Tea Is For Terror Page 8

  “She’s sedated and groggy but she’s awake. At least she was a moment ago. She keeps asking for Claire. Is that you?”

  Claire nodded, thinking, “Poor Liz.”

  Jack turned away with the sister. “I’ll wait out here for you. Let me know if you need me.”

  Claire moved reluctantly forward, this whole scene too much like the one she had just played out when she visited Lucy in the hospital after her accident.

  What was it with people and stairs? Why couldn’t they watch where they were going?

  Then she recognized her irritation for what it was, a minor form of panic and, forcing what she hoped was a cheerful smile, she pulled the curtain back to look at Liz.

  “Claire? Claire, is that you?” Liz’s voice was croaky, slurring slightly from the sedatives.

  “Liz, how are you?” Her own voice was low and trembling.

  “Claire, she pushed me. Rosa pushed me down the steps!”

  “Liz, no!” Claire’s voice was stronger now. “You tripped over her. She stopped and you were right behind her and you tripped.”

  “No, she pushed me. I tried to save myself. And I dropped my camera. I’m sure I’ve lost all the pictures I had on the film. I told you she didn’t want me to be able to prove what she was doing.”

  Claire stooped over her, feeling very sad. “You’re wrong, Liz. I told you this morning to leave her alone. You were right behind her again; right on her heels and when she stopped, you didn’t and you fell over her. She tried to save you by grabbing you. That’s probably why you’re confused. It was an accident.”

  “Nooo, I fe... felt...” Her words faded and she seemed to sleep.

  Claire and Jack went over all the arrangements with Sister Strom and then with the hotel manager back at Hilliary Hall. Then they called Lucy, as it was a more reasonable time in California than it was in England. With all that finished and arranged, Claire felt more confident. But then she remembered that Alice was rooming with Liz and probably didn’t know what had happened.

  “Alice, its Claire,” she whispered with her knock. The door opened, to a disheveled Alice, who had obviously been asleep.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Liz. She had an accident.”

  Alice looked confused and then turned on the light squinting at the other bed. “I didn’t even know she wasn’t here. What happened? Is it serious?” She opened the door wider and Claire stepped in.

  “Another set of stairs. She fell down the front steps on the way to her outing this afternoon and she broke her collarbone. Luckily it’s not as serious as it is painful.”

  “My God, there must be twenty or thirty of those steps. She could have been killed. How did it happen? Can she go with us? Will we still leave tomorrow?”

  “She tripped over Rosa,” was Claire’s terse reply.

  Alice nodded, seeming to understand immediately how that could happen.

  “She’ll have to stay here for a few days and then they’ll put her on a plane back. Lucy will send someone to the airport to meet her and get her settled. So we’re leaving tomorrow as scheduled.” Claire smiled remembering Lucy’s instructions. “Lucy wouldn’t let us delay the trip because of her accident, so of course she wouldn’t consider a delay for Liz’s.”

  Alice looked around the room with some confusion.

  “Don’t worry about her things. The hotel will take care of all that. Just pack up your stuff in the morning. But I’m afraid you’ve lost your roommate for the remainder of the trip.”

  Since Alice didn’t look sad at that thought, Claire suspected Liz was no more congenial as a roommate than she was a traveling companion.

  Claire didn’t bother to tell anyone of Liz’s bizarre accusations, certain when Liz was more herself she would have a clearer understanding of what had really caused the accident.

  And later, just before she went to sleep, Claire acknowledged her own relief at Liz’s departure. She just didn’t fit into the group. In her heart she knew she would have had to send her home at some point. And as much as she was unhappy Liz had been hurt, it would be a more enjoyable trip for them all without her.

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  The other members of the tour were appropriately concerned over Liz’s injury but none seemed to question the decision to leave as scheduled. Claire was grateful she didn’t have to do much explaining. Apparently Alice, Jack and the others on the scene of the accident had spread the word. Mrs. Maus sat with Rosa for a while, either to provide comfort or to show support, so at least Rosa seemed calm this morning and now was absorbed in her computer screen.

  If Claire had been groggy yesterday morning, this morning she was almost numb from sleep deprivation.

  “How about a cuppa while we go over the agenda?”

  Claire looked up. Seeing Jack’s proffered cup, she moved over to the seat next to the window before taking the hot cup from him. He certainly looked chipper this morning, but then this was his business. He must be used to these hours, this traveling. Settling back, she took a sip, relaxing as the milk and sugar laced tea did its work. At first she had found the tea to be a disgustingly different drink than the Chinese and herbal teas she was used to drinking. But now she enjoyed the hearty brew with both milk and sugar.

  “Did you get any sleep?” Jack’s concern was new. He actually sounded as if he cared. They had yet to overcome the ill feelings resulting from that initial meeting in the stairwell. Of course the incident in the garden with Arnie hadn’t helped mend the rift.

  “Not much,” she admitted. “You?”

  “As much as I need. I’m not much of a sleeper.”

  “Really, is that how you keep up with these tours? I don’t know how you do it. Harold just seems to disappear whenever we stop, appearing magically with the bus, I mean coach, at just the right time. But you are with us and still seem to be ahead of us.”

  “It’s the training you know. And we have our trade secrets.” His grin suggested something risqué, as he pulled out the itinerary.

  After he had refreshed Claire’s memory on the activities scheduled for that day and the next, she couldn’t help asking, “How long have you been doing this?”

  “Not long. It pays the bills and it’s fun. So for now, it’s okay.”

  Claire looked at his weathered face, guessing him to be about her own age. She was curious, wondering about his life before Kingdom Tours but, not willing to risk being rude, she decided not to ask.

  Jack answered anyway. “I was a history teacher but I became redundant. So, this seemed to be a good thing.”

  “Redundant?” Claire was confused.

  “Yes, you know. The job went away. What do they call it in the States?”

  Now she saw his meaning. “Downsizing or something similar. Redundant, what an interesting way to describe it.”

  “Actually, I took my degree in engineering, but I was redundant there first. So I pursued my love of history to support me. It seemed a very safe choice. There was a time when English history was important, but no longer.” He sounded very sad.

  “There you have it. That’s the bloody British Empire in the twenty-first century. We’re all redundant but either don’t know it or won’t admit it.” His cynicism was a sharp departure from his usual cheeky but cheerful manner.

  “That’s terrible. Weren’t you able to get another engineering position?”

  “Not without leaving the country, and I didn’t want to be so far away from my daughter.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you were married. Well, all this traveling must be difficult for your family.” She wondered why she was surprised to learn he was married.

  He crooked his eyebrow. “Not really. I’m not married. I was many years ago, and when I first became redundant, my daughter was only twelve. And, while I could only see her at specified times, it seemed important for both of us that I shouldn’t just give that up. So teaching looked like a good solution. And now she’s grown and off on her own, and we
can see each other whenever we want. So now I have the freedom to do what I want.

  “What about you? Do you do this for a living? What about husbands, children, etc.?”

  “No, no and no. I was a librarian.” She paused while he nodded his agreement. She knew everyone thought she was a teacher but when they heard she was really a librarian, they always nodded like this. Of course, the nod said, she looked just like a librarian. And not Marian the Librarian from The Music Man either.

  “Anyway, a few years ago I inherited my Uncle’s bookstore in a little town outside of San Francisco, and I decided to make it into something fun.” She smiled at the memory. “Everyone said I was crazy, it was too risky, but I had this idea about a travel bookshop. I suppose my name influenced me because, other than armchair adventures, I have never traveled.”

  She laughed softly. “I confess I can be a little headstrong. So I did it and it worked. Lucy Springer and I became friends after she did a couple of lectures at the shop to promote her books. When she thought up this trip I agreed to co-sponsor it. And here I am.”

  “That sounds like you left a lot out! Weren’t you nervous giving up a secure career for something so iffy? I mean I was forced out twice. I had to make a change, albeit kicking and screaming like everyone else. You just did it for a lark?” Jack looked puzzled and maybe a little envious.

  Claire shrugged. “Not really. Something had happened to me before my Uncle died that made me rethink my whole safe, secure life. I guess by the time I got the bookstore, I was ready to take a few chances, to live a little.

  “Do you remember Auntie Mame’s character, Agnes Gooch? ‘I wanna live!’” She waited for his nod. “Well, something like that. Fortunately, so far it has turned out a little better for me than it did Agnes.” She finished her tea, not willing to discuss or even think about the incident which changed her life and still gave her nightmares.

  Jack took the hint and the cup. “Well, I better get ready, we’ll be leaving the M-5 soon, and the folks will want their tour guide patter.”

  Claire stared out the window at the motorway, watching the cars pass them on the wrong side, steeling herself not to jump. She wished she hadn’t mentioned that long ago incident. She saw the interest flare in his eyes. She just didn’t want to think about it.

  Unfortunately, the nightmares never let her completely forget it, and she had experienced a rerun only last night during the few hours she slept. Maybe Liz’s irrational accusations about Rosa had brought on the dream. She hadn’t been deeply asleep when the nightmare started. Her subconscious had struggled with the petrifying fear, refusing to give in, and she had woken herself up before the worst part, as she was sometimes able to do. Afterwards she couldn’t rid herself of that feeling of terror, so she finally got up and made a cup of tea from the electric kettle in her room. Then she was nervous about going back to sleep for fear she would have to finish the dream. She had been glad when morning finally came with the rush of departure chores to distract her.

  Gradually, Jack’s voice penetrated her thoughts and she realized he was describing the countryside and the River Wye, which they had just crossed and would several times more before the day was done. She realized she liked him a little better today but she wondered, uncomfortably, if she only felt that way because she had learned that he was educated and was capable of holding a more responsible position than that of a tour guide.

  No, he was a likeable guy. Everyone in the group thought so, even if she didn’t. But there was something that didn’t quite compute about Jack. Something about him made her antennae quiver. She still didn’t fully trust him, and she still didn’t believe his and Arnie’s story about the golf game. She had heard the anger in his voice. But why would he be angry with Arnie, the most harmless soul on this tour? Then she gave it up, concentrating instead on Jack’s description of Hay-on-Wye, their next destination.

  * * *

  “We thought we’d have to leave without you, Claire. You know, promptly?”

  “Thought you got lost.”

  “Guess you were having a good lunch?”

  “Must’ve found a better pub than we did.”

  “Come on, I’ve got two minutes. I didn’t come even close,” she retorted good-naturedly to the jibes, relieved to see Vern had made it to the bus before her.

  Vern and Claire had spent all their available time in the numerous bookstores for which the picturesque Hay-on-Wye was famous. They combed through the musty, endless hodgepodge shelves of used books. Claire had selected some old travel books she thought she’d add to her stock at the shop, thinking customers may have fun reading about travel from another time and comparing those adventures to today’s world. And of course, she couldn’t resist a few for herself, including some she brought with her to read on the trip. Vern had finally left Claire to make arrangements to have her books shipped while he went off to find something for their lunch.

  She dropped down in the seat across from Vern and Mike. “I thought I’d beat you.”

  “Hardly.” He held up a bulky bag proudly. “I thought some sustenance would be in order.” He pulled down the little tray table from the back of the seat in front of his and started to unload his bag. Vinegar Crisps, England’s answer to potato chips, hunks of heavy brown bread, a soft blue Brie and a harder yellow cheese came out. He carefully unwrapped a slab of delicious smelling terrine and a small container of olives. “See if Jack’s got some knives in that little closet of a kitchen he has back there, and some of those plastic glasses he uses for serving.” He called after her, “Bring extra glasses. I have enough to share.”

  By the time Claire returned, Vern had the cork out of the bottle of wine. The wine wouldn’t have gone very far, but it was miraculously supplemented from bottles stashed in backpacks and tote bags up and down the aisle. Soon a party was in full swing. Jack forgot his spiel for once and even Rosa left her computer to join the group. When the coach arrived at Llandyn Wells, they were all in fine spirits. Claire made it to her room and collapsed on her bed.

  “Claire, Claire. Are you there?”

  She stumbled to the door trying to compose herself, disoriented from her deep sleep. She opened the door to Alice’s anxious face. “I fell asleep,” she explained lamely.

  Alice laughed. “You weren’t the only one. Not too many made it down to dinner.

  “Look, I know you didn’t get much sleep last night, so I was hesitant about waking you. But it’s almost time for that Variety Show that Jack was so enthusiastic about. I thought I should check to see if you wanted to come.”

  “Oh, thanks, Alice. I do want to go. Lucy said it was great. That’s why we had to be here on Wednesday. So we wouldn’t miss it.” She motioned Alice in, hurrying to open her bag which was still sitting by the door. “Who’s going?” she asked as she darted into the bathroom.

  “Everyone from dinner and I guess anyone who wakes up in time. Mike and Vern, and the Sorini’s are waiting downstairs for us. It’s only a ten minute walk.”

  “Let me find an aspirin and I’m ready.” Indeed, face washed, hair brushed and teeth cleaned she looked normal. “You know, Alice, I swear I didn’t have that much wine.”

  “Obviously it was enough,” was the droll reply, and they were both still giggling when they joined the others in the lobby.

  Claire was glad for the warmth of the Naval jacket she purchased in Camden Market, as they walked through the cool, dark streets. Ornate Edwardian streetlamps glowed orange, barely making a dent in the dark shadows cast by the gargoyles and serpents decorating the towering old brick buildings. The streets slanted gently down to the park’s entrance and then winding paths led to the bathhouses built for another era when this was a famous spa town and the gentry converged here to take the waters and mingle. The theatre sat amongst the bathhouses designed in the same style. It had been updated but only superficially. The lights were electric, instead of gas, and the required exit signs and fire escapes had been added. Otherwise it looked and felt
like it came from another century.

  “Is this everyone?” Jack was waiting in the lobby.

  “I don’t know. Vern said Mrs. Maus, the sisters, Joe and Warren left ahead of us,” Claire replied, waving the others on while she went over the tour members with Jack, feeling somewhat remiss in performing her responsibilities.

  “Yes, they’re here, and the Mohney’s, and Kim and Annie.”

  “So who is missing?” Claire grimaced. The pain was not gone from her head and it was making her a little confused. Jack’s amused expression at her discomfort annoyed her. She was sure she hadn’t had that much wine.

  Obviously his head was functioning fine because he counted off, “By my reckoning the Pederson’s, Glenda and Alex, Arnie, Betty and Rosa. Do you want me to wait for them?”

  “No, Joan told me that John and Mary weren’t coming. Rosa is probably working to make up for playing with us this afternoon. I don’t know where Arnie, Betty or the Martinez’s are, but they must have decided to skip it.” She handed her ticket to the young man at the door, took a program and went into the theatre. Mrs. Maus had saved some seats. She sat down next to Joe, greeting the others, then settled back, surprised to find that Jack had followed her in and was sitting on her other side.

  “I didn’t realize you wanted to see it too. I thought you’d be bored as often as you do these things.”

  “Not by this show. Just wait.”

  It was obviously a small town production where the smaller children of the players handed out the playbills and the older and the spouses moved the props. When the first skit started, the broad accents were so confusing that Claire glanced toward the exit wondering if she could leave without being noticed. But unconsciously her ears seemed to adjust and she found herself laughing as hard as anyone. The comedy was universal; the players’ timing skills could have competed in any major city in the world. Skit after skit was presented and, in between the audience’s tears of mirth, the Welsh tenors’ poignantly sad songs brought tears of another kind to their eyes. Not knowing the language of the songs didn’t hamper the audience’s enjoyment. When it was over, they applauded, stood and clapped some more, reluctant to end the evening, knowing they would never see the equal of this show again.