Still puzzled and angry over the loss of her letters, Annie felt restless in the cramped confines of her little cottage. The same thoughts kept turning over and over in her mind: who could have stolen the bundle of papers from her car, and why on earth would they want to do such a thing? Was someone at Lillington Hall intent on playing malicious games with the new arrival? Or did the letters conceal a secret which had to be kept from her at all costs?
“Why, oh why, didn’t I read the letters when I had the chance?” she shouted, startling herself with her sudden fury. “What a stupid, stupid girl I’ve been!”
Annie slammed her fist down on the kitchen table in exasperation, almost overturning a small vase of spring flowers as she did so. This would never do, she realised. She had to escape the cottage for a couple of hours, or else she would drive herself crazy with these pointless speculations and recriminations.
It was getting too late for a walk. Besides, Annie had been on her feet all day, fetching and carrying for the film crew. Although they had treated her like a skivvy, she had enjoyed the rest of the day immensely; it was fascinating to see the television drama being staged and shot in front of her, and she had enjoyed helping the handsome Aiden O’Connell escape the prying lenses of the paparazzi, lined up on the boundaries of the estate. She needed this job – and most of all, she needed to find constant daily distractions from the grief that she feared would never leave her. That was why she had decided against causing a scene at the Hall. The letters might have been important, but her own peace of mind had to take priority over everything else.
As for this evening, perhaps all that she needed was to sit somewhere warm and quiet, lost in the pages of Stephen Booth’s compelling fiction. The Sycamore served food, and it was high time that she visited the village pub; this was, after all, her fifth night in Parwich. Annie rose from the table, and reached for her coat.
∞∞∞∞∞
Stepping into the cosy bar, Annie’s eyes immediately alighted on a boisterously giggling couple, snuggled closely together in the corner of the room. It took her a moment to work out which twin had wrapped himself round the busty young woman with the braided hair and the stud through her nose, but simple logic alone dictated that the sensible – and very much engaged – Justin would never behave so brazenly.
Jason couldn’t have spent very much time in London today, she mused. It must have been a brisk meeting, to say the least. And furthermore, was this really appropriate behaviour for a man who had just lost a parent? Edward Fitzwilliam might only have been the twins’ birth father – not their “real” father, as Justin had put it to her so bluntly yesterday – but even so, couldn’t Jason at least act in a more respectful manner in a public place?
The couple had failed to spot Annie as she placed her food order, but as she turned away from the bar, Jason caught her eye and gave her a leery, mischievous wink.
“Woo, woo, beware the ring!” he howled, in a ridiculously over-dramatic voice.
“Woo, woo!” repeated the girl. “Beware, beware!”
And with that, they collapsed into hysterical, complicit laughter.
Annie spotted the packet of king-sized Rizlas on the table in front of them. Then she spotted the top of a clear plastic wrapper, poking out of the top of Jason’s bulging shirt pocket. Annie had been to plenty of music festivals in her teens and early twenties. It took her no more than a split second to put two and two together.
“I’ll take my dinner in the back bar, thank you”, she told the bespectacled, kindly bartender. And without a further word, she sailed haughtily past the couple and through the connecting door.
∞∞∞∞∞
Annie was putting her boots on when she heard the knock. Hoping that this visitor wouldn’t make her late for work, she peered through the kitchen window before opening up. Those hennaed braids were unmistakeable.
“Morning”, mumbled the stranger, averting her green, cat-like eyes from Annie’s cold gaze. “My name’s Wendy. I’ve come round to say sorry about last night. We were a bit pi… sorry… a bit tipsy, if you know what I mean.”
“Tipsy?” snorted Annie. “That’s one word for it, I suppose.”
“Yeah, all right, I admit it – we were a bit spliffed up and all. You won’t tell, will you?”
“It’s really none of my business, is it?”
“Well, that’s the thing. It kind of is. Can I come in?”
“Five minutes, Wendy. That’s all I can spare you. So if you’ve got something to say, you’d better get straight to the point. Shall we sit down?”
Wendy looked nervous and uncomfortable. Annie decided to suspend her judgement. Whatever, this was about, she would give the girl a fair hearing.
“So, what is it that you want to tell me?”
Wendy paused, sighed, and took a deep breath.
“Look, it was that thing with the ring. Laughing at you and stuff. That was right mean, and I shouldn’t have done it. It’s that bloody Jason. He’s a good laugh, but he can be a right bast… sorry. Well, you know what I mean.”
Another pause. Another sigh.
“Jason likes playing games with people, OK? And he’s got this way of talking you into doing stuff you wouldn’t normally do. Such a bloody charmer! I shouldn’t have listened, I know I shouldn’t.”
“Wendy, what do you mean? What did Jason make you do?”
“Have you still got that note, Annie? You know, the one that was pinned to that bunch of herbs? It was me that stuck it on your door the day before yesterday, while you were up at the Hall. Jason wrote it, then he talked me into coming over. Said he couldn’t do it himself, ‘cos he was on his way to hospital. His dad had an accident. His real dad, that is. Jason never called him his dad, though. Said he already had a dad, and he didn’t need another one coming along. Still, you’d think he’d have been a bit more bothered about it, wouldn’t you? But he was more bothered about playing this joke on you, with this stupid note. Said he wanted to spook you, good and proper.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this”, Annie muttered. “Why would he want to do such a thing? And how did he even know about…”
“Have you still got the note, Annie? I’ll talk you through it, if you like.”
Annie fetched the note from the pile of papers on the windowsill. She spread it out in the table, and read it aloud.
A gift of rosemary I bestow on you,
To protect and cherish the whole night through.
Beware the ring,
For the curse is true.
Take good care,
Don’t let her come for you.
“Right then”, said Wendy, “I’ll start with the herbs, shall I? Jason tried to buy a bag of weed off this Spanish fella in Buxton the other week – Alejandro, runs a club night, total con artist, I could have told him that for nothing – but when he got home, he found out it wasn’t weed after all. He’d been had. The bag was stuffed full of rosemary. Daft beggar! We laughed about it for days after. So it’s our little joke now: “magic rosemary”. I know it’s a bit childish, but there you go, that’s Jason for you. I’d say he was born this way, but then his twin brother’s not like him at all. Sorry, I’m rambling on a bit, aren’t I?”
Annie’s poker face said more than words ever could.
“And the ring? How did Jason even know about…”
Annie stopped herself. Best not to say too much. Let Wendy do the explaining.
“OK, the ring. Well, Jason’s mum had been to see her sister – that’s Jason’s auntie, Dorothy Cundy, she looks after this cottage – and there was all this talk about some old ring that you’ve got. Jason said his mum couldn’t stop going on about it, and how it belonged to her family, and what were you doing with it anyway, stuff like that. So he thought he’d wind you up a bit, and make out that the ring was cursed. Annie, I do feel really bad about this, you’ve got to believe me.”
“That’s OK, Wendy. I’m just glad that you’ve come to your senses. So, who is the mystery woman at the end of the poem? The one that might be “coming for me”, as Jason puts it?”
“Oh, that’s Sally, who’s meant to be marrying Justin – if he doesn’t wise up and get rid of her, which he bloody well should, if you ask me. Jason knew she was going to make life difficult for you, especially after he talked Justin into offering you a job at the Hall. She’s a right jealous cow, is Sally. Bet you didn’t know she used to be engaged to Jason, did you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I thought that would shock you. Annie, you don’t know the half of it! Jason and Sally were together for years, though God knows how Sally didn’t find out about all his other women. Anyway, one day she walked in on Jason with some random slapper, went mental, called the whole thing off. But the thing is, Justin had always fancied Sally as well. Well, more than fancied – he’d always been mad about her, couldn’t stand it that she’d chosen his twin brother. So, the next thing we know, Sally makes a move on Justin – for revenge, Jason reckons. Not that he could care less, but still. And Justin’s not short of money, so Sally’s done pretty well for herself, all in all. Poor old Justin thinks it’s love, but we all know it’s just a bad romance. Anyway, she’s got him wrapped around her little finger now, hates it when he even looks at another woman – so she’s not going to take too kindly to having you around, is she? ”
“In that case, perhaps I should thank you for the warning! That’s quite a story, Wendy. Thank you for being so open and honest with me. Perhaps some good has come out of this silly note, after all.”
“Thanks for being so nice about it, Annie. Thing is, I nearly didn’t leave the note at all. Not when I got to the door yesterday afternoon, and saw Mrs Cundy in this kitchen. I had to be really careful, so as not to get spotted. “
“Oh, that’s strange. I was having some problems with the Aga, but Mrs Cundy managed to re-light it just fine. I can’t think why she needed to come round. Was she with the service engineer?”
“No, she was sitting at this table, reading some letters. They must have been old letters, because they had these big red seals on them.”
∞∞∞∞∞
As soon as Wendy had left the cottage, Annie picked up the telephone. Her hands were shaking as she dialled.
“Mrs Cundy? It’s Annie Caruthers. Listen, I’m going to get straight to the point. I had some documents in my possession, which were stolen from my car yesterday. Would you happen to know anything about their whereabouts?”
“No, dear – I don’t know anything about them, I’m afraid. How awful for you! We have so little crime in Parwich, but you just never …”
Annie was in no mood to be fobbed off by her housekeeper’s “sweet old lady“ routine.
“In that case”, she interrupted, “perhaps you would care to explain what you were doing in my kitchen, two days ago, reading the very same documents?”
Dorothy’s tone changed instantly. “My God, woman – not much gets past you, does it? In fact, you’re quite the little know-it-all, aren’t you?”
“Mrs Cundy, I have the right to know how you could possibly justify interfering with my private…”
“Annie Caruthers, you can spare me the high-and-mighty act. You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, don’t you? But you know as well as I do what was in those letters, you conniving little bitch.”
“How DARE you talk to me like…”
“Now, you just listen to me, young woman. This is all very convenient for you, isn’t it? There’s poor Edward Fitzwilliam, his body not even cold yet – and there’s YOU, stuffing those wretched letters into your car, ready to wave them in our faces. You just couldn’t wait, could you? Oh, I bet you could just dance with happiness! You knew that Edward’s paperwork hadn’t been completed! Why, I wouldn’t even put it past you to have…”
“To have WHAT, Mrs Cundy?”
“I’ve said enough, Annie Caruthers. But know this: it will be a cold day in hell before you EVER get your hands on what rightfully belongs to my nephew. Margaret and I have seen to that. Now, get out of my house, get out of Parwich, and get out of our lives!”
Parwich Heights 
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