Ghost Song (19 page)

Anton pulled away from Rinaldi and bounded to the top of the steps, clearly no longer caring about fighting anyone.

‘You have killed my brother,' he said through clenched teeth.

‘No, I haven't,' said Hal, standing beside him, peering down into the gloom. ‘It's quite a long flight of steps and he seems to have fallen all the way to the bottom, but I can hear him cursing fairly robustly. Drunks usually fall soft, anyway.'

‘It is no thanks to you if he is not dead,' said Anton angrily.

Hal said, furiously, ‘It is no thanks to
you
if Miss Jones is not dead as well. What the devil were you intending to do to her? A little dilettante rape, perhaps?'

‘Nothing she was not willing to give.'

‘Really?' said Hal disbelievingly. ‘Then why were her hands bound and why was a scarf tied over her mouth? Attacking a lady in that way is a very serious offence in this country—it's punishable by a gaol sentence I'm happy to say. And I could add a beating to that without too much persuasion. Or would you like to join your brother down there, because I will happily knock you down these steps here and now.'

‘Do not trouble. I am going down there anyway.' Anton began to cautiously descend the dark steps, and Hal said, ‘Don't be absurd, man—it's as black as night down there. At least let me get a light.' But Anton ignored him and Hal shrugged and turned back, pulling Flora into his arms.

‘My dearest girl, are you sure you're not hurt?'

His hair was tousled, his tie had loosened in the fray and his face was beaded with sweat and dust. He looked far tougher and far less urbane than Flora had ever seen him—more like a street ruffian than a wealthy young man beginning to carve out a dignified and distinguished career in Her Majesty's Foreign Office. She thought he had never been more attractive and as she leaned thankfully against the broadcloth of his overcoat she was aware of the pleasing masculine scents of hair and fresh sweat and clean linen. As if tonight's violence and fear had stripped something away, she felt a bolt of emotion crackle through her entire body like lightning. Not cold-hearted after all then! Not in the least unresponsive!

But even when one had suddenly been sent boneless and dizzy with longing, there were still other concerns, so she said, ‘I'm truly all right. Hadn't we better do something about those two villains down there?' But then, because he had always seemed to like it when she displayed irony, she said, ‘I should add that you and Mr Rinaldi have a very fine sense of timing and drama. You made your entrance just as they were about to—um—have their wicked way with the heroine.'

She thought he smiled and his arms tightened round her, but he only said lightly, ‘I'm very glad to hear we were in time. But you're right about making sure the villains are all right. I'd hate to have murder set against me, even if it was the murder of one of those blackguards. Rinaldi, you and I had better go down there while Flora stays here.'

Flora wanted nothing better than to stay here, preferably with Hal still holding her against him, but she said firmly, ‘I have no intention of staying up here. If you go down there they might leap on you all over again. I'll come with you.'

‘It's pitch black.'

‘There'll be matches in Shilling's room,' offered Rinaldi. ‘We can light a couple more gas jets. And there's usually a lantern—wait a moment and I'll get them.'

He sped off, and Hal said, ‘You'd better have my jacket, Flora. I'll take you home in a minute, but we might have to walk to Blackfriars Road before we get a cab, and you can't do that looking like a bedraggled urchin.'

The jacket swamped Flora but it was warm and safe, like wearing velvet armour.

‘Are you really all right?' said Hal, looking down at her.

‘Yes. They carried me onto the stage and they were certainly going to rape me, but then we heard something—as if someone had come in—and I got away—' Flora broke off, wondering again what had happened to the elusive person they had heard. Surely he had heard the scuffle out here? She said, ‘I was going to shut myself in Shilling's room, but they caught up with me.'

‘Flora, were
both
of them going to rape you? Both the brothers?'

‘It seemed so,' said Flora rather shortly.

‘D'you know, I think I will risk that murder charge after all.' His arms came round her again and his hair brushed her cheek and there was something so extraordinarily sweet and intimate about the feel of his hair against her skin that Flora wished she could stay there for ever.

But Rinaldi was returning, calling out that he had got the lantern and a box of safety matches, and Hal released Flora, and went to help him with the lantern.

‘Now for your assailants,' he said, and led the way down the stone steps, holding up the lantern. It was what people used to call a bull's eye lantern and it cast a sharp circle of warmth that Flora thought emphasized the darkness that lay beyond it.

Stefan was half-sprawled against a wall with Anton standing next to him.

‘Reznik?' said Hal sharply. ‘How badly hurt are you?'

‘Nothing broken,' said Stefan. ‘But my leg is badly bruised, also my arm. It is no thanks to you I am not dead of a broken neck.' He glared at Flora. ‘The fall was your fault, you bitch.'

‘If you call Miss Jones that name again you will find you really do have a broken leg,' said Hal icily. ‘Perhaps a lot more than just a broken leg.'

‘I do not care. She led us both on. We were entitled to believe she was willing.'

‘Oh, how dare you tell such lies—' began Flora.

‘And then, when we accepted your invitation, you laughed,' said Anton, directly to Flora. ‘You are a cock-tease.'

‘Reznik, you'll moderate your language!'

‘I didn't lead anyone on!' said Flora, breaking in on this. ‘I've
never
led anyone on! And I certainly made no kind of invitation to—to anything at all! And,' she said crossly, ‘I'm extremely sorry you didn't break both legs and all your ribs as well when you fell down here, Stefan, because it would serve you right!'

‘Termagant,' said Hal. ‘But there are other ways of inflicting damage. You can lay charges against them at Vine Street in the morning.'

Before Flora could answer this, Rinaldi said, apologetically, ‘Unpleasant for Miss Jones that would be, sir.'

‘Flora?'

‘I'd rather forget the whole thing,' said Flora, daunted at the prospect of the police and perhaps a court hearing and avid people listening to the entire sorry story.

‘Much as it pains me, I think you're right,' said Hal. ‘Well, then, Stefan Reznik, you're a black villain and so is your brother, and if either of you approaches her or enters this theatre again, I shall make sure you're both thrown into prison for a very long time. For now, Rinaldi and I will help you back up the stairs and decant you both into a cab.'

‘I would rather stay here all night with the rats for company than walk one step with you,' said Stefan sullenly.

‘Don't be ridiculous. You'll have to be helped up the steps anyway.'

‘And there aren't any rats,' said Flora, managing not to glance nervously into the corners. The room seemed to be lined with black brick and there was a jumble of scenery and stage props. At the far end, was the outline of the grave trap's shaft.

‘Well, we can't leave you here,' said Hal. ‘Apart from anything, you'd probably try to burn the place down out of spite.'

‘But we could leave them, sir,' put in Rinaldi eagerly. ‘There's one of those new doors in the foyer. A one-way arrangement. It locks itself after you go through it. They could go out that way when they're ready. And Shilling will be back at midnight, anyway. He can throw them out.'

‘We will not be thrown out by anyone,' said Anton grandly. ‘We will leave after you have gone by ourselves. We will walk out through your stupid door.'

‘I suppose,' said Hal slowly, ‘we could leave a note in Shilling's room. We could say we've had to leave a couple of drunks down here, and warn him that it might be better to call the peelers to help out.'

‘We are not a couple of drunks—'

‘I can think of worse names to call you than that,' said Hal challengingly.

‘There's a constable who usually stands on the corner of Candle Square,' said Rinaldi with the air of one pouring balm on stormy waters. ‘I can tell him what's happened on my way home. I know him by sight and he knows me. I'll warn him to look out for Shilling and perhaps come inside with him.'

‘A very good idea,' said Hal. ‘And I'll put a half-sovereign in the note for Shilling—that will cover the cost of a cab.'

As Hal picked up the lantern, Flora said, ‘We should leave that for them.'

‘I'm not trusting this precious pair with a set of matches and a lamp,' said Hal. ‘You're too tender-hearted, Flora. Half an hour in the dark won't kill them.'

They said goodnight to Rinaldi on the edge of Candle Square. Hal advised him to go home and take a good tot of something to help him sleep. ‘And perhaps you'd have that tot on me, Rinaldi,' he had said, and there had been the chink of coins, and Rinaldi's words of thanks. There had also been a final light-hearted exchange about the forthcoming electrification of the Tarleton and how dazzling it would make the Christmas pantomime.

Hal had paused for a moment outside the theatre, looking up at it.

‘It's a shockingly ugly place, isn't it?' he said. ‘But it's unashamedly ugly. And it's got a lot of character.'

‘That's very perceptive of you,' said Flora.

‘D'you know how old it is?'

‘I don't think anyone knows, not exactly. But that inscription over the stage door—'

‘Please one, please all, be they great or be they small.'

‘Yes.' It was nice that he had noticed this; not many people did. ‘It's supposed to have been said or written by a man called Richard Tarleton—an Elizabethan clown actor. The theatre doesn't go back that far, of course, or anything like it, but it might mean the site has theatrical associations.'

‘It'd be nice to think so.'

As they turned to walk along to get a cab, Flora suddenly looked back.

‘Something wrong?'

‘It's just that I thought I saw someone going into Platt's Alley. But it's difficult to see properly in this weather.'

‘Creeping fog from the river,' said Hal, peering through the greyness. ‘It'll probably hang around for days. I can't see anything.'

‘It looked as if whoever it was, was wearing one of those deep-brimmed hats and a long coat. But the fog plays peculiar tricks.'

‘I expect it was Bob Shilling you saw or even Rinaldi's constable taking a look round.'

‘Yes, of course. Should we go back, though?'

‘I think you've had enough of that place for one night,' he said.

But as they walked towards Blackfriars Bridge Flora was remembering the soft footsteps inside the theatre and the just-audible humming. I probably imagined it, she thought, or perhaps it was wind sighing in the old brickwork or the roof, or even a trapped animal somewhere.

They picked up a cab near the bridge. The lights along the bank were blurry because of the fog and they reflected smudgily in the river. Inside the cab, Hal put his arm round her and Flora no longer cared what had happened earlier, because she wanted to trap this moment and fold it away somewhere safe, so that when she was old she would be able to unwrap it and remember the feeling. Would she be able to smile because Hal was still in her life to share it, or would she have a stab of pain, and think, ah yes,
that
was the night when I was
really
happy.

When they reached her flat, Minnie cooked a belated supper while Flora washed and put on fresh clothes. Thankfully there was a bottle of reasonably good wine which had been a present from someone; Hal opened it and stayed to eat the supper which Minnie laid on the round cherrywood table in the window. The fire burned up brightly and the room was warm and safe.