The Chalice

'I don't think so.'

'It's Wanda's temple.'

'Oh.' She almost smiled. When she was up in Yorkshire, Juanita had sent her a two-page picture spread from Hello! magazine. It had said, Dame Wanda Carlisle, newly adopted into the Pagan Faith, receives us in her Home Temple in Mystical Glastonbury. The actress had been photographed in Egyptian costume. There'd been no mention of 'The Cauldron'.

'Diane, listen to me.' Ceridwen's voice so close she could feel the warm breath on her cheek. 'I've dealt many times with this situation. If you're alone, you won't sleep. You won't feel secure. You know they know you can identify them. You'll feel so much safer here. There are plenty of rooms. And we shall watch over you.'

'Honestly, I…' She tried to lift her head from the soft cushion. It felt so incredibly heavy.

'Which brings us to the question of the police. Do you think we should call them? I think perhaps we should. Especially if one of the attackers works for your father…'

'Gosh, no. Please.'

'Unfortunately, I didn't see them do anything. They scattered when they saw me advancing. I could testify that they were there, of course. I know the rest would be your word against theirs, but…'

'No, really. My father mustn't know. That above all. Please don't tell the police. I don't think I could face it. I don't think I could summon the strength. I just feel, you know, so awfully tired.'

'Diane, I know you 're there. Will you at least do me the common courtesy of returning my calls…?'

There were nine messages on the answering machine down in the shop. Most of them from Lord Pennard.

'Yes, well, not calling him back was the most sensible thing she could do under the circumstances,' Juanita said. 'His family have been pushing people around for centuries, and Diane's easy. If he gets to speak to her, he gets what he wants.'

'She does seem a bit malleable,' Powys said. 'For an upper-class rebel.'

'She's not a rebel, she… she's been pushed around all her life. Father, Archer, nannies… even the so-called Third bloody Nanny… That's your rebellion.'

'DF?'

'Right.' Juanita accepted a cigarette in her lips. 'Thanks.'

There was a different tone to Pennard's final message.

' Diane, this is difficult for me…'

Juanita snorted smoke.

'… I should have talked to you properly that night…'

'Old bastard should have talked to her properly from when she was a kid,' Juanita said.

'… but we were both somewhat overwrought. I know what I did was high-handed. I'm sorry. I beg of you to telephone me at the earliest possible…'

'He can sound very plausible sometimes. If the chainmail gauntlet doesn't work, slip on the white evening gloves.'

'Shush,' Powys said. 'This one sounds interesting.'

'… Mrs Shepherd in Coln St Mary, Gloucestershire. I understand you have had dealings with my late husband…'

Juanita went still. 'Late?'

'… who before he died was most perturbed that you had not contacted him after promising you would.'

'Oh my God,' said Juanita. 'He rang up the night before the fire. I'd forgotten all about it. I promised to go and see him, pick up some…'

'… papers, documents which, when I was sorting through his effects, I realised should have been collected by you. I have made several attempts to telephone you and I now merely wish to say that I am sending the package by courier to Miss Endicott at Meadwell. If you wish to collect them from her, that will be in order. Thank you'

'Oh, shit.' Juanita extracted the cigarette, using the tips of her fingers. 'I should have gone over there the day I woke up in hospital. I don't think I've thought about it from that moment to this. Now the poor old boy's dead. He sounded awful, thinking about it, really ill That's another one I've let down.'

'Oh, come on,' Powys said. 'Like you were supposed to ask the ambulance driver to take you to Bristol via Gloucester?'

'I wouldn't feel so bad if I'd even thought about him, just once.'

'Diane…Diane, it's Woolly…'

'Oh God, here we go.'

'…got to talk. I'm at the end of…Oh fuck, we just got to talk…I'm at home. Please call me when you can. Please.'

'There you are.' Powys said. 'That's where she's gone.'

'OK. If you hold the phone I'll call him.'

'Before you do, these papers. The ones that woman mentioned.'

'Oh. Well, it was strange. Normally I would've listened harder when he called, but that was a night we had other problems, with Ceridwen downstairs and hearing about this man Headlice. Major Shepherd said… he said there was a missing chapter from Pixhill's diary that they couldn't publish for legal reasons. He said that it cast light on what was happening here. I don't know what he meant.'

'Why was he telling you, if it was unpublishable?'

'I don't know. He said Verity couldn't handle it on her own any more. God, how could I forget this?'

'I'd like to see this stuff,' Powys said.

Juanita said sharply, 'You're thinking about your book, aren't you? The Secret Pixhill Wasn't Allowed To Tell.'

She looked up in alarm as something fell against the shop door like a heavy refuse sack. Powys moved across and lifted up the blind.

'Diane, for Chrissake let me in. We've got to talk.'

'God,' Juanita said, 'it's…'

'Diane, listen…' the voice still slurred but low and urgent now. 'I know this isn't the best time. But I love you. I love you Diane.'

'… Sam Daniel?'

TWELVE

From a High Shelf

They' took Sam upstairs. He was certainly pissed. But Juanita suspected there was more to it than that. Some imbalance, something which had toppled him from his comfortably cynical, nonchalant perch.

The sudden perception of a slow-burning desire for Diane?

Devastating, but not enough to do this to him. There was a kind of desperation here.

'Juanita? Is that Juanita?' Sam peered at her, eyes wide and blurred. A tremor went through him. 'I need to be sick.'

Powys showed him the lavatory and shut the door on him.

'I'm quite shocked,' Juanita said. 'I don't think I knew about this. I don't think that even in my wildest…'

'I may be wrong,' Powys said, 'but I don't think Diane knows about it either.'

'Christ,' said Juanita. 'The perfect suitor. A drunken, left-wing anti-bloodsports-campaigner. If only Pennard were here.' She collapsed into the sofa. 'OK, let's call Woolly.

Ask him to keep her there for a while. Some things need to be put into perspective.'

Powys held the phone to her car and called the number.

There was no answer.

Juanita swallowed. Her throat felt very dry. She found herself looking at one of Jim's pictures, was flung brutally back into the moments when she was ringing Jim and ringing and ringing, and he didn't answer, kept on not answering, that was when they went to the cottage.

'Juanita?'

Staring at the picture. Was it going dark? She must have told Karen, the nurse, about that when she was feverish. Karen had said next day, 'That happened to my gran the night before Grandad died.' It used to be well known. The pictures in the room go dark before a death.

'Come on…' Powys on his knees in front of her. 'Calm down, huh? Just tell me where he lives. I'll go and check this out. As soon as we make sure Sam's OK.'

'Powys, you think something's happened to her, don't you?'

'I'm more worried about you. You're not well. You're very pale.'

'I'm OK. Leave Sam to me. You go.'

'I'll leave Arnold. He's a dowser's dog.'

'What on earth does that mean?'

'Pray you never have to find out.' Powys produced his enigmatic earth mystery-guru's smile, but she could tell it was a struggle.

There was the sound of the lavatory flushing.