Authors: Trisha Ashley
‘But you must admit that arm looked a bit grisly, pointing out like that,’ Orla agreed, sitting down next to Jason and putting a comforting arm around him. ‘And after all, we
were
looking for Tanya, weren’t we?’
‘Yes, but not in the form of a calcified midget,’ I pointed out a trifle tartly. ‘Still, I suppose it was unexpected. We all seem to be having shock therapy this weekend, don’t we? Let’s hope that’s it.’
‘Except for pleasant shocks, like good manifestations tonight when we’ve got the cameras and recorder set up,’ Frank said.
We trooped back to the house with our booty just in time to see the departure of one problem: Madame Duval was seated in a taxi on the drive, while Reg was taking his leave of Rosetta and Eddie. As we came up he extended a hand to Dante, too.
‘Goodbye, lad,’ he said genially. ‘Sorry for the kerfuffle, but all’s well that end’s well, eh?’
Dante seemed a bit lost for words, but took the offered hand. Reg started down the steps and as he drew level with me I put a hand on his arm and whispered on impulse: ‘Mr Bangs – Reg – just what exactly
did
you do when you were on the stage?’
He twinkled and said: ‘You’re a sharp one! I think you’ve guessed, though.’
‘Ventriloquism?’ I suggested.
‘Reg!’ shrilled his wife from the open taxi window, and he winked conspiratorially, gave me a friendly buffet on the arm, and strolled off to the taxi, whistling.
‘Off with a Bang,’ I said, waving after them and feeling suddenly much cheerier. Presumably Ma and Pa had also left yesterday, and were on their way home – and if they hadn’t they would by now be leaving in high dudgeon over the disappearance of their hostess.
‘Oh Jason,’ Rosetta said, ‘there was a phone call from your son – Tom, is it? He said could you go home urgently, something’s come up.’
Jason sighed. ‘He’s probably had a rave and wrecked the house. I was going to call in on my way to open the shop for the afternoon.’
‘I hope he hasn’t done anything dreadful,’ Orla said apprehensively.
He smiled at her. ‘I don’t think I care any more. But I’ll just get my things from my room, and then I can drop you at home on the way.’
‘I’ll come round to the shop later … or you could come round to my house when you’ve closed?’ she suggested, and they exchanged one of those very private smiles.
Looks like our nightly Singles Club is about to be reduced to Single Club of one:
me.
I went back to my room and caught up on my sleep while Dante dealt with the police and the insurance company, and then later we went for a walk together, not saying very much, and I for one strangely weary but content.
While we were out Jason had left a message asking us to go down to the pub tonight.
What on earth had Tom done?
* * *
We found Jason and Orla already there and, despite the night being young, pretty well oiled.
‘Are you celebrating?’ I asked. ‘What? Tom’s left home for ever or something?’
‘Tanya’s turned up!’ Jason announced.
‘Well, not so much turned up as made contact: she’s written through a solicitor, asking for a divorce!’ Orla explained. ‘Tom, being that kind of boy, opened Jason’s letters and read it.’
‘But where’s she been? Did she say?’
‘Spain. Now she wants to get married again and she says she just wants a quickie divorce, and no maintenance or anything. Suits me,’ Jason said, ‘but Tom’s a bit upset, because she didn’t mention him at all, not even to ask how he was.’
‘Poor boy,’ I said charitably.
‘Yes,’ Orla agreed. ‘Of course, now he insists that he wants to go out there and see his mother, so Jason is giving him the money.’
‘Serves her right.’
‘I’ve never met this repellent-sounding youth, but I’m beginning to feel sorry for him,’ Dante commented.
‘He’s not that bad,’ Jason said automatically. ‘In fact, he’s taken this better than I expected: he seemed to have had some silly idea that I’d killed her, because he overheard our argument and her telling me I wasn’t his father. He was afraid if it was true I’d throw him out, but I’ve said I’ll never do that – he’s my son, whatever happens.’
‘He doesn’t deserve you!’ Orla said warmly
‘He deserves better than he’s got,’ Jason said. ‘And I hope he can make some sort of peace with Tanya, though she can never make up for deserting him like that.’
‘Have another drink?’ suggested Orla happily. ‘After all, there’s more to celebrate than not.’
‘Not for us, I’m afraid we’ll have to get back,’ Dante said. ‘We’ve got a heavy night’s haunting ahead of us before the Spectrologists depart, hopefully with a lot of hazy shots of Cass. Luckily the moon is far from full tonight, it’ll make it easier.’
‘One last haunt,’ I agreed.
‘And then no more Ghastly Weekends,’ Orla added. ‘You can have your home back to yourself, which must be a relief.’
‘No more weekends like that, certainly,’ Dante said firmly.
‘No more at all, unless you run it yourself,’ Orla pointed out. ‘Once Rosetta’s gone off with Eddie, I mean.’
Dante paused in the act of putting his jacket on and gazed at her. ‘Once Rosetta’s gone where with Eddie?’
I was pulling faces at Orla behind his back when he glanced round and caught me.
‘What do you know that I don’t?’ he demanded.
I sighed resignedly. ‘It’s not for me to tell you, but now Orla’s let it out I suppose I’d better: Rosetta was waiting until after the weekend to tell you that she’s going to live with Eddie.’
‘Live with Eddie?’ he echoed blankly. ‘So, how would you describe what she’s doing
now?
’
‘In his van, travelling about with him, I mean. I think one weekend of the B&B trade has been enough for her. Anyway, they’re in love!’
‘You mean I set all this up for nothing?’ he demanded.
‘I wouldn’t say that, Dante! A lot of good has come out of the weekend.’
‘It certainly has!’ agreed Orla enthusiastically, and Jason grinned and put his arm around her.
‘It’s
not
good that my only sister intends travelling about the country with a shiftless, pot-smoking layabout in an old van!’ snapped Dante furiously.
‘He’s not shiftless,’ I said coldly, ‘he’s very useful. And he’s good-tempered, so he will always be kind to her. I’m sure they’ll be very happy.’
I didn’t mention the baby. Time enough for that when he’d cooled off a little.
His lips were back into that knife-crease origami fold again and he maintained a deep silence all the way back to the Hall, but he did have a firm grip on my hand, though whether to stop me making a bolt back to my cottage or not was a moot point.
He stopped just before we got there, turned my face up to his, muttered: ‘Oh, to hell with it!’ and kissed me.
After that, I wouldn’t say Rosetta and Eddie had his blessing, just that he temporarily lost interest in their future plans.
* * *
I gave a faint scream and then ran silently down the dimly lit, carpeted hall, my eyes and mouth stretched wide in terror, gossamer white draperies flying behind me …
Only this time I was running towards the fearsome thing in the dark cupboard, not away from it.
‘Got you!’ Dante whispered, snatching me into the blackness and the panel slid silently shut behind me.
He certainly had. The Superglue of love welded our lips together, while faint and faraway scratchings and squeakings from the frustrated Spectralogists told of their fruitless search for poor blind Betsy’s secret.
‘Past midnight – and you’re free,’ Dante said at last, though he showed little signs of suiting his actions to the words.
‘Free?’ I echoed, thinking I was never going to be free again.
‘You’re no longer my unwilling slave.’
‘I never was.’
‘No, it was pretty much the other way round from the minute I saw you. Damn!’ he added, as the thumpings and mutterings grew closer: ‘They’ll find the opening to the panel in a minute if they carry on like that! Come on, we’d better go.’
We exited into the garden, then sneaked back into Dante’s tower and carried on where we left off.
After a bit Dante said: ‘Marry me?’
I pulled away and looked at him. He looked back, tall, dark and gloomy.
‘Marry you? I was thinking more of applying for the post of madwoman in the attic,’ I blurted.
His straight brows drew together in a frown, then his face cleared: ‘Mr Rochester? You’d like to maim me a bit and set my house on fire?’
‘Not really: though I always felt more akin with the wife than with Jane, I consider burning the house down to be taking revenge a little far,’ I assured him. ‘But I can’t marry you.’
‘Why not?’ he asked simply.
‘I’m way too old –
much
older than you.’
‘Physically maybe a few years, but mentally you’re still adolescent.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Is that your sole objection?’
‘No – I mean, when it comes down to it, I’m not sure I could live with someone all the time. I’m not domesticated, and I’m used to being alone a lot, and there’re my strange nocturnal writing and night-hike habits.’
‘This house is big enough for both of us to be alone whenever we need to be. You can even be my madwoman in the attic if you really want to – as long as you agree to marry me first. And I can live with your habits, though I might accompany you on the hikes.’
I stared at him. ‘I think we’re too alike.’
‘We’re two sides of the same coin and need to be together, Cass,’ he said.
‘Think about it, Dante,’ I tried to hold him off a bit. ‘You’d want children, and I’m probably way past it.’
‘I don’t think I’d want to risk it anyway. I’d rather have you.’
It came to me that he was right: that although I still felt that great yearning for a child, what I desperately wanted and now couldn’t imagine ever losing, was Dante himself.
‘Be my Dark Lady?’ he said enticingly.
‘I don’t think Shakespeare got much further than adoring her from afar in his sonnets, did he?’
‘Then I’ve outdone the Bard already.’
‘You are a very unusual man,’ I said staring at him.
‘Because I read poetry? And is that a point in my favour, or against me?’
‘For, definitely for,’ I said.
‘Good, I don’t think you’d really be happy cooped up in my attic.’
* * *
Reader, I married him: but only after he added the clinching lure of a late honeymoon tour finishing up in Mexico to coincide with that popular festival. The Day Of The Dead.
That did it: I knew he was the man for me.
Not that I’d had any doubts once I’d accepted that we are the same kind of animal under the skin, and so understand each other’s demons. I helped him to finish his manuscript before we left for the trip, and it began to be serialised in the newspaper while we were away, the proceeds going to Paul’s widow and family.
Meanwhile my book is nearing completion, Mexico proving to be a rich source of inspiration both to me and to Dante, who has written a series of brilliant articles about the culture and political state of the country which seems to be turning into another book. I’ve thought up a great title for it: ‘
Death: Enemy or Friend? Four Months in Mexico.
From being convinced that I could never live with someone permanently, I now find I cannot bear to be apart from him for very long: the fear that there is something bad out there waiting to spring will never, I suppose entirely go away.
And pictures of Elvis still make me shudder.
While we were away Pa went past the point of no return and was committed, and since then Ma seems to have taken on a new lease of life in the Highlands with Francis and Robbie.
It’s autumn now, but as things die, new life is flourishing forth.
Eddie and Rosetta are in the lodge, awaiting their baby’s arrival.
Francis and Robbie, too, are expecting the surprise advent of a little Annapurna or Kathmandu, we are not sure yet which …
And as for me, far from being obsessed with motherhood I entirely forgot about it until it suddenly dawned on me that either I’ve started an early menopause or a late baby. But I’m not mentioning either possibility to Dante until we are back home in Kedge Hall.
We will take what comes, because whatever happens we will always have each other.
Oh, and a lot of
wonderful
Mexican Day of the Dead souvenirs.
Epilogue: Famous Last Words
Dante, who loved well because he hated,
Hated wickedness that hinders loving.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Back home in the late autumn, when dead leaves lay like forgotten memories on the bed of the duck pond, and dead wives lay dormant awaiting the Eternal Spring, I realised how much I had learned in only a few short months:
I’ve learned that in the cycle of life sometimes you have to go back to go forwards. That some are born evil, but some have evil thrust upon them; that understanding is the path to forgiveness; and that it’s never too late to get laid, but a younger lover probably increases your chance of pregnancy.
And finally, and most importantly, as Dr Amulet Bone discovered in my latest novel: a good heart is hard to find.
Also by Trisha Ashley
Good Husband Material
The Urge to Jump
Every Woman For Herself
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
SINGLED OUT.
Copyright © 2003 by Trisha Ashley. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
ISBN 0-312-32712-9
EAN 978-0312-32712-5
First published in Great Britain by Judy Piatkus (Publishers) Ltd.
First U.S. Edition: August 2004
eISBN 9781466838901
First eBook edition: February 2013