Marcus & Rikki - Part 1

We made our way across the first section of the garden. I lit a path with my torch but switched it off before we reached the third area where the ship lay. Edward Brook would certainly anticipate his conscientious young chauffeur seeking him out. The question I grappled with was: why had he returned early ? I had no idea as to Edward Brook’s state of mind. Had his generally sedate character suddenly become unnaturally anxious ? I thought back to my meeting with Eileen and her grim warning as we sat in the communal room of the retirement village: ‘Don’t trust Edward Brook! He’s afflicted - afflicted by the sins of his father and mother!’

 

I stopped Rikki in the archway that divided the first two sections of garden from the third. She gasped at the size of the ship, its eerie form seemingly protected by the forest trees standing like sentinels behind the starboard side. ‘There’s no light onboard’ Rikki whispered and I nodded. Try as I might I could see no white gauze mask looking out from one of the portholes; no sign of Edward’s fragile form scuttling across deck. I had to hope that he was not following our progress from elsewhere, watching our every move. Silently, I indicated to Rikki that we should walk towards the ship’s stern in order to climb on board.

 

As we approached I began to wonder if I had made a mistake by allowing Rikki to tag along. The vessel was an unstable, neglected structure with, perhaps, an unstable individual roaming inside. I felt I was leading her into danger. But the only other option was for her to stay in my cellar room – a cellar room that, I now knew, contained horrors of its own. And there was still the prospect that Lady Caroline Harwood would return in her dissolute state. Leaving Rikki at the mercy of Caroline Harwood and her stable hand was out of the question. No, it was best that she remained by my side. She was bright, well-adjusted, and eager to discover the truth behind her father’s death. Whatever lay waiting, Rikki deserved to see it all for herself.

 

A rope ladder hung from the stern. Rikki insisted on climbing first. She gained purchase and began her ascent. As she did so I held the lower rungs, keeping the ladder taut. She disappeared over the gunwale and I lost sight of her for a few uncertain moments before she leaned over and beckoned me to join her.

 

I climbed slowly. It had been a long time since I’d scaled a rope ladder and I felt vulnerable as the wind suddenly blew stronger, buffeting me as the ladder swung from side to side. The ship groaned, the branches of the trees cracked. By the time I grabbed hold of the gunwale and, with Rikki’s help, hauled myself aboard, I began to wonder how an aged and infirm man had managed to negotiate such an unsteady ladder. Nothing about Edward Brook made sense anymore.

 

The hatch leading to the lower deck was open. I knelt beside it and shone my torch, peering as far as I could beyond the stairwell.

 

Rikki tapped my shoulder and whispered: ‘Marcus, my torch is losing power.’ I took it from her and shook it several times; there was only a faint glow from the bulb. I indicated that she turn it off. ‘Stay close’ I whispered and stepped onto the top rung of the wooden steps.

 

As I descended I illuminated as much of the lower deck as I could. The planks looked secure and thick wooden posts were situated at strategic points to bear the weight of the upper deck of the ship. I saw a mattress and coils of rope and chain; also several empty wine bottles. As Rikki followed me the musty air began to play with my senses. It had a foul odour to it – damp as well a scent that I immediately associated with death. It was so foul that I covered my mouth with my scarf; Rikki did likewise. I walked forward and shone a beam of light into the farthest reaches. A strange shape could be seen in the distance. At first, I thought it was some kind of alter: a thick blanket of black velvet covered a raised platform. Then I realised, the blanket was covering another more familiar shape. Beneath the heavy black velvet drape was a coffin.

 

We each took up a position either side. I said: ‘Rikki, please, look away for a moment.’

 

Whether she did or not I wasn’t sure. I pulled the velvet drape to one side. The casket was an expensive model - dark wood with brass handles and an oval-shaped top section that allowed the head and shoulders of the deceased to be revealed. I took hold of one of the handles and lifted. Inside, smartly dressed in a tweed country jacket, white shirt and black tie, lay the remains of what I believed to be a man.

 

‘What’s in there ? Can I look ?’ said Rikki.

 

I hesitated. Processing death for the second time in as many hours might prove difficult for her. ‘Only if you must’ I said.

 

She turned and we stood a while in silence as if contemplating a work of art.

 

‘Who do you think it is ?’ she said.

 

I was unable to provide an answer. I was sure the body had lain in the coffin for a considerable time. The face had decomposed, despite what looked like extensive make up. It was as if someone had regularly smeared the cheeks and brow with layers of foundation in an attempt to preserve the individual’s likeness. The result was a rather ghoulish mask which had cracked, flaked, and seeped onto the lace pillow upon which the head rested.

 

I closed the lid. There was no name plate attached to the coffin to identify the individual inside. ‘Maybe it’s a member of the Brook family’ I said ‘someone that Edward Brook holds dear.’ I was going to add that keeping the remains of a deceased person on the lower deck of an ornamental ship was probably illegal but at that moment Rikki looked at me and pressed her index finger against her lips.

 

We stood listening to the brittle movement of the ship as the wind coursed through the trees. There was also another sound, slow and purposeful from above: somebody was walking across the upper deck.

 

Instinctively we began to move towards the hatch. Standing at the bow of the ship examining the coffin had left us exposed. I began to panic. ‘Is that you, Edward Brook ?’ I shouted. ‘Are you there ? It’s me – Marcus, your chauffeur. I’ve come to help you!’

 

It was a lame attempt. Before we could reach it, the hatch was slammed shut. We were trapped.

 

I said to Rikki: ‘Wait here. Keep watch through the portholes. Tell me if you see anyone.’

 

I turned and ran past the coffin towards the prow. There was another hatch and I pushed hard against it but that too was locked. I ran to the starboard side to see if I could somehow dislodge one of the portholes. The casings were thick brass and barely large enough for an adult to squeeze through. But if I could kick or press against one of them and dislodge it from the planking, then maybe I’d be able to forge a gap wide enough for us to escape. 

 

Rikki called me. ‘Marcus – quickly!’

 

My mind was racing. I was now convinced that imploding one of the portholes offered us our best chance of escape, even though another problem would surely follow: how to descend safely from the ship once we had crawled through.

‘Look’ Rikki said. ‘There!’

 

Through one of the portholes looking out onto the garden I saw a figure standing alone on the grass. It was still dark but in the hour before dawn there was enough gathering light for me to see her clearly. She wore a black dress and black strapped shoes – shoes with a thick wooden heel that had clacked as she walked along the upper deck. It was difficult to see her face due to a black hat and a black lace veil that obscured her features. She was holding a small box in her gloved hands. She looked like a mourner, ready to attend a funeral.

 

‘Let us out’ I shouted. ‘Whoever you are – open the hatch!’

 

She was staring at us; then her concentration shifted and her eyes fell upon the ship’s keel. I continued to shout and bang my fists against the wooden hull. Eventually she turned away and walked in the direction of the manor house.

 

Then we caught the faintest smell of rising smoke. The ship had been set alight.