The Macbeth Prophecy (8 page)

The promised letter arrived the next morning. It had been scrawled hurriedly, but as Philip had said, provided an explanation, albeit a disturbing one:

I've been thinking how often we use telepathy unconsciously, as when I phoned you in Crowthorpe, and I've thought up a little test to see if we can do it to order. This afternoon, at precisely three o'clock, I shall be signalling you to phone. If you don't – well, we'll have to work at it a bit harder. But if you do – and somehow I think you will – then Crowthorpe had better watch out!

I was in a thoughtful mood for the rest of that day.

A week or so later I received notification that my application to Crowthorpe Primary School had been successful, and when in jubilation I phoned Philip to report the good news, he had just received similar information from Dr Sampson. At last the stars were in their courses and our return to Crowthorpe doubly assured.

The last few weeks of term passed as always in a welter of exams and sports days. I did not keep my promise of contacting Sue again. Inevitably we came across each other during the course of the school day, but her unhappy face reminded me of the embarrassment she'd caused me in the staff-room and I told myself it was better to leave well alone rather than open old wounds. A pity: she'd been an agreeable and acquiescent companion before her unexpected outburst.

All in all, I was relieved when the final day of term arrived. The school duly presented me with a leather brief-case and, amid expressions of goodwill from my colleagues, I was at last free to put Swindon behind me and begin my new life with Philip at Crowthorpe.

That summer was one of the happiest times I can remember. Philip had arranged to leave High Wycombe on the same day that school finished and, side-stepping our parents' invitation, we set off immediately for Cumbria. His appointment was due to take effect from the end of August, which gave us a month in which to relax and settle into our new surroundings.

I remember, those first weeks, spending a lot of time standing at the picture window in the sitting-room staring out from our vantage point at the magnificent panorama before me. Immediately below was the garden, with gnarled old trees, outcrops of rockery and masses of every coloured rose imaginable. Over at the far end of it stood a little bungalow that I hadn't noticed on our first brief visit. It was built of stone like most of the houses in the village and a low picket fence surrounded it to ensure its privacy; a garden within a garden. I wondered idly who lived there.

Beyond the high wall stretched the gardens of other houses further down Fell Lane, and beyond them again the main road. On the far side of it I could just see the roof of the Lakeside Hotel and to the left the jetty from where boats plied continually across the lake. It was an outlook which never failed to fascinate me.

“Back at the lookout post?” Philip enquired laughingly, coming in one day to find me in my usual position.

“I still can't believe our good luck.”

He joined me at the window. “Will we ever get blasé about being able to see mountains, lakes and woods without moving from our own sitting-room?”

“I doubt it,” I said.

There was a table under one of the windows and we formed the habit of eating our evening meal there, watching the ever-changing parade of holiday-makers strolling down Lake Road or making their way to the Pavilion for the nightly dancing. And over coffee we'd watch the lights come on all down the hill and feel the still, dark closeness of the surrounding hills.

Once or twice we hired a boat and drifted lazily in the water for hours at a time, putting in at various little bays and rocky beaches on the eastern shore, where the mountain came down to meet the lake. I showed Philip the path I'd discovered alongside Minnowbeck, the stream that flowed along the valley, and by chance we discovered the site of the village's third hotel, whose owners I'd met at the Greystones. And finally, the week before Philip was due to join Dr Sampson, he said one morning, “I want to go up to the camp and check on the twins.”

I had been awaiting this decision ever since we arrived but felt it to be his rather than mine. He had twice saved the twins' short lives and regarded them, I knew, as his protégés.

Nell Smith was draping tattered nappies on the nearby bushes when we arrived. She was a small, pale woman with straggling nondescript hair and she wore down-trodden bedroom slippers and a greasy apron. Over by the caravan stood a battered old pram without wheels and from its depths I could see a small fist waving. Nell saw us, hesitated, then, wiping her hands on her apron, came towards us warily.

“Good morning, Nell. We've come to enquire after the twins.”

“They're well enough.” Her eyes were not inviting and there was an unpleasant odour about her, a general unwashed smell which pricked at the nostrils.

“May we have a look at them?”

She jerked her head in the direction of the pram and we walked over. The babies had filled out amazingly in the intervening four months. Black eyes regarded us with interest from either end of the pram. Nell had followed us across, like a bitch, I thought uncharitably, which waits for praise when someone admires its pups.

“They're fine babies,” Philip said warmly. “What are their names?”

“Davy and Kim.”

“Can you tell them apart?”

“Never tried. There's two mouths to feed, that's all there is to it.”

Philip gave a short laugh. “And Granny? She hasn't interfered with them at all?”

Nell shook her head, glancing nervously over her shoulder.

A young boy came wandering towards us, sucking his thumb. His shambling gait and vacant eyes proclaimed him to be Benjie, who had once spent a night within the Gemelly Circle. Before he could reach us, his mother Nan swooped on him and bore him away.

“We've come to live in Crowthorpe,” Philip told Nell. “I'd like to come up from time to time to see the twins.”

“There's no need,” she said resentfully. “They'll not come to no harm.”

“I'd just like to keep in touch,” Philip returned smoothly.

A young man came down the steps of the adjacent caravan. He was small and slight, his whole appearance marred by a truly horrific squint. He hesitated when he saw us, gave us a surly nod, and set off in the direction of the village. We took our leave of Nell and followed him at our leisure, assuming that since he was not old enough to be Nan's husband, he must be Janetta's – and Granny Lee's son.

This was confirmed by Eve when she called round that evening to bring us some shortbread she'd made. “Yes, that would be Jem all right. Poor lad, he has his work cut out with Janetta! People say she only married him because he couldn't properly see what she was up to!”

“Has Granny still got her crow?” Philip asked casually.

“As far as I know, but I haven't seen her for a while. She's the most restless of the bunch, probably because she was on the road for the best part of her life. Every now and then she takes her caravan, leaving Jem and Janetta to shack up as best they can, and sets off by herself for weeks at a time.”

I for one did not regret Granny Lee's departure. It would have suited me very well if she never returned.

So the summer slid slowly away, the bright red berries appeared on the rowan trees, and Philip and I took up our respective employment. I found my new colleagues pleasant and friendly, and although I was pleasant and friendly in return, I didn't encourage any close friendships. I had no need of them, now Philip was with me, and having learned my lesson from Sue Anderson, I resolved not to form any ties with either of the female staff. In a village this size, as I knew from Eve, gossip was rife and would not be as easy to ignore as it had been in Swindon.

However, friendships in which Philip shared were welcome, and we continued to see Eve and Anita fairly regularly. There was a closeness between the four of us which had some deep mainspring we hadn't yet plumbed, and we felt the need of each other's company. How their husbands felt on the subject, Philip and I never bothered to discover. Occasionally they would join us for coffee or drinks when we met at their homes, but although both men were included in return invitations, they never accompanied their wives to our flat. Nor was either of them present at the Greystones one October evening when Philip again broached the subject of telepathy.

“I've been thinking over what you said in the spring, Eve, about the need to extend rather than just use it between ourselves.”

Eve's eyes dropped. “Did I say that?”

“I think you're right. If one has a gift, one should develop it, wouldn't you say?”

“I'm not so sure. Douglas didn't even approve when Anita and I used to do it. He regards it as an intrusion on another's privacy. If he knew we'd tried it with you –”

“Then don't tell him!”

She stared at him wide-eyed and Anita gave an excited laugh. There was a look in her eyes which reminded me of the first time we'd seen her.

“In any case,” Philip was continuing, “I wasn't just referring to the four of us. We know we can all read each other's minds. I want to reach out farther still and see what happens.”

“Oh God!” Eve said softly.

“It was you who started it,” I reminded her.

“I can't imagine why. I suppose it was the shock of suddenly seeing you both – and at the Circle, too. I should have left well alone.” She gave a little shudder.

Anita said ringingly, “Well, I think you're right, Philip! It
is
time we extended our field. How do you propose to go about it?”

“If we start right away, we'll have to choose whoever's available. Is George around?”

“You're not going to try him, surely? He's much too down to earth to respond to such things!”

“But is he in the hotel?”

“Yes, he'll probably look in later. He's finishing off some figures for the accountant.”

“Let's see if I can bring him earlier than he intends.”

We sat in silence for some minutes. I had gauged Philip's intentions and didn't see how they could possibly be fulfilled. But shortly afterwards George Barlow came into the room. As Philip signalled everyone to silence, he sat down on the floor in the centre of the carpet and to his wife's amazement proceeded to remove his shoes and socks. He then stood up, circled an armchair three times in complete silence, solemnly replaced his footwear and left the room.

As the door closed behind him, Anita said stiffly, “You didn't have to make him look ridiculous.”

“No harm was done. He won't remember anything.”

“Then it's more like hypnotism,” Eve pointed out. “From a distance, too. Rather frightening.”

“Whatever you like to call it, it's simply mind control.” Philip sounded slightly aggrieved that his feat hadn't been more wholeheartedly applauded. “The human brain is vastly underrated, as you know. If we can see some way of developing further, it could be of enormous benefit.”

“Or harm.” Eve put in unexpectedly.

The subject dropped by mutual consent, but it was at our next meeting that the Marshall twins arrived.

We were at the vicarage and when the doorbell rang, Eve went to answer it. We could hear her quite clearly. “Hello girls. What can I do for you?”

A child's voice said hesitantly, “We've come to see Mr Selby.”

Anita and Philip turned to me and I shook my head in mystification.

“You'd better come in, then.”

It was obvious who they were: two pretty little girls, fair-haired like their mother, one with a long ponytail, one with plaits. My heart had started to beat with slow, heavy thuds. “You wanted to see me?”

The one with the ponytail answered pertly, “It was you who wanted to see us.”

I was aware of a constriction in my chest. Some twenty minutes earlier, the idea had crossed my mind that it would be interesting to meet this other pair of twins. They went to a private school in Barrowick, so I hadn't come across them in the course of work as I'd hoped. But it had been only a passing thought and I'd done nothing about it – consciously.

Philip said softly. “How did you know my brother wanted to see you?”

The child with plaits – Claire, as we later discovered – answered with a little frown. "He called us.”

“Called?" Anita repeated. “In what way? You mean he phoned?”

“No, just – called.” Claire looked about to cry and Eve said quickly. “It's lovely to see you, anyway. Come and sit down and I'll bring you some milk and biscuits. Does Mummy know you're here?”

They shook their heads, settling on the floor like puppies.

“Then I'd better ring and tell her you're safe.”

Ten minutes later Geoff Marshall called to collect his daughters. “I really do apologize for the intrusion. I can't imagine what possessed them.”

Possessed them?
I felt a chill on the back of my neck.

Eve said smoothly. “Don't worry, it was nothing. Just some misunderstanding. I gather.”

“You know. I feel quite odd in here with the rest of you.” Geoff said with a laugh. “Three sets of twins and me. It's an uncanny sensation.”

I said. “I don't think you've met my brother. Philip.”

“Oh, sorry!” Eve exclaimed. “I'd forgotten he wasn't at the drinks party.”

Philip stood up and shook his hand.

Geoff looked from him to me. “I must admit I couldn't have said which of you I'd met! There's no point of difference at all, is there?”

“I told Felicity they were clones!” Eve said with a smile.

When he had gone, herding the little girls in front of him, everyone turned to me. I spread my hands helplessly. “I thought I'd like to meet them. I promise you that's all.”

“It was enough,” said Eve. “If you now only have to think something in passing for it to happen, this is getting beyond a joke. I think we'd better put the wraps on it for a while. We don't want the entire village turning up at our coffee evenings!”