EIGHT
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Alison stood there in Lou
Ferman's office, holding the temperature gauge she'd just been given.
'I don't get it. You're giving me the job just like that?'
'Uh huh.'
'Don't there have to be
security checks? Reference checks? Background checks? You don't know
anything about me. I could be evil. I could be incompetent. I could
be lazy, mad or stupid.'
'Are you?'
'No. '
'Then you're fine for the
job.'
'But you don't know my
strengths, my weaknesses. You've not even heard my twelve-point
plan.'
'Does it include her
doing a 'fun' calendar?'
'It might do.'
'And her doing a round of
in-school puppet shows?'
'It might do.'
He said, 'You know what
the trouble with Betty is? No one likes her. That's why she needs
books written about her. And she needs calendars and key rings and
T-shirts with her on them. I've told her. “Betty, this is the 21st
Century. You're a good-looking girl. You have to do the PR thing.”
Does she listen? Course she doesn't. She just threatens to smack me
one and keeps on alienating everyone she meets. You,
Parko, are quite ugly, you look like a frog, but you're sort of cute.
Cute is good for PR. And, if you turn out to be evil, well Betty can
always shoot you. That's what we pay her for.'
*
You could call her a
fashion fascist but, in Liz Sanford's opinion, no one under the age
of fifty had any business wearing a fedora. That suggested it hadn't
belonged to Daniel Robinson or Tom Radcliffe. It was also hard to
believe it had lain undisturbed for twelve years, which implied it
hadn't belonged to Valentyne Delgado. It was a safe bet it didn't
belong to Mrs Hobson, Rachel or Joe, and that made its presence a
mystery.
Within minutes she'd
found Mrs Hobson's office halfway down the corridor to the left of
the stairs. Not bothering to knock, she walked straight in and found
the woman tapping away at a computer.
Hobson paid her no heed.
So Liz shut the door behind her, headed for the desk and claimed a
chair facing her.
'Mrs Hobson,' she said.
'I need a word with you.'
'In that case you'd
better sit down hadn't you?'
She already had.
Liz watched her read the
computer screen and said, 'What're you doing?'
'I'm currently in the
process of ordering a new weather vane. I'm afraid the big chicken
that normally tells us which way the wind blows fell off its perch
three nights ago and refuses to reclaim it. Fortunately we have the
wonder of the interweb. A remarkable device. Sometimes when you're
using it, I swear it's like you're talking to the dead.'
'And have you done a lot
of that? Talking to the dead?'
'Not since Valentyne's
day. He used to like to impress the more gullible young ladies by
holding seances. Nothing gets them leaping into your arms with a
shriek quite like a manifestation. I don't know why but, for some
reason, he had the notion that my presence would make the process
more disturbing. As for you, I take it you came here for something?'
'This hat.'
'You already have that
hat.'
'I know but I don't want
it. I was wondering if you know where it came from?'
'Leaving aside the fact
that the sentence should have been, "From where it came?" I
don't have the foggiest. To my knowledge it's been sitting on Little
Daniel's desk for a week or so.'
And you don't know how it
got there?'
'I'd assume a visitor
brought it, though I've never seen one wearing a hat. It's certainly
not Daniel's. He was startlingly devoid of anything that even vaguely
resembled style. Valentyne sometimes wore one which he claimed he
used to hide his eyes of a beast while roaming the back streets of
Bolton. That, however, was burnt with him, in accordance with the
terms of his will.'
'And Tom Radcliffe?'
'Never wore a hat.'
'Can I have a list of all
the visitors Daniel had while he was here?'
'You could if I had one.
Sadly, he didn't seem to trust me and insisted on sneaking them in
while I was absent. He seemed to be under the impression that I was
part of some conspiracy against him. "You want me out!" he
used to declare. "Well this is my house now and you'll never get
rid of me!"'
'And did you want him
out?'
'Miss Parker, it's not my
place to decide who should be in possession of this house. More
pertinently, the chicken...'
'What about it?'
'It won't pay for its own
replacement. Which poses the question of how you're going to fund the
manor's upkeep. Do you have a vast personal fortune you can draw upon
to subsidize it?'
'Fat chance. I don't know
if you know this but I'm a writer.'
'Mr Rowling did mention
something along those lines.'
'I was thinking of making
a film here.'
'And then?'
'I'll be doing what Tom
did. I'll hire it out to people with more money than sense.'
Hobson sighed.
'You don't approve?' said
Liz.
'This house, Miss Parker,
was built for a specific purpose, the promulgation of occult
activity. It seems a complete waste to use it for purposes that any
large country house could be used.'
'You'll refuse to
co-operate?'
'I'm employed by this
house. I do as I'm told.'
'And those original
purposes, did you have an involvement in them?'
'I was hired as an
administrator, nothing more.'
'From where?'
'You ask a remarkable
number of questions, Miss Parker.'
'That's because I'm
researching my film. The more I know about the house, its history and
that of those in it the better.'
'In that case, I was
running a house in Bath - Charnwith Terrace. If you think Belgium is
the dullest place on Earth, let me tell you you've never visited
Charnwith Terrace. The couple I worked for, Mr and Mrs Respectable,
never a surprise, never a shock; "Oh yes, let's have the Hadleys
round for dinner and we can discuss property prices and nursery care
provision." The smugness of those people. One more week and I'd
have done something I'd have refused to be held responsible for.
Fortunately, I saw a vacancy here advertised, and applied. It sounded
like much more fun.'
'And you did what for
Delgado?'
'A house like this
doesn't run itself. If Valentyne wanted a filing cabinet, I got him a
filing cabinet. If he wanted the roof repaired, I got him the roof
repaired. If he wanted a steel gauntlet, I got him a steel gauntlet.'
'A...?'
'Gauntlet of the type a
knight in shining armour would wear.'
'And what did he want one
of those for?'
'The ritual of the steel
fist.'
'And what did that
involve?'
'I think you can
imagine.'
'How much of what he got
up to did you know about?'
'I knew everything,' said
Hobson.
'Rachel says Daniel
claimed the house contained a secret.'
'He thought all sorts of
silliness. He kept claiming there was a creature at his window every
night. Well, I've been here for fifteen years and I've never seen any
creature.'
'And it didn't strike you
as odd that, after two weeks of him telling you a creature was after
him, he died in mysterious circumstances?'
'Where's the mystery? He
arrived at the manor shortly after a jaunt abroad. He had a tropical
disease. He brought it with him. He died. I wouldn't have minded but,
thanks to his death, Joseph, Rachel and I had to be tested to make
sure we weren't carrying it too.'
'And were you?'
'No.'
'And does this house
contain a secret?'
'The only secret this
house contains is that it doesn't contain a secret.'
*
Her conversation with
Hobson had taken Liz nowhere, so she set off in search of someone
more helpful. That meant Rachel who seemed to be as open as Hobson
was closed.
When Liz found her, she
was in a bare, grey room, arms folded, stood watching a Hotpoint
spin.
'What're you doing?' said
Liz.
'Watching the washing.'
'Because?'
'It's there.'
'Mind if I ask a few
things?' Liz whipped out her note pad. 'As research for my next
movie?'
'Am I going to be in it?'
'I'm sure we can fit you
in as a zombie or a mummy or Screaming Victim Number One.'
'In that case...' Rachel
perched herself on a tumble dryer. '...help yourself.'
Liz held her pencil ready
to write. 'How long have you worked here?'
'Only since December. Mrs
Hobson hired me. Tom Radcliffe was still the owner then. I think she
only hired me to get at him.'
'Because?'
'He hated women. The last
dogsbody before me, she couldn't take any more. She quit, saying she
never wanted to be in the company of that man again. So what does Mrs
Hobson do? She goes right out and hires the first woman she
interviews.'
'And he took that how?'
'He kept throwing things
at me and saying things like, "Women, women, why must I always
be surrounded by them!?! They killed my cousin. I'll not have them
kill me!"'
'And what did he mean by
that?'
'I've no idea.'
*
Liz found the man called
Joe, out round the back of the house and sawing wood.
'What're you doing?' she
said.
'Making a coffin,' he
said.
'For who?' she said.
'You,' he said.
'Me?' she said.
'You won't be with us for
long.' He stopped sawing, looked her up and down, said, 'Five foot
eight,' and resumed cutting.
'You don't have much
faith in my survival skills do you?'
'If you own this house,
you die. Valentyne Delgado didn't survive. Tom Radcliffe didn't
survive. Daniel Robinson didn't survive. Why should you?' He went
across to collect more wood from a pile by the shed.
The man had a whole array
of saws lying around. She picked one up, a fretsaw whose jagged blade
she studied. When she'd finished with Joe, she'd be taking it with
her and she knew just what to do with it.
Wood collected, Joe
returned.
'How long have you worked
here?' she said.
He set about marking the
latest piece of wood for cutting. 'Since the start. Mrs Hobson hired
me. I worked at a house in Derbyshire and she tapped me up.'
'Then you know everything
that happened when Delgado was in charge?'
'I know nothing.' He
picked up a saw and started cutting the latest plank. 'I'm the
handyman. He told me he wanted this hammering, or that sawing, and I
did it. That was the beginning and end of my knowing what he did.
I'll tell you one thing though. He was working on something.'
'On what?'
'I don't know but towards
the end, he'd lock himself away in that study of his and not let
anyone see what he was up to.'
'And then?'
'He was killed.'
'By who?'
'No idea.'
'Tom Radcliffe seemed to
know.'
'Tom Radcliffe was his
cousin. Delgado must've told him things.'
'What things?'
'Things only Tom
Radcliffe could tell you, and he's dead.'
'And, in this house, at
nights, have you ever heard anything?'
'Like?'
'Rattling, creaking,
banging; anything that might sound like something trying to get in?'
'Now you're talking like
Robinson. He used to claim he was hearing things trying to get in.'
'And you?'
'When you work in this
place, you hear all sorts of things, late at night, in your bed.'
'Mrs Hobson gave me the
impression she's never heard a thing.'
'She has the knack of not
noticing things she chooses not to notice.'
'And it doesn't bother
you, living in a house whose owners tend to die in mysterious
circumstances?'
'Why should it? I'm never
going to own it.'
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