THE RELIC GUILD (and other stories) Updated regularly.

CUCKOOS OVER WEST SPIRE (part 3 of 9)

Unsurprisingly, Doug dreamt he was Super Mario.

He awoke to find himself alone in bed. Nothing unusual in that, Doug knew, for Alice was always up before him in the morning. After a shower, he got dressed and went downstairs, expecting to find Alice waiting for him in the dining room. She was not there. He tried calling her mobile, but only succeeded in reaching her voicemail.

"Hi, Honey," Doug said. "I'm having breakfast. Umm ... I'll try you again after," and he hung up.

It was later in the morning than Doug had realised, and the other guests had evidently already breakfasted. Alone in the dining room, he filled a plate with the lukewarm remnants of the greasy breakfast buffet, and then took a seat at his table. 

"Oh, a late arrival!"

It was Mrs Greyspace who had spoken, the owner of the hotel. With a tea towel draped over her shoulder, she was pushing an empty trolley for collecting dirty crockery and cutlery into the dining room. 

"You're lucky," she continued. "I was just about to clear away. I'll get you a pot of tea, shall I?"

Doug smiled appreciatively, and Mrs Greyspace disappeared again.

The hotel was called Ocean View House, and it was situated on the seafront. It was a small establishment, nothing like a grand five-star hotel; in fact Ocean View House was so laidback and relaxed that it was the kind of place that couldn't be bothered to seek any kind of star rating at all. It was more like a homely Bed & Breakfast in an old Victorian house, and, were it not for the sign outside, might have been overlooked entirely.

It was a quiet place in a quiet seaside town; the perfect location, Alice would say, for searching one's soul for answers to the kinds of questions that Doug couldn't be bothered to ask.

Doug paused as he coated his breakfast with salt and ketchup.

Lately, Alice had seemed so distant. Doug knew the pressures of her job often got to her, and he had hoped that this holiday might help her relax somewhat, forget the stresses of the real world. Just for a while. But for so long now Alice had been acting as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Doug couldn't remember the last time he and his wife had laughed together, canoodled at the movies, shared an ice cream, talked until the early hours ... He couldn't even remember the last time they had argued.

That was it, Doug decided, resolutely: he needed to get Alice to open up, confess her troubles, and then he would find a way to help her back to normal. He would devise some cunning plan as soon as he had eaten breakfast.

When Mrs Greyspace returned with a steaming teapot and jug of milk, Doug enquired through a mouthful of sausage, "Have you seen my wife?"   

"Your wife ..." Mrs Greyspace looked distant for a moment. "Oh yes, I think she left a message. Hold on." She turned to face the door and shouted for her husband. "Reg? Reg!"

"What!?"

"Room twelve! Did she leave a message!?"

"Yeah!"

"What did she say!?"

"Gone to West Spire!"

"Oh, that's right," Mrs Greyspace said to Doug. "She's gone to West Spire."

Doug swallowed a mouthful of tea. "Where?"

"West Spire. You know—" Mrs Greyspace nodded at something behind Doug.

He turned and saw a painting hanging on the wall. It was called Cuckoos Over West Spire, and showed a black tower rising from the sea with a flock of birds flying around its tip. Hadn't Alice said something about this painting at breakfast the day before?

Mrs Greyspace said, "That's where she's gone."

"Oh," said Doug. "It's a real place, then?"

"Oh yes. It's just along the coast a-ways."

Doug peered closer at the painting, especially at the birds. A vague recollection stirred of Alice saying they weren't cuckoos at all. "Are those angels flying around?"

"No." Mrs Greyspace said flatly. "They're cuckoos." Her face became stony. "Make no mistake about it."

Doug was surprised by her sudden change in demeanour. "Oh," he said, wondering if he had said something to upset her. "I see."

"There's a steam engine runs along the seafront to West Spire." The hotel owner gave him an appraising look. "If you want to go, that is."

"Yes, I do."

"As you like."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Mrs Greyspace pursed her lips. "Now, I don't mean to hurry you, but I need to get the dining room ready for lunch." 

She strode from the room, and Doug stared after her. He suddenly didn't feel like eating his cold breakfast.

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