I Can't Stand The Rain (Bring Out Your Dead series - Part 44)

Continued from Episode 43 - 'I Can't Explain'

The story so far (you can read from the start at 'Episode 1 - Board Stiff!'):  Josiah and Archibald, our two Undertakers, are on a mission to Spain to collect the mortal remains of Sir Lewisham Carnock.  Chantelle had to juggle keeping Frankie out of sight whilst also keeping D.S. Stone cheerfully engaged.  Exhausted by the effort of trying to keep Frankie from bumping into either the Policemen who have been sent to extradite him to the U.K., or the Undertakers who think he's the late Sir Lewisham, Chantelle has decreed he has to go back into the coffin, but that's going to take a little ingenuity, which is not Frankie's strong point!  Of course, it could be worse, she could be in Samantha's (somewhat damp) shoes:

 

Samantha, sometime Celebrant for Oakshott & Underwood and currently stand-in manager in her fiancé, Josiah's, absence, peered through the windscreen in a state of deep gloom.  The rain was lashing down and a strong wind was buffeting the limousine in which she was currently sitting.

“Wait here,” She said to Egbert, in the driving seat, “I’ll go and see if I can find out what’s happening”

She pulled up the hood on her raincoat and dived out into the car park.  There were very few cars around, she noted, and a distinct absence of the ferry that she would have thought should have docked by now.  All in all, she did not have a good feeling about this.

* * * *

The ship’s officer climbed the steps from the cargo hold, opened the door into the bright light of the passenger deck and was surprised to find himself immediately clutched by a rather attractive young woman.

“Oh officer,” she breathed, huskily, “I wonder if you could help me?”  There was a fluttering of eyelashes.

“Of course, if I can just…” He indicated a key he was clutching, with the obvious intention of locking the door from which he had just emerged.

“This will only take a moment” Chantelle smiled, sweetly, at him and stared deeply into his eyes.  At the same time, and without him knowing, her right hand reached behind his back to hold the door ajar.

“Yes, well, how can I help?”

“I know it may seem silly, but I wondered if you had any idea when we might be arriving at our destination?  This constant rocking and rolling has left me feeling quite… faint” She wilted, slightly, falling into his arms and he was forced to lean forward and take her weight.  Behind, he felt sure he heard the door clang to.

* * * *

“Don’t ask me!”  The chap in the fluorescent jacket yelled as Samantha approached him.

“Don’t ask you what?” She asked, shouting over the wind and rain.

“Nuffink!  Don’t ask me nuffink!”

“How did you know I was going to?”

“Everybody’s been asking me stuff all night” The man moaned, “and I don’t know nuffink” He grabbed an errant traffic cone and threw it, viciously, into a skip.

“But you know the ferry should have been here by now?” Samantha suggested.

“Oh yeah, ‘course” The man nodded, “but it ain’t” He confided.

“Do you know why?”

“Well, look at it!” The man said, throwing his arms up in exasperation, as if to show he wasn’t hiding the ferry about his person.

“You mean, it can’t dock in this weather?”  Samantha guessed.

“’Course not” He said, contemptuously, “it’ll be laying off the port until this lot blows over, won’t it?”  He grabbed another cone and sent it spinning off to join its mate, “And, before you say owt…”  He pointed at her, accusingly, “I dunno when that’s gonna be, so don’t ask!” He stomped off into the gloom.

“Oh great!” Samantha muttered and made her way back to the limousine.  She wasn’t looking forward to breaking this news to Egbert, or his workmate driving the hearse parked behind.  As the only two volunteers for this trip, there had been no choice about her travelling companions, but,,,Egbert!  She shook her head and sighed.  Overall, she thought, it was like having Archibald but without the intelligence, charm or charisma.

* * * *

“Are you ok, miss?” The officer asked, with a worried look on his face.

“I’m fine, thank you, officer” Chantelle beamed, standing up once more, now that she was sure that Frankie had made his escape.  “I’m so sorry if I alarmed you?  More eyelash fluttering.

“No, not at all, miss” The officer smiled, “you seemed a little…unsteady?”

“It’s just the motion of the ship, it’s been playing havoc with my equilibrium” Chantelle winked, slowly and deliberately.

“Ah, well, ahem” The officer eased his collar with his forefinger.  For some unknown reason, he felt unaccountably hot, “we should be in port in a few more hours, in fact as soon as this storm has blown through”

“Thank you so much for your very kind care and attention” Chantelle winked again and brushed some imaginary fluff from his uniform, “that’s all I needed to know” and began to make her way back to her cabin, certain that her every movement was being watched very carefully by her sailing companion.

* * * *

Samantha sat in the limousine and watched the rain pound on the windscreen.  The wind shook the vehicle from time to time and the remains of an occasional errant wave made it so far inland that it was like someone throwing a bucket of water across the car. 

The only saving grace was that she was now on her own.  Egbert and his colleague had seized her suggestion that they should return home by train, with both hands, particularly as it meant giving them the Company credit card.  It did make sense, she reflected, not only because it meant that she no longer had to suffer their questionable company but also because they would have finished up miles over their scheduled hours and, anyway, Archibald and Josiah would be perfectly able to drive the vehicles back, always assuming that they ever turned up!

She glared at her watch.  It was two minutes further on than when she had last looked, which seemed like an hour ago.  She turned up her collar, snuggled further down in the seat, crossed her arms and waited.  This was going to be a long and damp night.

* * * *

Chantelle was congratulating herself on a job well done, as she turned into the corridor containing her cabin, but her heart sank when she saw Archibald standing there.  She fixed on her best, beaming smile, and sashayed toward him.

“Why hello, Archie, how nice to see you”

“’Lo Miss Lace” Archibald replied in a grumpy voice.

“Is there a problem?”

“You said I could have a shower” Archibald continued, adopting his most put-upon demeanour, “you promised!”

“Indeed, I did, Archie and I’m sorry that it’s taken so long to sort that out” Chantelle rooted around for the key, “but we can put that right, straight away” She flourished the key, “let’s get to it!  Do you need me to scrub your back?”  She winked, broadly.

“Erm, no, it’s alright” Archibald blushed, fit to burst, “is that other bloke here?”  He peered around the door, suspiciously.

“Other bloke?  What other bloke?” Chantelle swallowed hard.

“Him what was here having a shower before”

“Now then, Archie” Chantelle tapped him, lightly, on the shoulder, “you’ll be getting me a reputation!  No-one else has been here”

“I thought I saw him” Archibald persisted, “through the doorway”

“Must have been a reflection, or something” Chantelle suggested, shrugging.

“Heard him singing” Archibald went on, doggedly.

“Ah, that would be the neighbours, they’ve been very noisy,” She grinned, “now come on, let’s get you washed and scrubbed and ready to face the U.K.”  She started to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt but he quickly wrapped his jacket across his chest in a frantic display of modesty.

“Is it in there?” He pointed, panic-stricken, to the door of the en-suite.

“Yes, that’s it” Chantelle beamed, “you pop in there and give me a shout if I can do anything for you”

Archibald vanished like lightning and Chantelle slumped down on the lower bunk, breathing a sigh of relief.  It had been a long haul but she thought she could finally see some light at the end of the tunnel.  She now had to hope that Archie hadn’t been telling Mr. O. about her ‘mystery gentleman’.  It was one thing to pull the wool over Archie’s eyes, Mr. O. might be a different proposition.

* * * *

Meanwhile, the ‘mystery gentleman’, lying in a coffin in the cargo hold and waiting for the pill to take effect, was beginning to wonder whether his neat plan for getting back into the U.K. had been all... that... bright… an… idea…, after…zzz.

Now read Part 45