Last Rites Page 22

  Mason nodded as he replaced the picture.

  ‘I haven’t got any pictures of my daughter on display in the cottage,’ he said. ‘But that doesn’t mean I don’t think about her. I hate old photos. I think that all they do is remind you of time you’ve lost that you can never get back.’

  Kate squeezed his arm gently.

  ‘Come and have your coffee,’ she said and the two of them stepped back to the sofa and sat down.

  ‘When was the last time you saw your dad?’ he enquired. ‘If you don’t mind me asking.’

  Kate shook her head.

  ‘Of course I don’t,’ she told him. ‘It was two days ago. He seems to be a little worse each time I see him and I know he’s not going to get any better. The terrible thing is that I don’t know how long he’s going to be in the nursing home and it isn’t cheap to keep him there.’

  ‘How does Latham know about him?’

  Kate ignored the question at first, more intent on sipping her coffee.

  ‘I know he seems to know everything that’s going on at Langley Hill but how did he find out about your father’s illness?’ Mason continued.

  He studied her expression for a moment and thought he saw tears welling in her eyes.

  ‘Kate?’ he said, softly, reaching out one hand and resting it on her arm. ‘How did Latham find out about your father?’

  She exhaled almost painfully and looked straight at Mason.

  ‘If it wasn’t for Latham, my father would probably be dead by now,’ she said, flatly. ‘He pays for the nursing home where he is now.’

  65

  Mason was stunned.

  For a moment he wasn’t sure if he’d even heard Kate correctly.

  ‘Andrew Latham pays for your dad’s treatment?’ he said, finally. ‘But how? Why?’

  ‘Because I can’t afford it myself,’ Kate told him.

  Mason shook his head.

  ‘I understand that,’ he told her, agitatedly.‘But Latham? How did this all happen?’

  She took a sip of her coffee then set the cup gently back on the table.

  ‘I was desperate,’ she breathed. ‘I don’t know how Latham heard what was wrong with my father but he volunteered the money.’

  Mason listened intently.

  ‘I said no to begin with, of course,’ she went on.‘Apart from the complications and the conflict of interests and breaking God alone knows how many ethical considerations. I didn’t want to be in debt to anyone. Especially not someone like Latham.’ She licked her lips. ‘But I took the money. I accepted his offer. I had no choice. I love my father and I couldn’t see him just left to die. Left to shrink away.’

  Mason nodded.

  ‘I understand,’ he murmured.

  ‘I’m not sure you do,’ she snapped. ‘If someone had offered you a way of saving your daughter wouldn’t you have taken it? Wouldn’t you have done anything to help her?’

  ‘Yes I would.’

  ‘And it’s the same with my father. I know he won’t get better but at least he’ll have the best care that money can buy. Or should I say that Latham’s money can buy. And I’d do it all again if I had to.’

  ‘How much did he lend you?’

  ‘That’s not important. The money isn’t the issue, it’s what it can buy.’

  ‘So you pay Latham back a bit at a time?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Who else knows about this?’ Mason persisted.

  ‘No one.’ She sighed. ‘Well, possibly Latham’s little group but I haven’t told anyone else except you.’

  ‘What about Simon Usher? Did he know about it?’

  ‘What the fuck has it got to do with Simon Usher?’ she snapped. ‘You’re obsessed with him. Why would I tell him?’

  ‘Because Latham said you used to spend a lot of time at his cottage. I just wondered.’

  ‘Wondered what?’ she cut in angrily. ‘Wondered if I was sleeping with him? Would it have mattered if I was? He’s gone now, isn’t he? Anyway, why would you believe anything that Latham said about me? Are you going to trust his word over mine?’

  ‘Kate,’ Mason said, putting a hand out to calm her. ‘I just asked.’

  She got to her feet and walked back into the kitchen out of sight. Mason ran a hand through his hair and exhaled wearily. Moments later, Kate returned carrying a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and two glasses.

  ‘I would have offered you more coffee,’ she told him, slumping down on the sofa beside him once more. ‘But I thought I needed something stronger.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he told her. ‘I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just telling you what Latham said. And hearing about you borrowing money from him was a bit of a shock too. What are you going to do now he’s been expelled? How are you going to get the money to him?’

  ‘I’ll find a way,’ she murmured.

  They looked at each other silently for a moment.

  ‘Truce?’ he asked, his hands in the air in supplication.

  She nodded.

  ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, Kate,’ Mason said.

  ‘I’ll manage. I have done so far.’

  ‘And what if you can’t? What then?’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  She filled a glass and pushed it towards him. Mason hesitated a moment then took it and sipped at the liquor.

  ‘Perhaps if we found Abbot Bartholomew’s treasure you could pay Latham off,’ he said, quietly.

  66

  It was Kate Wheeler’s turn to look bemused.

  She looked more closely at Mason’s face, perhaps expecting to see the beginnings of a smile but there wasn’t one.

  ‘Abbot Bartholomew’s treasure?’ she murmured, her own lips finally curling into a grin. ‘Who have you been talking to?’

  ‘Richard Holmes mentioned it to me,’ he admitted. ‘So I did some checking of my own.’

  ‘Peter, that’s a legend. A ghost story. A local myth or whatever else you want to call it. Richard should have known better and so should you. He’s winding you up. You know what he’s like.’

  ‘Abbot Bartholomew existed. He and his colleagues were burned alive for the ritual murder of some children.’

  ‘That part of the story might be true but not the part about the fortune in hidden gold or him having found the secret of alchemy.’

  ‘So you do know the story?’

  ‘Everyone in Walston knows it. Certainly every kid. They grow up with it. But it’s just hearsay.’

  ‘What if it’s not?’

  ‘So you’re telling me that a group of sixteenth-century monks found out how to turn base metal into gold and buried a fortune somewhere in the grounds of Langley Hill and that it’s been buried there for more than five hundred years?’

  ‘I spoke to Richard Holmes about it and I did some of my own research too.’

  ‘So all of a sudden you’re an expert on the myths and legends of Walston and its history?’ she said, smiling. Mason watched as she poured herself another drink then held the bottle over his glass. He nodded and she added more of the amber fluid to what was already there. ‘If I’m going to hear this I may as well be drunk. It’ll probably sound more convincing.’

  Mason pushed her good-naturedly and she giggled. He watched her as she pulled off her boots and drew her bare feet up onto the sofa next to her, her legs curled beneath her.

  ‘I might as well be comfortable too,’ she added. ‘Go on then, tell me your story.’

  ‘Oh ye of little faith,’ Mason said dismissively. ‘Sod you. I won’t tell you what I found out. No. You can do what you like but I’m keeping the secret.’ He reached for his glass and pretended to turn indignantly away from her.

  ‘Tell me,’ she urged, stretching her legs out before her towards him, prodding his thigh with her bare feet.

  ‘No,’ Mason insisted. ‘I was going to let you know everything I’d discovered about Abbot Bartholomew and his mates but you’re obviously too ravaged by cynicism to take me seriously.’

/>   ‘Now you sound like Richard Holmes,’ she told him, still poking him lightly with her toes.

  Mason put down his drink and caught her feet in his hands, gripping them tightly. She wriggled without too much conviction, easing herself back against the arm of the sofa and flexing her toes as he began to gently massage the balls and soles of her feet with his thumbs.

  ‘Want me to tell you?’ he continued, still tenderly and expertly working on her feet.

  ‘Only if you keep doing that,’ she purred.

  ‘You know the basic story about Bartholomew. About him and the other monks being burned alive for killing kids and about the secret they had.’

  ‘Don’t forget the curse.’

  ‘I’m getting to that.’

  She slid a little farther down towards him, her feet now resting on his thighs as he began to slide one index finger between her toes, softly teasing and pressing the tips of each one in turn.

  ‘They were granted a treasure by their God,’ Mason went on. ‘By their God, whoever or whatever that was. Everyone thinks that treasure was an alchemical one and that they made gold by the sackful and hid it in the grounds of the monastery. Perhaps that’s true. Maybe they actually did it.’

  The smile faded a little more from Kate’s face and she took another sip of her drink as he continued.

  ‘And in return for that knowledge they had to offer something back to their own God,’ he told her.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Blood. In the form of sacrifices. That’s probably why there were kids’ bodies hanging up in the monastery when the townspeople attacked them. That and their beliefs. This cult of theirs they had believed you could control people according to the strength of their desire and lust.’

  ‘And you found all this out yourself ?’

  ‘I am a history teacher, remember. Research is supposed to be one of my skills.’

  Kate held his gaze, flexing her toes as he continued to massage her feet gently.

  ‘And you believe it? That people could be manipulated because they loved or lusted after someone or something?’

  ‘I think Simon Usher believed it too.And I think that’s why he disappeared.’

  67

  ‘He didn’t disappear, Peter, he left.’

  Kate shook her head and reached for her drink once again.

  ‘You know those pictures I found in the cellar of the cottage,’ Mason went on. ‘There were a number that showed Usher standing over the carcass of a butchered dog. Killed ritualistically for want of a better word. Perhaps it was some kind of offering.’

  Kate exhaled deeply.

  ‘You’re obsessed with what happened to Usher, you know that,’ she breathed.

  Mason pulled gently at the tip of her right big toe, running his index finger over the perfectly pedicured nail. She squirmed slightly but didn’t withdraw.

  ‘I spoke to Richard Holmes about it, about the photos and about Usher’s disappearance.’

  ‘And Richard agreed with you that Usher had found this treasure?’

  ‘He saw the pictures I found. There were some of Usher taken in what looked like some kind of underground chamber. Richard said he thinks it might be one of the crypts under the main building of the school itself.’

  ‘Richard shouldn’t be leading you on,’ she said, wearily.

  ‘What if he’s right? What if Usher had found something? ’

  ‘Like what? The secret treasure?’

  Mason turned slightly to face her, the look on his face earnest.

  ‘What if all this isn’t just local bullshit?’ he stressed. ‘What if it’s real? What if Usher really did find something in one of the crypts under the school?’ He raised a hand to silence her. ‘I know you don’t believe it but just think about the possibility for a minute.’

  ‘The possibility that Simon Usher discovered the source of some treasure that had been hidden by a group of sixteenth-century monks who had gained the secret of alchemy and believed that people could be controlled by the power of their sexual feelings? Is that the possibility you’re asking me to consider? And that because he found this hidden treasure he disappeared? Just listen to yourself, Peter.’ She smiled thinly, sat up and shuffled towards him on the sofa.

  ‘Aren’t you even a little bit curious about what happened to Usher?’ Mason asked, her face now only inches from his.

  ‘You know what curiosity does,’ she murmured, putting down her drink and looking deep into his eyes.

  ‘Only to cats,’ he breathed.

  They moved together as if a silent signal had been given, lips touching gently at first. Mason felt her hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer to her then their lips pressed together more urgently and he felt the warm wetness of her tongue probing against his. He responded willingly and leaned forward. Kate allowed herself to be pushed gently by him until her back was against the arm of the sofa. Mason looked down at her and was about to move forward when she raised her left leg, pushing her foot against his chest as if to prevent him from reaching her.

  Mason saw the smile on her moist, slightly parted lips and he returned the gesture, holding her foot in both hands, drawing it towards his mouth. He took her big toe between his lips and flicked his tongue over the pad and then the nail of her toe. Kate sighed delightedly, her exclamations of pleasure growing louder as he repeated the same movements on each of her toes in turn before grabbing her right foot and doing the same again. Then he pushed her legs to one side and moved closer to her, his left hand sliding up beneath her sweater, gliding over the smooth skin there.

  She arched her back and he pushed his hand higher, over her taut flat stomach and towards her breasts, his hand finally closing over the right one which was unfettered by a bra. Mason squeezed gently, kneading the firm mound, his thumb rolling over her stiff nipple. Kate closed her eyes and pulled him closer, raising her head so that he could kiss her again. Locked together like that, Mason used his free hand to unbutton her jeans and she lifted her buttocks, using both her hands to push the black denim down, exposing the tiny white panties she wore.

  Mason moved back slightly, gripping the legs of her jeans, tugging them from her shapely legs as she wriggled free of the clinging material. She moved towards him, sliding onto his lap, feeling his erection as she ground herself against his groin.

  He had both hands beneath her sweater now, both breasts cupped tenderly in his eager hands. She was gasping loudly, moving more urgently upon him and Mason pushed upwards to complement her actions.They remained locked together by their kiss, tongues darting feverishly in and out of the other’s mouth, sometimes gliding over each other. A thin, silvery trickle of saliva ran down Mason’s chin and Kate wiped it away with one index finger before resuming the kiss.

  Mason grunted as he felt her hand gliding across the front of his trousers. She gripped his engorged penis through the material then pulled back until she slid off his lap and onto the sofa once again, pushing herself away from him with her feet. He gasped in frustration and moved towards her but, again she raised one foot and pressed the sole against his chest, keeping him at bay. She shook her head slowly.

  ‘Wait,’ she whispered, breathlessly.

  Mason looked lustfully at her, seeing her slide her right hand over the smooth material of her panties, her index and middle fingers pressing against the cotton that encased her mound. Still fully clothed and now desperate to touch her, Mason once again tried to move nearer to Kate but she shook her head, her fingers now disappearing inside her panties.

  Mason could see them moving within the flimsy garment and she smiled, her breathing growing more ragged.

  Mason was transfixed.

  She opened her legs a little wider, the motions of her fingers now more rapid. Kate saw him looking at her and it was as if his inaction was a spur to her. She slipped her left hand down to her thighs, massaging the smooth flesh there as her fingers continued to push and caress more urgently inside her panties. Mason too was breathing heavi
ly now, his gaze moving back and forth from Kate’s face to between her legs. He put one hand on her outstretched right leg and she allowed him to rest his palm on her knee but nothing more. He moved his fingertips in tiny circles on the soft flesh there but dared not slide them higher. Instead, he looked at her face as she began to gasp loudly.

  She had both hands inside her panties now, one covering the other, creating more pressure on her sensitive labia and clitoris. The muscles in her thighs and calves were taut, her whole body beginning to stiffen. Mason realised she was moments from reaching her climax and he watched intently as she surrendered to the feelings coursing through her body.