The Garden of Stars Page 6

  I talked to Barbara about my conspiracy theory as soon as I arrived at work the following day. It seemed just too awful to be the right conclusion. Barbara told me she and Dennis had been in the pub last night as they often stopped by for a quick drink after closing up the shop. Apparently by the time they reached The Mason Arms it was already a buzz with conspiracy theories on how the fire had started and who, if anyone, was to blame.

  ‘All I kept thinking,’ she said, ‘was poor Mr Shaw and how lucky he had been to escape. It will, of course, break his heart that his faithful dog didn’t make it out with him. Think that’s the only thing he lived for, that dog. The firemen didn’t realise that by saving Mr Shaw and not his dog that both would reach an early grave. Well, I know it’s an awful thing to say, Vivian, and let’s hope to God I’m wrong, but I don’t think that man will last ’til Christmas.’

  ‘Well, we need to keep a very close eye on him then, Barbara.’

  ‘Yes, love, you’re right. No one else’ll bother though, mind. They were all too busy talking about the fire itself.’

  ‘So what do you think caused it? Do you think it was the lightning?’ I asked.

  She looked away, busying herself, stacking the apples in baskets along the shelves: Golden Delicous, next to the Braeburn, next to the Jonagold, next to the Pink Ladies.

  ‘What have they been saying, Barbara?’

  ‘Oh nothing, love. Could you pass me the Granny Smiths from that carton over there, please?’

  Taking the box over, I put my hand on her arm and said, ‘I would much sooner know the truth, Barbara, honestly. If you’re a friend you’d tell me.’

  ‘All right, love. Now you know I don’t agree with this and neither does Bill. That’s what’s got him into so much trouble.’

  ‘Bill’s in trouble?’ I exclaimed. Had Bill started the fire? Surely not. ‘What on earth’s been going on?’

  ‘Let’s sit down, love. I’ll tell you what happened from the beginning but you must promise me you won’t get excited and do anything rash.’

  ‘Go on,’ I said.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Everyone was just chattering away madly when we arrived at the pub last night, must have been around ten-ish after we’d packed everything away and locked up, what with being delayed by watching the fire.

  ‘Then over the general din, I heard two voices more animated than anyone else.

  ‘I looked over – as did everyone – it was Mr Johnson and Bill. The mayor was saying, ‘It’s a natural demolition this, how lightning had struck the timber building and it was nature’s way of choosing who and what survives. That’s nature’s way, isn’t it? Survival of the fittest.’

  ‘Bill shouted back that it was claptrap and that the mayor was only saying it because it suited his own evil scheme.

  ‘The mayor replied, and I remember this clearly, ‘My evil scheme, my boy?’ He went onto reveal for the first time why he had come to Ivory Meadows. I must say we were all naturally intrigued.

  ‘It turned out, a couple of years ago, Bill had dropped into an out-of-town pub one evening after making some deliveries. He had taken solace in drink and a stranger’s ear, revealing how business was bad because the younger folk were using the supermarkets and the older generation, his only loyal customers, were dying out.

  ‘Unfortunately the man sat next to the stranger was the man who would go on to become our mayor. The seed was planted in his mind, it didn’t require a criminal mastermind to bring it to fruition. He and his brother – a major property developer – decided the best way to bring about change was by winning people’s trust and, to do that, he would have to become their mayor.

  ‘It seems the project, which the mayor now believes to be unstoppable, will make him and his brother millionaires.

  ‘Bill, as you can imagine, was incensed both at the mayor and himself. He felt he was to blame and had to do something about it.

  ‘Meanwhile, Mr Johnson carried on relentlessly. He was clearly enjoying himself. He said, “The fire was God’s way of telling you lot that these old buildings have had their day. They’re crumbling round the edges and a terrible fire hazard, as we’ve just seen. Why, I’ll bet that one was hardly fit for human occupation.”

  ‘Bill piped up, “I can’t believe what you’re saying. What about poor Mr Shaw? You saying he deserved to lose his home and dog?”

  ‘The mayor shook his head.’

  Barbara contorted her face and I could see how the weasel of a man had been enjoying every moment of the whole wretched showdown.

  She continued, ‘The mayor said, “Someone else decided his fate for him, I’m afraid. And if it wasn’t God then it had to be the work of the devil.”

  ‘Well, a hushed tremor ran round the room. Though they’d never admit it to your face, Vivian, this community is an old-fashioned lot. They like to pretend they’re modern and up with the times but they still believe in idle gossip and old wives’ tales. And just the word Lucifer, God bless us all,’ she said, crossing her heart, ‘well, you understand, it’s enough to upset even the strongest of dispositions.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Barbara?’ I asked. I didn’t quite follow where all this had come from.

  ‘Bill asked the same thing, love, only rather more aggressively. The mayor smiled. It was obvious he was enjoying it, the horrible fox of a man. He said, “You can’t tell me for one moment, young fellow, that you haven’t noticed a change in Ivory Meadows in the past couple of months? I can’t see that it’s the climate or the landscape that’s changed but …”’ Barbara paused.

  ‘Go on,’ I urged her.

  ‘He said, “More a new arrival on the hill.”’

  ‘He’s always hated me,’ I said, ‘I’m not surprised, but don’t worry, he doesn’t scare me.’

  ‘No, love, I don’t think you quite understand what he meant. Bill grunted at him, “If you mean Miss Myrtle then the only change she’s brought to the town is a good one.”’ Lots of people nodded and mumbled their agreement.’

  I couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to hear my efforts, however small, were appreciated.

  ‘But,’ said Barbara, ‘the mayor continued, “You think the fact Peter’s cattle caught a disease and had to be destroyed is a positive sign? And the fact most of Mr Parson’s orchard turned out to be rotten just a co-incidence? And the fact less and less people are bothering to get out of their beds and turn up to church on a Sunday, I suppose that’s just modern-day idleness, is it? And the fact half the town got food poisoning from the lamb you bought in from the farm just up from Cherrystone Cottage?”

  ‘Bill said, ‘Now steady on, I apologised for that and promised I’d never use Bidcup’s meats again. All my meat has been perfect ever since. Has it not?’ he said, looking round. People nodded but you could see the seed of doubt had been sewn.

  ‘“And this fire,” the mayor carried on like some awful circus master, enthralling the crowd, “fires don’t just start by themselves, do they?”

  ‘A gasp went round the room, Vivian, I’ll tell you. The mayor continued, relentlessly, like a dog with a bone, only now probably for the first time since learning of his ulterior motive, people actually wanted to listen to what he had to say. They were intrigued. He said, “She spends all her days pretending to be a normal greengrocer’s assistant. Then, at night, she’s cooped up all alone in that tatty old cottage with just her daughter. We all know she spends too much time with that old battleaxe, Miss Metford. It’s not right, a woman of her age, to be without a husband. Who knows what she does there? I know she holds astrology classes, filling people’s minds with mumbo-jumbo, and she grows plants and herbs for spells.”’

  ‘Poppycock,’ I interrupted, ‘everyone else, bar Johnson and the vicar, know exactly what those classes are and that they’re nothing to do with astrology.’

  ‘Yes, I know, dear, and I thought the same but what he said made it worse. He said, “Those classes she holds up at her house, don’t you realise they’re not
astrology? She’s brainwashing each and every one of you so that when she cast a spell that would burn Mr Shaw’s house to the ground nobody would think it was her, would they? No one but the only two people who haven’t been brainwashed – myself and the vicar.”

  ‘These were his words: “She’s pure evil, the vicar has seen it, I’ve seen it, but you’ve all been too blind to see for yourselves.”’

  I was speechless, gasping for breath with tears welling in my eyes.

  Barbara kindly touched my hand and stroked my face the way my mother used to. She nodded at me and tilted her head just enough to show me she didn’t believe the wicked words of the mayor.

  ‘Get the poor girl a glass of water, will you, Dennis? I’m afraid there’s worse to come yet, dear. Brace yourself.’

  Worse yet? What could be worse than rumours being spread that I was a witch? In an old-fashioned town like this, they’d drown a woman for less. I gulped the water, took a deep breath and asked Barbara to tell me what happened next.

  ‘It was Bill. He was enraged. You see, I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed it, you’ve been so busy with the campaign and Rosie, of course. But since the day you first arrived, he’s always had a soft spot for you.’

  I blushed, I couldn’t help it. I had no idea. How could I have been so blind? I guess I’d just shut out all thoughts of advances from men.

  ‘He couldn’t bear to hear such things being said about you. He slowly got up out of his seat and walked over to Johnson. The mayor had turned and was brashly asking who was going to buy him a drink. He didn’t see Bill approach. Before we knew it Bill had punched him with such force, he knocked him clean off his feet.

  ‘At first people applauded and cheered. But then Johnson didn’t get up. They waited, some people shouted at him to stop being such a drama queen, but there was no movement whatsoever. He was out cold, unconscious, and blood was streaming rapidly from his head where he’d hit the bar on the way down.

  ‘I jumped up. I knew however much I hated him, someone had to do something. Bill had punched him on the back of his neck. Had the mayor been facing the other way it might not have been so drastic. Bill didn’t know he’d hit the weakest part of the skull. I remembered that from the First Aid training I’d done as a girl.

  ‘Johnson was still out cold and the blood was getting worse. It had saturated the pub carpet, turning it from light green to putrid brown. I looked around me. Everyone was rooted to the spot. Bill had already fled in a rage. I doubt he had any idea just how seriously he’d injured the mayor. People were whispering “Is he dead?”

  ‘I checked for a pulse. It was still there. Just. I screamed for an ambulance and, as if lifted from a trance, they all sprang to action. It was sheer chaos. Everyone on top of each other, and Ian, the landlord, trying to calm everyone down, reassuring them the ambulance was already on its way.

  ‘It seemed to take forever for the paramedics to arrive. But I suppose it was really only five or ten minutes. They checked his pulse, lifted him onto a stretcher, and hurried him off to hospital.

  ‘Back in the pub, it was like the calm after the storm. Everyone returned to their tables and drank silently. It was like everyone knew this one small but almighty act had changed the town, changed it forever. They were clearly weighing up who was right, who was wrong, and, I’m sorry to say, whether there was any truth in the mayor’s vicious rumours. You see, if there was, then that meant everything they believed in, everything they were fighting for, was wicked, cruel, and unjust.

  ‘You see you, me, and Bill, we know Johnson’s game, we know there’s no witchcraft behind the magic you create up at that little cottage. Don’t stop me, Vivian, you know yourself there’s something magical about what you’re doing, what you’ve achieved. But the rest of the town – they’re an old-fashioned, God-fearing lot – even the mere suggestion of devil-worshipping and they’ll turn and run a mile.’

  My mind drifted back to Miss Metford. Those were the exact words she’d used when she’d warned me to be careful last time I saw her.

  ‘And the insinuation that they themselves have been following a cult,’ Barbara continued, ‘frankly it doesn’t bear thinking what reaction they might have.’

  ‘And what about Bill?’ I asked, drifting back into reality.

  ‘Ah, Bill. I was just coming to him. The police went straight round to his house. They arrested him late last night and he’s been locked up in a cell ever since. People are saying Mr Johnson is in a coma. Everyone who was at the pub has been questioned and I expect you’ll receive a visit later today. They’re waiting to see what happens to the mayor as to whether they charge Bill for murder or attempted murder.’

  ‘Dear God,’ I said, throwing my head into my hands. This was all too much. Not only was Mr Shaw’s house a charred shell and his dog dead, now a man lay in a coma, Bill was being branded a murderer, and I was in the middle of a witch hunt. I felt horribly responsible for everything that had happened. Much as I hated Johnson, I would never have wished him dead.

  I hadn’t realised I was crying. Great big tears were rolling down my cheeks, causing a well of salt on my blouse.

  ‘There, there,’ comforted Barbara, ‘I’m so sorry to upset you but I felt you ought to know.’

  ‘I’m grateful that you did. It’s all my fault; how could I have been so stupid? I must go and visit Bill and, of course, Mr Johnson in hospital.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing, young lady. You mustn’t go anywhere near Bill. You could make his case much worse, and you could even go down with him. You need to lay low for there’s one more thing I have left to tell you.’

  ‘Not more,’ I cried. I didn’t think my heart could take any more.

  ‘Be strong for me for one more moment, Vivian,’ she said, clutching my hands in hers. ‘I have to tell you this for your own good. Somehow the press has got hold of the story.’

  With this, she revealed the front page of The Herald. It read: ‘Butcher Bloodbath – Allegations of Witchcraft Following Attack on Town Mayor .’

  ‘How did they hear about this?’ I asked, bewildered. ‘Why are they interested in a little pub brawl in Ivory Meadows?’

  ‘You have to see, love, they’re blowing the whole thing out of proportion. It reads lower down that they’ve had an anonymous tip-off. It could be anyone but it strikes me there’s only one man, who’s not in a coma, that would want to spread this evil gossip about the town. That’s God’s own preacher. It means, Viv love, that you must be very careful who you talk to. Mention some triviality to a stranger and it’ll end up as hocus-pocus in the papers. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?’

  I nodded.

  ‘And it would do you no harm to keep away from Miss Metford. Whether she’s a hermit, an eccentric, or a witch doesn’t matter to most people. All they see her as is trouble. I’m just saying, if you don’t want your finger burnt, don’t play with fire.

  ‘Now, Dennis is going to walk you home. Take this box of groceries with you, and lock yourself in. Don’t come out until things have calmed down a bit, I’ll come and visit you in the morning.’

  I picked up my coat and hat to go, and Dennis steadied me with his hand.

  ‘Oh, and remember, don’t go opening your door to any strangers.’

  We fetched Rosemary from school early then walked blindly into the bitingly cold air. It stung my face where I had been crying. The police were on their way to my house. What on earth could I tell them about this, and about my own skeletons?

  Chapter Six

  The police were with me within half an hour of my returning home. I sent Rosie to play in her bedroom with Whisper while I made the officers a cup of tea, my head swimming as the kettle boiled.

  Fortunately they said the mayor was fine. He hadn’t been in a coma at all, it was just that the scandal had grown way out of proportion through word of mouth. Bill had been released but the mayor was pressing charges.

  I told them my version of events, how I wasn’t the
re and didn’t know what they were talking about with regards to strange meetings. I told them I realised yoga was a little new-age for Ivory Meadows but that I felt the locals could cope with it. They chuckled so I brought out the cake tin and, encouraged, began to chat to them about how good it is for your health and how they should try it.

  The female officer did ask why had I come to Ivory Meadows and where I had come from, which almost made me choke on my cake crumbs, but I explained I’d been made redundant from my last job in the city and that, as a single mum, I decided it was time for a new start for Rosie and myself in the country. I then began rambling about fresh air and wholesome food and we were soon well off the subject.

  They finally left, bellies full of cake and tea, and happy that the whole debacle had been a silly misunderstanding.

  I sank down onto the floor behind the door as soon as I’d closed it. The last thing I wanted was for the police to go digging into my past. I didn’t mention the skeleton and I laughed off any amorous feelings I might have for Bill. After all that was ridiculous, the last thing I needed in my life right now was a man, even though I was touched he had stuck up for me.

  The next knock at the door was a journalist. Fortunately I asked who was there and refused to open the door so they weren’t able to get a picture of my face. After all these months of hiding, I would certainly be discovered if my picture was in the local rag. After many attempts at persuasion, the reporter finally went away. Thank goodness no one in the town had ever taken a photograph of me, otherwise my face would have surely graced the pages of the newspaper.