Blood Exposed Read online

  We were working out the best placement for Rachel’s microphone when the audience began to drift in. I wondered idly if anyone had ever done any research on how seating choice was affected by personality as people bounced in full of noise and chatter or slipped in silently, heads bowed. Watching audience arrive had always fascinated me, especially at events where the seats were not allocated in advance. I could guess as they chose their seats which audience members were keen sewers wanting to learn a new technique, and who were old friends of Rachel coming to offer support. The keen ones were divided into costumed enthusiasts who raced to get as close to the sewing machine as possible, and conventionally-clad newcomers who dithered, too shy to sit in the front row. I was about to ask the Rev if he needed me for anything else when the two women Anita and I had heard complaining in the carpark stalked through the door and barged their way to seats in the centre of the room.

  “Poor Rachel,” the younger and milder of the two women said to her companion as they settled noisily into their chairs. “What a terribly inconvenient time to hurt herself.”

  “Jolly inconvenient,” the older woman agreed. “Must be damned hard to get around on crutches in a full-length costume.”

  “At her age, she needs to be more careful. Stairs can be tricky. I heard she lost her grip on the handrail, slipped and tumbled all the way to the bottom. She’s lucky she only broke her leg and not her neck.”

  “I will agree she was very lucky, but she didn’t fall. I heard she was pushed.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  I wanted to ask Rachel about her accident but I didn’t get a chance. Without waiting for any stragglers to arrive, she launched into a demonstration of pin tucking and how to ensure each tuck was identical to the rest. The Rev adjusted the level on her microphone and motioned me to follow him out into the hall.

  “Can you fetch me some chocolate, please,” he asked as we closed the door behind us. “I think I’m going to need it to stay awake.”

  “What? Pin tucks not exciting you? Hey, did you hear that bit about Rachel’s fall not being an accident?”

  “Yes, I did. I’ll make it my mission to find out more if you bring me chocolate. And coffee. And some for Aiden. You might want to keep checking on him. For reasons you don’t like hearing about, he’s probably finding it hard to stay awake.”

  Aiden also had the chocolate supply so his room was my first stop. He wasn’t going to need coffee. Instead of sitting in a corner with the equipment, he had joined a wizard in a blue cloak covered in gold stars, a knight in leather and fake chain mail and three other costumed characters I couldn’t identify around a table in the centre of the room. Aiden had his monk’s robe on with the cowl pulled low over his eyes.

  “I’m larping,” he said as an explanation to my look of confusion. “Live action role playing. They invited me to join. I’m a monk with special powers and a prayer book full of magic spells.”

  “Of course you are. I won’t ask about the special powers.” I rummaged in his bag, stole some chocolate and left Aiden following the knight up some imaginary staircase.

  “How’s it going?” Severn whispered as I slid into his corner in the main conference room.

  “Great. Aiden’s role playing, the Rev’s learning how to make pin tucks in his underwear and I’m fetching coffee. Want some?”

  Severn’s enthusiastic nod gave me my answer and I set off again, searching for coffee. I found Ngaire at the same time. An alcove in the foyer held urns of tea, coffee and hot water but to get to it, I had to line up behind Ngaire in a floor-length creation in lilac and grey velvet and Donna in more prosaic jeans and baggy sweatshirt.

  “So his lordship says vinyl isn’t good enough, even though you can’t tell unless you touch it.” Donna dumped several spoons of sugar into her tea and stirred so vigorously it spilt over the edge onto the tablecloth. “I told him tough luck. I’m not ruining my fingers pushing needles through real leather. If he wants real, he can make it himself.”

  “I know what you mean.” Ngaire put a hand on Donna’s back to usher her towards a pair of nearby armchairs. “I made that rule very early on with Gerald. If he wants to wander around in leather and fake fur, pretending to be a Viking, his costumes are his problem. If it’s any heavier than velvet, it’s not going through my sewing machine.”

  Donna slumped into one of the chairs, spilling her tea again as she sat down. “It wouldn’t be so bad if it went both ways.” She gave the wet spot on her chest an ineffectual wipe with her thumb. “If he would put the kids to bed, or do the washing, I might want to help him but he’s in the door, grabs a beer, bolts down his meal then back out to that wretched workshop. The kids and I hardly see him and when we do, he’s in a bad mood because something he was working on hasn’t gone right.”

  “He’s been under a lot of pressure to organise this event. We all have. I’m sure he’ll be back to normal once this is over. He’s been a tower of strength to us all.” Ngaire patted Donna’s arm but Donna pulled away, not so easily placated.

  “Not to me, he hasn’t.” She gulped down the rest of her tea. “And it won’t be him rushing off to collect the children from their cricket game and their dance classes. As usual, that will be me. So I’m grateful for this cup of tea but now I’ve got to run. But I’ll be back in a few hours. I’m bringing the kids back later to watch the jousting.”

  I tried to blend in with the wall and not look as if I had been listening as I poured our coffees, but Ngaire still felt the need to explain, or just to unload on someone and I was the nearest. She watched Donna hurry out the door and came back to me before I could escape down the passage.

  “Donna’s a lovely person, but she’s so stressed. Four children at primary school. I don’t know how she keeps up with them. One was quite enough.”

  “You must have enjoyed having him around though. You home-schooled Caleb.”

  “But he was such a good boy. If he’d been rowdy and hyper-active like Donna and Rhys’s lot, I would have sent him to school just for the peace and quiet.”

  “Sounds like they take after their father. Rhys isn’t exactly a wallflower, is he?”

  “No, he is not. Nothing about him is quiet.” She poured herself a second cup of tea. “How are you lot coping? Any problems?”

  “None at all,” I reassured her, “unless I don’t get these coffees back to the guys.”

  Halfway down the passage I realised I had missed a good opportunity to ask her about Rachel’s accident.

  When I delivered his drink, Severn was running six microphones for a panel of speakers and making it look easy. In the next room, the Rev was masquerading as an easel, standing beside Rachel and holding an intricately pin-tucked piece of white linen above his head for the audience to admire. I held up the coffee and did a bad mime indicating I would swap places so he could drink it. His nod of agreement was way too enthusiastic – I should have been suspicious. Instead, using my best backstage skills, I slipped silently around the edge of the room and sidled up behind the Rev, swapping the material so seamlessly from his hands to mine that it barely fluttered.

  It didn’t take long to realise why he was so keen to hand it over. For the next twenty minutes I regretted being so helpful as I stood, stuck in one place like a statue, while Rachel rambled on, explaining one technical point after another in intricate detail. The material, that wasn’t heavy when I first held it up, began to feel like a lead weight and my arms began to ache. I tried lowering it and moving it from my right side to my left side then back to the middle, but that just got me reproachful glares from Rachel so I gave up, held the material as high as I could, and prayed she would finish soon. From my position looking towards the audience I could see even the hardiest of them were starting to wilt and I wasn’t the only one who breathed a sigh of relief when she declared her talk over and asked the audience if they had any questions. I quickly folded the material and escaped back to the Rev who was laughing at me in the corner. At least he gave me chocolate
as a reward.

  “I’m not helping you again,” I muttered around a mouthful.

  “Sucker.”

  In spite of saying I wasn’t helping him again, I did. We moved the sewing machine to the side of the room and reset the room for the next speaker before I jogged around the other rooms to see if I was needed there. Neither Aiden nor Severn needed my help so I decided to find Anita. Maybe she knew more about Rachel’s broken leg.

  Ngaire passed me on the stairs – I was climbing slowly up, she was running down, one hand clutching a large cardboard box, the other holding the hem of her long dress above her knees, displaying very non-medieval sneakers and striped socks. Up in the committee room Anita and Caleb were lying back on the couch, surrounded by boxes full of fairy lights and bunting, recovering from the Ngaire tsunami.

  “Please don’t tell me you want anything,” Anita begged.

  “Just your company.” I flopped into the nearest chair. “Ngaire keeping you busy?”

  “She’s like a whirlwind but it’s not all her. It’s been crazy busy with people all morning. Have you got a this? Can I borrow a that? Where do I find the panel on whatever? Most of the time I don’t know the answer and feel like a bumbling idiot. Just as well Caleb knows what he’s doing.”

  “Can you escape for a bit?” I asked. “Or are you stuck here?”

  “You go, Annie, you deserve a break. I’ll hold the fort here,” Caleb offered.

  “Okay, thanks. Do you want to go over and see what’s happening at the park?” I nodded. “I’ll bring us back some food for lunch.” Anita gave Caleb a quick kiss goodbye and we left him looking as if he would relish the peace and quiet.

  The amount of activity in the park surprised me. The area around the marquee was full of people and more were queueing at the gate waiting to get in. We waved our conference passes at the gatekeeper and squeezed past, getting us some dirty looks from the crowd who thought we were pushing in. The place was a riot of colour and noise. In front of the marquee a juggler in a yellow and orange striped costume with bells on his pointed hat entertained a group of children, and aproned women with wicker baskets meandered through the crowd offering free samples of the food available for sale in the tent. Behind a roped-off area four giant horses with feathery legs grazed on piles of hay as their handlers brushed their coats to a lustrous shine.

  The loudest noise was a repetitive banging coming from Rhys’s tent where waist-high metal fences held the crowd back from a red-hot fire glowing in a brazier in front of the tent’s opening. Rhys, protected only by a leather apron over his woollen breeches and rough shirt, spun a metal rod in the flames. I watched, fascinated as it turned from black to glowing shades of reds and yellows. With a dramatic twirl, Rhys pulled the rod from the fire and laid it on an anvil that rested on a base crafted to look like a dragon’s tail, curving over so its tip became the anvil. I let my eyes follow the curve backwards to find the dragon’s body.

  “Oh my god,” I grabbed Anita by the arm and pointed to the brazier. “That’s the dragon’s head. The fire’s in his mouth. That is so cool!”

  “He’s very talented,” Anita agreed. “You should see the dragon in his workshop. He makes all sorts of crazy stuff and sends it all over the world.”

  The clang of metal on metal drew my attention back to Rhys. His face flushed red, matching the hot metal, and his biceps bulged as he wielded a hammer, beating the glowing rod into a curve. I drew closer, mesmerised by the transformation and by the rhythmic swing as the hammer rose and fell. As he plunged the finished article into water then held up a perfect horseshoe, I cheered and clapped with the rest of the crowd. Rhys wiped the sweat from his brow and handed the horseshoe to a small boy who clutched it to his chest, a shy smile showing his pride at being chosen to receive the gift. Rhys knew how to play the crowd.

  Anita and I continued our meandering – I wanted to pat one of the horses but two layers of rope kept them well protected from well-meaning but ignorant public like me. I read a sign by their enclosure listing the times for the jousting and promised myself I would come back to watch. We went in the nearest door to the marquee but soon realised we were walking against the crowd that pushed against us as we tried to move forwards. At each table we had to squeeze past knots of people watching whatever handiwork was being displayed or buying an array of sweet smelling food but the crowds were too deep for us to see what the stall holders were offering. At the end of the aisle, we stepped to one side to avoid a woman pushing a pram and to rethink our tactics.

  “Should we go back the way we came and come in the other door?” Anita asked.

  “Or grab some food and go somewhere quiet to eat it?”

  Anita looked up and down the aisles, trying to work out where the best food stalls were. I was about to point out one when, at the far end, I spotted Ngaire sitting with Rachel, both of them holding what looked like embroidery hoops. Anita saw her too and tugged on my arm.

  “Don’t let her see us,” she whispered. “She’ll want us to do something for her.”

  Feeling guilty, but with our heads tucked down so she wouldn’t see us, we scurried back to a food stall we had passed on our way in, that offered brown morsels of something I couldn’t identify but smelt divine. Anita ordered three varieties of meat skewered on sticks and served as a take-away in a recyclable, plastic container that wasn’t at all medieval but ticked all the health regulation boxes. I settled for a loaf of raisin bread.

  “It’s not even halfway through the first day and you’re avoiding Ngaire already?” I asked, picking at my bread as we moved through the crowd towards the exit.

  “That sounds awful, doesn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’m here, but it’s not what I expected. I thought Caleb and I would be going to the panels and workshops and just generally enjoying ourselves, but Ngaire’s made us guardians of the gate so we’re stuck in that room upstairs answering dumb questions. Caleb doesn’t seem to mind – he’s happy tinkering away on his violin practising, but I am bored stiff. I’m not on the committee, it shouldn’t be my job to sit there. At least you guys get to hear the speakers.”

  “Yeah, that’s not fair. I promise to come and drag you away more often. Or you could use the trick Severn was talking about yesterday – find a clipboard, stick some paper in it and carry it around. Everyone will think you’re on an important mission.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  “Yeah, but with these.” I pulled my radio from my belt and held it up to my mouth. “Watch how quickly this gets us out of here.”

  Without pressing the talk button, I began to babble nonsense into the radio as I increased my walking speed. Anita joined in the ruse, saying “excuse us, excuse us,” as we barrelled through the milling crowd which miraculously parted as we approached. Outside we continued our routine until we had reached the horses where we slowed down and burst out laughing. One of the horses snorted back at us as if he got the joke.

  Rhys’s tent was quiet as we passed, the tent flaps were closed and a sign announced that Madoc the Smith would be back in ten minutes. Behind the tent I caught a glimpse of Rhys. He was smiling, but I could tell, even from the back view, that the woman who gave him a quick kiss as she walked away was not his wife.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The final morning session was ending when I stuffed my half-eaten raisin bread into my bag and returned to my official duties. I found the guys all together in the main room, checking their requirements for the afternoon sessions.

  “What’s happening in your rooms at one o’clock?” Severn was asking as I walked in.

  The Rev ran his index finger down the programme he was holding. “Scratch building competition. I’m not needed. They’ve got piles of recycled junk they put together into models. I thought it was just for the kids but Caleb’s father was getting all excited about some siege engine he was planning to make out of popsicle sticks and rubber bands.”

  “I’m not needed either,” Aiden added. “Caleb’s runnin
g some musical thing. They’re workshopping some piece that was probably on the hit parade when the Rev was a baby. No modern technology needed. I was planning on taking a nap in the van. Why?”

  “Because I reckon we should all sit in on the panel in the main room. Two authors, a film-maker and a psychologist talking about vampires. Could be entertaining.”

  “Do you think they’ll let us correct them when they get it wrong?”

  “And we would prove we were right how?” The Rev flashed in and out of hunting mode, extending and retracting his fangs in a split second. “Even if we did that, they would think we were faking it for attention. But I agree, it sounds entertaining.”

  “We might learn something we should be doing,” Severn laughed.

  “Or learn all the things you do that you’re not supposed to, like eating chocolate and drinking coffee,” I said.

  “Or being awake during the day.” Aiden yawned. “Damn it, I wanted a nap.”

  “You could sit in the corner and pull your cowl down over your head. I’ll kick you if you start snoring.”

  “Gee, thanks, Riley. And my response would be to wake up instantly in attack mode and rip your throat open. That would get the panel talking.”

  “It’s their lunch break,” Severn pointed out. “You’ve got an hour, Aiden. Go and nap now. We’ll wake you before the panel starts – gently.”