Ordinary People: Part XI - Softcover

Boast, Phil

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1490788360 ISBN 13: 9781490788364

Publisher: Trafford, 2018

Synopsis

In this, the eleventh part of our story, Isabella continues her inner struggle to come to terms with her trauma. And in this she receives help, which she would not have expected or looked for, if help it proves to be. The witchs coven at Farthings Well has been destroyed, and those who have survived the attack must look to themselves and one another if the ancient curse against the Tillington dynasty is to be fulfilled, and the cruel death of Jane Mary finally avenged. Within the Tillington family, Victoria learns news from Rebecca, which she must keep from her brother, Michael. Meanwhile, Michael has his own issues to resolve regarding his romantic future, and in this regard it is Keith of all people who provides unwitting inspiration and brings Michaels dilemma into sharp focus. Sandra Fox makes the ultimate statement regarding her frustration and unhappiness with her life, and only timely intervention by her sister Emma prevents a terrible tragedy. Percival at last seeks revenge for the wrongs done against him by the people from the temple, and Percival, who has been at pains to simplify his own romantic life, finds that in matters of love there are no simple answers. It is late winter in the small village of Middlewapping, and those who live around the village green must prepare themselves and their lives as best they can for the coming of spring and the birth of the new year.

About this title

About the Author

Phil Boast has lived for the last thirteen years in Sulawesi, Indonesia, where, with his partner, Paula, he has built and now runs a tourist lodge for scuba divers and naturalists. One day, he sat down to write a short story about a small village in his native England. The story is now eleven books long, and the tale continues.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Ordinary People

Part XI

By PHIL BOAST

Trafford Publishing

Copyright © 2018 Phil Boast
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-8836-4

Contents

Chapter 1 Emotional Landscapes, 1, 
Chapter 2 The Edge of the World, 29, 
Chapter 3 Sunday, 63, 
Chapter 4 Virtual Virtues, 90, 
Chapter 5 Grant Masterton's Dream, 115, 
Chapter 6 Men in Suits, 151, 
Chapter 7 Concerning Various Visitations, 174, 
Chapter 8 A Day for the Angels, 203, 
Chapter 9 A Brand New Philosophy, 233, 
Chapter 10 The Making of Commitments, 260, 
Chapter 11 The Nature of Love, 298, 
Chapter 12 Glebe House, 329, 
Chapter 13 A Very English Ultimatum, 350, 
Chapter 14 Killing Time, 379, 
Chapter 15 St Agnes Park, 404, 
Chapter 16 Somewhere to Start, 433, 
Chapter 17 A Man from London, 464, 

CHAPTER 1

Emotional Landscapes

For the short span of time that she had been there, she had been just another face in the by now quite small crowd of onlookers. The policemen had put coloured plastic tape across the entrance gate, forbidding entry to any who were not a part of it; forensic specialists, contractors brought in to dig the pits below the stones, in order to uncover the mortal remains of those who they were now certain would be there, and such police investigators as were still investigating. Occasionally journalists and reporters were allowed entry, but the interest by now was more of the kind which ordinary people show in the face of so extraordinary and significant an event. To have been there, that was the thing, once the news had begun to find its' way across the vast and immediate network of communication which spread across the nation, and across the world. Stories could thence be told over pints of ale or glasses of wine; first – hand accounts of the quite distant views of the still smoking ruin of that which had been a house, which could be glimpsed at places through the still bare trees, and where the mysterious women had lived, who had now died so mysteriously. Such general interest would wane, in time; articles would be written, and read, until something new took the attention of the masses, and by then only specialists and academics would continue to think of it, and wonder at this strange place, and so it would not be entirely forgotten. It had become a part of English history now; a secret place, which had kept its' secrets hidden so well for so long, and its' fascination would endure well beyond the lives of those who had now gathered to see it.

And here for a quite short while had been Megan Thomas, who had come for a different reason. When she had left here to begin her vigil in the village of Middlewapping, she had taken her passport and credit cards, her sewing machine and such clothes as she had needed, so she could continue to live without much inconvenience, and all else which had been the stuff of her life would in any case be gone now; burned to so much ash in the inferno. There would be nothing left which would connect the house to her, or her to the house which had been called Farthing's Well; nothing to come here for, really. But still, she had come, because this is the way of people, and she had to see for herself, so that she could begin to believe something so unbelievable. They were dead now; Fiona, Sharon and Corinne, the three women who had been so much of her life, and the last resting place of Eve would not after all be her last resting place; the most recently dead would be of the most interest, and by now she would lay on a sterilized metal examination table, so that they could try to work out what had happened. But of course, they would never know. They would speculate as to how the three women had died, how the fire had started, and they would look for next of kin, but these had not been ordinary women, and this had been no ordinary fire. They would wonder at the stones, and the bodies which lay buried beneath them, but there was no one left now who could explain. No one except Megan Thomas knew the long, dark history of this place, or its' ancient connection to a Manor House so many miles away. Jane Mary was buried there now, where she had died, and nobody would make the connection, for how could they?

Such wanton sacrilege; the desecration of the graves in the interest of examination; the ritual ended so horribly; they should have been left in peace, to go back to the earth as Mother Nature had intended, and now this.

And so she stayed only for a little while, and nobody would notice her, or remember that she had been there, and after only a little while Megan Thomas walked quietly away, who had just been another face in the crowd, and she would not return. This was not the place, and she had other pressing matters to attend to, such as where she would sleep tonight. She must find somewhere where she could find quietude, and a place to think, for now she had much to think about. But she had been here, at least, and the end of it all was a place from which to start.

* * *

On the morning of Rebecca's so unexpected arrival at the Manor House, Victoria awoke at a little after eight o'clock, as was her habit if she was not working in London, and thus had not set her alarm clock. Her first impression of the waking world was that she felt more tired than was usual, and during her first moments of consciousness and before she had opened her eyes or raised her head from the pillow, her mind unconsciously began to register such essential matters as where she was, and what day of the week it might be. And then, as her mind began to quite slowly leave its' sleep state behind, she began to regain knowledge of certain more detailed aspects of her life; little Henry had a slight cold, this was not a working day, it was winter time, and so on. But now came a different feeling, and a sense that this was not an ordinary morning, and only then did she open her eyes and raise her head, and so did the reason for her unusual feeling and her uncommon tiredness become apparent, for the reason was sleeping soundly beside her. The final part of her awakening took somewhat less time; the sense that something was different had scarce done justice to her circumstances, and as the mist of her thoughts finally cleared and the memory of the last few hours of her life returned like a flood, she put her head somewhat heavily back on the pillow and stared at the so familiar ceiling of her bedroom. Christ ... A night of passion with her lover, and before that ... before that she had been sitting on the steps of the Manor, and she had been crying, and then they had both been crying. And so did Victoria relive in no particular order the time since she had been awoken in the small hours of the morning, and recalled as best she could everything which had happened, and everything which Rebecca had said. Making any sense of that would take a little longer, and would require a conversation with the person who slept beside her; she had gone to bed last evening alone and had awoken this morning with her beloved, and that which had happened in between was something significant. And even as she relived the events of the night, she began to work on understanding their most immediate implication, such as how on earth would she explain this to her parents? She began to mentally run through certain possible invented scenarios; Rebecca had caught a late flight from somewhere, or had just turned up spontaneously, oh and by the way she has a baby, whom she happened to leave somewhere. Had she been expecting her? Well yes, but she had neglected to mention anything to anybody, which was remiss of her, it was true. Whichever way she looked at it, however, nothing was really working by way of sensible or credible explanation; she would have to wing it; see how the conversation developed, so to speak. She was an adult, after all, and her affairs were really none of anyone else's business, but she knew that that did not really work either; she lived under their roof, and some explanation was in any case needed, and would be reasonably expected. Added to this was the complication that on the evidence of last night Rebecca was not currently of sound mind, and lord knew how she would awaken, and how the first meeting between her and her parents would go, however her appearance might be explained. She momentarily considered the idea that she should keep her hidden until the house was otherwise empty, presenting her as having just arrived in the interim prior to her parents' return, but she didn't think they were in fact going out today. Or perhaps she could smuggle her out somehow, and find her alternative accommodation until she was more certain of the situation, and of Rebecca's state of being, and thus her presentability to the world beyond the two of them. But that was all rather impractical, wasn't it, and the tangled web of deceit may well in the end contrive to ensnare her; better not to lie, at least, although a deal of fabrication and dilution of the facts of it, whatever in fact they were, would be needed to at least make it through breakfast.

She pushed the covers back and sat for a moment on the edge of the bed, looking around her bedroom as though she might glean therefrom some kind of inspiration, or at least an easier or simpler way forward, but none was forthcoming. Okay, so concentrate for a moment on the emotional aspect of the whole thing; she was of course glad beyond expression to see her beloved again, despite prior misgivings regarding their reunion, which had in the event proved to be well enough founded. Victoria's emotional focus had shifted of late, and now her primary source of happiness or otherwise lay in little Henry, but that was a different kind of love, and love was not a finite resource, to be distributed accordingly. No, she still loved Rebecca as much as ever, which was a good thing, despite being of little help with her current dilemma, at least in any practical sense. She put on her bathrobe and walked across the corridor to her bathroom, where she did her morning ablutions before returning to dress in jeans and a casual shirt. She opened the window wider, the better to dispel the residual aroma of stale tobacco left from the night; she needed a cigarette now, and coffee, and hoped that she could make it to her step before encountering any of her family. If she saw Michael first then she would debrief him, at least, but that was as may be. She thought momentarily that she might wake Rebecca, so that some kind of coordination of accounts might be achieved, but she quickly thought better of this; better she do it alone and tell Rebecca that which had not really happened retrospectively, and in any case Rebecca was so fast asleep that to wake her would mean further delay, and she wanted to get this done; she had delayed long enough. One more deep breath, and Victoria opened her bedroom door, and tried to prepare herself for whatever might follow. Rebecca had always been trouble, so what the hell was new, anyway.

* * *

For Sally Parsons this was a normal working day. That is to say that she was working in the main London office, and was not on any troubleshooting or other tour of the outlying offices or branches of the bank for which she worked. On occasion she would drive to London, if for some reason this was more convenient, or the trains weren't running properly, but for the most part on such days she would park her car at Queenswood railway station and take the commuter train to the city; this way she could use the hour or so of her journey to catch up with her work, or prepare for the day ahead. On this day, however, her computer remained in her bag, and in fact were she to think about it she would realise that she hadn't actually taken it out all week. But she wasn't thinking about it, which was perhaps the point. The passing fields, cuttings and woodland were enough, now, and then suburban London and the small, dirty city where she worked, along with the few million other people who lived here, or who made their daily journey to the heart of the country of England. In another life she would scarce have noticed the so familiar landscape, so intent would she have been on her work, but that was last week, before ... Well, before Percival had come back into her life. In truth and in a sense he had never been away, since the first time that they had come together, but since he had left her she had felt his absence in her life, like a hollowness which haunted her days, just as now she once again felt his presence, so no, he had never really gone. But anyway he had come back now, and if she felt inclined to behave like a love – struck teenager then so she would do; she had earned the right to feel like this, and anyway it was a good feeling, and the work, which had once been so important, could wait. Nothing was the same, now. Whereas before, in the other life, she would have welcomed the opportunity to get away from her office and travel the country, now this would mean not going home, and so not seeing Percival, if she was going to see him, and if she was not going to see him then there was always a chance that she would see him anyway, because that was the way that they had always been. And so she made up her mind that the next time something had to be done in Manchester, or Bristol, she would delegate if she could. In any case this day would pass without incident, and it would not be until her journey home that anything of any particular importance would happen. She had been quite late leaving the office, and although the days were getting longer now, dusk was descending on the passing fields, and then her mobile telephone rang.

* * *

The morning continued well enough at first for Victoria. As almost always she went first to the nursery, where little Henry had eaten a good breakfast, and he who was by and large a good sleeper had indeed slept well during the night, his cold symptoms having abated. A few moments with Abigail to discuss her sons' wellbeing and the day ahead, and then to the front steps, avoiding the kitchen and thus possible premature meetings with her family, and so foregoing coffee for now. She lit a cigarette; the morning was cold, but not as cold as of late, so perhaps the worst of it was over. For a moment the memories of warm winter holidays in her youth invaded her thoughts; visions of palm – fringed beaches; she was not on the whole much of a one for palm – fringed beaches, and felt the heat as well as the cold, but at that moment a palm – fringed beach felt like quite a good idea, and she wondered momentarily when the next time would be that she would see one. She had sat here only a few hours before, with Rebecca beside her; Rebecca who had killed again, but she must not let her thoughts go there yet; this must be taken in stages, and establishing her presence in the house was the first stage.

Thereafter her morning became more difficult, as she knew that it would, and the first encounter with the rest of her family was with her mother, who stood now at the great front door.

'Victoria, dear, I thought I would find you here.'

'Good morning mother.'

'Yes, good morning; since we are all here, your father thought that it would be a nice idea if we all ate breakfast together.'

Yes, I'm sure he did; bless you father, and curse you also.

'Oh, very well, I'll be in shortly.'

'It's almost ready, so don't be long, and you'll catch your death out here.'

'Yes, I'm just coming ...'

So it would be all of them; no chance to spread the word quietly of Rebecca's arrival. Well so be it then; her guest had arrived late at night, so what of it; and what of it if her guest was Rebecca, what business was it of theirs? All she had to do now was to convince them all of this, which might prove difficult in view of the fact that she could scarce convince herself. She put out her cigarette and stood up, hoping that the music that she would shortly face would be gentle music, but she was far from being convinced of that, either.

* * *

'Hi Sal, it's Polly.'

Polly Yates, who had been a part of the circuit for years, and so had become a fairly good friend to Sally, thanks to conversations over dinner tables and in various kitchens, but they had not otherwise spent time together. The circle had diminished over the years; people had moved away or started families, but Polly and George had not had kids and had stayed in the town, so this was to be a dinner party.

'Hi Polly ...'

'Just phoning to say that Fiona and Ray are having a get – together tomorrow night, if you're free?'

'Tomorrow..?'

'I know it's short notice, and Saturday would be more usual, but there it is.'

'Who else..?'

'Not sure yet, Maggie and Mike are away, and Wendy isn't certain as usual, but I daresay some of the other usual suspects will be there.'

'Okay....'

'Is that 'okay' you' ll be there?'

'Yes, sure, I'll come.'

'Right; see you there, then; I haven't seen you for ages. ... So will you be bringing anybody?'

'No, just me ...'

'Fine then, well, see you tomorrow then; you're breaking up.'

'I'm on a train.'

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Ordinary People by PHIL BOAST. Copyright © 2018 Phil Boast. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Edition details

• Publisher: Trafford
• Publication date: 2018
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1490788360
• ISBN 13: 9781490788364
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 506