Second Night (48 page)

Or was it just me doing all the talking?
thought Jemima miserably.
Maybe she was only listening and not saying anything of any importance at all?

‘This is a lot of fuss about nothing, young Caz,' Daisy grumbled as he put her down in the hall.

‘It's love, Daisy,' he whispered. ‘Just you remember that.'

Jemima wanted very badly to cry. Instead she made herself laugh with the others, as he turned Daisy around to gasp with astonishment at the coloured balloons and streamers, and the gigantic welcome banner draped over the gallery rail. Sir Jonas called for three cheers for Madame Marguerite and she was led to the place of honour in Sir Saxon's chair in the library, where she was obliged to have the cast autographed and drawn on, even though, as she pointed out, it would be coming off in another week in favour of a more serviceable resin replacement.

‘And then I'll be getting myself cracking and back to work,' she said, with a meaningful nod. ‘Although it seems you've been getting on very well without me.'

The table was loaded with the results of the production of an immense celebration high tea.

‘Only just,' said Maddie. ‘Not much else has been done.'

‘Sir Jonas has had to put up with quite a lot of sausages and chips,' confessed Jemima.

The blue eye twinkled. ‘And pizza,' he reminded her, to a general hoot of laughter, ‘as well as a surprisingly wide selection of ice cream. Although I must say that the chocolate chip scones with peanut butter for tea proved to be a most unexpected bonus, as I do recall.'

‘What do you think of the birthday cake, Daisy?' asked Sara anxiously.

Daisy got up and went to the table to inspect the enthusiastically iced centrepiece exhibited on her best silver stand. The cake had been crowned with candles and a big, sugar
eighteen.

‘I couldn't have done better,' she said graciously. She looked over her glasses at Jasper. ‘John'll be dropping a package off for you down the pub later on this evening.'

‘I won't be staying long,' said John hastily.

Daisy smiled. ‘I won't be looking in myself, but I daresay you've got all your arrangements made and you're as ready as you'll ever be for your big night.'

Jasper eyed the empty whisky decanter set down discreetly for collection by the study door.

‘Nicely set up, thank you, Daisy,' he said comfortably.

‘And dare I ask what the highlight of this great evening is set to be?'

Jasper bowed deeply. ‘Nothing less than the sweet satisfaction of Ma serving me my first legal pint!'

CHAPTER 81

Bryony had refused to go to school since Reverend Adrian had found her weeping hysterically on his doorstep, apparently having been knocked off her bike by a maniac driver while she was delivering the parish magazine around the village. He had called the nurse to patch up her cuts and bruises, comforted her distraught mother and encouraged the ladies of the parish to keep her in copious supplies of fruit and chocolate.

She would never admit that she had been anywhere near the manor on that fateful afternoon. The first thing she did, as soon as she felt the slightest bit better, was to get rid of Mirror Girl, telling her in no uncertain terms, ‘I don't like you and I want you out of my life! You told me all my wishes would be granted and all my prayers would be answered, and look what happened! A pervert nearly got me, and it's all your fault!'

She changed the screensaver on her computer so that only the pictures she had taken of the window in the church appeared on the desktop. She printed off four big copies of the yellow-haired archangel and pinned them up, one on every wall, so that she always had him looking over her shoulder to protect her.

Mirror Girl protested in vain. ‘But I'm your only friend, Bryony! I showed you the angel!'

‘No, you didn't! I found him for myself and I like him a lot better than I ever liked you. You're always letting me down. I wouldn't have gone up to the manor by myself if you'd told me not too. You're the worst friend I've ever had and I don't need you any more.'

She took one of Percy's thick black marker pens and drew a big diagonal cross from one corner to the other on every mirror in the room. Then she tore up all the magazines from the waste bin and taped the pages to the glass. The last she saw of Mirror Girl was a bright green eye peeking through a gap in the paper on the long mirror behind the bedroom door, which she immediately covered with a big piece of black tape.

‘There, that's fixed you!' she exclaimed. ‘Don't come back!'

In the cold light of the miserable days that followed, she began to suspect the identity of the maniac who had completely ruined her life. She refused to go to church on Sunday and put herself to bed with a big box of chocolates for the day, leaving the light off and curtains open so that she could watch what was going on over the road without being seen. Her suspicions were confirmed as soon as she saw Tristan and his brother getting the regulars to help them load the broken-down black car onto the trailer outside the pub.

Things started to look up just before seven o'clock when Kerys, Hayley and Julia got out of Hayley's mother's car and went into the pub. Gin came next, all excited of course, followed by freaky Julien who obviously had absolutely no taste in women. So far, there was no sign of Lauren.

Bryony put on her dressing gown and sat by the window. Five… ten… fifteen minutes passed before Sara drove the manor Land Rover, covered in balloons and streamers, into the car park. Alan Crawford's big red Cadillac followed, blaring music so loud it shook the bedroom windows and Louisa Renfrew sent her husband out to see what was going on. Sara didn't look too bad for a change but what did Jemima think she was wearing? And Melanie looked like a lump! So where was Caz?

Bryony closed her eyes and prayed.
If he's there I'll get up. I'll even go to the pub and eat with my mother. Just let him be there. Please God, let him be there! Please! Please! Please!

A trumpet sounded. Someone started banging a drum. Bryony peeped through her fingers. There was a lot of shouting and cheering, and cameras flashing. People were pulling back their curtains and looking out of their front doors. Big Ugly Mouth looked like he was drunk already. Caz was the last to get out of the car. There was definitely no Miss America.

Bryony grabbed her camera. ‘He looks so cool! I'm sure he's taller! He's there and I'm here! What am I doing?'

She turned on the light, pulling armfuls of clothes out of the wardrobe and dumping them on top of the computer on the desk. She tipped her makeup boxes out on the dressing table, praying, just praying, ‘Don't let him leave before I get there!'

The moment of truth came when she ripped the paper off the mirror and stepped back, aghast. Mirror Girl had gone, there was no doubt about that, but the reflection left in her place was a total wreck. Her eyes were dull and brown again, she had spots from eating too much chocolate, her hair was greasy and her roots were a horror.

Bryony slumped in the chair, watching in morbid fascination how every tear she cried and every sob that shook her shoulders was faithfully replicated behind the big, black
X
she had drawn on the glass. Behind her, the winged angel's hair was bright in the picture on the wall.

‘You're my protector now, Archangel Michael,' she whispered, wiping her nose with an old screwed-up tissue she found in her dressing gown pocket. ‘I know you'll do a lot better job than the last one.'

Her life was a mess, but Christmas was coming and Carl was giving her diamonds. Caz had dumped Lauren and there was no one left on his horizon except her. She filled the bathtub to the brim, then spent the rest of the evening soaking with a cucumber facemask plastered over the spots.

CHAPTER 82

In the last days leading up to Hag Night, Freyja's restless energy was merely blunted, never spent, though hours of hard running on the hills lay behind her. Only Kyri's constant presence comforted her while she paced her box, resenting every moment of confinement. The straw bed was always thrown back against the walls, the bare, brick floor exposed and the hay scattered. Caz groomed her twice a day, easing the tension out of her muscles until she relaxed against his hands and let him massage the length of her spine from her ears to her tail, which she loved.

By contrast the weather had turned curiously calm. The new moon brought in a period of lightly frosted nights and deceptively mild, bright days.
Was it the calm before the storm?
Caz wondered. Or would the outcome be the same as the year before – a long wait for nothing through a silent, bitterly disappointing night?

He was pushing Alan hard. The workout sessions were a battle, blow after blow delivered and parried in cold silence, occasionally drawing blood. The wounds were superficial scratches but they had the desired effect. Alan knew he was doubted. What he didn't know was that his opponent was pushing him until his face blurred under the knife and he became the enemy, the point at which Caz disengaged, saluted and departed. There was no camaraderie. Alan must be worn down. Whatever hold the Bank had over him must be broken.

Out of school the days became indistinguishable to Caz, one flowing calmly into another, until Jemima arrived early on Saturday morning to start breakfast and he realised that another week had passed. The kitchen was warm and the coffee brewing when he came downstairs. But there was a demanding tension about her that was another hassle to be around, as if living under the same roof as the old man wasn't bad enough. The days when she was away at school were a relief. The hours when she was on duty in the house were getting tedious.

Too often, he saw the guarded look under her lashes and heard the quiet step behind a door. Too many cups of coffee were brought out to the yard, and more than once it occurred to him to wonder if his enemy had taken her shape and dared to walk freely among them. But the spear gave no sign and Kyri was content. Whatever was going on in his sister's head was her own stuff and there was no time to sort it out.

He went outside. The yard was quiet. The muckheap was steaming gently in the sun and the horses were whickering delicately for their breakfast. John was down by the lake, shaking the bucket of scraps to call the swans but not one of them emerged from the reeds. It wasn't unusual. They were often away for two or three days, dividing their time between the lake and the river.

Caz set to work, fetching the buckets from the feed room and bringing the barrow and the fork out of the barn. The horses would spend the morning turned out in the paddock. He would escape to the solitude in the armoury where he was guaranteed a few tranquil hours while Alan slept off the effects of the previous night's exertions.

It was too good to last.

Jemima shouted, ‘Caz! Caz!'

He sighed, put down the fork and walked into the middle of the yard. The front door was open. She was standing on the steps.

‘What?'

‘You've got a Fed Ex delivery at the gates. Shall I let him in?'

‘Did Ma send for something?'

‘I don't know. He says it's for you.'

He shrugged. ‘I suppose.'

He waited at the yard gate watching the van speed up the drive, much too fast. The driver got out. ‘I've got a delivery for Caz Wylde. Is that you?'

‘Probably.' Caz took the package, checked the name of the sender and handed it back. ‘I'm not interested.'

‘You mean you're not signing for it?'

‘No.'

The moment he had left her at the station, Lauren had been forgotten. This reminder of her single-minded insistence on being part of his life irritated him intensely. Freyja felt it in his hands when he groomed her. She shifted away from the brush and lifted a warning foot.

The old tractor rumbled up the hill and stopped at the gate. The stage had been dismantled in the wagon shed and packed onto the trailer, ready to be set up in the ballroom. Music thumped a steady bass from the car coming behind. Freyja kicked at her door.

Jasper yelled, ‘Open up, bro! There's a venue to set up and a gig to sort, and time and tide wait for no band!'

Caz held the gate while the tractor rolled across the cobbles. Jasper parked the loaded trailer as near to the house as possible. Sara and Melanie waved and blew kisses as they drove past.

‘Don't close up,' Jasper ordered. ‘The boys'll be coming through shortly.'

The morning peace was shattered. Caz went from stable to stable, taking off the mares' rugs and letting them out into the yard. A half-hour trot around the lower copses would calm them all down, him included. Nanna whickered excitedly.

‘Yes, you can come too,' he said. 'You're fed up with always being left behind, aren't you?'

He leapt onto Kyri's back, expecting her to head towards the lake. Instead she turned and faced the drive, whickering urgently. Freyja stood in the open gateway, her head up, ears pricked, every muscle taut. Rúna and Nanna trotted nervously around the yard, calling out.

The front door banged. Jasper came running along the path, with Sara and Melanie at his heels.

‘Red alert! Red alert!' he shouted. ‘Titan dead ahead, bro!'

‘How?'

‘Got past the boys at the gates!'

Sir Jonas opened the study window and released the catch on the gun.

Lauren had been tracking the delivery from the moment the courier had collected the package from the house. She refused to believe that Caz would turn down her father's offer if he had the tickets in his hands. They'd been cool together – they were good for each other. If they were really finished he would have given her a poem. There was still hope.

The minute she knew the delivery had failed, the rage boiled over. Her father's car was open. She grabbed the keys.
I don't give a damn if the cops take me in,
she thought savagely.
I'm out of here tomorrow and never coming back, so what the hell?