Rosemary heard the sound, hardly a crash, more an extended squeal, a groaning and a shuddering. She looked out of the front window and although the darkness prevented a clear view, she gradually made out the incongruous picture of Larry’s car, sitting up begging like a dog asking for a biscuit, in the flowing water of the stream. She stood transfixed for a moment then she opened the door and ran down to see if Larry was inside it.
She had woken to find him missing and guessed he had gone to make the phone call he had mentioned.
Larry was trying to force open the car door, which was blocked by a small shrub growing out of rocks on the bank of the stream. There was blood on his face but it seemed, by his furious actions, that he was relatively unharmed.
Huw appeared and ran up behind her. He waded through the water to pull at the shrub and ease open the door. Larry fell out, skidded on the sloping bank, teetered on the edge of the stream but was held by Huw before he could slip into the water.
‘Shit!’ Larry said loudly and with feeling.
‘Send for an ambulance, please,’ Rosemary shouted as Richard, Gethyn, then Mrs Priestley came out to see what had occurred.
‘No, it’s all right, I’m not hurt, only angry,’ Larry assured them. He took a handkerchief offered by Mrs Priestley to stem the flow of blood coming from his nose and walked to Rosemary and hugged her.
‘I’m all right,’ he reassured her. ‘I hit my face on the steering wheel and my nose is bleeding, but that’s all.’
‘I suppose it’s useless asking if anyone saw someone snooping around my car?’ he asked. He and Rosemary watched as one by one the others looked at each other and shook their heads.
‘I’m only guessing,’ Larry said angrily, ‘but someone has almost certainly tampered with the brakes.’
‘Why would they?’ Huw asked. ‘It would only have meant a soaking at worst. You were bound to find out as soon as you released the hand-brake. There’s no way you’d have driven into a dangerous situation.’
‘I don’t know Goddammit! I only know someone has been messing with my car and I’m going to find out who!’ He stormed off with an arm still around Rosemary, and when Gethyn asked if he should go for the police, he didn’t even turn around. ‘No, what’s the point?’ he growled.
‘Larry, we must,’ Rosemary urged.
‘Leave it, Rosemary, I want to think,’ he said.
‘Let me bathe your face. Then you can sit quietly and think all you like,’ she said, ‘I’ve some thinking to do too.’
She was surprised to find bruises on his chin and under the left side of his jaw.
‘You must have been thrown around a bit more than you realised, darling,’ she said as she washed away the blood.
‘You look as if you’ve been in a fight!’
‘I have, sort of,’ he said.
‘A fight?’ she said, startled into harsher movements that made him groan. ‘Who with? What happened out there?’
‘I slid down the bank in the car, that’s all. I hit my face on the wheel,’ he repeated.
‘But this bruise under your chin. How could that have happened like you said?’
‘Like I said, a fight – to stop the car from rolling. Me nil the car one I think, don’t you?’
‘Definitely round one to the car,’ she agreed.
He offered no further explanation and Rosemary presumed that was what he had meant when he referred to a fight. He was very shaken and very angry and she didn’t want to press him further.
‘What d’you think of Huw?’ Rosemary asked when she had finished her ministrations.
‘He always seems pleasant and polite, why?’ he asked cautiously.
‘I asked at the shop and no one there can be sure who told him you were leaving. In fact, they thought the information had come from Huw himself.’
‘He couldn’t be behind any of this. It has to be someone who comes in, how else could they have gotten that key from the vase? Huw has never been inside the place. That has to let him out.’
‘I didn’t tell you, but Huw had the key in his possession, but only for about an hour. I know it’s unlikely he could have one cut in that time, but – oh, I don’t know. All this is beyond me.’
‘What d’you mean, he had possession of the key? When was this?’
‘Remember the day he said he’d seen an owl? It was the day after the light bulb incident and you were late. I was afraid to come in alone and I gave him the key so he could come in and look around first. He just forgot to hand the key back when he’d taken it from the lock. He made up the story about the owl so he could return it without you knowing.’
‘Why without me knowing? Rosemary, you have to tell me everything if we’re to crack this.’
‘I’d been careless and he was saving me a little embarrassment, that’s all. And in the short time he had it, he couldn’t have got a spare made, could he?’
‘He could if he has access to a workshop.’ He looked thoughtful, a frown darkening his face.
‘I’d better get to work,’ she said putting away the first-aid box, ‘although I don’t really feel like leaving you like this.’ She looked at him, lying back against the settee, eyes closed again, his face battered and swollen. ‘What will you do, stay here?’
‘First I have to arrange to get the car pulled out of the water,’ he said.
‘And the door-locks, will you see to them?’
Suddenly he sat up, gestured to her to be quiet, and began to talk about unimportant things while he rapidly wrote a message to her on his note-pad.
‘I’ll take it easy I guess,’ he said. ‘My nose feels like a split water-melon. My head is one fat, excruciating ache. I’ll have a lazy day. The locks can wait, can’t they darling? I’ll be here all day, no one will try to get in. I’ll get around to dealing with them, in a day or so, but there’s no hurry.’
As he talked, he wrote:
‘Don’t say anything important. If you’re right about being overheard, we don’t want to give anything away. We’ll talk in the car.’
Fear returning after a brief respite of forgetfulness, she nodded, her blue eyes showing her trepidation, the half smile for him, demonstrating her bravery.
‘Phone the garage now. I’ll wait to hear what they advise then I’ll have to rush,’ she said, as casually as she was able. ‘Do you need anything from town?’
‘No honey, I just want some rest.’
‘That you shall have. I won’t phone you ’til this afternoon.’ She kissed him goodbye and he walked with her to the door.
A shout of alarm startled her and for a moment she didn’t know whether to run, or throw herself to the ground. She turned, half crouched and saw Larry running towards her.
‘Keep away from the car! God help me, how could I be such a damned fool!’ His voice so loud, so urgent, plus the look on his damaged face that made him look wild and dangerous, frightened her so much she hardly heard the words. Only when he went to her car, gestured furiously for her to stand back and demanded the keys, did she realise what had frightened him. Her car, parked next to where his had stood, could have been tampered with too.
He took the keys from her trembling hand and opened the door. He looked inside and then sat in the driving seat. He experimentally pushed the brakes, eased the hand-brake and touched them again.
‘The brakes are all right, I think,’ he said. ‘I’ll just take her around the village before you drive off.’
With a fearful premonition of disaster, Rosemary watched as he drove her car up to the main road and towards the village. She saw the top of it above the parapet of the bridge where the road crossed over the stream, then listened as the engine faded in the distance. She sobbed with relief when she saw him returning.
He cut off the engine and as he stepped out, he nodded his satisfaction.
‘Larry, if you’d had any doubts, you shouldn’t have done that!’
‘I don’t think this man wants either of us dead. I just think he wants me out of the way,’ he said with an attempt at a smile, which, on his distorted features, was more of a grimace.
Rosemary drove to work and at Larry’s insistence, left the car at her garage to be thoroughly checked. It was late when she reached the library and had never felt less like starting work. She was so weary that every bone and muscle in her body ached. She wished Megan were still there, she missed her wisdom and the fun she was able to make out of the ordinary events of their lives.
There were two visitors to the library that day who stopped to talk to her. One was Huw and the other was Gethyn.
Gethyn waited until she was free and asked if ‘the American’ was all right.
‘I saw him getting out of the car after it had slid down the bank and he looked badly shaken. Something he did to the car earlier, was it?’ he asked. ‘Best we leave cars to mechanics I believe, don’t you? Every man to his own trade.’
‘What d’you mean, Gethyn?’ Rosemary asked. ‘Larry wasn’t “doing anything” to the car, only attempting to drive it. The brakes were faulty.’
‘Oh, I must have been mistaken, only, I couldn’t sleep and I saw him, or I thought it was him, like, walking across the bridge and doing something to the car. Long before it was properly light, so I suppose I was mistaken. Some ol’ tramp looking for somewhere for a kip perhaps. Yes, it must have been a tramp.’
‘Yes,’ she said vaguely, her mind closed against the possibility that it was Larry he had seen. It was impossible. He wouldn’t have deliberately made himself crash. Unless, she thought traitorously, unless he wanted to hide those bruises he refused to explain.
She stamped Gethyn’s books, one on the history of some Welsh gardens, and two spy stories.
‘Like to read about gardens, do you, Gethyn? Not much room in ours for anything very grand, is there?’
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘But it’s nice to imagine. I think I’d be content not working if I had a garden to enjoy.’
‘I’m leaving at four if you want a lift home,’ she offered.
Huw came in to order some books for his new term’s work. He asked if Larry had recovered and offered to help with the car if needed.
‘He’s spoken to the garage. Hopefully it will be back on dry land when we get home tonight. Want a lift?’ she offered again. ‘Gethyn might be coming but there’s room for one more.’ She filled in the forms for the books he wanted and stamped the ones he had chosen. ‘I’ll be leaving at four,’ she told him and he thanked her and tucked his books under his arm. He stood at the counter and she knew there was something else he wanted to say. She smiled up at him and waited expectantly. What he did say was a shock.
‘Tell him to go, Rosemary.’ His voice was low but the words pierced her brain like a scream.
‘Larry?’
‘Of course Larry! Ever since he came things have happened that we can’t explain. He must be at the root of it, there’s no other way to look at it.’
‘Huw, don’t be ridiculous! I know him, you don’t!’
‘Tell him to go, please, before anything else happens.’
‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this!’
‘Nothing untoward happened before he came. Tell him to go. Things are becoming more and more frightening. I fear for you.’ He leaned closer, his eyes showing an expression that was more than friendship. Softer voiced, he added, ‘I’d hate anything to happen to you, Rosemary. You’re far too beautiful to suffer even the slightest fright. Let me look after you, tell Larry he must leave.’
She was tempted to shout so everyone in the quiet room could hear her, but she controlled her anger and spat back,
‘That is what whoever is behind this wants me to do, get rid of him! But I’m stubborn enough to want to know why!’
‘I beg you to think about it. You have plenty of friends who care about you, we’ll do everything we can to look after you, but while Larry is there in your house, we can’t protect you. Don’t trust him, tell him to go, at least temporarily, until we get to the bottom of all this.’
‘Thank you for your advice, Huw.’ Her mouth was a tight line, her voice sounded almost prim. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to work.’
‘Of course. See you at four then.’
The two men arrived at ten minutes to four. She saw them standing side by side and remarked at the difference in them. Huw, tall, lean and confident, in slashed, shabby jeans and sweater, was looking around him observing all that went on, smiling easily when she caught his eye, amused when someone complained or dropped a book.
Gethyn stood ill-at-ease, head bent, afraid of meeting anyone’s gaze but hers. He always looked as if he were apologising for being alive, she thought with compassion. He was wearing a good quality but old-fashioned navy suit, tie and blue shirt. His shoes were the type her grandfather had worn for best; lace-ups with a shining toecap. He looked like a film actor stepped straight out of a ’fifties magazine. Yet there was a warmth and a gentleness about him that she found appealing. Confidence in himself was all he needed. Huw was still the recipient of her anger, his accusations of Larry still simmering.
A third person came to talk to her that afternoon and made an offer for the house. What was said made her withdraw into herself to think about the implications and even the lively and determined Sally couldn’t persuade her to discuss it.
The three of them walked together to the garage close by and collected the car. She explained the reason for it being there and said, ‘Gethyn thought he saw someone skulking around Larry’s car early this morning, didn’t you Gethyn?’ Gethyn only nodded ‘Larry and I decided it was probably only a poor tramp looking for somewhere out of the cold wind.’
‘You should tell that to the police,’ Huw insisted. ‘They need every clue we can give them.’
‘We didn’t report it,’ Rosemary said. ‘It’s rented and covered for accidents. He’ll tell them his foot slipped or something I expect.’
‘Rented?’ Huw queried. ‘What makes you think that? He bought it when he first came here.’
‘Oh, yes, I get confused,’ Rosemary smiled, but the smile was tight. It was as she had suspected, and another unnecessary lie.
The Citroen was back in its parking place and Larry was standing in the doorway of the cottage to welcome her.
‘Sorry about punching him, Rosemary,’ Huw said as they drew near enough to see the bruises now in glorious technicolour on the side of Larry’s face. ‘I didn’t know it was him. I just jumped on a shadowy figure.’
‘When was this?’ she demanded.
‘This morning, in the Hughes’s place. Apparently we both had the same thought and went to search in case someone was hiding there and stage-managing all this.’ He stopped and turned her to face him. ‘You didn’t know! Why didn’t he tell you? How did he explain the marks of a fight?’
‘He didn’t want to worry me any more than he had to, I suppose,’ she said, but her eyes were wary as she went to accept Larry’s affectionate greeting.
‘I’ve decided to sell this house,’ Rosemary announced to a surprised Larry after they had eaten their meal.
‘You what? But I thought you loved the place?’
‘I do, at least, I did. I don’t feel safe here any more and after you leave, well, can you see me sleeping here? Can you see me even walking through that door without the fear that something unpleasant, terrifying or downright dangerous might happen? Unless we find out who and what is behind it all, then I’m selling.’
Larry switched off the radio that had been blaring music out to drown their conversation. Forgetting about their fear of being overheard, he said, ‘I phoned my parents this morning. I told them I wouldn’t be coming home as planned. I’ve made a decision too. I won’t go home until this is all settled. That is,’ he added, ‘if you don’t object to my staying.’
She smiled, kissed him lightly and said, ‘Of course I don’t object. It’s such a relief that I won’t have to stay here alone.’
‘Then don’t do anything about selling up, not just yet. Okay?’
‘The offer I had recently seems so opportune, I think I’m going to accept.’
She wondered what Larry’s private thoughts were. Why should he care whether or not she sold the house? She could live in the town, nearer to her friends and with less inconvenience. Living in a small village with few amenities was attractive, but town had its advantages too, the main one being that she would never feel alone.
Larry had delayed his departure but he was still going to leave her and there had not been even the suggestion they kept in touch. He would leave and there would be an end to it. She glanced at him; lean, athletic, boyishly handsome in a way that would probably remain until middle age, and so deeply ingrained in her everyday living she did not know how she would cope without him. Moving house would give her mind something to wrestle with, a reason to go on.
‘You said you’ve had an offer for the house?’ he said. ‘How did that come about?’
‘Someone who used to live in the village and who now lives in Birmingham called to see me and asked if I knew of a house for sale in the village. They want it as a holiday cottage.’ Rosemary spoke normally, the decision making her forget momentarily the suspicion they were being overheard.
‘Tell me about the offer,’ Larry asked. ‘Is it genuine?’
‘I think so, they’re offering a sum which the local estate agents believe to be fair, even generous.’
‘And you’ll take it?’
‘I haven’t finally decided, it was rather a surprise, although I confess I had considered moving away from here. I think the house is, what do you Americans call it, “pixilated”? And it’s telling me to go.’
‘Nonsense, my gullible one. Houses don’t get pixilated, and I don’t believe in ghosts. Or in houses having spirits. No way.’
‘Neither do I, at least, I didn’t. Yet there is something like a ghostly presence in the house, isn’t there?’
‘Removing light bulbs and loosening the cables on my car you mean,’ he teased. ‘Some ghost that would be! A real tourist attraction!’
‘Whatever price the customers are offering, double it!’ he went on, laughing loudly. ‘Insist that the ghost comes as an extra with the drapes and covers!’
‘All right,’ she said, sharing his laugh. ‘I’m being stupid but there is something, if not a ghost then someone. That’s even more frightening, isn’t it? Larry, I’ve known this house all my life. I came here for wonderful holidays as a child and continued to do so until I bought the place when Gran went into a rest home. All the shadows and memories should be my own, shared with my family and without a moment of sadness or even dismay. I’ve never been anything but happy here.’
‘Then stay.’
‘I don’t think I can. Not any more.’
They sat listening to music for a while, then Larry made them some coffee. As they were sitting enjoying a record of Michael Jackson, there was a series of bangs next door and then a longer drawn out crash. It sounded as if furniture had fallen or was being banged about. They ran outside and knocked on Gethyn’s door. Rosemary knelt and tried to peer through the letter box.
‘Gethyn? Are you all right?’ she called.
‘I guess we’ll have to break in if the poor guy doesn’t answer,’ Larry said. ‘He must have fallen.’
They listened anxiously and heard more bangs and what sounded like things falling, some were dull like wood, others metallic, as if saucepans were rolling on the stone kitchen floor. Going next door to investigate, they found Gethyn bending over a cupboard, its glass smashed in, the wood cracked, but when they offered to help, Gethyn refused. Resigned to his stubbornness, they returned to their own home.
The next day she didn’t have to go into work, and she sat with Larry lazily listening to some tapes. The smell of a wood-fire invaded the house and she stood up and looked out of the back window where dark smoke swirled in an uneasy wind.
‘Gethyn has a bonfire,’ she reported. ‘Perhaps he’ll burn the rubbish I’ve collected as well.’ She went out through the back door and saw to her amazement that the fire was enormous. ‘Larry,’ she called, ‘come and look at this. Gethyn is burning some of his furniture.’
Through brief gaps in the thick smoke they saw that there was a large cupboard feeding the hungry red heart of the fire. The doors of the cupboard had been smashed in, the panels split in a row of jagged teeth through which flames were licking like a dozen tongues.
‘Jesus H! What is he burning?’ Larry gasped. ‘It looks as if he has half the house in that pile.’
‘It must be the cupboard he damaged last night.’
‘Damn right it is and several others besides. Is he destroying the whole house?’
They watched for a while, seeing Gethyn appearing and fading from view as the curtain of smoke filled the air then moved aside. He didn’t look their way and they didn’t speak to him.
The fears of being overheard had faded. Several days had passed without anything unusual happening. Larry’s father had reported the safe arrival of the manuscript which had been photocopied. Larry spent the days while Rosemary was at work tidying the small garden, or walking in the colourful autumn countryside, taking endless photographs, which, he told her, he would use to give slide evenings when he got home.
Gethyn called one day when Larry was out and asked if there had been another parcel for him. She assured him there had not and offered him a cup of coffee. She decided it was a good opportunity to tell him that she was considering selling the house.
‘Someone has made an offer,’ she explained. ‘A letter came from the local estate agents, confirming the offer previously made. It seems heaven sent when so many things are going wrong.’
‘Nothing’s been right for you since the American came, has it?’ he sympathised.
‘It can hardly be his fault,’ she laughed.
‘We’ll have to see if it stops when he goes back to America,’ he said softly.
‘That’s nonsense, Gethyn! What would he gain by frightening me? He’s a friend.’
‘Yes, well. So you’re thinking of selling. Only thinking of it? You’ll wait to see if things settle down after he’s gone, won’t you?’ he said.
‘I don’t know. I can’t see myself being content here ever again. These people want to come before Christmas, so I have to make up my mind soon.’
‘So long as they aren’t planning to use it as a holiday cottage.’
‘I think they are.’
‘Rosemary, you can’t sell and ruin the place for the rest of us!’
‘Hardly ruin it, don’t be melodramatic, Gethyn,’ she scolded quietly.
‘But it would ruin it! How would we be if the Hughes’s decide to stay in Bala near their daughter? And the Powells decide not to come back? If they sell, our little row would be half empty, I’d be stuck without a neighbour for most of the year and especially during the dark months of winter! There’d be no sound of friendly voices, just a cold, empty house next door.’
Rosemary didn’t answer. She had heard all these arguments before but had never heard it with actual people that she knew being represented.
‘I hadn’t thought of it like that,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps I’ll reconsider. Not the idea of selling, but perhaps I’ll wait until a buyer from the village can be found.’ She looked at Gethyn, unusually talkative and earnest.
‘Fancy prices for holiday homes will put it out of reach of the locals, as well you know. What if the Powells decide to stay in Australia? What then? What if they too sold to an absentee landlord. The place would be like one of those “ghost towns” we see in American films. The students are only in number five for another year. Nothing to stop the Powells from selling then, is there?’
‘All right, Gethyn, I take your point,’ she sighed, not bothering to tell him she had already thought of all this.
‘You’ll wait ’til the American goes back then?’
‘I’ll wait for a while,’ she promised.
One evening, when Rosemary came home from work, Larry told her the water pressure had been reduced temporarily.
‘I think someone must have turned off the water to do some repair and when they turned it on again didn’t turn it high enough.’
‘Oh dear, someone with a problem.’ She smiled. ‘I expect Mrs Priestley will be down soon to tell us who it was and all about it.’
There was one stop-cock for three houses and another for two.
‘It was probably Gethyn,’ Larry said. ‘He’s on the same supply as us, unless someone didn’t know and shut it off by mistake. Either way, I turned the thing up a little and it’s now fine.’
They didn’t think any more about it and went to bed early.
Rosemary woke to the sound of dripping water. At first she thought it was the clock ticking, it was so regular.
Without disturbing Larry she slipped out of bed and went to investigate. He had probably left the tap running. She put on the landing light and as if it were a tap, the sound of dripping which seemed to come from every direction once she had left the bedroom, became a roaring, gushing torrent. Every tap in the house was pouring water!
She looked down in utter disbelief at the carpet at her feet which was soaking wet. Turning her head she saw that water had filled the wash-basin and flowed over onto the floor. The dripping sound was the cascade flowing down the stairs.
‘Larry!’
He was awake in a moment and, standing beside her, he stared wildly about him.
‘Shut off all the taps if you can!’ he shouted. ‘I’ll go downstairs and see what’s happened.’
Rosemary ran into the bathroom, turned off the taps and pulled in vain at the plugs that were tightly in place in both the bath and the wash-basin. They were so tight she thought they must have been glued there. The water covered her feet but she was so stunned she couldn’t feel the chill of it.
She ran down the stairs and went to the kitchen. Water had flooded from the running tap and was over the carpet in a silvery film. The plug there was fixed and as unmovable as the others.
The water reached the front door and was soon seeping underneath and out in a gentle stream, making its way to join the larger stream in front of the house.