Chapter 10 #2
Theo actually laughed. ‘My mother thinks it very infra dig…’
If I knew what infra dig meant I’d have been able to comment. I was just about to say something to that effect when he went on, ‘…and my father doesn’t often leave the estate.’
‘Oh? Is he ill?’ Disabled maybe? I envisaged a somewhat cantankerous elderly man in a wheelchair, refusing to leave the house.
Theo laughed. ‘Ill? No, not at all. Just thinks skiing and golf are frivolous. He’d rather be out shooting.’
‘Shooting?’
‘The estate is geared up for shooting. The glorious twelfth and all that?’
The glorious twelfth what? Egg? Disciple?
The last of the tribe of Israel? What else came in twelves?
And why was it glorious? I didn’t like to show my ignorance by asking, so just nodded knowingly.
I was saved from answering as we rounded the next corner, and the Mandeville Arms was there on the left.
‘Here we are,’ I said. ‘Car park’s at the back.’
‘Shall we sit outside? You go and grab a table and I’ll get the drinks.’
The warm evening had brought the punters out and, although it was a Wednesday and a workday, most of the tables were taken.
I spotted one at the back, took out a tissue from my bag to wipe the pigeon droppings from the tabletop and sat on the wooden chair.
From my chair I could see through the open pub door, and Theo waiting to be served.
I took in every aspect of the man: his six-foot muscular stance, his longish blond hair playing onto his checked shirt collar, the leather belt holding up faded jeans.
Never mind the glorious twelfth, Theo Mandeville was one glorious male!
I knew I needed to make the most of every single second I was going to be in his company, already dreading the moment when he’d drop me back at home with a cheery wave before heading back to Leeds, his life and everything that went with it.
‘Where are you living now?’ I asked once Theo returned, a glass of wine in one hand, a lager shandy in the other and a bag of crisps between his teeth. Beautiful strong white teeth, I noted.
‘Have I something in my teeth?’ Theo asked as I continued my surveillance, taking in the full sensuous mouth, the long upper lip, the slow, almost indolent smile once he’d removed the packet of crisps from his teeth.
‘No, no,’ I said, embarrassed that he’d caught me unable to take my eyes from his face. ‘I was just asking where you were living now.’
‘Not at Bodington Hall.’ He grinned, holding my eye.
‘Although I rather enjoyed the cleaning staff’s sudden appearance up there.
So, no,’ he went on, when I didn’t respond, ‘I’m sharing a house near Roundhay Park.
Getting into cooking actually. Something I’ve never really done back at home or when I was away at school. ’
‘Well, no,’ I said pointedly, ‘I guess everything’s always been done for you?’
Theo didn’t contradict me, didn’t argue his case, but simply downed half his shandy before replacing the glass on the table and bending forwards towards me.
I shifted slightly in my seat as he slowly and deliberately reached a hand towards my hair.
I felt my eyes close slightly at his proximity, smelt a faint tang of soap and some citrus as, unable not to, I leaned into him.
‘There,’ he said, ‘not one but two. Isn’t that supposed to be lucky?
’ Theo carefully placed the ladybirds on the table, one immediately taking flight.
‘House on fire,’ he added. ‘This one obviously couldn’t give a damn.
’ We both watched the remaining insect, me because I didn’t know where else to look after being caught openly admiring Theo’s beautiful mouth and he, apparently, because he was fascinated by the bug.
To me, a ladybird was just a beetle in her best red coat.
‘Cooking?’ I now asked. ‘I’m a terrible cook. Don’t know why, because my dad’s pretty good.’
‘Your dad?’ That clearly interested Theo. ‘Tell me about your family. They’re obviously part of the mining community here.’
‘They are. Mum reckons her mum’s side of the family has been virtually carved out of the coalface in Rothersley.
She likes to do a bit of family history does my mum.
She’s trying to get a Family History Society going in the town.
The thing is,’ I went on when Theo didn’t comment, but simply raised a questioning eye, ‘there’s a big family to-do about her dad’s side of the family. ’
‘Oh?’
‘Hmm. They were originally from Northumbria – probably miners up there themselves. Anyway, some long distant great-to-the-nth-degree grandfather of mine, way back in the 1700s, was apparently hanged – or decapitated – she’s still trying to do more research – for theft.
Probably trying to feed his family when times were hard.
Sheep rustling maybe, from the lord of the manor…
’ I gave Theo a look and, again, he raised an eye.
‘But, not content with executing the poor bloke, they tarred the body and left it on the gibbet to rot as a reminder to anyone about to do their own bit of thieving to think again. His gibbeted body would hang “until the fowls of the air pick the flesh off your body and your bones bleach and whiten in the winds of Heaven”.’ Enthralled by my mum’s unearthing of felons in the family, I’d done my own bit of research into the practice – had actually written an essay on it for a first-year module on crime and punishment.
‘Goodness!’ Theo appeared equally fascinated. ‘And your mum’s managed to find all that out?’
I nodded. ‘That’s when her dad’s side of the family moved south to Rothersley apparently. To escape the shame of it all, I guess. And then continued to do what they did best – you know – go underground. We’ve been here ever since.’
‘It fascinates me, does history,’ Theo said.
‘It’s why I plumped for a degree in it. But I don’t know what’s worse.
’ Theo pulled a face. ‘That or the inhuman punishment they had in Hull. Felons in Hull weren’t hanged or decapitated, but apparently tied to a gibbet in the Humber Estuary at low tide and then, you know, left to wait until the tide came in. ’
I brought a hand to my mouth. ‘Jesus!’
Theo stared at me, at my reaction. ‘Oh, God, Anna, I’m sorry, so sorry… your friend…’ Theo took my hand. ‘Bloody hell, that was insensitive of me.’
‘It’s OK, it’s OK, really,’ I said, trying to smile at the same time as desperately trying not to blink. Knowing, if I did, the tears would fall. And I did not want to cry in front of Theo Mandeville. ‘You were just trying to match my gory story with one of your own.’
‘There’s been an inquest, I believe?’
I nodded. ‘You know?’ I was surprised.
‘Well, you and your friends had me up as the main suspect for what happened to her, don’t forget.
I was questioned so much, taken again and again down to Leeds police station, my father got involved…
’ Theo looked slightly embarrassed but then affected an upper-class accent.
‘“Not good for the family name, don’t you know.”’
Despite the bringing back of a reminder of the awfulness of Fliss’s death, I smiled. ‘Come on, no one says “don’t you know” any more.’
‘You’ve not met my father,’ Theo said, glancing at his wristwatch and draining his glass. He indicated my glass of wine and stood. ‘Do you fancy a walk?’