Beneath the Shadows (17 page)

The whole city is talking about the Viking house found under the old Craven's factory. We went for a walk over there yesterday, but there's not much to see at the site. Plenty of people trying to have a look, mind.

Thanks for the money, but please don't feel you have to keep sending it – I'm doing fine on social security, and I have earned a bit more doing some casual typing work – finally, all those hours practising are paying off. It's good work, because I can do it when Adam sleeps. I'm lucky that at the moment he's a good sleeper in the day, though he keeps me up all night long sometimes! I can't wait for you to meet him – come and see us soon.

All my love,

Rachel

 

Grace stared out of the bedroom window at the wintry afternoon twilight. From the letters, it sounded as though Connie and Bill had been trying to support their daughter, however upset they must have been when she had run away pregnant. It was strange, seeing Rachel's handwriting; trying to imagine her in a tiny flat in York, caring for a new baby while working to make ends meet. In her mind, Grace had conjured Rachel up so vividly that she felt a strong bond with Adam's mother. However, these letters were reminders that she didn't really know anything about the flesh-and-blood person who had written them and worn the clothes that Grace and Annabel had danced in.

She glanced at a few more pages to find that they contained similar themes. She would have to go through them one at a time, but it could probably wait. It seemed unlikely that Jonny's name was going to come up. Grace wasn't even sure how much Adam's grandparents had known of the boy who had got their daughter into trouble, but presumably since Jonny had emigrated there wasn't a lot left to say, and everyone would have had no choice but to move on.

She sat for a while, considering what to do next. If she didn't uncover any evidence of Jonny among these papers, she was going to have to look at other options. She could try to call the library tomorrow, but suspected it would be closed for the Christmas holiday.

Deep in thought, she went down the stairs and discovered Millie holding a biscuit in each hand, a half-empty packet on the table. ‘She won't eat her dinner now!' Grace said jokingly as she stroked Millie's hair.

‘Oh, sorry, I didn't think of that.' Annabel put the packet
on one side. ‘Listen, I was wondering about going to see Meredith while we're snowed in. If I give her a call, maybe James can dig me up as far as the schoolhouse so I can interview her. What do you reckon?'

‘Er, excuse me – I don't know about that,' James interrupted. ‘Have you seen how high the snow is?'

‘It'll be better in the morning,' Annabel replied confidently.

‘Fine by me,' Grace said. ‘In fact, I might come with you.' A new awareness reinvigorated her. There was another way to find out more about Jonny, after all. It was Meredith who had been able to tell her the most about him so far. Perhaps if Grace pressed her further she might remember more. Grace couldn't help but feel that locating Jonny was pivotal – that if she found him, she would find answers.

As her mind slowed, she became aware of the room again, and noticed that they were accompanied by a steady ticking.

‘Did you fix the clock?' She looked at James.

He appeared confused. ‘No, I forgot all about it.'

Grace turned to Annabel, who shook her head. She stiffened, then walked out into the hallway.

The pendulum was swinging steadily back and forth. Grace's head began to throb. ‘When did it start again?' she asked as she came back into the lounge.

Annabel shrugged and James said, ‘I didn't notice, sorry.'

Grace glanced at her watch, and frowned. ‘It's telling the right time.'

‘Perhaps it hadn't stopped after all,' James suggested.

‘You do remember it stopping, don't you?' Grace pressed him.

‘Yeah, I think so.' But he didn't look sure.

‘Think, James – do you or don't you?'

She saw James exchange a look with Annabel, before he answered, ‘Don't worry, Grace, I remember.'

Grace held the phone to her ear, irritated that she'd been placed on hold for over five minutes now. She was about to give up when a voice said, ‘I'm sorry, Constable Barton is on holiday until New Year. Unless it's an emergency …?'

‘No,' Grace said miserably. ‘It can probably wait.'

She felt incredibly frustrated as she hung up. However, she had one more option. She searched around for the scrap of paper Niall had given her, and dialled the number.

‘Hello?'

‘Niall, it's Grace – Grace Lockwood.'

‘Grace! How are you?' He sounded surprised to hear from her.

‘Fine. I'm sorry to ring you over the holidays, but I need your advice.' Her foot began tapping out a nervous tic as she talked. ‘I just tried to ring Constable Barton but he's away till after New Year, and I don't want to sit on my hands till
then. A few things have happened over the last few days, concerning Adam's disappearance …'

‘Go on.' Niall sounded intrigued.

‘Well, first of all, I went to the Christmas Eve ball at Freeborough Hall – and an old friend of Adam's came up to me and said she had seen him in the library at Ockton, the day before he disappeared. Apparently he told her he was looking for his dad. Adam's father was a man called Jonny Templeton – he abandoned Adam's mother when she got pregnant and moved overseas with his family. So I thought that might be significant …' She took a deep breath. ‘And then I found his passport. Down in the cellar. Adam had put some boxes there when we moved in, and one of them had his passport in it …'

‘Didn't the police search there last year?' Niall asked.

‘It was locked, and I thought it was only a cupboard back then. I think one of the men that conducted the search asked me for the key, but I didn't know where to find it.'

‘Well, I'm amazed. They shouldn't have overlooked that.'

Grace furrowed her brow – surely that was beside the point. ‘It doesn't matter now. I just want to know if this changes anything, with the investigation.'

She was acutely aware of the silence on the other end of the line. ‘Doesn't this give us some new leads …?' she begged. There was a tiny note of hysteria in her voice; she could hear it.

‘I'm not sure. Look, you need to talk to Barton. And if the woman you spoke to can come down to the station too, and tell them the same thing she told you, that'd be the best way of getting their attention.'

Grace's optimism disappeared. ‘I'm not sure she will. She said she hadn't come forward earlier because she doesn't want to be involved …'

‘Is that right? And did she say why?' The suspicion was clear in his voice.

‘No.'

‘Grace, perhaps you should have a think about your loyalty to this woman. She can talk to the police in confidence. No one else needs to know.'

‘In that case I'll speak to her again, see what she says.'

‘Right then.' Niall sounded as though he were about to hang up.

‘Isn't there anything else we can do?' Grace was aware of how desperate she sounded, and she hated it. Against her will, she was getting sucked back into the emotional turmoil of the last year.

She heard him sigh. ‘Remind me of Adam's father's name again?'

‘Jonny Templeton – I think he grew up on a farm around here.'

‘Well, I'll see what I can find out – might not be for a few days, mind.'

‘Fine,' Grace said dejectedly. ‘Thank you.'

When she came off the phone she headed downstairs to rejoin the others. Millie was playing with her favourite stacking blocks, while James and Annabel were bickering about what to watch on television. Being cooped up wasn't suiting them very well.

‘I just asked Niall's advice about the passport,' she said. ‘He didn't sound that interested … which was pretty much
what I expected.' She sat down, trying hard to suppress her exasperation. ‘Adam didn't simply disappear, I'm sure of that. But I have no idea what happened … How am I ever going to get to the bottom of it?' With fumbling fingers, she angrily wiped away the tears before they had a chance to fall.

‘Now listen to me, Grace,' Annabel said, coming across and putting an arm around her sister. ‘This place is no good for you. It's going to drive you insane. You can't spend your time obsessing about Adam – because, for whatever reason, he's gone, and there's no sign at all that he's about to come back. James and I will have to head off soon …'

Annabel hesitated and looked at James, who nodded.

Grace sat waiting for the inevitable.

‘We think you should come with us,' James said. ‘We can't leave you up here all alone, Gracie. It's not right at all. It would feel like abandoning you, and this place is far too … well … remote,' he finished.

‘Mum and Dad are really worried about you,' Annabel added.

Grace ran a hand through her hair. ‘Look, I know you're saying this because you love me, but I need to finish what I've started. It won't take long.'

Annabel leaned back and blew out a long, frustrated breath. ‘Grace, this village is sucking the life out of you – you're so serious all the time.'

Grace had had enough. She stood up. ‘I don't think it's this place, actually. I think I sobered up a bit when my husband disappeared on me and my child.' She went across to Millie and picked her up to cuddle her, upset when Millie screamed and struggled until she was put back down.

‘Grace, listen to us,' James insisted. ‘You and Millie need looking after, and there's no chance of that while you live up here. Annabel's right, this isn't good for you. Where's the fun-loving girl we used to know, who could barely stand a day without going somewhere different or trying something new? Just look at yourself right now.'

‘I wouldn't be feeling like this if you two could start supporting me instead of antagonising me,' Grace retorted. ‘And I think you have forgotten that I have a baby now – much more has changed in my life than just my location. Besides, you live in Switzerland – I'll never see you, James, even if I do move back to London. What kind of support is that?'

‘I'm thinking of moving back,' he replied.

‘Oh.' She looked at him, unsure what to say – they were getting completely sidetracked.

‘Listen, I'm not isolated …' she said testily, trying to get the discussion back on course. ‘I've got Ben, and Meredith, and Claire, and Emma …'

Annabel threw her hands up in the air. ‘For God's sake, Grace. You hardly know any of them!'

They all glared at one another.

‘I'm going for a walk,' Grace told them defiantly.

Annabel shook her head then turned away. ‘Of course you are, Grace. That's your solution for everything nowadays.'

Grace was already on her way out. ‘Just mind Millie for me,' she called irritably over her shoulder. ‘I won't be long.'

By the time she reached her front gate, she could feel the tears streaking down her face. Why did everyone she loved want to make things so much harder? James and Annabel's
attitude was really getting to her. Life wasn't always about taking the easy option: sometimes there were things that needed to be done.

She stomped up the road, the hardened snow crunching under her feet, until she reached Feathery Jack's place. The chimney was puffing as usual, and in the front garden two small barn owls sat together on one perch. They barely moved, only the occasional twist of their heads signalling that they were alive. Sturdy leather straps were looped around their legs, and Grace felt sorry for them. She walked closer to the fence, glancing at their heart-shaped faces, their speckled breasts, the sharp hooks of their talons. The pure white among their dappled feathers stood out against the greying crust of snow.

‘Come on over, then, lass.'

The voice came from the doorway, and then a gaunt old man appeared, beckoning her closer. His face was a scrunch of wrinkled skin beneath tufts of white hair. He wore a tweed jacket a few sizes too big for him, and his trousers were tied tight around his ankles with string. A pipe dangled from his mouth, jiggling up and down as he moved. He came across and opened the gate for her, and she followed him towards the owls. ‘Stroke her on her belly, like.' He looked expectantly at Grace. She tentatively touched the owl's soft feathers. Its beak looked razor sharp, but the owl sat stoically and didn't move.

She stood back. ‘I'm Grace, I live at Hawthorn Cottage.'

He gave no indication that he'd heard her. Instead he went back into the cottage for a moment, then came out holding something small, which he offered to one of the
owls. It was snatched in an instant from his outstretched fingers. As the bird gripped the item in his talon and began to tear at it, Grace saw it was a dead mouse. She watched as skin was ripped away to reveal raw red flesh, feeling revolted.

‘Er, thank you!' she said after a while, unable to bear it any longer. The old man didn't even acknowledge her, heading back towards his cottage again.

She let herself out through the gate, unsure whether to go home to try and make peace, or carry on walking. As she wavered, the door to the redbrick house opened, and Ben emerged with Bess on a lead. He raised a hand when he saw her, and then did the same to Jack, who was heading back across his garden. The old man called, ‘Now then,' as he offered the second owl a dead mouse.

‘I was going to come and see you later,' Ben said as he drew near. ‘To find out when you want to start work again on your cottage?'

Grace smiled. ‘As soon as possible, but I think I need to wait until the others have left. It's far too crowded in there at the moment.'

Her face or voice must have reflected her downcast thoughts, as Ben asked, ‘Everything all right?'

‘No,' she said. ‘Not really.' She bit back the tears, feeling foolish, not wanting to cry in front of him.

‘Would you like to take a walk with me and Bess? You don't have to talk if you don't want to. We'll just keep you company.'

‘That would be good. Though I can't leave Millie for too long.'

‘Don't worry – we weren't going far anyway. Perhaps we won't go through the fields this time, eh?'

As she laughed despite herself, she saw the lines around his eyes deepen as he grinned.

 

They were only gone for half an hour, but Grace felt so much better on her return to the cottage. They had walked in silence for a while, then Ben had begun to talk about the plans for the renovations, what they should do next. She had confessed her worries about the time it might take, and he had reassured her, saying that once they got started and she could see it all unfolding she'd feel a lot better.

When she got home, however, her mood came crashing down again. Millie was fractious and clung to her. Annabel took herself off upstairs while James fixed them all lunch. Grace tried to talk to him but he gave her one-word answers, and she could feel the anger radiating from him even though his back was turned. She wondered if he was still upset at their earlier disagreement, but whatever it was, nothing could shake him out of it.

In the evening, after Millie had gone to bed, they got out a deck of cards and went through the motions, but no one had their heart in it. Grace tried to tell them about her encounter with Feathery Jack and his owls, but could see they weren't interested. She was debating whether she could excuse herself for bed at eight o'clock without inviting a barrage of sarcasm when, without warning, they were plunged into blackness.

‘What the hell …?' Annabel cried.

‘I've seen the mains box down in the cellar.' Grace sighed, thinking that it was the perfect end to the day. ‘I'll get a torch and check it out.'

‘I'll come with you,' she heard James say, and then there came the sound of his chair scraping along the floor as he stood up.

Grace collected the torch, and they made their way along to the cellar. She went gingerly down the steps, feeling James close behind her. At the bottom, she directed the torch beam towards the wall, shining it along until she located the box. ‘Right,' she said, ‘the switch should be in there …'

‘Wait a minute, Grace,' James said. She swung around, and he took the torch from her. She briefly made out his eyes in the dim light, the contrast between the white sclerae and dark irises. Then she felt his fingers brush her cheek, and his lips were pressing against hers.

Grace was stunned. James took this as a welcome sign, and dropped the torch, hands cupping her face now, kissing her harder. As he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into him, her body began to crave this physical contact, and she collapsed against him, kissing him back. He was so solid, so reassuring. In the dark it might not be James. It could be anyone – and the tremble that ran through her had a thrill of desire in it. She was dissolving, becoming a million tangled threads of sensation, when the lights snapped back on.

And something else clicked into place in her head.

James opened his eyes, as Grace watched him with the horrible realisation that their friendship had just turned in on itself. She saw the small flicker of his eyes trying to reach
her, searching for somewhere he might comfortably settle within her gaze; and the dull veils of disappointment that descended as he found none. His whole body seemed to pull itself into a stiffer pose with one enormous effort of will, and he bent down to pick up the dropped torch. Grace knew they had just lost something between them that might never be found again.

‘Come on.' He headed for the stairs without looking back, and she followed him.

Upstairs, Annabel looked bemusedly at both their faces. ‘What happened?'

‘The lights came on before we even touched the box,' Grace said.

‘Really?' Annabel glanced around. ‘Perhaps this cottage does have a ghost, after all – switching the lights on and off and stopping and starting the clock.'