Page 39 of The Wedding Cake Wish
‘Thank goodness,’ I whisper. ‘I was imagining all sorts butmainly poor Rory dead on a slab or something.’ I laugh. ‘I really shouldn’twatch so many – ’ Something heavy and wet slaps against the side of my face andI freeze in shock. Next second, something bounces off the back of my head andthen the front. I can feel something wet trickling down my cheek and I blunderforward in a panic, my hand flying to the sticky moisture on my face. ‘Oh, myGod! There’s more of them!’ I put up my hands to fend off thesethingsthat are dive-bombing me from all around, swinging relentlessly in my face.
Hudson shines his light upwards, illuminating the situation.
And I stare in horror.
There must be a dozen small corpses swinging from metalhooks in the ceiling. It’s a gruesome sight and I shudder.
‘Grouse. Or partridge,’ says Hudson. ‘It’s the shootingseason.’
‘What’s this on my face?’ I feel a bit sick.
He looks over and peers closer. ‘You probably don’t want toknow,’ he says, grabbing what looks like a giant toilet roll from a nearbybench. There’s one square of kitchen roll left on it, and he uses it to whiskoff whatever gunk was on my cheek.
‘Has it gone?’ I ask anxiously.
‘It’s gone.’
‘Was it blood?’
‘No, no.’ He dismisses the idea but I have a sneakysuspicion he’s just being nice. ‘Come on. Let’s go. If Rory’s being heldcaptive by Brendan Myers, he must be in the house and I don’t suppose you fancyclimbing in a window to find out?’
‘No, I bloody do not.’
He grins. ‘I didn’t think you’d even come this far. You’vegot what the Americans call spunk, Ruby Watkiss.’
I hide my delight by saying the first thing that comes intomy head. ‘Yes, but Americans are weird. They also call bottoms fannies, don’tthey?’
We’re grinning as we exit the barn.
But as the phony dogs do their barking in unison again, weglance towards the back of the house, and to our alarm we see the back dooropening and a figure emerging.
‘There’s someone coming,’ I hiss. ‘Oh, my God, it’s a manand he’s seen us!’
‘Come on.’ Hudson starts running and I follow as best I can,not daring to look back.
‘Where are you going?’ I pant, as he hares across to thepool area.
‘It’s the fastest route to the boundary wall.’ He points.‘We’re aiming for there.’
‘Right.’ Running past the cabana, I dare to look back. Andmy heart lurches with relief when I see the man has disappeared, back insidethe house. Maybe it’s going to be okay, after all?
Without warning, the ground seems to give way beneath me. Myfeet have left solid earth and for a split-second, I’m flying through the air.
Next moment, I land with an almighty splash in the swimmingpool.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
My feet hit the bottom of the pool. Luckily, I seem tohave crash-landed in the shallow end. Not that this prevents the tidal wave ofchlorinated water that surges forcefully up my nostrils, as if the Hoover Damitself has burst its banks.
Coughing and spluttering, I hear the distant barking of dogsand Hudson’s voice, urging me to grab his hand.
I do as he says and he hauls me out most unceremoniously, sothat I land panting on the pool-side like a small whale rescued from inevitableexpiry by worried villagers, and feeling wetter than I’ve ever been in myentire life. For a second, I can’t move. Then the dogs start barking again,which rouses me from my temporary stupor. I know it’s just a machine. They’renot real dogs. But theysoundbloody real! And when I glance over at thehouse, my heart actually stops for a second because a man is running out,shouting profanities in our direction. Followed by a pair of large black dogs.Actualdogs.And they don’t look pleased, either.
Hudson does some more hauling – and I’m on my feet andrunning with him towards the perimeter wall in squelching strides.
‘I thought you said it was a barking machine!’ I pant.
‘Well, I was wrong, wasn’t I! I’m not bloody HerculePoirot.’
