Easter Monday dawned with a late frost on the grass but by mid-morning the sun had melted it and was shining out of a cloudless sky. The wind was southeasterly and carried the sounds of the fair up the hill to our open bedroom window – odd snatches of tinny music and the blaring loudspeaker.
“What shall we do?” I asked Philip as we stood staring down into the quiet street. “I don’t want to spend the whole day at the fair, do you?”
“Heaven forbid! We’ll just look in for an hour or so this evening. We’d better go out somewhere, though, I have a suspicion Mrs Earnshaw is hovering with the Hoover. We could take the car and explore a little further afield. We’ve not been out of the village yet.”
Crowthorpe was surprisingly congested. Crowds were pouring down Fell Lane and there was a queue of cars coming from the Barrowick direction into which we had to filter to reach the road to Caldbeck. As we crawled along Lake Road we had ample opportunity to look at the brightly coloured booths and marquees set up in the meadow by the lake. Down here the noise and excitement was intense and as we reached the corner and turned north, we met another stream of cars coming into the village.
“At least now the queues are in the other direction,” Philip commented. “If you ask me, we’re well out of it.”
Caldbeck was peaceful by comparison and we joined the trickle of visitors making their way to the church and John Peel’s grave. From there we drove back to Keswick by another route, taking time to search for and find Castlerigg stone circle in the hills beyond. I wondered if it too had some dark legend attached to it, but any atmosphere was dissipated by a crowd of Japanese tourists busily photographing the site.
On the way home we stopped in Barrowick for our evening meal, and by the time we approached Crowthorpe it was almost dark and the lights and music reached out to us across the lake. We were lucky enough to find a parking space in the market place off Lake Road, and joined the crowds still flocking along to the fair.
“No wonder it’s become traditional,” I remarked. “It must be quite a moneyspinner.” Fairy lights strewn in the trees lighted the path from the main road to the uneven grass of the meadow and as we stepped off the concrete we were caught up in the general excitement, part of the holiday crowd. From somewhere overhead a loudspeaker was blaring out the latest pop tunes, interrupted at regular intervals by the even shriller screams of the passengers in the roller-coaster which had been set up in the lee of the hill.
Despite our recent meal we stopped to buy a bag of freshly cooked popcorn, eating it as we walked along and burning our fingers.
“Pity we haven’t a couple of girls with us,” Philip said with his mouth full. “I’d welcome a spot of dalliance by the darkening waters!”
“There are plenty about. Take your pick!” We were causing our usual stir and a couple of giggling girls stood nearby watching us.
“There really are two of you, aren’t there?” one of them asked, catching my eye. “I thought at first I was seeing double!”
I bowed. “Madam, we are twain.”
“It’s uncanny, really – like Tweedledum and Tweedledee.”
“That,” said Philip, wiping his greasy hands on his handkerchief, “does positively nothing for our image!”
“Sorry – they were short and fat, weren’t they? How does it go – something about a crow ...”
Her friend obliged her: ‘“Just then flew down a monstrous crow, as black as a tar barrel, which frightened both the heroes so, they quite forgot their quarrel.’” She laughed. “It’s good, that. ‘A monstrous crow’ – and here we are in Crowthorpe!”
I said thickly, “If you’ll excuse us –” and amid their murmurs of disappointment, I steered Philip into the densest part of the crowd. “Come on,” I added with a touch of desperation, “I’ll take you on at the coconut shy.”
“Well done!” said a voice behind us as I managed to dislodge one of the giant coconuts, and I turned to see Douglas Braithwaite with one of his sons.
“Now you’ll be lumbered with that for the rest of the evening!” he added with a laugh as the showman handed it over to me. “So, Messrs. Selby, what do you think of our little village? At least it has the distinction of being the only one hereabouts which has positively no connection with the Lakeland poets! Neither Wordsworth, Coleridge nor Ruskin ever slept here!”
William tugged at his father’s hand. “Dad, you promised me a go on the Dodgems!”
“Here.” I pushed the coconut into his arms. “You take this. I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
They were swallowed up into the crowd and Philip and I allowed ourselves to be pushed along by the general flow. Our conversation with the girls still hung on the air between us and the fortune-teller’s tent caught me by surprise. I’d forgotten about Janetta Lee.
“Learn What is Written for You in the Star’s!” invited the large, uneven letters.
Philip grinned, reading my mind as usual. “Go in and correct her grammar at least!”
I lifted the tent flap and peered inside. It was very dim, but a revolving red light from the merry-go-round lit it every few seconds with a lurid glow. A singsong voice came out of the shadows.
“Come in, pretty sir. Want your fortune told? Then cross me palm wi’ fifty pence.”
I let the flap fall behind me and took the empty chair opposite the girl. She looked extremely young, not more than eighteen, with lustrous dark eyes and long jet-black hair. I caught myself wondering if she’d be prepared to accompany me down to the lake. Then I heard her gasp, and knew with resignation that Philip had come in behind me.
“Might as well make it two for the price of one!” he said cheerfully. “Since we were born at the same time, it follows we must have the same fate. Right?”
She had flinched back in her chair and her eyes were now plainly frightened. “Please, young sirs, I made a mistake. I’ve got another appointment – the gentleman will be here directly. I can’t –”
Philip bent forward and with deliberation placed a pound coin in front of her. “Don’t worry, I was only teasing. You shall have your pound of flesh – or your pound sterling, at any rate.”
She looked at him blankly. “Sir, I –”
I pushed the crystal ball towards her. “Come on, now, you’ve got our money. You must keep your side of the bargain.”
Her eyes fell unwillingly to the crystal and the cheap jewellery jangled on her wrists as her hands came up to cup it. When she spoke again, her voice was different from the light tones with which she’d greeted me, a low throbbing whisper which added import to the words. “You must stay in this place.”
Philip made a sudden movement and I leant forward the better to catch what she was saying.
“Great power awaits you,” she continued haltingly. “Over body and soul, life and death. It is your destiny to bring about –”
“Janetta! Howd thi tongue, lass!”
Philip and I turned swiftly and the girl slumped forward, her forehead resting on the crystal ball. Just inside the tent stood a small elderly woman in a black and red shawl. She was staring as though hypnotized at Philip and myself, both of us now on our feet.
“You will please go, gentlemen,” she ordered, her voice shaking. “The girl sees nowt. She was deceiving you.”
“She was doing very well,” I protested, since the girl was clearly incapable of defending herself.
“Please go!” The woman swooped forward, snatched up the pound coin still lying on the table and pushed it into my hand.
“But look, surely she deserves –”
“She don’t want your money.” She glanced briefly down at the motionless figure. “I must see to her.”
We had no option but to leave. I followed Philip out of the tent and by unspoken consent we shouldered our way past the throngs to the practically deserted lakeside.
“I wonder what upset the old woman,” I said at last. “Fortune-telling’s always a con but they don’t usually admit it.”
“Perhaps this time it was the truth.” Philip stared out across the water. “What did you make of it, all that power-not-given-to-many?”
“A load of rubbish!” But it had intrigued me, too. The classroom in Swindon held out no such promise.
Philip bent, selected a pebble and hurled it into the darkness of the lake, waiting for the distant splash as it fell. “Shall we accept the challenge – take over the village? You can see to their minds and I’ll look after their bodies! Far more scope here, I imagine, than in that grotty surgery in High Wycombe!”
A joking reply was called for but I was unable to supply it. There was an undisciplined excitement about him which disturbed me, especially since I could feel the undertow of it myself.
“Well, well, if it isn’t you two again!” The girls we’d seen earlier had loomed up out of the shadows.
“Did you follow us?” Philip demanded ringingly.
“You flatter yourselves!”
“Did you?”
“No, we – well, we just caught sight of you some way ahead, and –”
“Have you heard what happens to girls who follow men?”
She stared at him, trying to see his expression in the twilight, and giggled uncertainly.
“They might,” said Philip deliberately, “get more than they bargain for. Such as this!” And putting his arm round her, he pulled her against him and kissed her thoroughly.
“And this!” I added, following suit with the other girl. And at the feel of her soft yielding body I knew this was exactly what we needed to dispel the strangeness. Thoughts that had nothing to do with the supernatural surged into my head and I welcomed them wholeheartedly, letting mental excitement give way to physical. Pulling the willing girl behind some bushes, it was swiftly gratified. And it was about this unlooked-for but easy conquest that Philip and I joked as we prepared for bed that night. We made no further reference to the fortune-teller.
But we were not to be allowed to forget the gypsies.
A couple of mornings later as we walked above the village, a tall dark man came hurtling out of a clearing just in front of us, cannoning straight into me and knocking me off balance. He caught at my arm to prevent my falling.
“Beg pardon I’m sure, sir, but I’m that bothered to get to doctor, I –”
“Something’s wrong?” Philip interrupted. “I’m a doctor.”
The man registered him for the first time, and as his eyes went from Philip’s face to mine, his hand shot out towards us, the forefinger and pinky extended in the age-old gesture to ward off evil. “No – no, sir, I –”
“Look man, I can be there quicker than anyone else. What’s happened?”
“It’s Nell, sir. Her pains have started but it’s not like the other times. It’s bad and the women can’t do nothing with her.”
“Then lead the way,” Philip instructed tersely, “and hurry!”
We were nearer the gypsy camp than I’d realized and as we ran a shrill scream rang out over the trees. We rounded the screen, the caravans came into sight, and I fell back, letting the others race on ahead. I had no wish to be involved in Philip’s obstetrics. He and Luke Smith had disappeared into one of the caravans and a moment later the girl from the fairground came down the steps, hesitated for a moment then walked slowly towards me.
“I hope you didn’t get into trouble the other evening,” I said.
She gave me a strained smile and shook her head. Another scream made us flinch.
“What’s going on in there?”
“Oh sir, poor Nell’s awful bad!” Her huge eyes filled with tears. “The Granny wouldn’t let me stay. Said as I’m too young to be present at child-bed, but I’m a married woman, sir, and my time will come. Does it always hurt so bad?”
“I shouldn’t think so,” I said reassuringly from my position of male immunity. “Don’t worry, Philip’ll sort things out. He’s a very good doctor.” My mind had swung back to those moments in the tent, and unable to resist this unexpected chance to question her, I said compulsively, “What did you mean, about my brother and I achieving power?”
She gave a little shiver and looked up at me. “Did I say that? I don’t remember.”
Her eyes met mine unwaveringly and to my frustration I saw that she was speaking the truth. There was nothing to be gained by further questioning.
Luke Smith had now also emerged from the caravan, evicted, no doubt, by Philip. He didn’t approach us, nor we him. He squatted down by the shafts and began to roll a cigarette. The shrieking from inside was by this time almost continuous and I could feel the sweat breaking out along my hair line. Presumably there was no means of anaesthetizing the poor woman. The toddlers we had seen before began to whimper and Janetta bent to soothe them.
“There now, don’t cry. Mammy’ll soon have a new brother or sister for you.”
They could only have been one and two years old themselves and obviously understood neither the commotion nor the explanation. I took out my handkerchief and embarked on a long-forgotten trick of twisting it into the shapes of various animals. The babies were enthralled, and Janetta too.
Time crawled by and I had begun to wonder whether the screams or the inexplicable silences were the harder to bear, when at last came a short, sharp shriek, followed almost at once by the cry of the newborn. I stood up, unknotting the handkerchief, but my relief was short-lived. Another cry reached us, and immediately a flood of screeching invective broke out, jerking Luke Smith to his feet and sending him hurrying back up the steps. Janetta and I, appalled, stood staring towards the caravan. The abuse continued unabated and at full volume for some minutes until Philip, pale and dishevelled, appeared in the doorway and came slowly towards us.
There was a strange expression on his face which I couldn’t interpret. As he reached us a sudden fear grasped me. “She’s not – she didn’t die, did she?”
Janetta gave a little gasp and fled towards the caravan. Philip shook his head. “No, no. All’s well. Very well, considering. It was a particularly nasty breech birth and there was nothing I could give her except some cheap alcohol. It had to serve as disinfectant too. God, the place was crawling! If she doesn’t get puerperal fever it will be a miracle, but come to think of it that’s where she’s had her other confinements.”
“Then what on earth was –”
“The tirade, brother dear, was because I delivered Nell of twins. Identical twin boys,” he added heavily as I stared at him. “And the sweet, white-haired old lady accused me of – well, malpractice isn’t quite the word. Witchcraft would be nearer the mark.” He drew a deep breath. “She insisted that until I arrived there had been only one baby in the uterus and by my charms I’d split the foetus in two for my own wicked purposes! Tell me, Matthew, are we or are we not living in the late twentieth century?”
“But she couldn’t have believed it, surely?”
“She’s not enamoured of twins, that’s for sure. And to have some turn up in her own family – that was too much. Look out, here comes the proud father.”
Luke was shambling towards us rather shamefacedly. “I’m much obliged to you, Doctor. You musn’t mind the Granny, she’s set in her ideas. But – well, we can look after Nell ourselves now. There’s no call for you to come back, like.”
“She ought really to go to hospital.”
He looked alarmed. “There’s not summat you haven’t told us?”
“No, no, but she needs rest after that ordeal, and the strictest hygiene. That really is essential, both for her and the babies.”
“Aye, well Nan’ll see to it. She knows what to do.”
“And you want me to stay away, is that it?”
He hung his head. “There’s no call to drag you up again.”
“I presume it was your own doctor you were setting out to fetch? As a courtesy I’ll have to let him know.”
“Ain’t no need. We don’t trouble him for the babbies, only when someone’s ill and herbs ain’t working.”
Philip sighed. “Very well, but if she shows signs of fever –”
“If need be we’ll get Dr Sampson, aye.”
And with that, Philip had to be content. Thoughtfully we made our way down to the village. “Despite what he says I’m going to contact the surgery,” Philip remarked. “I don’t want anything on my conscience.”
“So Crowthorpe has another pair of twins.”
“Yes.” He gave a short laugh. “You should have seen them. Lying there squawking away, with their black hair and scrawny little bodies, they looked just like a pair of crows themselves!”
We stopped at a public call box and Philip found the doctor’s number in a tattered directory which hung on a string. I waited outside, reluctant to hear the medical details of Nell’s confinement.
“Sounds a nice old boy,” Philip announced as he rejoined me. “We’re invited round for drinks before dinner – nineteen, Caldbeck Rise. Know where that is?”
“It’ll be on the street plan. We’re doing well, aren’t we? Supper at the vicarage, drinks at the surgery!”
“At least I feel better now I’ve off-loaded poor Nell. It won’t be any hardship dispensing with a return call up there.”
Dr Sampson and his wife were a pleasant couple in their sixties. To our relief, his only comment on seeing us was, “Twins, is it?” We’d become more than a little self-conscious of the relationship since coming to Crowthorpe.
“Not thinking of settling up here, are you Selby?” the doctor enquired suddenly when they’d finished their discussion. “You’re just the sort of chap I’m looking for. Finding it too much for me now, all on my own. Decided I’d better take on a junior partner before I’m too old to shape him to my ways.”
“He works far too hard,” put in his wife anxiously. “I’ve been telling him for some time he should take things more easily, but it was only this last winter, when he had bronchitis, that I persuaded him to approach the FPC.”
Philip looked across at me, his eyes shining. “I suppose there aren’t any staff vacancies in the village school?”
The doctor seemed surprised at the change of subject. “I believe there will be,” he replied, “in September. I was talking to Bob Sedgewick the other week. Why do you ask?”
For a long moment Philip and I looked at each other. Then he said slowly, “In that case, Doctor, I might well be able to help you. I’ve a feeling there’ll be yet another pair of Crowthorpe twins before long.”
“You mean that? You were already thinking of settling here? My dear chap, that’s splendid news! Of course, the correct procedure will have to be followed, but as Dora said I’ve already been in touch with the FPC and they admit this area is under-doctored. Subject to the usual references and so on, there shouldn’t be any problem.
“And your brother’s a schoolmaster?” He turned to me. “I imagine Bob will be more than interested. He’s not had much response to his advertisement, he was telling me. He’s on holiday at the moment, but if you were to write to him I’m sure he’d send you all the details.”
He leant back in his chair and regarded us benevolently. “It’s beginning to look as if these positions were tailor-made for the pair of you!”
Which was exactly how it had struck me, and I was less than sanguine about it. It was all too neat, too convenient, the way the wheels had turned. I said as much to Philip when we had left the Sampsons and were walking down the hill for our evening meal.
“But why fight it?” he replied. “We’ve always wanted to get together again, and this gives us the chance. I was fed-up in High Wycombe; you were in Swindon. And don’t forget we’ve been promised unlimited powers here!”
“That’s surely not what decided you?”
“No, what clinched it was when I realised, back in that filthy, stuffy little caravan, that there were two babies waiting to be born. It seemed an omen, somehow – fate, that a twin should be instrumental in delivering twins. What’s more, if I hadn’t been there I doubt if either they or their mother would have survived. Old Sampson certainly couldn’t have got there in time. He told me he was at one of the outlying farms all afternoon – he’d just got back when I phoned.”
“I suppose Luke was grateful enough for your ministrations, but he wouldn’t have accepted you if there’d been any choice. I didn’t care for that sign he made when he first saw us.”
“No, it was a bit off-putting. Odd how superstitious people still are. I remember reading that ancient civilisations considered twins to be very powerful. Some venerated them, and others left them out to die. I wonder which way the Romanies were inclined.”
“Do you realize that a week ago there were only two pairs of twins living here, and now the number’s about to be doubled?”
“Perhaps that’s why it feels so right for us. Eve said there have been twins in Crowthorpe for centuries. If you remember, that’s why it caught your attention in the first place.”
We’d reached Lake Road and turned into a pub in the market place that we’d noticed earlier. It was called, fairly predictably, the Crow’s Nest, but neither of us referred to that. There was quite a nautical air about it – fishing nets draped on the wall and an elderly-looking salmon mounted in a glass case. In the tiny dining-room behind the bar we did full justice to a home-made steak pie and when we’d finished, took our beers through to the public bar. We were curious to inspect the people who would soon be our neighbours, though how many in the small crowded room were Easter visitors it was not easy to assess. No-one came to talk to us, but they nodded across in a friendly enough fashion and we were satisfied.
A light drizzle was falling as we started to walk home and the air was quite chill. Spring wasn’t in any particular hurry that year and it was still only mid-April. I was glad to reach the dry warmth of the boarding house and we went straight upstairs, pursued by the sound of the Earnshaws’ television. Philip had moved to draw the curtains when he stopped suddenly, his hand still gripping the cheap material.
“What is it?” I joined him quickly, thinking he’d seen something in the street below, but it was empty. He let his hand drop and turned to face me.
“What did Eve say about that gypsy child, the retarded one?”
“That he’d spent a night in the Circle and it – I think the phrase was ‘addled his brain’. Why?”
“Come on!” Philip moved suddenly, catching up his jacket again and pulling open the bedroom door.
“We’re going up there. I want to check on those babies.”
“Now? But good God, Philip –”
He was already clattering down the stairs and as I hurried after him, I heard him knock on the living-room door. “Sorry to trouble you, but have you such a thing as a torch? I must have dropped my cigarette lighter outside somewhere and I should hate to lose it.” Philip, the non-smoker.
A torch was produced amid exclamations of concern and minutes later we were hurrying along Upper Fell Lane. Automatically I turned up the path we’d come down that afternoon but Philip tugged at my sleeve and hurried me past the opening.
“We’re going to the Circle first.”
“Philip, are you mad? You said you wanted to see the babies!”
“Bear with me, Matthew. I’ll explain later.”
The rain was heavier now and we didn’t speak as we made our way over the uneven grass of the hillside. Philip kept the torch trained on the ground immediately ahead but even so I stumbled and wrenched my ankle. It was slightly lighter up here, the huge arc of sky a paler purple than the land below, and the last quarter of the moon only just behind the clouds.
The stones loomed, blotches of darkness against the sky, and despite myself I felt a clutch of apprehension. Who knew what mysterious rites had been enacted up here in the primeval past? Surely such a wealth of worship, sacrifice and bloodshed must have left some trace behind?
Philip stopped and, head down, I bumped into him. “Now what?” I said irritably, to mask my nervousness.
“Now,” he answered grimly, “we’re going to search this place inch by inch.”
“Are you ready yet to tell me why?” There was an edge to my voice, and he turned, his hand contritely on my arm.
“Sorry, I thought you were with me. You nearly always are. I want to satisfy myself that the babies aren’t here.”
“Here? How could –”
“Let’s just look, shall we?”
It was impossible in the semi-darkness to see far ahead and I envisaged that our search would be a lengthy one. We embarked on it methodically, flashing the beam of the torch round the base of each stone before moving onto the next one, and had inspected about a dozen when Philip suddenly lifted his head.
“My God,” he said softly, “I was right!” He set off into the centre of the Circle and the faint sound which had alerted him reached me too – a tremendous cry. I think my eyes picked out the paleness of the bundles a second before the torch found them, and I stood by Philip in the cold wet darkness, staring down for the first time at the Smith twins. Philip knelt quickly beside them, feeling the temperature of their skins.
“They haven’t been here long, but these shawls are drenched. Get your jacket off, Matthew. Here, take this one.”
Gingerly I accepted the shapeless bundle, disentangled its soaking wrapper and, following his example, enfolded it in the bulky tweed of my jacket. In less than ten minutes we were hammering on the door of the Smiths’ caravan.
It took a while for Luke to open it, his eyes gummed with sleep, but at the sight of what we carried he came instantly awake and fear crossed his face. Behind him a child, disturbed by our knocking, began to cry and a woman’s voice called, “What is it, Luke? Not the coppers?”
“Not this time, Nell.” Philip brushed past Luke and strode over to the untidy bed where she lay. “They may well be here in the morning, though. Can you tell me how your newborn babies came to be out in the rain in the stone circle?”
She gave a cry, reaching to lift the child Philip had laid on the bed. Silently I relinquished my own charge and reclaimed my jacket.
“Oh dear Lord!” she whispered, clasping both babies to her. “Why? Why?”
“That’s what I’m waiting to hear.” Philip turned to Luke.
“The Granny took them,” he mumbled. “She said as Nell needed her night’s sleep and she’d bring them back in the morning. Honest, sir, we didn’t know nothing.”
“Can I trust you to look after them, or shall I take them to someone who will?”
Nell was crying softly. “I’ll not let them out of sight.”
“Just one thing more.” I’d never seen Philip so stern and authoritative. “Tell Granny Lee that if anything happens to these babies – if they so much as get a cold in the head – the authorities will be informed about tonight. Do you understand?”
Luke nodded, sullen but frightened, and Nell caught at Philip’s hand. “Bless you for fetching them back, sir.”
“Whatever made you think they might be up there?” I asked curiously, as we went down the hill. “And what was the point, anyway? If Granny was trying to kill them it would have been better to leave them unwrapped.”
“To answer your first question, it was association of ideas. We knew that for some reason the old woman hates twins. She’d broadcast her fears sufficiently widely for both Luke and Janetta to react when they first saw us. I suppose I was thinking of that, and about primitive people either venerating twins or disposing of them, and I suddenly remembered – Benjie, was it? – who seemed to have lost his faculties after a night in the Circle. Regarding your other question, I don’t think Granny was trying to kill them, but she probably reasoned it would be as well to – disarm them, as it were, before they had a chance to develop any power. If they grew up simple, the danger would be averted.”
“She put those kids out there with the express purpose of turning them into idiots?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“But Philip, that’s – diabolical!”
“I agree.”
“And you’re not going to report it?”
“There’s no need. They’ll be quite safe now.”
“Only thanks to you!”
“We found them, that’s all that matters, and she won’t dare try anything else.”
By the time we let ourselves into number twenty-two we were both shivering. The living-room door opened at once.
“Goodness, you are wet! Let me have those jackets and I’ll dry them for you in the kitchen. Did you find the lighter?”
We looked at Mrs Earnshaw blankly for a moment, then Philip said, “Oh – yes. Yes, thank you, we did.”
“Well, that was a stroke of luck! You were so long I was beginning to get worried, but since you found it I suppose it was worth the trouble.”
Philip smiled at her and handed back the torch. “Yes, Mrs Earnshaw, it was certainly worth the trouble,” he said.