Chapter Three #4
I headed back out into the party, but the only food remaining was scraps.
So I returned to wandering around, lingering on the fringes of various groups, hoping someone would let me join them.
Ignored, I went to wait in the toilet again, until, at last, just before midnight, James was banging on the door. His work here was done.
“Let’s go,” he said, marching past me, tugging at the buttons on his shirt. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Not much,” I said, but on reflection, I didn’t think it would be a good idea for me to be in charge of a car.
I was pretty sure I was within legal limits, but I didn’t usually drink anything if I was going to drive and I wasn’t confident about doing so.
I couldn’t tell him that, though. Instead I said, “I’m really tired; can you drive? ”
“No, I’ve had half a bottle of whiskey. Is that glass all you had? Can you touch your nose?”
Well, of course I could.
“Can you walk in a straight line?”
I could.
“There you go, then. We’re not going far.”
He started walking toward the front door and I followed, taking my phone out of my bag.
James would not be happy if I suggested phoning a taxi, but if one was already on the way, he might agree to wait.
If… There was never a taxi available if you hadn’t booked it decades in advance, but it was worth a try.
I dialed Rich from the village, who was known professionally as Upper Iffley Private Hire, but predictably, he had finished for the night and it went straight to voicemail.
Then I called the taxi service from town, who answered but told me, “Sorry, we’ve got nothing all night. We start again at six in the morning.”
James was not going to go for that.
“Daisy!” he called from the drive, and I hurried after him.
“Is there anyone here from Upper Iffley who could give us a lift?” I asked.
He looked around at people emerging from the house. I was born and bred in the village. I knew all the residents, except a few in the new-build houses, and I was confident there was no one.
“Someone driving past Langley Hall?” I asked. “They could drop us off.”
“Do you want to ask them?”
I didn’t really, but I turned to approach the nearest couple. James grabbed my arm.
“Don’t,” he said. “We’re not begging for lifts in the middle of the night because my wife can’t stay away from the bottle. You can walk straight, you’re talking normally, just be careful.”
The fresh air did me good, and I felt clearheaded by the time we reached the car.
I had a bit of a wobble at the end of the drive, but that was because my stiletto heels were unbalancing me.
I was especially glad now that I hadn’t parked in the tiny space James wanted me to maneuver into when we arrived.
As I started the car, the radio blasted out. James had ignored it on the way there, but now, as we pulled away from the curb with the sound of KC and the Sunshine Band filling the air, he leaned forward and switched it off.
“I was listening to that,” I said, turning it back on. I hate to drive in silence.
He turned it off. “No, you weren’t.”
I turned it back on. “It helps me concentrate.”
He turned it off again.
I turned it on.
Off. On. Off. On. Off.
I gave up and began to drive, at a funereally slow pace, away from the house.
“Pick up the speed,” James said. “Nothing looks more suspicious than driving like a learner.”
So I drove slightly faster and we got out of town with no incidents. I began to feel happier; I was on the way to my bed and in the morning, my freedom.
Annoyingly, there were overnight roadworks blocking our route home, so we had to take a detour through Great Beadington, our neighboring village, but eventually we came to the other side of that wretched backwater and were heading toward Upper Iffley.
I felt relief flooding through me, just a few more minutes and we’d be safe.
There was just one final obstacle: This road was haunted.
“If you pull the visor down and look in the mirror, you’ll see the ghost of a monk in the back seat,” I said. “Half the village has seen it.” I do love a ghost story.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts, Daisy. Half the village hasn’t seen it.”
“Have a look if you’re so sure. There used to be a small monastery here.
It was closed down by King Henry VIII and his crew.
” That much was true. “The monk tried to stop them taking all the gold and silver and was hacked to death in front of the altar. Now he appears to travelers on this road, haunting the back of their cars, wanting their jewelry and watches. The more expensive the better.”
I saw James glance surreptitiously down at his watch. I looked up to the rearview mirror and gasped.
James’s head twitched toward the back seat, but he remembered himself in time. “Stop messing about,” he said.
“Have a look then. Do it and prove me a fool if you’re sure.”
“For god’s sake.”
He pulled the visor down and yelled as something small and hairy, with many legs, fell out into his lap. The shout made me jump; I turned my head and accidentally accelerated when I should have watched where I was going and braked.
There was a heavy thud, and we lost some velocity. The steering was wrenched out of my control, and the car started to slide this way and that. I had a glimpse of something flying up into the windshield as the airbag blew up in my face.