But look, surely she deserves –”

“She don't want your money.” She glanced briefly down at the motionless figure. “I must see to her.”

We had no option but to leave. I followed Philip out of the tent and by unspoken consent we shouldered our way past the throngs to the practically deserted lakeside.

“I wonder what upset the old woman,” I said at last. “Fortune-telling's always a con but they don't usually admit it.”

“Perhaps this time it was the truth.” Philip stared out across the water. “What did you make of it, all that power-not-given-to-many?”

“A load of rubbish!” But it had intrigued me, too. The classroom in Swindon held out no such promise.

Philip bent, selected a pebble and hurled it into the darkness of the lake, waiting for the distant splash as it fell. “Shall we accept the challenge – take over the village? You can see to their minds and I'll look after their bodies! Far more scope here, I imagine, than in that grotty surgery in High Wycombe!”

A joking reply was called for but I was unable to supply it. There was an undisciplined excitement about him which disturbed me, especially since I could feel the undertow of it myself.

“Well, well, if it isn't you two again!” The girls we'd seen earlier had loomed up out of the shadows.

“Did you follow us?” Philip demanded ringingly.

“You flatter yourselves!”

“Did you?”

“No, we – well, we just caught sight of you some way ahead, and –”

“Have you heard what happens to girls who follow men?”

She stared at him, trying to see his expression in the twilight, and giggled uncertainly.

“They might,” said Philip deliberately, “get more than they bargain for. Such as this!” And putting his arm round her, he pulled her against him and kissed her thoroughly.

“And this!” I added, following suit with the other girl. And at the feel of her soft yielding body I knew this was exactly what we needed to dispel the strangeness. Thoughts that had nothing to do with the supernatural surged into my head and I welcomed them wholeheartedly, letting mental excitement give way to physical. Pulling the willing girl behind some bushes, it was swiftly gratified. And it was about this unlooked-for but easy conquest that Philip and I joked as we prepared for bed that night. We made no further reference to the fortune-teller.

But we were not to be allowed to forget the gypsies.

A couple of mornings later as we walked above the village, a tall dark man came hurtling out of a clearing just in front of us, cannoning straight into me and knocking me off balance. He caught at my arm to prevent my falling.

“Beg pardon I'm sure, sir, but I'm that bothered to get to doctor, I –”

“Something's wrong?” Philip interrupted. “I'm a doctor.”

The man registered him for the first time, and as his eyes went from Philip's face to mine, his hand shot out towards us, the forefinger and pinky extended in the age-old gesture to ward off evil. “No – no, sir, I –”

“Look man, I can be there quicker than anyone else. What's happened?”

“It's Nell, sir. Her pains have started but it's not like the other times. It's bad and the women can't do nothing with her.”

“Then lead the way,” Philip instructed tersely, “and hurry!”

We were nearer the gypsy camp than I'd realized and as we ran a shrill scream rang out over the trees. We rounded the screen, the caravans came into sight, and I fell back, letting the others race on ahead. I had no wish to be involved in Philip's obstetrics. He and Luke Smith had disappeared into one of the caravans and a moment later the girl from the fairground came down the steps, hesitated for a moment then walked slowly towards me.

“I hope you didn't get into trouble the other evening,” I said.

She gave me a strained smile and shook her head. Another scream made us flinch.

“What's going on in there?”

“Oh sir, poor Nell's awful bad!” Her huge eyes filled with tears. “The Granny wouldn't let me stay. Said as I'm too young to be present at child-bed, but I'm a married woman, sir, and my time will come. Does it always hurt so bad?”

“I shouldn't think so,” I said reassuringly from my position of male immunity. “Don't worry, Philip'll sort things out. He's a very good doctor.” My mind had swung back to those moments in the tent, and unable to resist this unexpected chance to question her, I said compulsively, “What did you mean, about my brother and I achieving power?”