Instalment Twelve – By Bridget Jones

Across the hills in the neighbouring village of Brassington, the bells of St James’s church began to chime, heralding the witching hour of midnight.

In a modest, stone cottage nestled in the warren of narrow streets, a rotund figure slumbered on, oblivious.  Swaddled in a checked dressing gown, warmed by the flames of the open fire, which had now reduced to embers – the figure snoozed contentedly, the remnants of a glass of port set on a table beside his creaking wooden rocking chair.  His companion, a scruffy mutt, lay at his slippered feet with her head rested on her paws– occasionally lifting a lazy eyelid to check that all was well with the world.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by the shrill ‘bring, bring….bring, bring’ of the rotary dial phone on the sideboard.  Startled, the man snorted heavily- aroused unceremoniously from his sleep, tentatively opening an eye to look in disbelief at the clock placed above the fire on the stone mantel.  He reached quickly for his spectacles, which were folded neatly beside his glass, and observed hazily, as the precise time came into view.

‘Who in their right mind would be ringing at this time?..’  He muttered to himself and Tilly yelped, as he unintentionally trod on her paw fumbling to reach the phone in the dim light of the early hours.

He cleared his throat, before picking up the receiver, ‘Brassington 441250’, and braced himself for the response.

‘Thomas I’m sorry to call so late…but I just had to speak to you!’

The surprise registered in Chambers’ face, ‘Dorothy, what on earth is the matter?  What’s so urgent that couldn’t wait till tomorrow morning?….’  His heart was racing, not only from jumping up too suddenly, but also as a precursor of his fear and anxiety.  He felt a plunging feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he considered what could have possessed the austere Mrs Cundy, to contact him at such an ungodly hour, and in such a flap to boot.

‘It’s Robert…Robert Lomas.  He’s been arrested for Edward’s murder…..’  Thomas didn’t hear any more as the handset dropped from his grip and he reached for the sideboard to steady himself, his jaw dropped in a look of horror and a cold wet tear escaped from his grey eyes.  As if in empathy, Tilly sat before her owner, head cocked, whimpering.  Watching on, as Chambers descended into a fit of uncontrollable sobs.

∞∞∞∞∞

The radiant sun was rising tentatively, casting a powder pink and vanilla hue in the morning sky – full of hope and expectation.  The dawning of a new day, which masked the chaos and despair of the night that had gone before.

As the village began to wake fitfully following the excesses of the St George’s day celebrations, little clusters began to form on the village green, street corners and on doorsteps.  Like any village in the grip of a scandal, Parwich was awash with animated gossip.

Annie used the guise of getting some bacon, for a good old-fashioned English Breakfast to wander down to the shop, and see if she could shed some light on what had happened after last night’s dramatic events.  She desperately wanted to contact Justin, but thought better of it.  She was sure he’d get in touch in his own time.  Annie smiled dreamily, as she recollected Justin’s comforting embrace and his hot breath on her hair, as he held her close against the chill of the evening.  With an imperceptible sigh, she slammed the front door of the cottage shut and ambled down the lane, on what was becoming her familiar walk down towards the village.

‘So what happened last night on the green then?…What were the police doing at the Lomas’s’  Annie broke off a chunk of dairy milk, and considered it in anticipation – then popped it in her mouth and savoured the creamy, velvety texture as it melted on her tongue.

‘Well…..’  Janet leant on the shop counter, arms crossed, clutching her elbows.  ‘Betty here lives next door to them..Robert & Margaret that is…and she saw it all, didn’t you Betty?..And there’d been some rumours flying round recently about their so-called ‘happy’ marriage too, hadn’t there Betty?…’  That was an invitation that the mousey brown haired woman stood next to Annie had awaited eagerly.

For the next quarter of an hour, the lives of the Lomas’s were laid bare for all to see.  Speculation was that the usually mild mannered Robert, had watched on in turmoil as his wife flirted uncontrollably with Edward Fitzwilliam, the natural father of his sons Jason and Justin.  There was also talk that Margaret had become increasingly consumed by grand ideas of her son inheriting the Fitzwilliam family fortune, and had driven her husband to distraction.  It seems she harboured visions of reconciliation, even if Edward did not.

‘They always say that it’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch’,  Betty said raising one sparse eyebrow knowingly.  ‘After all, he’d dedicated his life to Jason and Justin, even though they weren’t his – did you know that?….’  Registering Annie’s nod of the head with surprise, Betty continued ‘Happen he felt threatened but kept it all close to his chest like.  Kept it all bottled up inside, so he wound up tighter and tighter like a coiled spring.  Until he got himself wound up so tight, that he couldn’t take no more that was it… ‘pop’..’  Betty gestured frantically with her spindly arms and hands, in an attempt to indicate an explosion.

‘He snapped in a fit of jealously…the classic crime of passion.’  Annie looked incredulously between the two women, unable to comprehend the tale that was unfolding between the bread rolls and oxo cubes, in the tiny confines of the village shop.  Then a look of realisation crept across Annie’s face, and her jaw dropped into a gape.

‘Oh my God….so it wasn’t just a riding accident then?…..’  The question was aimed at no one in particular, but Janet shook her head in response.

‘No…not according to Josie anyway.  She lives in the last cottage as you head out of the village.  She works on the Lillington Hall estate in the stables.’  The landlady pointed in the direction of the shop window, indicating the hill behind Sycamore Cottages – beyond which the Lillington Estates lay in the distance.  ‘It wasn’t until Sir Edward had died, that the police came to search the stables….’  Janet was just about to conclude, when Betty chipped in to steal her thunder.

‘That’s when they found it…a sharp object imbedded in the underside of Samson’s saddle.’  Betty continued excitedly, ‘ He’s the local vet, so no one would think anything of it if Robert were in the stables giving the horses the once over…that’s when he must have done it!….Robert knew what he was doing alright….’  Annie looked down to find the purple wrapping was emptied of its contents, except for a few chocolaty crumbs.

‘But he didn’t die, not straight away.  I was with Jason and Justin, just after it happened’, Annie tucked a curl of auburn hair behind her ear…’ and he was improving in hospital….perhaps Robert hadn’t intended to kill him.  Perhaps he just wanted to warn Edward off, and it all went horribly wrong…that’s not murder’ Annie picked up the bacon, and white rolls that she’d purchased before getting engrossed in the nitty gritty of this tragic affair.  Her stomach was now grumbling in protest, reminding her that she needed an extra dose of fatty comfort food to counter last night’s intake of rosé.

‘Mm..But very convenient though don’t you think.  Him making a ‘recovery’ in hospital and then wham he’s gone just like that.  No warning, just gone.’  Betty chewed in contemplation on a fruit gum, like some female version of ‘Columbo’.  ‘Perhaps, Robert wasn’t expecting Edward to survive…perhaps…just maybe he went back to the hospital to finish him off…finish the job he’d started..Now that would be murder…’.

Janet broke the pregnant pause that descended between the women ‘Betty!  This is Parwich – you’re not in an episode of Midsomer Murders now you know.  Really!..’ Janet raised her eyebrows in exasperation at Betty’s fertile imagination, and with that, Annie said her goodbyes, and turned to leave.

‘Stranger things have happened though!’  Betty stated purposefully, before popping another fruit gum into her mouth.

∞∞∞∞∞

After the excitement and intrigue of the morning, Annie retreated to the peace and tranquillity of Parwich Heights.  Settling down at the rustic kitchen table, she took a sip from her mug of piping hot coffee.  She was preparing with relish to delve into her sausage, bacon, egg, black pudding, beans and toast when she heard a knock on the window.

Turning round, she spied Fern’s pleasant smiley face, and indicated excitedly for her to come in.  Annie turned down Classic FM, which had been piping from the DAB radio on the worktop next to the aga.  After her initial desperate attempts, she’d really grown to love cooking on the range and couldn’t now ever contemplate being without it.

‘Hi..how are you?…’  Fern burst into the kitchen with her infectious, bubbly energy, and snatched a sausage from Annie’s plate.  ‘Where did you go last night?  I didn’t see you leave….’  The redhead shot her friend a cheeky look.

‘No?  Well, that’s because you were otherwise engaged with the delectable Mr O’Connell I believe’  Fern blushed faintly, as she recalled the passionate kisses she’d shared with the handsome actor the night before.  The memory of his lips, exploring hers, nuzzling into the base of her neck – it was as though her skin had been scorched by his touch, and she smouldered still at the recollection.

‘Er, yes I was rather!…’  Fern chuckled contentedly at the thought.

The two friends, demolished the breakfast and drank numerous cups of coffee, as they analysed the events of the previous night.

‘So you have no idea what the significance of the locket is?  Have you got it?….’  Annie shook her head to confirm that she hadn’t.

‘No, that was when the sirens went off.  Justin just dashed off, I assume he’s still got the locket with him…but he’s got bigger things on his plate than me at the moment’.  Annie cupped her mug comfortingly, as she considered how close she’d come to finding out more about Grace last night.  So near, and yet tantalisingly, so far.  She was in a quiet state of contemplation, when something that Fern said, brought her back to the world of the living.

‘What did you say?’  Annie perched on the edge of her chair in expectation.

‘Ireland… Aiden’s taking me to Ireland – one way to get shut of Nathan once and for all!’ she smirked impishly,  ‘Well filming wraps this week, and he always likes to go home to ‘ground’ himself as he calls it.’  Fern laughed under her breath at the enormity of what she was saying..’he wants to take me to meet the family’  She scrunched up her fists and clutched them to her cheeks in excitement…’Me Annie, Aiden O’Connell wants to take me to meet his family, can you believe it?….’

Annie sprang to her feet and rushed to the other side of pine table to embrace her wonderfully modest friend.  This couldn’t be happening to a nicer person.  ‘Of course I believe it, it’s only you who can’t see what an amazing catch you are!’  Annie gushed, as she wiped the tears of happiness from her eyes.  ‘So will we be hearing the patter of tiny feet any time soon?….Mrs O’Connell!…’  Fern chided her companion at the absurdity of it, but the fluttering sensation from her heart down to her belly, belied the fact, and indicated her true hopes and aspirations of a life with the desperately good-looking Aiden O’Connell.

‘Well, I’ll put a fiver on it…you’ll be down that aisle in no time at all….My God, just think of how amazing your babies will look with you pair for parents!!…Gee wiz!’  The girls collapsed in a fit of giggles at the thought.

It was only the sound of something dropping through the letterbox, which broke them from their reverie.

‘That’s funny…the postman’s already been with a letter from Mum this morning. And other than Quentin’s parents, no one else knows I’m here… ’  Annie looked quizzically in the direction of the hall.

Fern shrugged her shoulders ‘Well you’re not going to find out, by standing like a Dodo in the kitchen are you?…’  The fair-haired woman smiled mischievously, as Annie padded across the creamy limestone flagged floor, towards the front door of the cottage. ‘Perhaps, it’s an invite from Prince Charming. Cinders….You will go to the ball!’.

It was only a few moments before Annie returned to the room, waving an opened envelope in her hand.

‘Did you know anything about this?..’  Annie eyed Fern quizzically, ‘because if you did….’

Fern shot up out of her chair, almost upsetting her mug of coffee. ‘Know anything about what?’

The pretty redhead thrust an envelope and card in Fern’s direction, and waited with her hands perched firmly on her hips anticipating some form of explanation. After a few moments, Fern raised her eyes in bewilderment.

‘Well..’ Annie continued to push for an explanation, ‘Did you know anything about this?…an invite from Prince Charming indeed!  Pah!…’

‘Look Annie, truly I don’t know anything about this.  Why would I know, who the Fitzwilliam family are going to invite to their dinner parties?’  Her eyes registered hurt at being at the sharp end of Annie’s fiery temper.  Sensing, she’d overstepped the mark Annie retracted, and smiled apologetically at her wounded friend.

‘Sorry.  I didn’t mean to have a go at you.  It just seemed a bit ‘twilight zone’, that’s all.  You know you joking that it could be an invite to a ball.  Then this..’  Annie reached to take the card from Fern’s gentle hands, and looked again at the intricate copperplate writing, that flowed effortlessly across the gold trimmed card.

In honour of the Fitzwilliam Family past & present

Mr Justin Lomas Fitzwilliam

Requests the pleasure of your company for cocktails and dinner

Saturday, the evening of 30^th April 2011 at 8.00 pm

Evening Wear

‘What does it mean? Why would Justin Lomas…’  Annie corrected herself, begrudgingly ‘Sorry Justin Lomas Fitzwilliam..’ she paused for effect, ‘invite me to a dinner party at Lillington Hall?….and what’s all this ‘in honour of the Fitzwilliam Family past & present’?…he’s a bit up himself isn’t he!…’  Annie looked to Fern for confirmation, and received a nonplussed look in response.

‘He told me he wasn’t interested in all that pomp and circumstance lark- of being heir to an ancestral estate..and I believed him.  I thought he was such a down-to-earth, ordinary guy…’ Annie slumped dejectedly into her chair.  ‘Anyway, it’s Jason that’s the heir anyway…So why’s Justin…?’  Flustered the redhead gave up trying to pre-empt the motive for this mysterious invite.

‘And as for Prince Charming….’  Annie scoffed, tossing the invite unsympathetically onto the remnants of her breakfast plate.  ‘Well I think we all know the answer to that one!’  She shifted restlessly in her seat as if to emphasise her displeasure.

‘Really?’  Fern countered, from across the table – searching the angry countenance that she saw before her ‘I’m not sure WE do!…’.

She allowed the faintest smile to crease her lips, and watched smugly as Annie’s freckled cheeks blushed hotly under her gaze.  The long dark lashes cast downwards, concealed Annie’s indignant hazel eyes, which stared so intently at the stone-flagged floor, it was almost as if she were willing the ground to open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole.

Annie played absentmindedly with the buttery gold band that adorned the index finger of her outstretched hand.  She watched hypnotically, as the band rotated between the graceful touch of her finger and thumb, scrutinising the vivid ruby red stone, and iridescent blush diamonds – watching them appear and disappear as the ring circled incessantly.  Annie was so caught up in her thoughts, that she hadn’t noticed Fern tiptoeing tentatively from the room, leaving her in solitary contemplation.

Nor did she notice, as a melancholic air descended on the little stone cottage, the unearthly chill that crept stealthily from the hallway.  The frosty air shifted in swirls and eddies about her motionless body, as she sat almost statue-like in the sunny glow of the small kitchen.

An involuntary shudder jolted Annie’s tiny form to its senses, and she shook her head repeatedly in an attempt to revive herself.  ‘Blimey, ….I could have sworn someone just walked over my grave!….’ she exclaimed, rubbing her arms to re-inject some warmth back into her body.

The chill air retreated deftly, and the more customary snug, homely ambience of Parwich Heights was restored once more.

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