Now that Cormag was detached from the bed frame, Geoffrey took the three of them on a tour of all of the old churches that he could think of. He didn't need a street map. He knew every road and back alley for miles around. Cormag was dressed in Geoffrey's son's old clothes. By the time his son had his heart attack he had become bloated by beer, pizza and Coke, so the bright yellow shell suit was very much on the baggy side, but at least it was better than the gaping hospital gown.
They juddered and lurched through the streets for hours, but Madadh, Cormag and Le Clerc didn't recognise any of the old churches.
'Are you sure you don't know the name of the street?' asked Geoffrey.
'Och, we should knoo this!' groaned Madadh. 'We came searchin' for that hoose!'
'Aye, that street, 'tis on the tip of ma tongue.' said Cormag, and then noticed Madadh staring at him again. 'Ya dein' it again Madadh. Stop starin' at me for God's sake!'
Madadh reached out and stroked a finger across his cheek. Cormag smacked it away. 'What's wrong whit ye? Ha' ye turned sof'?'
'No Cormag. It's ya face, it's...perfect!'
'What?'
'Ye skin, feel it! It's like a wee bairn's arse!'
Cormag stroked his fingertips across his cheek. It was true. There wasn't a blemish.
'Monnington Street!' announced Le Clerc. 'That's the road, Monnington Street!'
'Oh, why didn't you say boys? We're just around the corner. Hold on tight now!' The three of them grabbed hold of their seats whilst Geoffrey chugged a slow U-turn, mounted a kerb and headed off to Monnington Street.
In the hall Mary and Samuel pulled plastic buckets from the cupboard and lined them up on the table. Mary completed the ritual with the stone and turned water into potion.
Brock looked on bemused. 'What are you doing young Mary? That stuff was useless.'
'I don't know. Elvis just told me to make lots so that's what I'm doing.'
Elizabeth was sitting playing with Alice and trying to keep her mind from her fever. Alice was bored and grumpy; whatever Elizabeth did to amuse her was wrong. Alice stood up and stumbled away behind the row of wooden tables. A moment later she was crying again. Elizabeth sighed and followed after her. Behind the tables and out of sight sat two more new-comers. They had slipped in unnoticed in the night. The woman was dressed in the remnants of a once fine white lace dress, now grubby and torn, her blonde hair knotted and wild. Alongside Annabel Collins sat Wooldridge looking as composed as ever, his dark suit and shiny boots looked as if he they were brand new that morning. He had only a few scabs and sores around his neck and face. Annabel was humming quietly to herself and rocking gently to and fro. Elizabeth froze like a rabbit in headlights. Wooldridge eyed her coldly. He didn't move. Elizabeth edged forward before seizing hold of her crying daughter and running back out from behind the table. She ran to Brock.
'She's here! And him! They’re' back, behind the table!' gasped Elizabeth holding onto his arm.
'Who's here?' demanded Brock his eyes searching the room for a hostile face.
From behind the piles of jumble on the tables, Wooldridge rose silently to his feet. Annabel stood up alongside, anxious and bewildered.
'It's you!' shouted the inn-keeper. 'What the bloody 'ell are you doin' 'ere?'
Brock pulled Elizabeth behind his huge frame. 'Leave this to me. I'll see you're safe.' Flanked by the inn-keeper, he stormed forward.
Wooldridge stepped in front of Annabel and drew his knife.
Just as they were about to clash, the door burst open. An ebullient Madadh flew into the room followed by Cormag and Le Clerc. Geoffrey stood in the doorway and peered nervously inside.
'Look ye all, Cormag's back!' announced Madadh with one arm in the air. 'We rescued the wee lad!' He gave Cormag a patronising rub on his head.
Cormag pushed his hand away. 'Aye, well A was just 'boot te break oot when ye came. An' anyways, ye took yer time ye lazy bastar'!' He spotted Mary's potion. 'Och, a drink, tha's wha' A need!'
But too late. Cormag already had the bucket to his mouth, gulping down the water and spilling half of it down the front of his yellow shell suit.
Geoffrey tapped Le Clerc on the shoulder. 'I think it's time I left.' he whispered, and then added 'Would you like to come out for a drive in the Princess some time? There's not many that appreciate the old girl like you do. And now my boy's gone, I've a lot of spare time on my hands.'
'I'd love too!' replied Le Clerc. 'When, tonight? What about tonight?'
'Oh, that soon.' replied Geoffrey. 'Well, I was going to watch ...' He stopped and thought for a moment then smiled. He didn't get many chances to get out any more and he'd never met anyone who shared his passion for the old car. What the heck! He'd miss Emmerdale tonight and watch the repeat tomorrow. 'OK, I'll come back later, around eight o'clock.' He looked past Le Clerc at Cormag nearing Wooldridge with knife drawn. 'I'd best be off!' He shuffled quickly away from the hall.
Cormag slammed the empty bucket on the table and let out a satisfied belch. 'Och, I'm the better 'o' that!' Then his expression soured. He recognised Wooldridge and Annabel stood in the corner. The inn-keeper and Brock were stood a few feet away like two snarling dogs.
'I've a wee matter to settle wi' ye, y'English bastar'!' Cormag drew his dirk.
Wooldridge raised his slender blade in readiness.
Cormag lunged with his dagger. Wooldridge kept one arm firmly wrapped around Annabel, and with the other thrust his blade towards the oncoming attack.
But in a flash, Cormag was gone. Not dead, just gone. All that remained was a pile of yellow nylon shell sitting on two white Nike sports shoes. Wooldridge pulled back his blade in disbelief. He looked at his knife and then at the pile of clothes on the floor.
'Whi'...whit ye done te Cormag?' roared Madadh.
'I...I don't know.' stammered Wooldridge.
Madadh picked up the clothes and began to rummage through them. 'Cormag, whi' ye playin' at? Where are ye?'
Brock returned to stand at Elizabeth's side. 'Are you alright?'
Elizabeth nodded.
'And the children?'
'We're all fine, thank you Mister Brock.' Alice was hugging her leg. Elizabeth gave the top of her scalp an affectionate rub. 'Thank you for your concern. I do appreciate it.'
Brock smiled warmly. 'I can do more for you.' replied Brock quietly 'Lots more. I know you're grieving for James, I am too. But a woman needs protecting in this world. And her family. Let me do that for you Elizabeth. James would want to see you safe.' He placed a hand on her waist. Elizabeth allowed it to rest there. 'Just say the word Elizabeth, and I'll be there.'
From amongst the crowd Mary watched in horror. She still hoped to see her father return but she realised that the chances were becoming less with every hour that passed. The flow of people from across the road had just about stopped. There had to be a way to bring her father back, surely.