Three Mile Drove, Chapter Eighteen

Three Mile Drove
Chapter Eighteen

At first it was like peering through a pipe or tube, seeing a circle of light at the other end and amidst it some kind of shape, but unable to make out what. Then as the circle expanded and became clearer the shape – no shapes – took form. Darren blinked to find two figures standing over him, the identity of one revealing itself directly his scattered senses reassembled. The other, a tall gaunt man meant nothing at all.

He tried to raise himself from the confined space at the back of the Jeep but Claire Summerby’s restraining arm prevented him. ‘Now you just lay there awhile until you get your bearings.’

Getting his bearings wasn’t easy, he needed help in that respect. He blinked again, then slapped the palm of his hand over his eyes, shielding them from the light that blazed at him through the Jeep’s rear window.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ Darren’s efforts were more determined this time as he raised himself to his haunches, ‘What’s happened, I feel I’ve been run over by a truck.’

‘And you might have been.’ He ran the palm of his hand down his face, seeing Claire glance quickly at the man beside her, she gave a sigh and another glance, ‘This is David Endleberry, the parson. As a new resident he was planning on paying you a courtesy call, and as I was coming out this way I said I’d join him. We found you in a heap along the drove.’ She shook her head, he felt her gaze resting on him, studying him. ‘Must have been quite a night huh? What did you do, have a few beers in the bungalow, go for a walk to clear your head and…’

‘Of course not,’ Darren waved them aside, stepped out of the Jeep and wobbled. He held his head as it protested against the morning sunlight, ‘Especially not in that pig sty.’

Claire’s eyes widened, her hands were on her hips, ‘Well, you’re showing all the classic symptoms, let’s see shall we?’

She turned, taking the few steps to the bungalow, Darren and Endleberry following behind. She pushed the door firmly, casting Darren a disapproving glance in the process, ‘I thought so, you hadn’t even closed it properly.’ She glanced through the kitchen where he’d set up the camping table and chairs, turning back to face him, her arms crossed, ‘There, what a surprise, the left overs of last night’s mischief,’ she inclined her head and Darren followed its line.

On the kitchen table were four empty cans labelled Downing’s Strong Ale, and another on its side, its contents having deposited themselves in a treacly mess on the floor. Darren frowned, open-mouthed, glancing from the beer cans to Claire and then to Endleberry, who, placing a closed fist to his mouth gave a short cough.

‘I don’t know,’ Claire said surveying the mess, ‘old habits die hard eh?’

‘No, no – that’s not what happened,’ Darren stepped into the room, made for the table and swept the cans from it with his hand, ‘I don’t know how the hell they got here but that’s not what happened…’

‘I can’t see the point in denying it Darren,’ Endleberry, speaking for the first time fixed his eyes on the rolling cans, ‘I should think that more than half the population indulge in a drink or two…’

Darren laughed, but in exasperation. He spun round covering his head in his hands for a second and then slapped them on his thighs. ‘I’ll tell you what happened…’ through the haze his memory had returned and the picture it had provided didn’t resemble the one that lay beside him one little bit.

‘Look I was out there in the yard approaching the gates. I heard something behind me, I thought it was the wind blowing up all the crap but somebody had made a quick dash. I started to turn and an arm came over my shoulder, something came across my face, some kind of rag. I tried to get away but there was another hand around my waist, I couldn’t move.’

He pushed past them and reached the door, the mixture of stale beer and sickly odour within made him want to vomit.

But he didn’t. He took a deep breath and turning to face them said with forced calmness, ‘Tomblin tried to kill me.’

Darren stared at them with total conviction, no hazy tint to mar his senses now.

It had to be Tomblin’s work. First, he thought he’d heard an engine noise amidst the wind, and second, Tomblin had threatened him before. Then there was his grisly dad, who in his own way had done much the same the moment he’d entered the drove, less than thirty minutes before he’d heard the steps behind him and felt the cloth around his mouth. Tomblin had felt he’d done enough to kill him, left him for dead.

That was how it was.

Claire and the parson were staring at him; they exchanged glances. The parson shuffled his feet, interlocked his fingers, ‘I suggest we run the young man back to his hotel, his imagination seems to be running away with him, and he needs to sober up.’

Darren shook his head fiercely at Endleberry, ‘I’ve already told you, I didn’t take a drink… he placed it there to look…’

‘Please Darren, calm down, try to think rationally,’ Claire shook her long hair back, reached forward and grabbed his arms, ‘listen, you need to rest up, you’ve been imagining noises and things ever since you came here. If you’re going to live in this part of the world you’ll need to accept things as they are, nothing more than the customs of an old fashioned, rustic society. Isn’t that right David?’

‘Of course it is,’ the parson fixed his gaze upon him; he snatched a handkerchief from his trouser pocket, quickly mopping his brow. The parson seemed hot, uncomfortable somehow, but it was a cold day outside and there was enough draught funnelling through the open door to make a ghost shiver.

Darren felt Claire’s arm transfer to his shoulder, she wasn’t a lot shorter than him and managed it quite easily, ‘Now you go back to your hotel room and lie down, give this over-active imagination of yours a chance to rest. You’ll see things differently later.’ She removed her arm and he felt the palm of her hand soft against his back, guiding him through the doorway towards the Jeep. ‘I tell you what, I’ll call by later this afternoon, I’ve no doubt it’ll all look different by then.’

Darren turned at that, he felt a new wave of indignation, ‘Why won’t you even consider that I might be right, what’s wrong with you people? After all just a few days ago you got bloody stroppy when I even mentioned the Tomblins. Why, why Claire eh?’

He saw her swallow; she dug her hands deep into the pockets of her fleece coat and narrowed her eyes, ‘Because what you intended was trespass plain and simple.’ Claire looked flushed, angry, she seemed to be struggling to control her voice; he didn’t understand her attitude one little bit. He saw Endleberry’s hand clutch her arm; he saw once again the moisture on his brow, ‘We respect each other’s rights here Darren, please try to understand that.’

Darren sneered at the parson’s words, it struck him as he stood in the yard that he had been escorted from his own place. We respect each other’s rights – and yet he was the one being propelled to leave.

‘ The hell you do.’ He pushed past them, back inside the hallway of the bungalow, ‘In which case would you both mind leaving. I want to lock up.’

And that was what he’d done the previous evening, he was sure. He’d locked up. So how had Claire managed to push the door open so easily…

‘I’ll call on you later, take care.’ Claire’s voice dropped away, it was quieter now, no anger there. But she and the parson were agitated, and the parson particularly seemed anxious to be going. He was already at Claire’s car.

He watched them leave, the wheels of her car churning up dust as she left at speed.

Out on the fens, somewhere to the back of his property, carried on the wind that continually raged, he heard a shriek. That same awful sound it seemed only he in the village bothered about. The sound everybody else was oblivious to.

*
Claire glanced in her mirror as they drove away from the bungalow, Darren hadn’t followed them out, his Jeep was in the yard, but it had all gone wrong, hopelessly wrong.

Tomblin had tried to kill him, he’d said. Well he hadn’t, not on this occasion at any rate, but she’d only made matters worse, providing fuel for Darren’s curiosity and transforming his dislike and suspicion of Tomblin into anger. Endleberry sat beside her, exhaling heavily, his fingers interlocked tightly as he twisted them back and forth. As they passed her old house he turned, she didn’t need to meet his eyes to know his glance was a worried one.

'So what do you propose doing now?’ he said after another heavy breath, ‘you didn’t really think your idea would work did you? You’ve been very rash Claire.’

‘Of course I thought it would work or I wouldn’t have tried it,’ Claire shot him an indignant glance then sighed, ‘I thought a mild dose of Chloroform would do the trick, help him keep from prying into something he doesn’t understand. I thought what little noise I made would be lost in the conditions. I didn’t count on him realising someone was there. It wasn’t only for his benefit you know, it was for…’

‘You haven’t answered my question,’ Endleberry persisted, his voice raised, edgy. ‘What are you going to do?’

Claire looked at him, opened her mouth to speak but the words that were on her tongue fell away before she could utter them.

She saw by the narrowing of his eyes that he’d read her thoughts, ‘You can’t Claire, you mustn’t go to McPherson. You know what the consequences of a search will be.’ His voice had an odd croakiness to it as he gripped her arm, giving his words time to sink in, ‘You know Claire, you know only too well.’

‘Let go of my arm David,’ Claire sighed as his arm retracted, reached the crossroads and turned left. Her nerves had taken a pounding of late, now the resilience she prided herself on was being tested to the full. If a rope in a tug of war could suffer emotion, that would be her right now. Because before, all she had to do was play safe, go along with things. She might not have liked it but that was the way things were. Accept what had happened and get on with your life, as long as you did that matters would lie.

Now Darren Goldwater had entered the frame and things had changed.

Claire felt her trepidation mounting as she headed into the village.