The Stone Page 24

  Over a cup of coffee, Brian started to relax a little.

  ‘Without planning permission, the land is only worth about fifty thousand.’ Edmund just looked at Brian.

  ‘OK then, what would it cost to get planning permission old buddy?’ Edmund asked.

  ‘With fees from a good architect, permission could run up to twenty thousand.’ Brian told him.

  ‘Right then, here’s the deal Brian.’ Edmund’s eyes lit up and Brian’s eyebrows lifted in anticipation. ‘Tell your client that you’ve found a buyer by all means. Tell him that I will fund the full planning permission for him. I will, today, make a binding offer for the land, for a hundred and ten thousand, less the planning costs that I will have paid for.’

  ‘If he agrees, I will get Alex to draw up a legal agreement to that effect that we both sign at the onset. Now then, Brian, what would your fee for this project be?’ Edmund was on fire again.

  Brian hesitated. ‘I would do it for a grand.’

  ‘How about this then Brian, complete everything by the end of 1998 and I’ll make the fee two grand!’ Edmund smiled at his friend.

  Brian completed at the end of 1997, a year ahead! Edmund then retained the architect for the next stage. He wanted him to design and build the highest quality apartment block ever seen in the area. No expense to be spared inside or out. Brian project managed this also. They agreed a fee with another bonus to be paid on the successful completion by the summer of 1999.

  Brian had checked his database for all the surrounding houses and blocks of flats in Southbourne, and came up with a few suggestions for the name of the new building. ‘Breakwaters’ seemed the right choice. So then Edmund invited Ben over from New York to be the first person to see the completed block. He was so delighted with it that he put his mother in straight away!

  ‘The Breakwaters’ was completed, and Brian had soon filled it with tenants. He had been very careful to vet all of them and in the process many prospective applicants were rejected due to Brian’s high criteria. Edmund did not interfere with the selection process as he wished to avoid a rift between owner and agent. He knew that Brian was the best in his field and wanted to retain him at all costs.

  The following year heralded the turn of the Millennium. It was Brian who noticed that Edmund had become more introspective, and he saw less and less of him on the High Street in Southbourne, and rarely got a reply from Edmund’s home telephone. One particular Sunday, he made a detour from his usual walk, passing Edmund’s bungalow. It was a sunny day, so with no reply from the front doorbell, he went around the back and checked in the back garden.

  Lying asleep on an old deck chair, Edmund was stretched out with an open book on his lap. The sound of the gate latch woke him from his slumber.

  ‘Not been back long, Brian’ Edmund blurted out.

  ‘’Back from where?’ Brian asked.

  ‘Edinburgh. The journey takes it out on the old bones these days. What I could do with is somewhere in the Forest, a little cottage would do. Edmund looked to the sky wistfully.

  ‘I’ve got just the place, needs some work though. No mains services and probably in the most isolated position you could imagine.’ Brian somehow knew that this statement would spark something in Edmund’s imagination.

  ‘How did it come on the market?’ Edmund asked.

  ‘Through probate, I don’t think it’s been lived in for decades. The owner passed away last year in a nursing home not far from here.’ Brian explained.

  It was easy for Brian to sell Edmund’s bungalow, as that sort of property was scarce, and many newly retired couples were always on the lookout for one. He had no problem selling it for the asking price, just in a few days.

  On the other hand, Edmund had found his Xanadu. The little thatched cottage was exactly as he had imagined. Virtually nothing had been done to it for a century, and by the look of the position, deep in the woods, his dream of real isolation would be complete.

  ‘Have you ever been to the show in the New Forest?’ Brian asked.

  ‘When is it on?’

  ‘Well, it’s on until the weekend, and as it happens I’ve been given two tickets for tomorrow if you would like to go as my guest. It really is a great show, not just horse-jumping and farm animals either.’ Brian said.

  ‘Sounds like a good idea, why don’t we make a day of it?’ Edmund seemed to be back to his old self again. ‘Let’s find a nice pub for lunch, and then spend the afternoon there? I’ll pick you up in the Morgan, we can put the soft top down, and the weather forecast looks like we will be able to do just that.’ Edmund said enthusiastically.

  They found a thatched pub just south of Lyndhurst, that served great food, and at about two they were parking in the car park near Brockenhurst. The sun was glinting through the trees, lighting their way towards the entrance to the showground.

  ‘Hey, did you hear that?’ Brian suddenly stopped in his tracks. ‘I’m sure…’ He was interrupted by the repeated message over the tannoy system.

  ‘It can’t be for me, must be for someone of the same name, how could anyone know that I’m here of all places? It’s just impossible!’ Edmund shook his head and continued into the grounds.

  ‘Look over there, let’s just go over to that caravan marked ‘Ringwood Public Address’, we’ll soon find out if it’s you they want.’ Brian insisted.

  Edmund shrugged his shoulders and followed Brian over to the little van, which sported two huge loudspeakers on its roof. Brian interrupted the occupant just before he was going to read out the message again. He persuaded him to pass over the handwritten message and handed it to Edmund.

  As Edmund read the note, Brian asked the man in the van, ‘who is the person who wants to see him?’

  ‘It’s some foreigner over there.’ The man answered, pointing across the clearing.

  Edmund looked a little agitated when he gave the note back to Brian.

  ‘When we reach the stall, we’ll just look at the goods on sale, but don’t say anything. I’ll decide what to do when we see the lie of the land.’ Edmund murmured to Brian.

  As they approached the stall they could see that it was brightly decorated, and the items on it were delicate carved boxes of all shapes and sizes. Brian picked up a hexagonal box and inspected it closely. The woodwork was intricately carved, and as he took off the lid, the workmanship made it fit perfectly. The design was indicative of Arabic styles like latticework.

  Edmund watched the owner of the stall as he watched Brian holding the box. He was short in stature, olive skinned with slightly slanted eyes but not Oriental. He was wearing a long coat that was brightly coloured, underneath was a white shirt with a high gold embroidered collar, which carried on down the centre of the garment. Overall he looked most impressively dressed.

  In the shadows he noticed a small dark figure dressed in black sitting in a corner. It seemed that this person was doing some sort of crocheting, but as she looked up at him, Edmund recoiled in shock. Her dark face was covered in lines indicating great age, and she reminded him of the old woman that he had met many years ago in Deal.

  ‘Let’s go, now!’ he shouted to Brian and turned to leave. The man stood in his way however, smiling at him.

  ‘Sir, please do not leave, my mother wishes to speak with you. Allow me to introduce myself. We are Uzbeks, the boxes that your friend is inspecting come from my country Uzbekistan. Have you heard of my country, sir?’ The man held his head to one side as he looked at Edmund who shook his head and tried to look away.

  ‘My name is Yusuf, and my mother over there is called Nila. We have come all the way from Samarkand to speak with the man who owns the Great Protector. Nila has a message for him from the Spiritual Guide.’ Yusuf looked appealingly at Edmund.

  ‘What’s all this rubbish?’ Brian asked the Uzbek.

  Edmund stepped forward and calmly asked Yusuf the question.

  ‘Will you tell me, what is the name of this Spiritual Guide?’

  Yusuf’s moth
er stood up from the stool and quietly stood next to her son. She looked at Edmund with dark eyes and then spoke to Yusuf, who then interpreted it to Edmund.

  ‘His name is Abdul. Nila knows that it is you she has to give the message to, and asks for you to show her the Protector.’

  ‘Is this what you mean?’ Edmund pulled out the stone from his trouser pocket, and held it out to her in the palm of his hand. Brian leaned over to take a closer look at the small glowing object. The old woman looked closely at the stone and nodded at her son.

  ‘I’ve had this, Brian, for many years; it was given to me when I lived in Kent by an old woman not dissimilar to this old lady here. In all those years I have never shown it to anyone until now.’ Edmund looked at Brian’s face, it had gone quite white and he looked troubled about what he had heard. ‘Don’t be concerned Brian, everything is OK; I’m just going to speak to these people for a few minutes. Go and find us a cup of tea and I’ll catch up with you.’

  Brian quickly walked into the showground and didn’t look back.

  As Edmund, turned to speak to the two Uzbeks, the old woman passed a small piece of paper to her son, who then handed it to Edmund. It was a little crumpled, so Edmund carefully unfolded it to read what was written on it. The message was beautifully written in thick black ink but he had no idea what it said.

  ‘My mother wrote this down as she was told in a dream that she had last night. I am sorry, but I cannot understand the language, sir, so I don’t know what it says for you. It is in the mother tongue of Russia and I was never taught it.’ Yusef looked despairingly at Edmund.

  ‘How does she know then, that it is a message for me?’ Edmund asked.

  ‘In her dream a voice told her only who it was from and who it was for – you, dear sir.’

  Edmund stared again at the note, how could he not believe them, it was too fantastic a story to be untrue!

  ‘Yusuf, please ask your mother this question for me.’ He nodded and bowed. Pointing to the stone he asked ‘Ask her if she knows anything about this.’ He held out his hand again, the stone was still glowing softly.

  Yusuf asked the question to his mother, who gestured to Edmund to hand over the stone to her. He didn’t hesitate. She looked at the stone, and then quickly spoke for quite a while to her son, which he then sombrely translated to Edmund.

  ‘Nila says there is a legend in our country, which has been handed down from a great many generations ago. The story begins with the Great Timujun, Lord of all the Mongol tribes. Once he was in the mountains of Kashmir, and he came across a great serpent. This serpent had been killing many of the Kashmiri people. Temujun discovered the monster in his lair, asleep. Quickly, he killed the beast with his sword. He wanted to bring its head back down the valley, but it was too heavy for Temujun to carry, so he took out the Serpent’s eye to show them’.

  ‘Is she saying that the stone was a serpent’s eye?’ Edmund turned to ask Yusuf, but he was already serving a customer at his stall.

  Nila looked at Edmund, and for the first time, she smiled at him and said:

  ‘Tanishganimdan hursandman – hayir!’ Then she returned the stone to Edmund and walked away from him.

  Even without understanding what Nila had said to him, he knew that the conversation was finished. Edmund folded the piece of paper into his coat pocket and went in search of Brian.

  He hadn’t been that long, as he saw that Brian was still in the queue to be served at the tea bar. Edmund found a free table and was relieved to see that Brian had regained his colour.

  ‘What happened? Brian asked, as he poured the tea.

  ‘Not much, except the old woman gave me this.’ Edmund passed the small piece of paper to his friend.

  Brian squinted at the small print on the paper.

  ‘It looks like it’s in Russian.’

  ‘Good guess, that’s exactly what it is, but unfortunately there was no translation from either of them. It looks like another mystery that I’ve got to solve.’

  ‘Well, I know someone who can translate Cyrillic for you.’

  Edmund laughed heartily. ‘I thought you might old friend, I just thought you might.’ They sat and finished their tea, and planned where to go next.

  28: Coming Together

  Bed rest

  Ellie was amazed to hear the phone ringing, only ten minutes after speaking to Alex.

  ‘Is that Mrs Monks I’m speaking to?’

  ‘Please call me Ellie, can I call you Clive?’

  ‘That would be a pleasure Mrs…I mean Ellie. Alex mentioned you have got a problem that you want to see me about.’

  ‘Yes I do Clive, and as soon as possible please. Also whilst we are speaking, Alex recommended you to take over all my needs Clive, legally I mean. She heard him clear his throat, and she smiled to herself, knowing that her last statement could be construed another way. ‘So Clive, that’s two questions, do you have an answer or do you need to get back to me.’

  ‘Er the answer Mrs…sorry Ellie is yes to both questions, with great pleasure.’ He said. She could feel the warmth in the young lawyer’s voice, and she liked it.

  ‘I’m very pleased Clive, I suppose tomorrow is out of the question is it?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘Where would you like to meet?’ Clive asked her.

  ‘Do you know Breakwaters, the Apartment block I inherited?’

  ‘Yes I think I could find it. What time tomorrow?’ He asked.

  ‘Could you make twelve?’ Ellie’s fingers were crossed.

  ‘Yes I could.’

  ‘If you could ring the intercom W3, I’ll come straight down and let you in. Thank you for making yourself available at such short notice.’ She uncrossed her fingers

  ‘See you tomorrow Mrs…. I’m really sorry, I keep forgetting.’ She distinctly heard him giggling. ‘I mean Ellie, till then.’

  Ellie was going to shop for the house in Oxford, but now it was time to make the first order on the Internet for delivery to the Breakwaters. She got confirmation for ten in the morning.

  Over a lovely Spanish omelette that Rowena had quietly made for them Ellie finally relaxed somewhat. Once again the level-headed Rowena had taught her how to cope with such a critical situation. Gary had been a louse, but she realised that lashing out wasn’t the way, and would in the end achieve nothing. Her stone was securely clasped in her hand, and she could feel its glow through her fingers.

  After the meal they cleared the dishes and began washing them and Ellie was smiling again, as she was having a real girly chat with her best pal. Rowena made some suggestions on how to look after Clive the next day. It was hilarious, and they were crying with laughter, but in the end she knew that he was a true professional, based on their last meeting, and he would be probably immune to all her charms.

  The rest of the evening was spent with the two women discussing Rowena’s plans for her wedding with Zach. All this was a useful distraction for Ellie, instead of having to face the evening alone.

  The next day after a quick breakfast, Ellie and Rowena left Oxford together, Rowena to Salisbury and Ellie drove on to Southbourne. As usual Clive had arrived at Breakwaters fully prepared, and as they were discussing the divorce procedure, Clive pointed out that the letter from Gary would prove decisive in his negotiations with his lawyer. His opinion was that Gary already knew that, and he expected a speedy resolution. Ellie agreed to email him with the name and address of his lawyer as soon as she got it.

  ‘I would cook you a meal, but I suppose you’ve got to get back.’ Ellie asked.

  ‘Actually yes I do, but not to London. My mother lives in Dorchester and I will stay there tonight.’

  She looked at him, in his well-cut suit, nice and tall, and he smelt really nice. ‘What was that perfume? Perhaps his girlfriend had bought it for him for Christmas. Clive noticed that she was looking at him, sort of sizing him up. It made him feel a bit self-conscious. With all the pressure at the office he had little time to get any experience with women.

>   ‘Ellie,’ he thought. ‘She’s too good for me, too classy and too rich. Yet she is smiling at me! What does it mean?’ Clive broke the silence.

  ‘We seem to have got that pretty well tied up Ellie, would there be anything else while I’m here?’ He asked. Ellie sighed deeply and loud. Clive was desperate to hold her.’ But she’s a client, and I mustn’t give in.’ He said to himself.

  ‘Yes, there is something else but this is very difficult for me.’

  ‘Ellie, I think I know what you are going to ask me. It’s about your dad isn’t it?’ For no reason they stood up and looked at each other. Ellie’s eyes were filling up, and Clive desperately wanted to dive to those dark pools of emerald. She looked up at him and at the same time pulled out her stone on the necklace. He was mesmerised, he reached out to her. A second later she was in his arms, and he felt her shaking against his chest. He placed his lips on her hair. He couldn’t breathe.