The Interview

Chapter 14

The plane was only about a third full, which had surprised me a little, although I’d voice no complaints about that as it meant I’d a complete row of three seats to myself. Unfortunately, that made no difference to the meagre legroom, but at least I could raise the armrest and expand sideways. It was also a relatively short journey, so I declined the ‘delicious’ special sandwich of the day offered by an overzealous young flight attendant. 

The girl must have been on commission, judging by how her beaming smile faded when I shook my head, having seen the price on the card tucked into the seatback behind the plastic safety notice. There was nothing ‘budget’ so far as the extras went on budget airlines! I was amused to note on the safety card that some bored traveller had inked in a few black shark fins surrounding the ‘landing on water’ life rafts section.

The budget, no make that cheap airline was not my favourite, not many peoples favourite come to that. Still, it predominantly avoided major city airports and flew directly to smaller alternative destinations. One of them was close to where I needed to go, so I’d chosen to fly with them. Convenience rather than finance, I was on expenses anyway, so the price wasn’t an issue, unlike for the family sitting three rows in front who’d checked in immediately before me. They hadn’t appreciated that they would be charged extra for their hold baggage, charged for a weight excess on two bags, that their second carry-on bag merited a size surcharge, as did the baby stroller!

Budget I’d reflected listening to the angry arguments did not necessarily equate to cheap for the unwary! The baby had screamed its head off through the flight, making me wonder if there would be a surcharge on landing for that! Anyway, as I said, it was a comparatively short flight—an up and down hop over the English Channel. I could have taken the Eurostar through the channel tunnel, but then I’d still have to navigate the French railway system to my destination; so much as I like train travel, I’d opted to fly.

Most of my fellow travellers appeared to be French students, so my passage through the border control and immigration section was so fast that I was worried there might not be anyone waiting to greet me. The plane had also landed ten minutes early, which was not unusual for that airline, given that its schedule probably meant the same aircraft visiting half a dozen different European airports before its final flight of the day!

I was surprised when I saw the sign with my name as I emerged from the customs section in arrivals. She’d texted to say a driver would be waiting, and I’d assumed it would have been a taxi waiting for me. A classic example of the ‘never assume anything situation!’

It was a tall, shapely and pretty young brunette I espied holding up the makeshift cardboard sign who didn’t look the least bit like a cab driver. She promptly flashed a lovely welcoming smile as I held my hand up in a frantic wave and our eyes met. Mid-twenties, maybe a little younger, I thought as we exchanged a quick handshake; then we were heading towards the exit, my companion dumping her cardboard sign into a convenient waste bin near the automatic sliding doors.

Her name was Patricia, but she asked me to call her Patty. “Everyone does”, she laughingly told me. “When I went to senior school, there was already a Trisha in my dorm, so I’ve been Patty since I was eleven. Anyway, I'm not too fond of Trisha and other derivatives!”

I confirmed that my little backpack was all the luggage I’d brought, which made her laugh and nod approvingly and laugh again when I shook off her polite attempt to carry it. The sun was shining brightly as we left the building in contrast to the dreary grey overcast I’d recently  left behind, although I noted an ominous-looking bank of clouds building up in one direction.

 “This way, " she pointed, and as we walked past the near-empty taxi rank and bus lane towards the short-term pick-up parking, I took the opportunity to examine my companion surreptitiously.

Attractive, tall, willowy yet shapely with loose long wavy dark hair and wearing a pair of scuffed brown knee boots, tight white leggings and a white polo shirt open at the neck. It was her sparkling blue eyes and her smile that gave her identity away. 

“I take it your aunt sent you to meet me?”.

She laughed. “Spot on, how’d you know she’s, my auntie?”

I grinned at her. “No big secret. Same eyes and that same generous smile.”

She laughed again. “Very perceptive. Similar but different. I take after my mother in some ways. She was very tall and blonde like auntie used to be, well blonde, I mean not tall! When I was younger, I used to wish I could have swapped the tall for being blonde, but I’m kind of used to it now. To be strictly accurate, she’s my great aunt, but I expect you knew that. Anyway, here we are; hop in. A bit utilitarian, I’m afraid, but the family Rolls is at the cleaners,” she winked mischievously.

I heard the beep of the electronic key fob as we stopped beside a large white four-wheel-drive Toyota pickup with an assortment of sacks in the open back. One of those ‘white’ vehicles that tempt certain people to wet a finger and write ‘also available in white’ through the accumulated grime! I made her laugh again by unthinkingly heading for the left-hand passenger door before remembering I was on the other side of the ditch. 

“You can if you want?” she chuckled, holding up the key fob as we crossed over. “I can navigate for you. It’s not far!”

I grinned and hastily shook my head. “Not even tempted. You are looking at someone who took four attempts to pass their driving test and is a confirmed public transport user regardless of the hassle involved! The mere suggestion of me having to drive on the wrong side of the road even in this severely underutilised car park terrifies me. Let alone the open road! Anyway, I don’t have a truck licence or whatever you need for that thing” I finished eyeing the sizeable Japanese monster. Well, it certainly wasn’t a mini, even a modern one, let alone the original version!

She was still laughing as she reached over from the driver’s seat to take my bag and put it behind on the passenger seats in the spacious cab. “Just as well because the shortest route takes us smack bang straight through the town centre. It’s not a terribly big place, but some of the local drivers can be a bit…er, continental!” she finished after a momentary pause and started the engine.

We turned right out of the car park, and two more right turns took us on to a new highway heading for the town, which, according to the sign, was eight kilometres away and our destination about a half dozen or so on the other side.

“I hope you enjoy your stay,” Patty said, “Auntie wanted to come with me to the airport, but I said no”, she giggled. “Well, actually, I said no, no, no numerous times because she was in one of her ‘bee in the bonnet moods’. Seemed to think you would consider it rude if she wasn’t there!”

“Not at all”, I quickly assured her, “, especially under the circumstances. I take it she’s fully recovered?”

Patty shrugged her shoulders and banged the horn to express her disapproval at an oncoming truck driver who seemed to think sheer size gave him an automatic right to occupy the middle of the road. I missed the curt French expletive Patty hissed under her breath as it shot past, blasting the peaceful surroundings with its air horn. “Covid, even a mild case is no joke at her age!” she continued quietly. “But trying to keep her confined and inactive, phew!”

I nodded sympathetically. Our agreed meeting at the usual venue had been cancelled; likewise, the rearranged follow-up one due to her illness. Her niece had forbidden any further travel for the moment, so I found myself flying to a small tourist town in France via a popular but not exactly beloved budget airline!

Patty chuckled. “You should have heard the arguments we had about it!”

I nodded. “I can imagine. Your aunt is” I paused, wondering how to put it. “Well, I get the impression that she’s a very single-minded woman or can be!”

Patty laughed again. “No can about it. Stubborn as the proverbial mule most of the time. Then again, I’m not dissimilar, so I won this one!” I noted that she seemed about to laugh again, but her face suddenly changed, becoming very serious.

“Auntie tells me that you know all about our specialised business. I know why she is talking to you, and to be upfront and frank, I disapprove, but it’s her decision, not mine. She tells me that you are perfectly secure and that she has a certain arrangement with your employer. You know, of course, where we are going and why I am asking. Are you secure?”

Her head was half turned towards me, one eye on the road and the other on me and the part of the face I could see was showing no emotion whatsoever. Not precisely unfriendly but that earlier cheerful warmth had disappeared entirely, replaced by that cold, questioning, slightly chilling look. 

“Yes,” I nodded quickly. “I had a rather interesting and thorough briefing before I took this job on. Certain”, I paused, “Certain, well not exactly direct threats, but I was left in no doubt that should I deviate from my brief, there would be consequences—something your aunt has also hinted at and more than once. By now, I realise that perhaps far more than I originally did. Your aunt, I believe, trusts me, and I won’t let her down in that respect”.

Patty laughed again. “Oh, she’s well taken with you, so I’m not terribly worried. That’s one of the other things I’ve inherited from her, a sort of instinct, a sixth sense if you want to call it that when it comes to people!”

I grinned, “So I pass the test then?” Even as I asked, I wondered what would happen if this young lady decided that I wasn’t ‘secure’ as she put it? I hadn’t forgotten that frighteningly chilling look of a moment ago and several things her aunt had told me in recent sessions. recently sprang to mind. ‘The poor thing knows that the day she finally breaks the beast into abject and irreversibly grovelling obedience will also be the day she turns it into a mare. Poor Marigold, and My niece has one of her own. A big doggie that lives in the house and accompanies her to the stable every day, scurrying along at her heels.’ 

Fortunately, my grin was reciprocated, and she pursed her lip, considering. “Hmmm, let’s say it’s a case of so far, so good!”

“As the falling guy said!” I quickly quipped.

That produced a blank look of blank incomprehension, so I had to explain the old joke about the man falling from the top floor of a skyscraper and the people on each floor hearing him mutter ‘so far so good’ as he hurtled past their windows. 

That took us into the town, and when her prolonged giggling fit had subsided, she took on the role of tour guide, pointing out the various historic building and other things that brought in the visitors. “Mostly seasonal tourism and most of that is day-trippers,” Patty said, pointing to the obligatory Japanese crocodile obediently following a silly little flag on a stick held aloft by the guy at the head. Did they ever lose anyone, I wondered, returning my attention to my pretty guide?

“…not much call for it anyway, here,” Patty finished.

“Sorry,” I said, my mind having been on the procession of oriental tourists.

“Nightlife. It’s dead in the evenings. We’ve got a few good restaurants, but their business is mostly daytime. One big hotel, but they can be a bit hit and miss foodwise and a few little bars. As I said, the town’s main business is tourism these days, but it’s virtually tour bus stuff, daytime only and the right side for us”.

“Right side?”

“Uh-huh: Patty slowed and then turned off the main road onto a narrower lane, and I could see an end to the buildings not far away. “All the cars and tour buses come in down the main road, which is that aways” she jerked a thumb backwards. “Whereas our place is down this way, and apart from the postman and the occasional delivery, we get little traffic along this road.”

“It certainly looks a bit neglected,” I said, thinking that ‘road’ was a rather generous description and that observation was immediately confirmed as we hit a large pothole.

“It used to lead to a small village, but that was abandoned during World War II for various reasons, and nobody returned afterwards. Nothing but roofless cottages, weeds and rubble there now, so the local authorities ignore this stretch of road which suits us just fine, well more or less” she grinned as we both rocked to the impact of another and deeper pothole. Then she stayed silent and concentrated on the road for the next quarter of an hour, which was just as well. I could understand the need for the big four-wheel-drive pickup, especially if, as her aunt had said, she sometimes towed a pony trailer!

“Nearly there. That’s the start of our boundary wall just ahead on the left. Impressive, isn’t it?” 

“Jeez” was my only comment as I stared upwards. “It looks like the sort of high wall they have around prisons.”

That made her giggle. “Well, in one sense, that’s what it is, silly! Of course, it’s mainly to keep curious people out. Still, it is also an effective barrier should any of our animals be foolish enough to seek new pastures,” she giggled again, adding, “Not that any of them have ever had the opportunity to try!”

I turned for a second to gaze at my companion, chiding myself for forgetting again that this charming and exceedingly pretty young girl was potentially one of the evillest persons I was ever likely to meet. ‘Our animals’ and she’d said that so nonchalantly, so casually, and we both knew what sort of animals she meant! 

So young and so pretty, I shuddered a little at that indifference as I twisted my head around to eyeball the imposing old wall topped by coils of modern razor wire as we drove along its length for what seemed an age. Huge grey stones at the base then faded moss-covered red bricks and topped with a layer of newer yellow brickwork. Every so often, I spotted a modern addition besides the evil-looking wire. A grey metal box mounted on a short pole supporting a couple of cameras and a large spotlight.

“You light all this up at night!” I was a bit surprised.

Patty shook her head. “No, of course not. That would attract unwanted attention. Those lights are attached to movement sensors and will only trigger if they detect something large in the vicinity. There is only likely to be one type of animal large enough to do that, and if they do it in the dark, they are certainly more than just curious!”

“Has that ever happened?”

“Only once, not too long ago, I dealt with it. I believe the local resistance recced the place several times during the war but never followed up. Those big grey base stones date back to the fourteen hundreds, and the wall has been added to several times the last layer of bricks in nineteen forty-one. The Nazis took over the house and farm and used the site as some sort of training and storage base. They seemed to have thought it necessary to add another couple of feet to the wall. That’s why the village I mentioned is abandoned, they used that area for training, and there are signs warning people that live ammunition may still be laying around, and nobody moved back after the war.”

I nodded. “Quite possible; further north, they still find a ton of stuff every year from the first bout of madness, don’t they!”

Patty didn’t answer but pulled up in front of an impressive set of wooden gates next to a small gatehouse and sounded her horn twice. We sat silently for several minutes until the gates opened inwards, and a small bent figure standing by one gave us a thumbs up.

“He’s very old now and getting slower by the day but still highly reliable,” Patty said, driving carefully through the narrow gap and waving a hand at the small, twisted figure in passing. A sudden memory leapt from the back of my mind to full-frontal prominence.

“That man”, I jerked my thumb backwards over my shoulder towards the closing gates. “I remember your aunt telling me, was that Claude, little Claude, the deformed guy who worked for Celine and her father?”

She laughed. “Oh, very good. Very good indeed! She said you relied on memory rather than taking notes. Yes, the same. He used to work in the stables, but that is a bit too much for him, although he’s not above coming over and lending a hand when the mood takes him. Retirement into the local society such as it is, was not an appealing prospect for him given his many problems, so taking on the job of gatekeeper and occupying the lodge was a happy solution for him!”

“What happens if he’s over in the stable and not the gate lodge?” A reasonable question, I thought as it occurred to me, but one that she found amusing and produced a bout of girlish giggles.

“They ring the bell and wait, of course! It’s all electronically controlled, I can look at my phone to see who’s calling and open the gate automatically, but it would be cruel to do poor Claude out of a job!”

I recalled some of the other things her aunt had mentioned about my youthful driver in passing. Another crazy personality contradiction compassion-wise, I thought as we swung past a large stone and wood building and an imposing-looking house. Instead of stopping, we carried on down a track to a small cottage standing on its own. I recognised the petite figure who opened the door and waved excitedly to me as we pulled up in front of a small but immaculate stretch of lawn.

*****

“All comfortable?” she asked as I came downstairs, waving me towards a worn but comfortable-looking fireside chair, not that there was a fire burning in the big fireplace, although I noted it was laid ready with coal and sticks just waiting on a match.

“Very comfortable, thank you”, I replied awkwardly because I felt a little guilty. “I could easily have stayed in a local hotel. This is very kind, but I don’t want you to be troubled at all”.

“Oh, pish,” she waved my objection aside. “It’s no trouble at all. Besides, I’m not even the one doing the work. Young Maria came down from the house and made up your bed and tidied the room, and she’s the one who will bring our meals down” she paused and grinned. “I can manage the coffee and biscuits, but I’m afraid the latter won’t be home-baked!” she indicated the tray on the table.

I picked up a cup and looked around the old but comfortable room and its simple but homely furnishings, wondering how to phrase the question uppermost in my mind. I didn’t have to, for she chuckled and pre-empted me, having watched my examination of the room.

“We thought it better if you stayed down here with me rather than at the big house with my niece.” She pouted thoughtfully. “The girl is not entirely comfortable with you being here, you know?”

I nodded. “I kind of gathered that although she seemed friendly enough, I forgot to thank her properly for picking me up at the airport when she dropped me here!”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I doubt Patty even noticed” she paused. “It was more of a compromise. She can get on with her life without any worries leaving you, and I free to talk here for a day or two. That’s why I live down here. Once I decided to retire, well, more or less retire, I came down here to get out of the way, so to speak. Strictly between ourselves, I’d always intended to do that anyway I‘d spent far too much of my life rattling around like a pea in an oversized pod in that place. What did I need with five huge bedrooms plus another half dozen smaller ones in the old servants' or farmhand quarters!” 

“Quite the palatial chateau”, I observed, sipping my coffee.

“Oh, hardly that but definitely draughty!” was her retort. “Anyway, once Francine and her husband decided to buy their dream home on the Caribbean Island of Martinique, I decided to move over here before the damp took hold!” she paused and looked around just as I had done. “Cosy!”

“Who were Francine and her husband?”

“Oh, just long-term employees, good ones, mind you. They’d drifted around a bit, working for several people like me. “I believe they have some sort of operation of their own now on a very small scale. Francine always did hate the winters, so I expect she’s quite happy over there. Anyway,” she clapped her hands lightly together. “You didn’t come all the way over here to talk about the hired hands, not specifically anyway!”

I smiled and nodded. “To the scene of the crime no less”, I quipped and knew I’d regret that piece of verbal foolishness even before I’d even finished saying it.

She immediately tensed up in her chair, and her eyes flashed dangerously, so I quickly headed her outburst off by raising my hand apologetically and adding, “sorry, just sort of looking for an appropriate expression and picking the wrong one!”

It sounded lame but seemed to do the trick, for she promptly relaxed, and her expression softened. “Scene of the crime, eh?” she mused slowly. “Well, perhaps not so wrong given all that I have previously told you”. She paused and smiled, “I have missed our chats, you know, far more than I would have imagined thanks to that wretched little bug!”

I couldn’t help smiling at her imperious dismissal of something that had taken a terrible death toll on the world’s global population. ‘A wretched little bug’. Then again, wasn’t that precisely what every disease and transmittable malady was in its microscopic form! I decided to change the subject.

“I suppose that’s why you have the fire laid and ready to go” I nodded. “I can’t remember the last time I sat in front of a real coal fire. In a pub somewhere, I think.”

She eyed the fireplace as though seeing it for the first time and then sniffed. “Not really; electric heaters are installed for when the weather turns. That’s been like that since I moved in, I haven’t touched it, but now you mention it, I might light it when the weather gets cold. I grew up in an era when they were still common and can remember rushing downstairs to get dressed, my mother warming my school clothes before an open fire” she paused and sighed nostalgically, her eyes momentarily distant. “We even lived next door to the local coalman, and mother used to babysit for him and his wife when they went down the local pub on an evening” she paused again and chuckled. “Six kids they had in that small house, but at least we never had to pay for so much as a single sack of coal. Inconvenient and dirty as they are, there is something comforting about a coal fire, don’t you think?”

I didn’t get a chance to answer, for she burst out laughing at the expression on my face. I was only half-listening, eyeing the soot-covered opening with its pile of coal and sticks and comparing it unfavourably to more modern heating equivalents, not to mention the apparent fire hazard. I wondered how many dwellings had burnt down every year in the coal era?

I was about to say something when she suddenly held a finger to one ear and cocked her head slightly toward an open window. “Listen!”

I repeated her movement and heard what she had heard getting louder. Our eyes met, mine asking a question, and she nodded in answer, smiling as though pleased with something.

“Daily exercise, want a peek” She stood up, not waiting for an answer beckoning me to follow her to the window and pulling the patterned net curtain to one side. 

The window was partly open at the top, making it easy to hear and see. I heard them before they came around the corner where that track dipped between two green grassy banks down to the right. The heavy rhythmic thunk sound of metal upon those remaining cobblestones that had survived the centuries, along with a rattle and the light chink of metal harness plus something else, a loud crack and an anguished squeal instantly repeated. I didn’t need my host's comment to realise what those last sounds were!

“A touch of encouragement for them on the home stretch!”

I was taken aback by the speed they shot past the window. Two small carts, the first with a single human figure pulling it between two shafts and the second with two similar, indeed almost identical figures providing the motive power. A single driver sat perched atop each cart, reins in one hand and a whip in the other. More figures were running behind each cart, a threesome tethered behind the first and two pairs behind the second.

It wasn’t quite one of those blink, and you’ll miss it moments, but it wasn’t far off being one. I was left with fleeting impressions like something glimpsed from the window of a railway carriage. Long legs, white thighs flashing almost in unison, the gait of those in front noticeably different. Colourful plumes of hair or spiky Mohicans, erect heads on oddly bent postures, hidden faces and broad bare chests or bouncing boobs and uniformity of glossy leather in various colours. 

“I’ve been told that track outside is an old Roman road; that’s why it still has some of the originally laid stones remaining. They built well the Romans did. There is an ancient bridge of theirs not all that far from here that carried a main road right up till the mid-fifties. You can see the remains of a small settlement just beyond the old, abandoned village down that way”.

“Interesting”, I added more out of politeness than anything else. My mind was still focused on that bizarre group of figures that had flashed past so quickly. They were real, for real, weren’t they, and they belonged in one way or another to that charming young girl who’d chauffeured me here!

“It can be a nuisance, of course, when they want to come here,” she said as we returned to our respective chairs.

“Nuisance?” I blinked, wondering why those impressive figures should be a nuisance? A common sight surely for her! Evidently, her thoughts were still predominantly elsewhere.

“That track outside, or rather what’s left of it. It runs right through our property, and every so often, when there is a dig down past the old village, they often want to come here with their little trowels!”

I blinked. “Trowels?”

She made a clicking noise in her throat and threw me an impatient look. “The archaeology types from the university, silly, what else? Naturally, we always let them for a day, but then that’s all they need. Of course, we make sure everything, you know,” she jerked her head, “is out of sight. I usually organise some drinks for them and put on a bit of lunch. They’re mostly students, nice kids, so it’s all a bit of a change to normal life here” She chuckled. “Last time, they turned up some interesting coins, an engraved bronze sword hilt and a lovely silver broach from the old road ”.

I nodded, feeling slightly foolish. “I suppose the old Roman one was abandoned when this place was first built”, I gestured, meaning the whole walled estate rather than her humble dwelling.

She shrugged. “Who knows that nowadays, the other road such as it is has been there for centuries as well? The Nazis made a few improvements, but not many. Not much of an autobahn, is it?” she laughed. “Anyway, I expect the damage their damn trucks and tanks or whatever far out did any repairs they’d made. So, what did you make of them?”

I looked at her. Third Reich Road builders, Romans or human equines? I chose the latter.

“They went by so fast, but they looked,” I paused, thinking of a suitable adjective. “Splendid!”

She clapped her hands and beamed at me. “Excellent, I’ll tell my niece. A couple of newish ones need a bit of work, but my niece never minds that! The girl in front driving the singleton was Tracy, a school friend spending a couple of months before she takes off backpacking again. Permanent itchy feet, that girl, this time it’s back to India and Nepal for six months. The big Latino hunk behind is Julio, and he’s also doing a voluntary stint here. His parents own a huge chunk of Andalusia down towards Granada. A very old family that goes way back virtually to the time of the Moors. They have their own, er, interests!”

I glanced towards the window and then back to her. “Voluntary?”

She laughed. “Both of them, yes. Tracey has been showing up like the proverbial bad penny ever since she dropped out of university in her first year, or more likely was kicked out,” she winked at me. “Bit of a wild streak in that young woman. Julio is the second son and also somewhat footloose. He and Tracy met in Australia at a place that’s so far outback that even the local aborigines never venture very near. They think the area is haunted and evil, with good reason as far as the latter part goes in recent years. Its….” She paused and pulled a face. “I’m doing it again, am I not? You’ve only arrived, and I’m going way off track again, sorry!”

I smiled and shook my head, thinking of the brief glimpse I’d just had of another world yet again. “No need to apologise. I find it all fascinating. Please go on. Are they a couple, Tracy and Julio?”

She laughed and spread her hands in an open gesture. “Yes and no! They arrived independently as usual, but I suspect it’s no coincidence that they are both here at the same time. Maria tells me that if they require fresh bed linen for their rooms, there will be only one set they likely need! Daytimes, though, they mostly go their own way. However, I’d lay odds that Tracey won’t find herself alone for long when she flies out East!”

I took a sip of coffee and then sat back. “OK, I’m listening. You’ve let fly with both barrels. Tell me about Australia and what interests?”

“Interests?” she looked puzzled,

“Julio’s parents, their ‘er, own interests’, as you put it somewhat pointedly a second ago!”

That made her chuckle, and her cell phone rang just as she was about to answer. I waited while she fiddled with it, then listened for a moment before replying, “yes, of course, dear, no problem. Yes, see you tomorrow then bye-bye”.

“Your niece?” I guessed.

“Spot on, she’s suggested we both go to the big house for breakfast tomorrow. I think she might have taken a shine to you. Who knows, you may even get the grand tour!”

“Hmmm”, I replied, thinking about the recent clatter of hooves outside the window. “I have a return ticket for the day after tomorrow, one I intend to use!”

She flashed that mischievous grin at me and winked suggestively, then laughed. “Oh, she’d have probably driven you straight into the stable had she any thoughts in that direction. Patty is far more decisive than I ever was, so I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it” she winked again, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I shouldn’t start developing a touch of insomnia!

“Which one first?” She murmured, “Australia perhaps, no, Isabella and Ramòn, I think. A lovely couple, although I don’t know them all that well. Separate circles and all that, so we have not had occasion to meet often. Delightful people, though. However, bulls, not ponies, are their main interest. Very Spanish, of course. What else!” she laughed. “As I said, they go way back, and they’ve been acquiring, breeding and training fighting bulls for the ring for centuries. Not my thing, but very popular among an elite minority. It used to be mainly a Southern Mediterranean and North African activity, but it’s growing. The ‘new’ money from the Middle East and parts of India and China have had a big impact, as you can imagine, in all spheres of unique ownership!”

I blinked, doing an instant mental double-take thinking about that and decided to let it lie for the moment. ‘Fighting bulls for the ring!’ the mind boggled, and this diminutive woman had steadily succeeded in boggling mine fairly effectively for some months now. I swallowed and simply asked, “And Australia?”

Surprisingly she didn’t seem bothered or even to have noticed my apparent lack of interest in what she’d just told me. Par for the course in her crazy criminal world, perhaps? 

“Australia, yes, well, don’t ask me to put a finger on a map and point to where. I wouldn’t have a clue. All I know is somewhere in the middle, about a million miles speaking figuratively from the nearest civilisation and blisteringly hot! No doubt with a whole assortment of local things that slither, crawl, or have numerous legs, and a poisonous bite or sting!”

“Australia hosts some of the most venomous creatures on earth, I believe, more than their fair share compared to other countries, I believe”.

She shuddered. “Well, venomous or not, they can keep them. I could live with Kangaroos and Koala bears but not much of the other stuff. Even while pruning the roses in your garden, you can encounter something nasty, ughh!”

I grinned and waited as she refreshed herself with coffee to fend off the biological hazards of that distant land. Evidently, there were horrors deep within the interior that held less terror for her, although I suspected others outside her immediate orbit would find otherwise.

“I don’t know a great deal about the place”, she admitted. “Only a few bits that Tracy has told me, and she’s never been very forthcoming about her time there. Not the most talkative girl at the best of times! I gather she had an invite the way you do at a social gathering when they were over in Europe, the couple that run the place along with the old father. He’d stayed at home, never travelled, but they were over for a short visit.” She frowned. “Might have been an auction or something of that nature. I can’t remember now, but we can ask her tomorrow if we see her and no, I don’t know how the girl would have received an invite to whatever it was in the first place. Possibly through her stepmother, that’s how she and Patty realised they had… let’s call them, certain interests in common. Patty attended an auction with me one holiday and was surprised to see a girl from her school also in attendance!”

“Small world”, I murmured.

“Anyway,” she continued, “Tracy arranged to join them for a month or so’s working vacation during her antipodean travels. She had to make her way to some godforsaken little place ultimately by the one ancient bus a week that went there, and then they picked her up in their helicopter, no less. How's that for a perfect example of from the ridiculous or the rickety in this case to the sublime!”. 

So, she met Julio there?”

“Correct, and I gather they’ve had a sort of on-off, hot and cold, casual versus undecidedly serious, relationship ever since. Both of them are bisexual, so I think that may be part of the problem if there is one. Still, no business of mine, but they are a couple of nice kids!

I thought of the figures I’d fleetingly seen perched on the two carts driving their ponies at a fast pace, both holding whips. I recalled those cracks and squeals I’d heard just before they came into view. Nice kids! Then again, the woman sitting opposite me was a nice old lady in many respects, wasn’t she and her niece had been so friendly and companionable. Nice people?

 As if to mirror my thoughts, there was a sudden flash outside followed by the rumble of thunder, and it started growing noticeably darker. I’d noted that sullen, slightly threatening heavy cloud pattern as we’d walked across the airport car park in bright sunshine. I thought we’d left it behind, but then the drive had been relatively short, and it hadn’t taken long to catch up. 

“Oh dear!” my host jumped out of her chair with surprising alacrity and hastened to the window closing the curtains and then switching on the lights. “I detest thunder and lightning, always have and listen, here comes the rain, and the upstairs windows are wide open. One moment, please!”

I watched as she disappeared up the staircase, thinking that neither age nor covid hadn’t slowed her down much; she was still a nifty mover for her age. Fighting bulls, sheesh, and what went on in an ultra-remote part of Australia, I wondered, listening to the old boards squeaking overhead as she hurried from room to room. Well, no doubt I’d soon find out.