He worked feverishly, speeding up even more as 11.30 approached. He was just looking at the names of the first owner in the nineteenth century when he saw a small, boxy-looking purple Kia coming up the drive.
He logged off then hurried downstairs, along the hall, and opened the front door, in time to see the vicar closing the door of his car, then carefully locking it. The vicar turned to see Ollie standing in the porch, and gave him a wave.
‘Would you like a drink?’ Ollie asked. ‘Tea, coffee?’
‘Builder’s tea would be very nice – milk, no sugar, thank you.’
Five minutes later they sat in the drawing room, facing each other on sofas. Fortinbrass, in jeans, a sweater with his dog collar beneath it, and stout brogues, sipped the mug of tea Ollie handed him. Ollie gestured to the plate of Penguins he’d laid out on the coffee table between them.
‘I’m tempted but I mustn’t, thanks – putting on a few too many pounds at the moment.’ Fortinbrass smiled. ‘This is such a very beautiful house,’ he said, looking up at the ornate cornicing moulding around the ceiling, and the grand marble fireplace.
‘It will be if we ever get the place finished!’
‘Well, I’m sure you will. It reminds me of the house I grew up in. My father was a vicar, also, and until I was fifteen we lived in a very grand rectory in Shropshire. I say very grand but it was a nightmare in winter because my father couldn’t afford to put the central heating on. I’m afraid we’re not paid very much in the clergy. We spent the winters of my childhood living in the kitchen, sitting as close to the Aga as we could get.’ He sipped his tea, then eyed the plate again, clearly wavering. ‘So tell me how you and your family are settling in here? You said on the phone that things were not all right?’
‘Yes – I – well, I thought it would be good to have a chat with you on my own.’
The vicar nodded, his face giving nothing away.
‘I went to see your predecessor, the Reverend Bob Manthorpe, as you suggested,’ Ollie said.
‘Good! And how is he?’
‘You didn’t hear?’
‘No – hear what?’
Ollie gave him the news.
‘Good Lord, that is so very sad. I only met him a few times. He seemed a very dedicated man – he—’
The vicar stopped in mid-sentence, looking distracted, staring at the doorway into the hall.
Ollie followed his gaze. He could see a shadow moving, very faintly, as if someone was hovering outside the door.
‘Do you have someone else living here, in addition to your wife and your daughter – I think you said daughter?’
‘Jade, yes, she’s twelve. No one else living here.’
Fortinbrass was staring again at the doorway, his face troubled. Ollie could still see the shadow, moving very slightly. He jumped up, strode out of the door and into the hall.
There was no one.
‘Very strange,’ Ollie said, walking back into the drawing room. Then he stopped in his tracks, and stared.
The vicar wasn’t there.
42
Saturday, 19 September
Ollie stared around at the empty room. Where the hell could the vicar have gone? There was no way he had gone out of the door. And the windows were closed.
But then he saw the plate of Penguins wasn’t on the coffee table either. Nor were their two mugs. The room felt still, as if no one had been in here all morning. He could smell furniture polish and new fabric. The curtains hung motionless.
He frowned. He’d only been gone a few seconds, into the hall. He ran across to one of the bay windows and stared out at the driveway. The vicar’s little purple Kia was not there, either. What – what —
He was startled by a patter behind him.
He turned and saw Sapphire walk in, her back arched, looking around as if something was bothering her.
‘Hey, girl!’ Ollie knelt to stroke her, but before he could touch the cat it let out a meow and shot back out of the room.
Then he heard the sound of a car arriving. Through the window he could see a purple Kia heading up the drive towards the house. He watched in astonishment as it pulled up, then the vicar climbed out, locked the door carefully, and strode towards the front door.
Had he imagined it? Ollie wondered. Was he having a Groundhog Day moment?
Feeling dazed, he walked through into the hall, and opened the front door.
Fortinbrass, dressed just as he had seen him only minutes ago, in jeans, a sweater with his dog collar beneath it and stout brogues, gave him a wave as he came towards him.
‘Good morning, Oliver!’ he said, giving him a firm handshake. ‘Very nice to see you again.’
‘Yes,’ Ollie said, hesitantly, staring at the man’s face for any sign that he was being hoodwinked in some way. But all he saw was a pleasant, open smile.
‘Would you like a drink?’ Ollie asked. ‘Tea, coffee?’
‘Builder’s tea would be very nice – milk, no sugar, thank you.’
Exactly the words the vicar had just used only minutes ago.
‘Righty ho!’ He showed Fortinbrass through into the drawing room, then went into the kitchen, still dazed. What the hell was going on inside his head, he wondered? Was he actually going mad?
He opened a cupboard where the biscuits were kept and looked in. There was an unopened family pack of Penguins. He studied the cellophane wrapping, then opened them and placed several on a plate.
Five minutes later he was seated, as before, on the sofa opposite the vicar, with a mug in his hand. Ollie gestured to him to help himself from the biscuits he’d placed on the table between them.
‘I’m tempted but I mustn’t, thanks – putting on a few too many pounds at the moment.’ He smiled and patted his stomach. ‘This is such a very beautiful house,’ he said, looking up at the ornate cornicing moulding around the ceiling, and the grand marble fireplace.
This was so weird, Ollie was thinking. This was exactly the conversation they’d just had, surely? ‘It will be if we ever get the place finished!’ he said.
‘Well, I’m sure you will. It reminds me of the house I grew up in. My father was a vicar, also, and until I was fifteen we lived in a very grand rectory in Shropshire. I say very grand but it was a nightmare in winter because my father couldn’t afford to put the central heating on. I’m afraid we’re not paid very much in the clergy. We spent the winters of my childhood living in the kitchen, sitting as close to the Aga as we could get.’ He sipped his tea, then eyed the plate again, clearly wavering. ‘So tell me how you and your family are settling in here? You said on the phone that things were not all right?’
‘Yes,’ Ollie finding this extremely weird. ‘– I – well, I thought it would be good to have a chat with you on my own.’
The vicar nodded, his face giving nothing away.
‘I went to see the Reverend Bob Manthorpe, as you suggested,’ Ollie said, for the second time in – how many – minutes?
‘Good! And how is he?’
‘You didn’t hear?’
His demeanour darkened. ‘No – hear what?’
Ollie gave him the news, again.
‘Good Lord, that is so very sad. I only met him a few times. He seemed a very dedicated man – he—’
The vicar stopped in mid-sentence, looking distracted, staring at the doorway into the hall.
Ollie saw the shadow moving again, as if someone was hovering outside the door. His skin crawled with goose pimples.
Still staring at the door, Fortinbrass asked, ‘Do you have someone else living here, in addition to your wife and your daughter – I think you said daughter?’
‘Jade, yes, she’s twelve. No, no one else living here.’