Having got directions, she drove up to the back of the village and parked the car at the bottom of the long winding path which led up to Angus’s cottage. She had bought a bottle of wine in Patel’s since she had heard the seer expected a gift.
Despite her natural cynicism, she was impressed with Angus’s old cottage and by Angus himself, with his long beard and piercing eyes.
“So,” said Angus after they were seated, “it iss the famous Miss Sheila Burford.”
“How do you know my name?”
Angus smiled at her. “I see everything.”
“I am not famous. You are mistaken about that. I am a combination of researcher, secretary, office girl, tea maker and general dogsbody. Strathclyde Television does that soap
“I see it all. You won’t be a director.”
“I thought that,” said Sheila gloomily.
“You’ll make your name as a producer.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I am neffer wrong. So you are wasting your time thinking about marriage.”
“Doesn’t every girl?”
“A pretty young thing like yourself, with all that ambition inside you, should not be contemplating throwing her career away by getting married to a village policeman.”
Sheila coloured but laughed. “Hamish and I are just friends.”
“Remember what I said,” intoned Angus. “Now I am tired. The spirits have left me.”
“I didn’t even know they had arrived,” said Sheila, getting to her feet. She waited a moment to see if he had anything more to say, but the seer had lain back in his chair and closed his eyes.
Sheila made her way thoughtfully down the path to her car. It was all a load of rubbish, of course. Still, it would do no harm to seek out Harry Frame if he had not left for Glasgow and tackle him about that director’s job.
¦
When she got back to Drim, it was to find Harry closeted with the lawyers. It was late afternoon before he emerged from the room in which they had been holding their meeting.
“Can I have a word with you, Harry?” asked Sheila.
“Just a few minutes. I have to get down to Glasgow. We’ll use Fiona’s office. It’s empty at the moment.”
They went inside and Harry closed the door.
“It’s like this,” said Sheila. “You know I work hard.”
“None better,” said Harry. His eyes fell to her legs. She tucked them under her chair.
“You’ve been saying for ages that I could direct an episode of
He was sitting opposite her. He drew his chair closer until their knees were almost touching.
“Your work for me is appreciated, Sheila. You know that. You’re a pretty girl and we get on fine. In fact, we could get on better.” He put a large hand on her knee and squeezed it.
“Harry,” said Sheila, “I would like that director’s job because you think I can do it and not for any other reason.”
“No, no,” he said, caressing her knee. “But I could be great help to you in your career.” The hand left her knee and clasped her breast.
She jerked away and stood up. “Forget it, Harry,” she said, and went quickly out of the room.
She ran through the castle and out into the courtyard. Damn that seer. She was not going on anyone’s casting couch.
¦
Eileen Jessop gathered up her cartridges of videotape. She needed help, and now that Colin was not going to stand in her way, she was going to go to Drim Castle and ask Fiona King if she might have time to look at some of the film and see if someone could help her edit it.
Wearing makeup and her new shirtwaister dress, she drove to the castle. The first person she saw in the courtyard was Sheila.
“It is Miss Burford, is it not?” asked Eileen, suddenly feeling dowdy before this picture of glowing youth.
Sheila did not recognise the minister’s wife.
“I am Eileen Jessop. We met when you were looking for a location. I am the minister’s wife.”
“Oh, yes, I remember you now,” said Sheila politely, although her mind was still filled with outrage at Harry’s advances. She felt in her bones that once the series was filmed he would get rid of her as soon as he could.
“I wonder if I might see Miss Fiona King. I wanted her help in a little matter.”
“She wasn’t in her office,” began Sheila, and then she saw Fiona striding into the courtyard. “There she is now. Fiona!”
Fiona joined them. “This is Eileen Jessop, the minister’s wife,” said Sheila.
“Oh, yes,” said Fiona, looking edgy and harassed. It had been a long day.
Eileen surveyed her timidly and then took a deep breath. “I have been filming a play of mine, using the village women as actresses. The film needs cutting and editing. I wondered if you could spare the time to see a little of it, and perhaps one of your staff could advise me.”
Fiona was usually tactful, but the stress of the murders and the police investigation into Penelope’s murder had shredded her nerves. All she wanted was a deep bath and a cold drink.
“We are a professional television company,” she said nastily, “and you should know we hardly have time to break off our work to cope with amateur dramatics. I am sorry, but that’s the way it is. Sheila, I’ll be at the hotel if anyone wants me.”
She strode off.
Sheila saw that Eileen was red with mortification. She looked at her watch. “I’m meeting someone for dinner, but I’ve an hour to spare. Bring your stuff and I’ll look at it for you.”
“I feel ashamed of myself now,” said Eileen, clutching her cartridges protectively to her chest. “You’ll just be bored.”
Probably to death, thought Sheila. But she was sorry for the minister’s wife, so she said instead, “Come along. I’m dying to see it.”
She led the way to Fiona’s office, pushing open the door cautiously in case Harry Frame should still be there, but to her relief the room was empty.
“This is the first one,” said Eileen eagerly, handing her a cartridge.
At least I’ve got that dinner date with Hamish as an excuse not to stay too long, thought Sheila, repressing a sigh.
She sat back and began watch. Then she leaned forward a little in her seat. To Eileen it was agony, for Sheila made no comment. She went through cartridge after cartridge. The black hands on the face of the large clock on the wall moved up to nine o’clock and on past, and still Sheila watched.
Sheila felt the palms of her hands damp with excitement What a gem! The script was witty and funny. The village women were natural actresses, and there were miles of tape where the bad camera angles and occasional fluffed lines could be cut.
At last Sheila said, “Have you shown this to anyone else?”
“I’ve shown it to the village women, of course.”
“But to no one else on the television company?”
“No.”
Sheila took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Leave this with me to cut and edit. I will then try to sell it to a television company if you let me put my name on it as producer and we share the profits – thirty percent to me, and the rest to you.”
Eileen’s voice trembled. “Do you mean you like it?”
“It’s marvellous. Very clever. I haven’t seen anything so innocently funny since
