Part 27 (1/2)
arms. She let the bag containing the swab fall to the floor where she would retrieve it later. She began to pull off the surgical gloves, slowly, almost like a stripper going into her act. 'An' there's always different potions for different things, Hugo. My, I've hardly shown you anything, there's so much more you'll appreciate.'
He made to move towards her again, but she stepped back, the movement languid, sensuous.
Hugo's bulging eyes were pleading and his thick lips were wet where his tongue had flicked out between them.
'Nell, please ... just...'
He looked downwards, then up again and Nell groaned inwardly, knowing what the gesture meant.
She would have to please him, otherwise he would be useless, sulking like a little boy refused his treat.
She dropped the gloves by the plastic bag and went down on her knees.
'Come here, Hugo.' Her voice was low and she made it sound as though it contained pleasure. 'I know what you want. We must be quick though, Hugo. We've got a lot to do.'
He licked his lips again as he moved forward and his hand was trembling as he pulled down the zip of his trousers.
She delved inside, took him out, secretly disgusted by the flaccid p.e.n.i.s that would take so much effort on her part to embolden.
And there, by his dying father's bedside, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth.
While outside the door in the antechamber of the rooftop quarters, a tall but stooped figure pressed close against the panels to listen.
THE SORCERESS ROOM.
THOM PULLED up before the broken picket fence and surveyed the creeper-covered house beyond it. Nell Quick's home looked empty; but then it had when he'd driven past yesterday and he'd known Nell was inside because he'd just left her. He realized the apparent emptiness was because the windows were so black, both downstairs and upstairs. The blackness seemed to represent an absence of life.
Nevertheless, he was here now and he was going to knock on that door - there were questions that had to be asked.
At the site of the accident Thom had used his mobile to call the casualty department of Shrewsbury's main hospital but, Thom not being a relative, the person he spoke to was reluctant to impart any information other than that Ms Budd was in a 'serious but stable condition'. Possibly tomorrow they would be able to give him a little more information.
He opened the Jeep's door and stepped out. He had to lean against the vehicle's roof for a moment as dizziness almost caused him to overbalance. Tired, he thought. Dog-weary beat. Too much had happened this day. He had learned so much, witnessed so much, and now this, Katy's accident.
Accident? Thom wondered.
With an effort he pushed himself away from the Jeep and went through the gateless opening, his gaze skimming over the house as he limped up the short path. The dizziness receded, but the anxieties would not leave him alone.
He found himself in front of the porch, the shadows inside somehow discreet, as if hiding the front door. He stepped inside and pounded on the door with his fist.
The top section of the stable-door rattled in its frame, but there was no response from within the house itself. Thom cursed under his breath.
Stepping back outside the porch again, he peered at the upper windows, perhaps hoping to penetrate its blackness at that angle. There was nothing though, no sign of life at all. He went over to the downstairs window, treading through the long gra.s.s and weeds to get to it, and put both hands on the gla.s.s to form a darkened tunnel through which to look. He could plainly see the opposite window, the one that overlooked the back garden, but still detected no sign of Me. Next he moved along to the kitchen window, s.h.i.+elding the gla.s.s against the glare with his hands once more. All he saw was the usual kitchen paraphernalia and shelves stocked with jars and tins, but no signs of life. Something - that sly little nagging voice of his? - told him not to give up. Even if Nell Quick was not at home, he might still find something useful inside the house, anything that might provide a clue to Nell's true nature and intention. Rigwit had called her a h.e.l.lhagge and although a few days ago Thom would have scoffed at the idea, now he was inclined to believe. There might be something in the house that would confirm the
elf's a.s.sertion; there might also be an indication of Nell's game plan. She appeared to have her hooks into poor old Hugo and Thom wanted to know why.
Moving stealthily, careful not to trip on weeds or tangled undergrowth, Thom turned the corner of the house and crept towards the rear. He hoped Nell's neighbours in the adjoining house had not noticed his approach along the path to the porch; with luck, they were not even home, for there had been no vehicle parked in front of their fence. Cautiously, he peeked around the corner, afraid that Nell might be sunbathing or attending her back garden.
And attending it needed. He had observed the garden once before, through the window of Nell's parlour, and had noted its cluttered disarray, but now it seemed even wilder. Yet... and yet, there was some order to the mess. He could see that now, for what had appeared as total disorder -abandonment even - now took on some placement logic, for among the wild ferns and overlong gra.s.s there grew herbs of all kinds, screened by the brambles around them, but obviously carefully tended, for they appeared fine and healthy with s.p.a.ce to allow in suns.h.i.+ne and for uninhibited growth. In fact, rather than neglected, the plants and herbs in this apparently fiercely overgrown garden were skilfully protected; or perhaps skilfully hidden.
Towards the end of the garden was the battered and flaky wood-framed greenhouse, its gla.s.s rendered almost opaque by rain-smeared grime. Out of curiosity, Thom made his way towards it, finding thecracked, broken remains of a centre path to make the journey easier, brus.h.i.+ng aside tall ferns and taking each step with caution because of the slippery, moss-covered slabs of stone beneath his feet.
Occasionally, he looked back over his shoulder at the house, half-expecting to see Nell's shadowy figure watching him from one of the windows. There was no one, of course -hadn't he rapped hard on the front door earlier? - but he
could still feel eyes on the back of his neck. He realized it was the house, itself, that he could feel watching him. A silly notion, but one he was unable to shake off.
When he reached the greenhouse he saw it was in an even worse condition than he had first thought.
Not only were the panes of gla.s.s filthy, but several were broken or cracked. Bird droppings decorated the slanted roof and bedaubed the side windows and the wooden-framed structure looked as if one strong push would send the whole lot cras.h.i.+ng. There was something dirty, unhealthy, about it and Thom had no wish to enter. Instead, he found a broken pane and peered through.
Like the garden, everything inside looked to be growing wild, but he soon realized that this was only because the greenhouse was overcrowded with herbs, plants and fruits, most of which he did not even attempt to identify. But among them he did recognize the same orchids that he had found at Little Bracken earlier, the soil beside these disturbed and empty, as though their companions had recently been uprooted. Thom could not even guess at the significance of this; maybe Nell had thought they would make a nice gift, something to brighten up the cottage.
Okay, so what did all this tell him of Nell Quick? That she was an enthusiastic but untidy gardener? Or that she really was a maker of potions and herbal cures? He pictured Nell dressed in black, wearing a witch's pointed hat, stirring a huge cauldron of bubbling liquid, and he almost laughed aloud. What a stupid picture. But how far from the truth was it? Forget the black attire and ridiculous hat, forget the bubbling cauldron and broomstick in the corner; forget the heart of a frog, and puppy dog's tail, the black cat 'familiar', the book of spells, the ... wax ... the wax effigy with needles sticking into it - no! nonsense, forget that too. Forget all notions of witchcraft and sorcery. But remember the succubus, remember the battle for his own s.e.m.e.n,
remember Nell's own exotic allure, remember the uneasy feeling the magpie gave him each time he saw it - somehow he knew it was the same magpie each time - and remember a magpie had been seen flying from the shattered windscreen of Katy's ruined VW.
He straightened and slowly turned his head to look at the house again.
The back door had been left unlocked (not all the old country ways had died), and after a brief look around the downstairs rooms - the tiny kitchen, parlour and lobby -Thom found himself upstairs in Nell Quick's bedroom.
He felt guilty that he'd entered another's home this way, even ashamed, but he wasn't deterred in any way. In fact, he thought this surrept.i.tious search was essential, even if he didn't quite know why just yet;he'd know when he discovered something relevant, G.o.d knows what. He was acting purely by instinct, Katy's accident jolting him from any reservations he might have. Besides, if Hugo was in trouble - blackmail was Thom's best guess, the blackmailer being Nell Quick, Hugo the victim - then it was up to him to help his friend in any way he could. Whatever Hugo had been up to, whatever indiscretions or transgressions he had committed - and there were any number of foolish situations Hugo could have got himself into - Thom would support him. They'd take on Nell Quick together. It was the least, and probably the most, he could do for his friend.
The ground floor rooms had not revealed much more than he had expected, for although his perusal of the parlour yesterday had been cursory, the room had no hidden secrets of any interest. An ancient, handwritten book on herbs and their properties for healing, a drawer full of bills, many of them red-inked final reminders, old letters still in their torn
envelopes that he deliberately did not read - he was only prepared to take his snooping so far - and general acc.u.mulations that would not be out of place in any household.