Summer Lawns Ch. 02

Curtains twitched nervously, with a mixture of admiration and dread, as Charles took the long walk up the white gravelled driveway to the Manor house, that Monday morning. As he stood looking up at the tall windows, he wondered what destiny lay inside. What adventures would all this lead him on, and what wisdom would he seek?

But what really concerned him, was to be part of all this wealth, to plug into it like a ring-main. The thoughts of those wild sex parties burned into his mind, as he saw himself going back in time to chase those naked girls around the gardens. His past seemed to be wrapped around him, like the mist draped around the trees that morning. He rang the doorbell and waited.

When the heavy door was drawn open, he was almost hit between the eyes at the beauty of the woman who stood before him. Not just attractive to the male eye, she represented that power which made men feel as if the room was on fire, as soon as she walked into it.

"Can I help you?" The woman said the line as if she was asking him his deepest desire.

"Yes," said Charles, "I've come about the job." He had to stop himself from just falling into her arms and begging to kiss those breasts, to forget all his problems. But he needed the money.

"Oh, I was thinking more of a handyman. Are you good around the house?" She turned around and led him into the house.

"I can try." Charles could hardly believe the stupid way he was blurting this all out, but he knew he might be led into a trap, and watched what he said.

"I'm Mrs Draper, you can call me Sandra. My husband works in London a lot. So we have little time for gardening or anything else for that matter. Married?" She turned around quickly and confronted him with the question.

"Not likely! I mean- no." Charles looked around at all the money in paintings and furniture. This was the place to be.

"What's your name?" asked Sandra.

"Charles," he replied as they walked to the garden.

"I like that name. Regal, they named a line of Kings after that. You follow history much? Well, you should. This village has a lot of history linked to that time." She opened the French windows to look out onto the garden.

"History is something I want to get away from. It's the present I'm interested in," said Charles.

"This was a lovely garden once. There were a lot of happy times here." Mrs Draper spoke as if she could actually see into the past, and visualise those bodies writhing around on the lawn before them.

"Well I'll have to see if I can help you bring those happy times back," said Charles with a smile.

She just looked at him, as if she knew something he did not. Somehow she appeared close to that period in history as if she was in contact with it.

"You might want to take a look at the Yew Maze?" said Sandra turning away.

Charles did not believe in anything supernatural, and certainly not in time travel. So he got on with the garden and tried to get it into shape. Once he had cut through the rain forest of long grass and overgrown bushes, he could see some results. All the time as he swung the hedge trimmer, or pushed the mower; he thought of Sandra.

He thought of her walking through this long grass, dressed in her short, tight-fitting dress. Then he thought of her letting it slip from her silken shoulders to slide down her body and cascade onto the grass.

Suddenly he was woken from his dream as he looked up from the lawn at the house windows. There, watching him, was the woman. Maybe she thought of him as much as Charles fantasised about her? The question was, did he dare put it to the test?

One thing which did strike Charles as strange was that he only really fantasised about the woman when he got near the Yew Maze.

The opening to the Maze was a small door, very old and very heavy as if it held some dark secrets within. On opening the door, Charles was struck with the way the Yew trees twisted and turned as they made up the corridors of the Maze. It was very overgrown now, but he could still find his way around and saw it made up a very elaborate trail of deceit and deception. You could easily get lost in here, he thought and took special care to make his way back.

But as Charles turned around, he found he had walked straight down the wrong path. Cursing himself for being so childish, he turned around again and walked back the way he had come. Or at least that was what he thought, for on reaching the end of the path, the young man found he had walked further into the heart of the Maze, instead of coming out.

Frustration took hold at first, then panic gripped him, as he thought about charging through the branches of the Yew bushes to get out. This proved impossible, as the branches actually seemed to be fighting back, and Charles withdrew with cuts to his arms.

What was going on here? The damned thing appeared to be alive?

Charles had heard strange tales told in the pub, of people getting lost in the old maze at the Manor, but had put them down to simple children's stories. Or drunks! Now he was not too sure.

At times, he even wondered if he was in the garden. Or the garden as he knew it. The strange thing was, at times he was convinced he heard other voices. Strange accents he did not recognise, even American. It was as he heard the boom of a distant gun, then an aircraft flying overhead, that Charles woke up and came to his senses.

As soon as he saw the roof of the Manor House over the tops of the trees, he made his way out. Angry at himself for becoming so scared of something so childish. All the same, the next time he went into the Maze to trim the Yew trees, Charles took a very long line of string with him, to make sure he could find his way out.

Sandra came out into the garden one day to watch him trim the Yew trees.

"How are you finding the Maze? Tough work?"

"Very, but I'm getting it back into shape," he replied lowering the hedge trimmer.

"Don't get lost in there. It can tell a few strange tales," Sandra smiled as she walked around the Maze.

"I'll try not too. What tales are those?" he asked.

"Maybe one day I'll tell you." She said no more and went back inside.

Life went on and they settled down to a routine.

The routine would start first thing in the morning. Charles would watch Sandra kiss her husband: Terry, goodbye, then watch him drive off south on the A1. Then she would watch him for a while, with polite questions about the garden, then go inside.

Of course, his new job did not go without comment from his family.

"How's that job up at the manor going, Charlie?" His mother raised the subject at the dinner table that evening when they were all gathered together.

"Strangely," was all he would say.

"Why, what's so strange about it?" asked his father as the food was being served. Both his parents exchanged glances.

"It's a funny place. I don't know, it's sort of spooky." Charles was more interested in loading his plate with food, than the village gossip.

"Funny people. You watch yourself up there." His father commanded the table with his opinions, as the family set about eating the meal.

"Your great-granddad always thought it was a strange place," came his mother.

"What connection has it got to do with great-granddad?" Charles wanted to know, looking across the table for the first time.

"He worked there for a while," she replied.

"I never knew that."

"Quite. So this family has had enough of that place," said his father.

"That's all old history. I've been in the library, and there's no trace of the Tyler family ever fighting in any war. Not that far back." Charles knew the conversation which was about to be launched upon the family now. It was a story which they all had to live with, and they all knew it by heart.

"Tyler's stood for the freedom of this village. We gave our blood to defend this land." Father spoke the words as if he had memorised them from an amateur dramatics play.

"Give it a rest Dad," came Helen, their daughter. "That's so far back, we don't even do it for history at school."

"Just because some idiot teacher doesn't want it in their lessons, that's no reason why our family history should be forgotten. This family is part of the history which has shaped this village, and that's something to be proud of." Father beamed across the table at the others.

"Now the second World War has plenty of links to the Tyler family." Charles knew where this conversation was going too, but knew it had to be said.

"That's right. Your granddad fought on the Normandy beaches, and said it was a hell on earth! What I went through in National Service, was nothing compared to that. You young kids could learn a lot by seeing the war for your selves." Mr Tyler thought this was a way of solving the family problems, and saw nothing wrong with it.

His wife strongly disagreed.

"My children are not going to their deaths in some stupid war! I don't care what loyalty we owe, let someone else do the fighting for a change." Their mother looked around the table to make sure everyone was eating.

"Well, there isn't much chance of any of us fighting in any war. Certainly not in a war like the last one." Charles wondered if he felt sorry about this or not.

Billy; the youngest son, looked across to Charles. "She's a stunner, that Mrs Draper."

"We want none of that filthy talk at our table." Their mother glared at the young men, to show she had already predicted where the conversation was going.

"Maybe there is some reference to our family taking part in the Civil War. I've never come across it," said Charles.

"Not yet," added his father. "But remember your granddad took part in D-Day, and that was no picnic. He used to tell us horror stories when we were kids, and I made up my mind that I would never let that memory fade away."

The younger members of the family looked at each other and rolled their eyes, as they had heard it all before.

"Why did great-granddad leave the Manor gardens?"

"He saw things up there, which didn't suit him," replied his father.

"Yeah, I heard there were some wild parties used to go on up there," sniggered Billy.

"You believe what you want Billy. But when you grow up, you'll realise that there's more to life than running around the lawn in the buff."

"George!" exclaimed Mrs Tyler. "Don't encourage them. No, what he was meaning, was that there was some stranger evil things, that used to go on up at that house."

"No one believes in that ghost stuff any more Mum," said Helen. "It's just a form of science, we don't understand yet."

"You can't explain away evil, and that's what they were dabbling in."

"Maybe they want to borrow some of my heavy metal albums," laughed Billy? "Call up the devil?"

"Don't joke about that sort of thing boy, not around here." Mr Tyler called a halt to the conversation for a while, as they ate. "So what does Mr Draper do for a living?"

"Makes money in London, as far as I know. Must be a stockbroker or something," replied Charles.

"Or a drugs baron!" Billy added his ideas on the source of their wealth. "Or a white slaver! Yeah! Maybe he has the cellars full of young girls, all chained to the walls, waiting for shipment to the Middle East?"

"There's nothing in the cellars, but it's strange enough for that." Charles was beginning to wonder himself.

"It's not the cellars that are the strange part," put in Mrs Tyler. "Your great-granddad thought the evil lay in the Maze. You found anything strange there Charlie?"

They all looked at him now, waiting for the terrible revelation that would fuel the flames of their imaginations. Billy held food actually on his fork awaiting his mouth.

"It's very overgrown as if no one had been there for years. But there is an eerie feeling around there."

"I knew it! Great Granddad was right all along." Mrs Tyler dropped her cutlery on the table.

"Wow! The source of the evil! An opening into another realm, just like on Dr Who or Star Trek?" Billy was fired up with ideas. This looked like all his watching of science fiction on TV was paying off.

"Now don't get so excited," said Mr Tyler.

"But you heard the boy!" his wife replied.

"Maybe we could go up and capture an alien?" Billy tried out a few ideas.

Helen was rocking with laughter at all this, as the ideas became more hysterical by the minute.

"Look what you've started with this nonsense." His father looked sternly at Charles.

"Your Great Grandfather always said there was something evil up there, and the source was the Maze. Oh my God, we'll all be murdered in our beds!" Mrs Tyler was taking it badly.

Life carried on, and Charles continued trying to remake the Yew Maze.