The Judgement of Strangers Page 26

  In the first five minutes, two visitors bought copies of The History of Roth. The barbecue settled down to a steady glow. James, whose face was glowing too, added more and more charcoal.

  ‘We could roast a pig on this,’ he told me. ‘Maybe I should have been a chef.’

  At twenty past two, Mary Vintner and I were trying to guess the weight of the cake, an activity which took place at the side of the house, in full view of the drive. A group of young people had just paid their entrance fee. Among them was Charlene’s friend Kevin Jones. They had spent lunchtime in the Queen’s Head, and they were in a cheerful mood. Behind them I glimpsed a woman – dark flowing hair, a long dark dress and some sort of brightly coloured headscarf.

  I heard Rosemary say, ‘Excuse me. You haven’t paid.’

  For the first time I saw the woman’s face, dominated by sunglasses with mirrored lenses and a bright-red slash of lipstick across the mouth.

  ‘Oh no,’ the woman squealed. ‘Madam Mysterioso never pays. Cross my palm with silver, dearie, and we’ll see if we can find you a handsome young man lurking in your future.’

  Rosemary had recognized Toby and even before he began to speak her embarrassment was obvious, at least to me. She stood back, waving him in.

  ‘Vanessa,’ Toby called, declining to be waved in, ‘come and vouch for me. We madams must stick together.’

  Several people laughed, including Mary. He had a gift for making people laugh when he wanted to, even when what he said was not intrinsically funny. Vanessa came into view with her roll of raffle tickets. Smiling, their heads close together, she and Toby followed the path down the side of the house towards Mary and me. Rosemary looked after them, her face pink and tight.

  ‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’ Toby said to me. ‘I started to drive down, but some idiot had blocked the drive, so I had to reverse back up to the house and then walk. And walking in a skirt is an art I haven’t entirely mastered.’

  ‘It’s a splendid costume.’ What I wanted to say was, Leave my daughter alone, and, Where’s Joanna?

  ‘I’ll get started, shall I? Is there a queue?’

  As it happened, there was. When we reached the tent, Kevin and his friends were clamouring for Madam Mysterioso.

  ‘Ah,’ cried Toby in his falsetto. ‘The price of fame. My public needs me. Hello, children! Just give me a moment to powder my nose.’

  He winked at Vanessa and went alone into the tent.

  Audrey sidled up to me. ‘Shouldn’t you go first?’ she hissed.

  At this moment there was a diversion.

  ‘Fire!’ shouted Brian.

  Almost everyone in the garden turned towards the barbecue. His face purple, James was jumping up and down on a flaming tea towel. His wife took in the situation at a glance. She darted into the kitchen, lifted the washing-up bowl from the sink, returned outside and deposited several pints of dirty sudsy water over the tea towel and over her husband’s trousers and shoes. James swore. Then he looked up and realized that he was at the centre of attention.

  ‘Almost ready to take your orders, ladies and gentlemen,’ he called, taking advantage of his audience. ‘Beefburgers, sausages, fried onions, rolls, mustard, tomato ketchup – we have everything you could possibly want to eat.’ He added, in a slightly lower voice, ‘Damn it, Mary, you’ll have to send Brian home for my shorts and sandals. I wish you wouldn’t panic like that.’

  By the time I returned to Madam Mysterioso, Kevin was already inside the tent, laughing hysterically.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon in a daze. I wandered around the fete and talked to people. After all, as Vanessa pointed out to me during a lull in the proceedings, it was my party and I was expected to circulate. The weather was wonderful, attendance was as good as we had ever had, if not better, and both the barbecue and Madam Mysterioso were doing excellent trade.

  But all I could think of was Joanna. Why wasn’t she here? Had she changed her mind about me? Had Toby found out and somehow prevented her from coming? In the end, I could stand it no longer. I slipped into the house and went into the study. I dialled the number of Roth Park and waited.

  The phone rang on and on. While it rang, I looked out of the window at Rosemary sitting at her table by the gate, staring out at the main road and the green beyond. I wondered if Joanna had had an accident, if she were lying in a coma at the foot of the stairs. Or she might have slipped, cracked her head and fallen into the swimming pool. I was about to give up when there was a click at the other end of the line and Joanna’s sleepy voice said hello.

  ‘It’s me.’

  ‘David. Dear David. What time is it?’

  ‘About a quarter to four. Are you coming down to the fete? I thought –’

  The study door opened. Vanessa came in with a cup of tea in each hand.

  ‘No,’ I said swiftly. ‘I’m afraid you’ve got a wrong number. Goodbye.’ I put down the phone.

  ‘I thought we could have tea in peace and quiet,’ Vanessa said. ‘It’s like a Roman circus out there. With Audrey as the principal lion.’ She sat down opposite me and took a cigarette from the packet on the desk. ‘A wrong number? I didn’t hear the phone ring.’

  ‘It had hardly started when I picked the phone up,’ I said. ‘Thanks for the tea. It’s thirsty work.’

  ‘I visited Madam Mysterioso,’ Vanessa said. ‘She foresaw an outstanding literary success in my life. You should give Toby a try – he’s really rather good.’

  I was scared that Joanna might phone me back. I gulped my tea and went outside with Vanessa. The fete was beginning to wind down. James beamed at us as he dropped the last sausages on to the grill.

  ‘Have a hot dog. Vanessa? David?’

  The smell of burning meat reached my nostrils.

  ‘With flames to the flesh,’ Vanessa quoted, ‘with brands to the burning. Yes, please.’

  ‘Not for me, thanks,’ I said.

  The smell made me queasy. Trust Francis Youlgreave to be both ambiguous and disgusting. As incense to heav’n the soul is returning … It had never occurred to me before that a burning heretic must have smelled of roasting meat, and that the smell must have titillated the taste buds of the spectators, especially those with empty bellies. A missionary who had talked to me when I was an ordinand had told me that roasted human flesh smelled and tasted like pork.

  ‘Pork sausages,’ James said. ‘Can’t beat them. Much nicer flavour than beef.’

  Four more copies of The History of Roth had been sold and there was no longer a queue outside Madam Mysterioso’s tent. The flap was open. Toby beckoned me in. He held out his right hand, palm upwards.

  ‘Cross me palm with silver,’ he squeaked, his voice sounding hoarser than it had at the beginning of the afternoon.

  I laid a ten-shilling note in his hand.

  ‘That’s right, my dear. Generosity shall have its reward. Shut the flap and we can be nice and private.’

  When the flap was closed, the tent became another place – cool, green and shadowed. A joss stick smouldered in a brass holder, filling the air with a heavy scent. Toby, hunched over the table, in his black wig, his long black dress and his shawl, seemed in no hurry to begin. He had added a silk scarf, worn as a headband, and a large necklace of imitation diamonds to his attire. On the table between us were some of the tools of his trade: a pack of tarot cards, a crystal ball, and the Prophecies of Paracelsus.

  ‘Isn’t this cosy?’ he said. ‘Now, what can I do for you? A little palmistry, perhaps?’

  Examining my hand with a large magnifying glass, Toby launched into an entertaining survey of my hypothetical future. Soon I would be a bishop. In a year or two I would have my own television show. Meanwhile (he threw in for good measure), my wife would become a world-famous author.

  ‘I usually end by consulting my crystal ball,’ he informed me in a voice that was now reduced to an imperious wheeze. ‘In it I see a vision of the future, a picture that encapsulates what is to come. Frequently its meaning is sy
mbolic. I like my clients to take away this picture and meditate upon it, if possible for years to come.’

  He grinned at me across the table. ‘Stare into the crystal,’ he commanded.

  The two of us placed our elbows on the table and peered into its glassy depths. All I could see was a distorted image of myself and the walls of the tent. Seconds passed.

  ‘I can see a little girl,’ Toby said in his normal voice. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and surprised. ‘She’s sitting on a bed, and she’s got dark hair.’ He frowned. ‘And she’s crying.’

  34

  A sign consisting of a ragged sheet of cardboard attached to a wooden baton had been pushed into the soft verge beside the drive: PARTY, it said in red letters, and underneath was an arrow pointing to the path through the shrubbery. Pop music pulsed steadily through the warm evening air.

  Audrey made a face. ‘Oh dear. That jingly-jangly music. If music’s the word I want.’

  She had walked with us up the drive, joining us as we came through the gate from the churchyard – her timing was so perfect that I suspected that she had been watching out for us.

  It was a little before seven o’clock. The evening sun was directly in our eyes. It slanted across the facade of the house, creating black bars of shadow. The Vintners’ Rover was among the cars in front of the house in the shadow of the tower. Brian ran across the gravel and annexed Michael. The two boys darted into the shrubbery.

  ‘Hello, Vicar,’ said Ted Potter, coming up behind us with Doris. He beamed at Vanessa and Rosemary and sidled closer to me. His breath smelled of beer. ‘Never thought we’d be coming up here for a party. Times change, eh?’

  Toby had been generous with his invitations. A stream of people, some on foot and some in cars, were making their way up the drive towards the house. Kevin and Charlene walked self-consciously arm in arm, followed by Judy, the fat girl in the bus shelter who had sworn at Audrey.

  We followed the boys through the shrubbery to the ragged lawn on the other side of the bushes. The French windows were open. People were chatting and drinking on the terrace, on the lawn and down by the swimming pool. There were many faces I did not recognize.

  ‘I wonder where our host and hostess are,’ Audrey said, her nose wrinkling.

  There was a loud splash from the direction of the pool. For a moment we hesitated, feeling the awkwardness of those who have arrived at a gathering but have not yet been assimilated by it.

  There was no sign of Joanna.

  Kevin and Charlene emerged giggling from the shrubbery, with Judy trailing behind.

  ‘David! Vanessa!’

  James Vintner waved from the terrace. Somewhere in the room behind him came the familiar bray of Mary’s laughter. The music stopped abruptly.

  ‘Thank heavens for that,’ muttered Audrey.

  ‘Come and get yourself a drink,’ James called. ‘Toby’s made me deputy barman for the evening.’

  We trooped up to the terrace and into the long sitting room. A group of teenagers clustered round the record player. A trestle table had been set up as a makeshift bar at one end.

  ‘Gin, whisky, vodka?’ James waved his arm to and fro, pointing out what was on offer. ‘Beer, cider, red wine, white wine, Coca-Cola, orange squash, sherry – and of course punch. Come on, David, why not push the boat out? I see you’ve come in mufti so you can let your hair down. What about a large gin?’

  We all asked for gin, even Rosemary, because it was the easiest thing to do.

  ‘Where are the Cliffords?’ Vanessa asked as James was rummaging in the ice bucket.

  ‘Toby took a jug of punch down to the pool. I wouldn’t advise trying it – absolutely lethal. At least a bottle of brandy went into it, and heaven knows what else … Jo’s around somewhere – I saw her a moment ago.’

  Jealousy kicked me. I didn’t like James calling her ‘Jo’.

  ‘There you are. You know where to come for refills.’ James leered at Charlene and Doris. ‘And what can I get you, my dears?’

  We drifted by stages on to the terrace and down to the lawn. Rosemary was soon in conversation with two young men I did not know and to whom she did not introduce me. The three of them followed us across the lawn. Michael and Brian zigzagged like swallows around the garden. Audrey was hailed by our librarian, Mrs Finch, who was with her husband.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen ground elder quite so well established as this,’ the husband said in a voice like a satisfied whinny. ‘I mean, they’ll be having it growing inside the house if they’re not careful.’

  Vanessa and I moved away.

  ‘I’ll be glad when this is over,’ she murmured. ‘Can we leave early?’

  ‘It’s been a long day,’ I said, not wanting to commit myself. ‘It’s always a relief when the fete is out of the way for another year.’

  ‘I’m dead on my feet.’

  ‘I may have to stay for a while. I feel I’m partly on duty.’ I added, as casually as I could manage, ‘But there’s no reason why you shouldn’t slip off whenever you want.’

  ‘I might do that. I’d like to do a little reading tonight.’ She paused to sip her drink, and made a face. ‘James’s made this awfully strong.’

  We went down the steps into the paved area around the swimming pool. Several teenagers were swimming or splashing each other. Toby was at the centre of a knot of people in front of the white changing hut where Rosemary and I had sheltered with him from the rain. He saw us and waved. We walked round the pool to join him. He stood out from everyone else because he was in white – a collarless shirt and tight, flared trousers.

  ‘You’re looking very festive,’ he said to Vanessa, who was in fact wearing the dress that she had worn at the Trasks’ dinner party almost a year ago, on the occasion of our first meeting.

  Vanessa laughed and said, ‘Go on with you, Toby.’

  He leant forward unexpectedly and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Welcome to the party, anyway. If David doesn’t mind, you can be our official Belle of the Ball. By the way, I’ve got something to show you.’

  ‘Really? What?’

  ‘It’s a surprise.’ She looked at him in a way that was almost flirtatious. Which was flirtatious. It suddenly struck me that Vanessa was not averse to flirtation when it was divorced from any possibility of leading to sexual activity.

  Toby looked past us. ‘And Rosemary – how are you?’

  My daughter was standing with the two youths only a few yards away. She ignored him.

  ‘Why are you being so mysterious?’ asked Vanessa.

  ‘I like surprises,’ Toby said. ‘Don’t you? I’ll give you a clue: it’s something to do with Francis Youlgreave.’

  ‘I see.’ Vanessa’s voice did not change, but her features sharpened as if the skin of her face had tightened over the bones beneath: suddenly she looked hungry. ‘And when is the secret going to be revealed?’

  ‘Soon. Give me a moment.’ He smiled impartially at both of us. ‘I need to collect my thoughts and discharge my hostly duties.’ He turned and in one swift movement picked up a dish that had been resting on the step of the little wooden verandah behind him. ‘Have some cheese.’

  He held out a large, chipped serving plate designed for a joint of meat. At present it held a mound of cheese diced roughly into cubes. On one side of the plate was the kitchen knife he had been using to cut up the cheese, and on the other was the remains of a hunk of Cheddar.

  ‘We should have got some of those little cocktail sticks. But I hope you won’t mind using your fingers.’ Toby looked up at the house. ‘Clouds coming up from the west. I think we’re going to get rain, so we might as well enjoy the garden and the pool while we can.’

  Nibbling the cheese, I stared at the sky. I caught sight of Rosemary, still only a few yards away, flanked by escorts. But she wasn’t listening to them. She was looking at us. I smiled at her but she appeared not to see me.

  Toby popped two cubes of cheese into his mouth. ‘Let’s go up to the
house and I’ll put you out of your misery,’ he said indistinctly. ‘Have you seen Joanna yet?’

  ‘No.’ Vanessa glanced at me. ‘Was she at the fete? I didn’t see her.’

  ‘She decided she’d do a few things for the party,’ Toby said. ‘At least, that was her story. My theory is, she didn’t want to run the risk of being pointed out as the sister of Madam Mysterioso.’

  ‘Audrey tells me that you and the barbecue were our top-earning attractions,’ I said.

  ‘That’s a comfort.’ Toby waved at the redbrick bulk of the house. ‘So if my career as a hotelier falls through, at least I can make a new life as a professional prophet.’

  Toby picked up the jug of punch and the three of us walked slowly back to the house, pausing every now and then to allow Toby to fulfil his hostly duties. I wondered whether the glance Vanessa had given me was significant, whether she suspected that there might be something between Joanna and me. Hindsight always colours memory; but even at that moment I felt there were strange emotions abroad, an uneasiness which affected the way that people mixed with each other.

  A burst of rock music came to meet us from the sitting room. A few couples were dancing on the terrace. In the room beyond, James was explaining how to make champagne cocktails to a ravishingly beautiful Asian girl. Mary was dancing with a large young man in a leather jacket. The drinks table was surrounded by a crowd of people who had evidently decided that it was simpler to serve themselves rather than wait to be served by the deputy barman.

  Mary and her partner lurched a few paces to the right. Suddenly I saw Joanna. She was standing by the fireplace talking to Audrey.

  Audrey had seen us, too. ‘I was just asking Joanna if we could turn the music down a little,’ she shouted, crossing the room towards us. ‘It’s absolutely deafening. In fact, it’s so loud I’m not sure she can hear what I was saying.’

  ‘Oh, you have to have loud music at parties,’ Vanessa said. ‘Otherwise it wouldn’t be a proper party.’

  Audrey stared at her. It was an undiplomatic remark, and Vanessa was not usually undiplomatic. Either she wanted to offend Audrey, I thought, or her mind was on other things – on Toby’s surprise connected with Francis Youlgreave.