The Bath Conspiracy Read online

  Our carrier bags were beginning to be burdensome, and I was getting tired, so we went back to our hotel (Alan found it; I never could have) to dump our parcels and have a little rest before tea.

  I changed my clothes. It was unthinkable to go to an elegant tea in jeans and sneakers! I put on my nicest slacks with an elegant cashmere sweater and a brocade jacket, and a pair of dressy flats. (I drew the line at heels for walking.) Alan helped me fasten my pearls (the one piece of nice jewellery I take when travelling) and I felt dressed to the nines.

  It was obvious that nearly everyone in the Pump Room was celebrating some special occasion. We saw parties of giggling girls, plainly brides-to-be and her attendants. There were a good many elderly couples in the room; several of them looked like anniversary celebrants. We were seated next to the platform where an excellent string trio was playing show tunes and light classics, and when they launched into ‘Happy Birthday’ we were not the only people wearing self-conscious smiles.

  It was a totally happy time: delectable food in elegant surroundings, delightful music, the company of my favourite person in the world – and a glass of champagne to top it off. Who could ask for more?

  TWO

  After that amazing tea, and a day of lots of walking, I was too tired for much, but I insisted on hitting the gift shop. I’m a sucker for church and museum gift shops. There’s so much to find there that one can’t buy anywhere else. I picked up a guidebook to the Baths, to prepare for our visit, and some prints of the city of long ago, and a couple of tea towels and a few chocolate ‘coins’ for Alan’s grandchildren. I resisted a nice little bottle of the famous water, but did buy a small bottle of the ‘Bath Botanical Gin’.

  Alan was dubious about the gin. ‘Botanical. What does that mean?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. It may be flavoured with ancient Romans, for all I know. Never mind. Watered down with good tonic, it’ll be drinkable. Anyway, I love the label. And it’s my birthday, so there!’

  That evening we planned the next few days. ‘Now that you’ve had a taste of Bath—’

  ‘Literally,’ I interrupted, indicating my distended tummy.

  ‘Indeed. What would you like to do tomorrow? We could take a guided tour, either on foot or by bus. We could, on our own, investigate the famous architecture of the Royal Crescent and the Circus and the nearby Jane Austen sites. There are some interesting Austen museums. And incidentally, the Royal Crescent Hotel does a splendid lunch.’

  I groaned.

  ‘Yes, but you’ll feel differently tomorrow. And, of course, there’s always Stonehenge, not too far away. Have you ever been there?’

  ‘Once, at least fifty years ago. Considering its age, though, I can’t imagine fifty years has made much difference.’

  ‘It has, though. The feet of hundreds of thousands of tourists over the years threatened the stability of the stones. They’ve had to put up an enclosure. One can no longer wander into the circle.’

  ‘Oh, what a pity! I’m not sure I want to see it that way.’

  ‘They now have a large gift shop, however.’

  He gave me one of his deadpan looks. I couldn’t help laughing. ‘Okay, you know me too well. Put Stonehenge on the list. But look, how about this? The Baths and the museums are indoor things, right?’

  He nodded.

  ‘So let’s let the weather decide. If tomorrow is a lovely day, we can tour Bath or go out to Stonehenge. If it’s rainy we’ll do the Baths or the museums. I don’t want to crowd too much into one day, or I’ll just end up with a kind of Bath soup in my head. And we’re here for a week.’ I yawned. ‘Alan, is it too ridiculously early to go to bed? I’ve had it.’

  ‘Me, too. We can get an early start tomorrow.’

  We woke before the dining room was open for breakfast. Alan made us coffee while I showered. This elegant hotel provided a cafetière with proper ground coffee instead of horrid instant. I was awake after I’d drunk a nice strong cup, but hungry. ‘Do you suppose there’s a café somewhere that’s open?’

  Alan handed me the cellophane packet of shortbread. ‘This is a city for holidaymakers. It always has been, actually, ever since the Romans discovered the hot spring and built the Baths as a place to come and relax. That means things don’t get under way really early. But it’s only half an hour till they begin serving here. Can you hold out that long?’

  ‘I suppose. We didn’t have dinner last night, remember, and that lovely tea has vanished as though it had never been.’

  My stomach produced a loud rumble, and Alan laughed. ‘Rule number one when traveling with Dorothy: keep her adequately fed. You could break into your stash of chocolate coins.’

  ‘Those are for Mike and Dennis,’ I said virtuously. ‘Never let it be said that I took candy from the mouths of babes.’

  ‘They’re teenagers, love, and would not appreciate being called babes.’

  ‘The principle holds. No, I think I can manage not to faint from hunger. Just.’

  Of course, when I did sit down to a full English breakfast I ate far too much. ‘Have we decided on plans for the day?’ I asked when I had at last stopped gulping my food.

  ‘It’s a splendid day. Shall we do the walking tour of Bath?’

  ‘I’d love that, except I’ve eaten so much I really need to sit for a while and let it all settle. Stupid of me, I know. Such a pity to waste glorious weather.’

  ‘Ah, but there’s an alternative. Why don’t we send for the car and set out for Stonehenge? If we dawdle a bit on the way we should get there shortly before they open.’

  I shook my head to clear it. The idea of an ancient stone circle having ‘opening hours’ boggled the mind, but I managed to understand that the twenty-first century AD operates a bit differently from the thirtieth BC, or whenever the place was built.

  ‘Right. I’ll book us in straightaway for nine thirty.’

  He pulled out his phone. Another culture shock moment.

  While Alan waited for the car I went back up to the room to change into my sturdiest shoes. My memory of the Stonehenge of fifty years ago and more was a bit vague, and that visit had taken place at night, but I was sure that very uneven ground came into it somewhere. Also fierce winds. I picked up my coat and scarf and an extra sweater. A beautiful October day it might be, but it might not stay that way.

  The drive was pleasant once we got out of Bath, which even at that hour on an ordinary Wednesday was crowded with traffic. The lambs were long gone from the meadows, having turned into stolid sheep that looked up as we passed, their silly faces looking even sillier as they chewed. I sighed with pleasure. Alan glanced at me.

  ‘It’s the sheep. I love them so. They’re so very English.’

  That prompted, as I knew it would, Alan’s stock ‘Yes, dear’ response.

  We dawdled, as Alan had proposed, and even so were among the first ones at the car park. Alan explained that under the recent arrangements, one had to park at this location a mile or so away from the stones and take the shuttle bus to the site.

  Of course, the first thing I wanted to do when we got to the visitor centre was to shop. Alan reminded me that, though I was welcome to buy anything I liked, it might be better to wait until we came back. ‘You won’t want to carry a lot of bags while we’re seeing the stones and all the rest. When we come back we’ll sit and have something to eat and drink, and then you can shop to your heart’s content.’

  The shuttle was about to leave, so I reluctantly turned my back on the enticing array of goodies and climbed aboard.

  It’s impossible not to be awed by Stonehenge. The very size of the stones makes it incredible that prehistoric man erected them. Not feasible, one would think. And yet they did. How? And why? We don’t know, but scientists and historians over the ages have made educated guesses.

  ‘They think the stones came from Wales,’ I read from the guidebook. ‘But how? How on earth could they have moved those huge stones all that long way? Even nowadays it would take cranes and stur
dy flatbed trucks. And why? I know there are timber circles here and there in England. That’s so much easier! And the stones up in Orkney are of local origin. Why did the people here, whoever they were, feel they had to get enormous stones from miles away, and then go to the backbreaking work of setting them in place? So carefully, too, so that they’re aligned with the movements of the sun.’

  ‘The apparent movements, love. We know it’s the earth that moves.’

  I waved aside this pedantic objection.

  ‘As for moving them,’ he went on, ‘one theory I’ve heard is that they floated them across the Bristol Channel and then up the River Avon. However, lately the people who research these things think they’ve found the quarry in Wales where they come from, and it’s miles from the sea, so now they believe they actually were dragged on sledges overland. But as to why … ah, we will never know. The assumption of a religious and/or scientific purpose makes sense to me. A culture will go to almost any length in the service of its religion, and since astronomy and astrology were very much a part of religion in ancient days, I think the assumption holds water.’

  ‘And of course the Druids had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Not unless our knowledge of Druidism is woefully inadequate. We can date them in Celtic lands back to about 400 BC – but that’s millennia after the henge was built.’

  ‘When I was here with Frank,’ I said dreamily, ‘all those years ago, it was on Midsummer’s Eve. We’d booked a hotel in Salisbury and hitched a ride out here in the middle of the night. We wanted to see the sunrise over the heel stone. Back then we were allowed to walk in among the stones. There was quite a crowd, I remember, including a number of bobbies, there to keep order, I suppose. The only interesting incident was when a hippy – this was in the sixties – decided it would be a good idea to take off all his clothes and climb on top of the stones.’

  Alan winced. ‘Deuced uncomfortable, I’d have thought, in the nude.’

  ‘That was my thought exactly! Anyway, a bobby came up and tapped him on the heel with his torch and told him he had to come down. Someone provided a blanket or something to cover him up, and they took him off. That was all, except that a lot of Druids were there in white robes, and they blew horns at sunrise. Actually, the sun didn’t visibly rise, there being a thick cloud cover, but one of the Druids had a nice modern watch and checked the time so they could mark the right instant. That struck me as funny. I suppose it was that sort of thing, the climbing, I mean, that convinced the powers that be to close the circle off. Pity.’

  ‘That, and to stop people chipping away bits and taking them home.’

  ‘No! Who would do such a thing?’

  ‘There are a lot of thoughtless people in the world, love.’

  I shook my head over that and moved around looking at the displays. I had to admit that I saw a lot more of the place than I had on that memorable night years ago, and learned a lot more – but the incredible atmosphere of that long ago wonder would remain in my heart forever. That night the place was magic. Today it was just amazing.

  When I had seen my fill, and had become too tired to respond with appropriate enthusiasm, we went back to the visitor centre, and after tea and sandwiches and the rock cakes for which the café was famous, Alan turned me loose in the gift shop.

  He’d been quite right to make me defer that pleasure until the end of our visit. Weariness never keeps me from shopping. I was slightly distracted for a moment by what seemed to be an altercation between one of the shopkeepers and a woman who looked like a superannuated hippy. She was screaming at the clerk and brandishing something in her fist, but when she turned her head for a moment and saw us, she stomped off.

  ‘There’s one in every crowd,’ I murmured to Alan, and turned to the important business of shopping. In rapid succession I picked out plum wine for Alan’s daughter Elizabeth and a thousand-piece puzzle of Stonehenge for her sons. ‘You got them the chocolate,’ Alan objected.

  ‘Christmas is coming.’ I couldn’t resist an adorable teddy bear for the youngest child of our friends Nigel and Inga Evans, or a gorgeous teapot for our dear neighbour and pet-sitter Jane, or various T-shirts for some friends back home in Indiana. Et cetera.

  The parcels were, as Alan had predicted, not only bulky but heavy. We staggered back to our car with them, and Alan put his share on the gravel of the car park while he opened what I’m learning to call the boot. The lid raised itself in its obedient way.

  We stared. ‘What on earth?’

  The boot was full of boxes and bags of objects we had never seen before.

  THREE

  ‘Is there a problem, sir? Madam?’

  A security guard had appeared at our side. I must have cried out in a louder voice than I’d intended. ‘Well – not really,’ I stammered. ‘That is – yes, I suppose there is. These things – I don’t know how—’

  Alan took over. ‘This is our car, but we did not put these things in the boot. We don’t recognize them.’

  ‘The boot was locked?’

  ‘Of course.’

  I moved to take a closer look, but Alan smoothly stepped in my way.

  ‘Hmm,’ said the guard. ‘Has the car been under your control at all times?’

  ‘No,’ said Alan before I could reply. ‘We live in Sherebury, a small cathedral city in Belleshire. We are visiting in Bath for a bit of a holiday, and our hotel provides valet parking. Until this morning, when it was delivered to us at the hotel, we had not seen the car for over twenty-four hours.’

  ‘And you did not open the boot at that time? This morning, that is?’

  ‘No. There was no reason to do so. We had no luggage. We are returning to Bath this afternoon.’

  ‘I see, sir.’

  He moved close to the boot and peered inside, poking into this box and that. ‘Hmm,’ he said again. ‘Rather an odd assortment. One might almost think they were intended for a jumble sale, though there seem to be some items of value in with the— Oh.’

  He straightened and looked at Alan with a much-altered expression. ‘You came straight here this morning? No stops along the way?’

  ‘No stops,’ I said impatiently. I was tired of being ignored. ‘And we’re headed straight back. And I’m tired, and I’d like to get to the hotel as soon as possible. What should we do with all this junk?’

  ‘I’ll take it for now, madam, until the police can have a go. And I’m sorry, but I’ll have to ask you both to remain here until the authorities have talked to you.’

  ‘Police! What are you talking about? What right do you have—?’

  ‘Dorothy.’ Alan put a hand on my arm. ‘There’s an obvious misunderstanding, but certainly we’ll cooperate. May we put our recent purchases in the backseat? They’re a bit cumbersome. We have the receipt and will be happy to show it to you.’

  I took a breath to speak. Alan’s pressure on my arm increased. I held my fire.

  The guard gravely inspected our bags and the receipt and allowed us to stash everything in the car. Then he and another guard carefully loaded the contents of the boot onto a handcart and wheeled it into some private place at the visitor centre. Then we were finally allowed to go in and sit down.

  ‘And I don’t care if it is the middle of the afternoon! I want a gin and tonic.’

  ‘I don’t believe they serve spirits, but you can have a nice pint.’

  ‘Or two! Alan, why did you shut me up? What’s going on, for Pete’s sake?’

  ‘I wanted to keep the atmosphere cool. You didn’t notice, my dear, but I did, and the guard certainly did. One of those boxes contained a good-sized chunk of rock. I’m no expert, but it looked a great deal like the stones we saw today. The monoliths.’

  ‘But – a piece of Stonehenge, you mean?’

  ‘Exactly. And the rest of the “junk”, as you put it, seemed to be memorabilia of various kinds. I’ll get our beer.’

  I was still in shock when he came back with two brimming pints.

  ‘
You’re saying,’ I muttered when I’d had a hefty swig and wiped the foam from my mouth, ‘that that man thinks we stole a piece of Stonehenge? And a lot of other artefacts, as well?’

  ‘Let’s say he considers it a possibility. That was why I so rudely pushed you away. When the police get here I’m going to insist that they take our fingerprints.’

  ‘Oh! And then when they’re not on any of the stuff—’

  ‘It won’t absolutely prove our innocence. But I’m hoping that they’ll be covered with other prints. Whoever the malefactor is, he doesn’t strike me as very professional. Hiding his loot in someone else’s car was not a brilliant move.’

  ‘No. And I trust you’ll flaunt your title and experience for all it’s worth.’

  ‘If it seems necessary, you can bet I will. And here they are, I believe.’

  The two men introduced themselves, grimly but courteously. Alan introduced me and himself. The detective inspector in charge, a tall, wiry man who might have been almost any age, suggested that we move to a more private place, and we obediently tagged along to an office, recently vacated by the manager of the visitor centre. Everyone sat down. The detective inspector cleared his throat.

  ‘Well now, Mr Nesbitt, you have been found in possession of some very valuable property, which you claim you have never seen before. I don’t know how familiar you are with police procedure in such cases—’

  ‘Forgive me for interrupting, sir, but I am in fact very familiar indeed with standard procedures. I was, you see, for many years the chief constable of Belleshire, and though now retired I have not forgotten the way things are done. For that reason, I request that our fingerprints be taken immediately, my wife’s and mine, to establish that we have neither of us ever laid a finger on the items found in our boot.’

  ‘Er … yes, of course. We’ve not brought that equipment with us, so perhaps a bit later on—’

  ‘Now, Inspector. I insist. The sooner our lack of involvement in this matter is established, the sooner we can go back to Bath. My wife is very tired. Surely you must have the standard kit in your car.’