The Annals of Fear

Matt was fine while they were on the M4, though he did glance with some suspicion at the docks around Swansea. He was restless, but otherwise silent while they headed north up the A40. As soon as Mello had driven them off, into smaller roads, snaking up into the Cambrian Mountains, Matt started muttering things like, \'are you sure this is the right way?\' Mello just kept him occupied on his laptop, until the signal died. All around them, slopes rose covered in forestry or bare, but for grass and the occasional crag. The sheep were often spotted, sometimes in the road itself. After a short rant, Matt set his attention on trying to reconnect to the internet, only looking up when Mello had to brake sharply at a hairpin bend. A withering look later, Matt returned to his attempt to manufacture a signal using his mobile \'phone. He only raised his head again when they actually stopped.



They were parked on a dirt track, lined with drystone walls. Over wall, the mountain rose further, sheep grass covered it like moss. Here and there, a large rock poked out of the earth, gathering bigger tufts of weeds. Sheep nibbled at them. To the other side, the mountain fell away, rendering them on the level with treetops. They could hear running water far below. Matt looked ahead to a turning spot with a gate blocking the way. There was a cattle grid under it. He twisted to see behind him. The track turned a corner so he could only see twenty yards. It looked rural. "Mello." He breathed, in the tone of someone who has been very patient up until now. "What Godforsaken fucking hole have you brought me to?"



"Wales." Mello bit down the smirk that had been playing on his lips for miles. "Now would you mind getting out and opening the gate for me please?"



"Gate." Matt replied blankly. "Why do we want to open a gate? There could be fucking cows on the other side of it."



"Yum, yum, roast beef." Mello grinned, despite the fact that he rarely ate red meat, much preferring white. "Go on, Matty. We can\'t move until you do." He had to cover his mouth with a gloved hand to smother his involuntarily snort. Matt was still glaring at him. "What is your problem with the countryside?"



"No internet signal for a fucking start!" Matt snapped, opening the passenger side door and stomping out. He slammed the door behind him, as Mello finally gave into laughter. A wary glance upwards revealed no chance of the sun coming out and burning Matt. The sky was grey with clouds. Matt inspected the gate, experimentally pulling on it, before finding the lever that released it. He rode it back against the wall, stopping it before it could hit. Mello waved as he drove through. Matt secured the gate and jogged forward. Mello had to resist the urge to drive away, just a few feet, as he caught up. Matt did not look like he would appreciate the joke. The redhead climbed inside. "We\'re in the middle of nowhere, Mello. Do you even know where we\'re going?"



Mello nodded. "Yes." He inwardly cringed. "We\'re here."



There was a pause. "What?! You have got to be kidding me."



Mello bit into his chocolate. "I was assured that there was internet signal up here. Perhaps you could try again." He inched the car around the twisting driveway and suddenly the manor house was in front of them. It appeared dark and squat, despite having three storeys. There were battlements lining the roof, though they were obviously Victorian follies. Outhouses and deserted stables edged the cobblestones. It all felt a little claustrophobic. "Apparently there\'s a lovely view from the other side of the house. You can see right down the mountain, across the river." Mello didn\'t dare look at Matt. "Let\'s see if this key works." He climbed out of the car and was only slightly reassured to hear his husband get out too. "Do these battlements go all around the building?" He asked, half to himself. Matt didn\'t reply. "Only it makes you wonder how Ioan Prothero managed to fall over them."



"I\'ve got a signal on my mobile."



"Praise the Lord." Mello muttered, pacing around the side of the house to see. The key felt heavy in his hand. He had asked Matt to simply try and get access for them to see the site where the album was recorded. Matt, in his infinite wisdom, had batted the request straight to Watari, on the basis that it was their case. Hal had bought the manor. It had been on the market after the police had finished with it; neither of the Prothero parents wanting to see it again. They had apparently tried to have it demolished, but some authority, possibly CADW, had slapped a preservation order on it. Mello vaguely wondered how much money had parted hands for a historic building to return into private ownership. He finished his circuit. "There are battlements all around. Decorative mainly, but still very much there."



"I\'ve got internet connection." Matt found a smile.



"Oh good." Mello stood, hand on hips, surveying him. "Are you going to stop being difficult now?" Matt didn\'t reply, he just lit a cigarette. "There really is an excellent view around the other side."



Matt sniffed, "Yippee."



Mello shook his head and turned to inspect the 15th century door. The ancient, heavy lock had been disconnected. It was a modern Yale key that he slotted in and the door opened easily. The interior smelt like oranges and lavender. There was an inherent darkness, not helped by the panelling and the oak furniture, charred almost black with age. He passed through the mediaeval entrance passage into a room with a wide Tudor fireplace. A gigantic oak table filled most of the floorspace. It looked like someone, in the 1600s, had locked the door and never been back. There was a short gasp behind him. Matt had seen it. "Stop panicking. This is just the core of the house. Apparently the bulk of it is Georgian, with a Victorian extension. There will be plug sockets." Mello pushed through an uneven timber door and it was like stepping through time. The room was indeed Georgian, but the furnishings were modern. A great window overlooked the countryside with a smear of Cardigan Bay in the far distance. "Still got internet access?"



There was a shuffling and a click behind him, as Matt hoisted up his laptop to see. "Yes."



"Then stop whinging, it\'s only one night."



"I haven\'t said anything."



"Not verbally, no." Mello chewed thoughtfully on his chocolate. He found and flicked on a lightswitch. The room was illuminated. "You\'ve even got electricity." He passed through a door into a dining room. "I\'m going to find where they recorded the album. And see if those documents arrived." Watari again, though this time it was Hal acting independently. She had arranged for archives pertaining to the house to be copied from various sources, bundled together and then delivered by courier to the property. They had been signed for by the caretaker earlier that morning. He found them in a kitchen, which had also been stocked with a small amount of food. He took a cursory glance through the documents, his heart sinking. "Oh."



Matt\'s call jolted him. "Mello!"



Mello ran, but Matt was just standing there eyeing the door. "A man just walked past the window."



"Possibly the caretaker." Mello moved towards the entrance. "He lives close...." But the man was already rapping on the open door. Mello fixed on his best grin and called out, "Hi."



"Prynhawn da! Fy enw yw Mr Roberts. Croeso y Maenor..."



Mello gulped. "I\'m very sorry. Neither of us speak Welsh." He couldn\'t remember anything like this happening to him since he was about ten. He spoke fifteen languages fluently. It was embarrassing to find one that he didn\'t speak.



The middle-aged man took it in his stride. "English, is it?" Mr Roberts\'s accent sang out like Century\'s. "You found us alright? Steep climb up the mountain." He didn\'t wait for responses, but marched through the house like he owned it. "You\'ll find provision through here. In the kitchen. Mrs Roberts baked you a nice bit of bara brith and the eggs come from my own chickens." Mello and Matt had both followed him mutely through what was technically their own home. At least it belonged to Watari and they were the nearest representatives. "Here we go. Lovely." He revealed the thin slices of buttered cake from beneath a tea-towel. He surveyed them expectantly.



Mello glanced at Matt, who had just closed down completely. "Great." Mello nodded. "Thank you." Though he already suspected that this man was the caretaker, Mello felt it important to re-establish their hierarchy here. "And you are?"



"Mr Roberts, I am. Look after this old place. Always have done."



"The caretaker." Mello clarified, slightly more imperiously than he had planned. The man nodded, folding up the teatowel, and Mello felt guilty. "Thank you. And thank you for the cake."



"Croeso." Mr Roberts bounced back, leading them on a tour of the kitchen and the dining room. He would have continued, but Mello stopped him. "Yes?"



Mello smiled diplomatically. "That\'s ok. We can explore on our own." He wiped his mouth. "So you\'re local."



"Just down the hill. Go up behind your stable and up the slope, you\'ll find it just over the..."



"Right. Right." Mello guided him to a seat, suspecting that if he could just start this man talking, he would never stop. "So you know of the local legends." Mello nodded encouragingly, sitting down on the next wooden chair. "Tell me about your ghosts."



Mr Roberts stared at him with a frozen grin on his face. His gaze swivelled across to take in Matt at the kitchen doorway. He looked like he was waiting for someone to say the punchline. "Ghosts?" Neither man spoke, wanting Mr Roberts to fill the silence with whatever he wished to tell them. "None of that here. No. You city boys come down to find ghosts, is it?" Silence. "Believe in all of that, do you?"



Mello hated the feeling that he was being ridiculed. He let his eyes harden. "What happened the night that Ioan Prothero and his friends were killed?"



Mr Roberts gave them a very shrewd, knowing look. Then he leaned forward, "You ask my opinion...."



"Yes, I am."



"... and it will drugs I tell you." Mr Roberts stood up and began briskly showing them things.



It took half an hour to get rid of him. Matt was waiting in the kitchen, when Mello returned from securely bolting the door after the caretaker. Matt gestured towards the laptop. "I typed up a transcript of your conversation with him." Behind him, the kettle was whistling into life. "There was a lot that he wasn\'t saying."



Mello nodded. "I know." He picked up one of the documents. "Have you had a look at these?"



Matt saved his document. "I had a quick look, yes."



"And?"



Matt smirked. "I\'m fascinated to see what you\'re going to do next."



Mello snorted. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." He stared back into the house. "I wonder how much more Mr Roberts would have had to say to us, if he didn\'t just see urban English city boys."



"No sé."



Outside the wind rustled through the trees and the rush of water was already fading into background noise. Mello stared out of the window for a long time, only stirring into life as Matt pushed a mug of hot chocolate onto the broad worktop in front of him. Mello nodded. "Gracias." He wiped his nose and looked at the archives. "It seems to me that this investigation would move a lot faster if I, at least, read Welsh and would speed ahead if I could speak it. A little historical knowledge wouldn\'t go amiss either." He smirked suddenly. "Guess who is about to have their day ruined."



Matt met his gaze, impassively. "Good luck."