House of Echoes (23 page)

‘Whatever is it?’ Janet dropped the basket at her feet and reached out a concerned hand. ‘Joss. Aren’t you feeling well?’ Joss had gone as white as the flowers.

Shaking her head, Joss moved away and sat down at the end of the back pew. ‘No. No, I’m fine.’ She shook her head. ‘Just a bit tired. I’ve been trying to make some headway with my writing and I’m feeding Ned about every two hours, even at night.’ She forced herself to smile, but her eyes were drawn back again and again to the roses. ‘Janet, do you mind. Can we put them somewhere else. Perhaps over there, by the choir stalls. I know they’re lovely. It’s just – ’

‘Just what?’ Janet frowned. She came and sat beside Joss, putting her hand firmly over Joss’s as they clutched the back of
the pew in front. ‘Come on. Tell. What is it? They’re only roses, for goodness’ sake. The best I could find in the rose garden for my new little godson.’ With Lyn already Tom’s godmother it had been an easy and unanimous choice for Joss and Luke to pick Janet as one of Ned’s three godparents.

‘I know. I’m being silly.’

‘So. Explain.’

Joss shook her head. ‘Just a silly phobia. Thorns. You know. Round the font. Everyone will catch their dresses. And Edgar will rip his surplice.’ She laughed unsteadily. ‘Please, Janet. Don’t be hurt. They’re beautiful. Exquisite. Just put it down to post-partum neurosis or something like that.’

Janet stared at her for a moment, then she shrugged. She stood up. ‘OK. Roses on the window sill up there. And what round the font? How about these?’ She gestured at a bucket full of lupins and delphiniums and marguerites.

Joss took a deep breath. ‘Lovely. Perfect. Just what the doctor ordered. Here, let me help.’

It was late by the time they had finished, locked the church, hidden the key and gone back inside the house for a quick drink before Janet made her way home. Lyn had long since put Tom to bed and pushed supper onto the back of the stove. ‘Luke and I have eaten,’ she said from the sink as Joss walked in. ‘If you want yours it’s there, keeping warm.’

Joss sighed. ‘Thanks. Any sign of David?’ Against strenuous disapproval from Luke she had asked David to be one of Ned’s godfathers. The other was to be Luke’s brother, Matthew.

Lyn shook her head. ‘He rang to say he’d be late leaving London and not to wait supper. He probably won’t be here till ten or eleven.’

‘And Mum and Dad?’

‘They should be here any minute. They rang too. They stopped for tea with the Sharps and they were coming on after that. Their rooms are all ready.’ Lyn had been dusting and sweeping and polishing in the attics, making beds and arranging flowers for the last two days. ‘No one else is coming tonight. Luke’s family are going to be here for lunch tomorrow, which is for family and godparents only, then everyone else will arrive for the christening itself and stay on to tea afterwards.’ She was obviously still ticking off items mentally as she stared round the kitchen.

‘You’ve been a brick Lyn. You’ve done everything.’ Joss opened the cupboard and rummaged for the bottle of Scotch. She found two glasses and poured herself and Janet a small drink.

Lyn stared at her. ‘You’re not going to drink that?’

‘Why not?’ Sitting down at the table, Joss picked up the glass.

‘Because of your milk of course.’

There was a moment’s silence, then Joss took a sip of the whisky. ‘I’m sure Ned wouldn’t begrudge me this,’ she said firmly. ‘And he may as well start as I’m sure he will go on. If he gets hiccoughs in church it’s too bad.’

‘Right. Well, I can see it’s none of my business.’ Lyn, tight lipped, made for the door. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘Oh dear.’ Janet raised her glass at Joss and smiled. ‘Are you behaving badly, my dear?’

Joss nodded. She took another sip from the glass. ‘It’s not as though she’s had any kids of her own!’ she burst out suddenly. ‘She acts as though she knows the lot.’

‘She is their nanny, isn’t she?’ Janet leaned back in her chair, her eyes on Joss’s face. ‘She probably feels it’s part of her brief. Besides, she’s had training for it, hasn’t she?’

‘She’s had training for absolutely nothing except cooking.’ Joss stood up restlessly and walked round the table to the stove. She pulled the saucepan forward and peered into it. ‘She’s done a bit of temping, and she’s the kind of person who can clean and organise a house naturally.’

‘That doesn’t make her less intelligent or less sensitive, Joss,’ Janet put in gently.

‘Oh, I know.’ Joss came back to the table and sat down. ‘Oh Janet, that sounded so awful of me. It’s not as though I’m not grateful. We couldn’t survive without Lyn. It’s just that she makes me feel –’ she spread her hands helplessly, ‘so inadequate. In my own house. I take ages to sort something out and polish it. She comes in and does it in thirty seconds. But she does it in such a cold, efficient way. She doesn’t feel anything –’ she shrugged. ‘It’s hard to explain.’

Janet smiled. ‘No it’s not. You are just two very different personalities. And that has nothing to do with being adopted sisters. My sisters and I can’t get on either and one of them is my twin. Accept that you’re different, Joss. Martha and Mary, if you like. You should complement each other. But you are both, I think,
feeling threatened by each other at the moment and that’s silly. Forgive a comparative outsider commenting, but perhaps I can see it. You’re too close. Lyn is feeling very insecure. After all, you hold all the trump cards. It’s your house, your children, your family, and you are the one who has a burgeoning career as a writer. All that.’ She reached for the bottle and poured herself another Scotch. ‘I won’t give you one, in deference to Ned’s hiccoughs. As his godmother I’m probably the one he’ll be sick over in church.’ She laughed loudly, one of her great guffaws. ‘Come on, love. Too much stress and not enough fun makes everyone miserable. Probably you and Lyn should leave Luke in charge one day and take yourselves out on a day off. That would sort it.’

Joss smiled wearily. ‘Would it? I wonder.’ She sighed. ‘Yes, you’re probably right.’

When Alice and Joe arrived Joss flung herself into her mother’s arms. ‘I was so worried! All those tests! Half the time Lyn didn’t tell me until it was too late, what was happening.’

Alice held her at arm’s length and studied her face. ‘I don’t need to see you every day to know you care, you silly child.’ She pulled Joss back into her arms and gave her a hug. ‘You’re a clever, clever girl. Another beautiful grandson is the best medicine I could possibly have! And a christening party is the best celebration. I’m going to enjoy myself here, Joss. And I want to see you doing the same.’

Lunch was a great success. Lyn had laid the table in the dining room, loading the sideboard with cold meats and salads, whole grain bread, cheeses and fruit and white wine from the bottles remaining in the Belheddon cellar. Tea was already prepared and ready in the great hall, the refectory table with its huge bowl of gladioli groaning under plates and cups and a vast array of cling film-covered sandwiches and cakes and biscuits. The pièce de resistance, the christening cake, made and iced by Lyn was standing by itself on a table near the window and beside it stood a dozen bottles of champagne, a contribution from Geoffrey and Elizabeth Grant, who had driven over from Oxford.

It was Joss who had taken them on a quick tour of the house before lunch. ‘My dear, it’s more beautiful than I ever dreamed!’
Geoffrey put his arm round her shoulders and gave her a hug. ‘You and my son have the luck of the devil.’

He did not notice the look she gave him as she led the way through into the great hall. ‘Nothing here is to be touched until later or Lyn will kill us,’ she said, staring round at the feast already spread before them.

‘That girl must have worked so hard.’ Elizabeth went over and examined the cake. ‘What a treasure. Why on earth hasn’t some man snapped her up?’

Joss shrugged. ‘I just hope they don’t. At least not for a while. I can’t live without her at the moment.’ She glanced round the room, frowning. It felt fine. Happy. There was no atmosphere; there were no shadows, no echoes in her head. She was beginning to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing.

Smiling she turned to Geoffrey. ‘You can stay a few days, can’t you? I’m afraid our facilities are a bit primitive, whatever it may look like on the surface, but we’d like it so much if you can. And Matthew. Luke misses him so much, you know, now he’s got the job in Scotland.’

Geoffrey nodded. ‘They were always close those two. Never mind. Life goes on. It makes occasions like this even more special, my dear. And this is the most special we’ve had for a long time.’

I
n spite of the distant rumbles of thunder and the darkness outside the stained-glass windows of the church, the christening service was full of charm. Cuddling Ned to her Joss looked round at the twenty or so guests clustered around the font and felt a tremendous elation, which increased as she passed the baby to Edgar Gower.

She glanced from Edgar to James Wood, who stood beside him. Lucky baby to have two vicars at his christening. A double blessing. A double safety net. She glanced at David and found him watching her with a slightly absent frown on his face. Was he thinking the same thing, she wondered? Was this belt and braces christening enough to ward off the horror which had sent John Bennet fleeing forever from his home? She looked up in spite of herself at the window where Janet had placed the huge foaming bowl of white roses and she shuddered.

There was a touch on her shoulder. Luke. He was looking down at her with an expression of such tenderness that she felt a lump in her throat. She reached for his hand and together they heard their son named Edward Philip Joseph before the world.

David managed to manoeuvre Joss into a corner half way through tea. Around them guests were devouring cake and drinking champagne or tea with equal enthusiasm. Tom, covered in cake and icing and melted chocolate, worn out with the excitement had curled up on one of the sofas and was fast asleep, whilst the star of the show, sleeping equally peacefully, was in his pram in the study where it was quieter.

‘So. It’s going well.’ David raised his glass. ‘Well done. A wonderful spread.’

‘Thanks to Lyn.’ Joss, clutching a tea cup was longing to sit down; she was wobbly with exhaustion.

‘You read the photocopies I sent you?’ David reached over to the table and helped himself to a couple of egg sandwiches.

She nodded. ‘Let’s not talk about it now, David.’ Even the thought of the contents of those few sheets of flimsy paper sent a shiver down her spine. ‘Edgar thinks this – all this –’ she waved her hand behind her as the crescendo of conversation steadily increased, ‘will help to make the house a happy place again. No more shadows.’

David shrugged. ‘Good. There’s more to discover, though, you know. Going right back into the past, there is something or someone at the root of all this and I want to find out what or who it is.’

Joss looked up at him, half amused, half irritated. ‘What if I don’t want you to? What if I tell you I want to stop the research.’

He looked shocked. ‘Joss, you can’t mean that. You can’t not want to know!’

She shook her head, and shrugged. ‘I don’t know what to think. I’m confused. If it were somebody else’s house, David. Someone else’s problem. But I live here.’ She gazed round the room as though looking for some clue which would tell her what to do. ‘Supposing the truth is too awful, David? Supposing it is insupportable?’ She held his gaze for several seconds, then slowly she turned away.

It was very late before everyone went to bed that night, Luke’s parents and Matthew in the two attic rooms which had been made hospitable, David in the spare room where he usually stayed. It was an airless muggy night, the occasional flicker on the horizon and the almost inaudible grumbles of thunder betraying the fact that storms were still prowling around.

Exhausted, Joss threw herself on the bed, still fully dressed. ‘I don’t think I have the strength to have a bath.’

Luke sat down beside her. He gave a great contented sigh, stretching his arms above his head. ‘I really enjoyed today, Joss. It’s so nice having Ma and Pa and Mat here. They love the house, did they tell you?’ He smiled, reaching over to kiss her. ‘Come on, sleepy head. Climb out of your dress. It’ll get spoiled if you sleep in it. I’ll go and check on Tom and Ned.’

Ned had been allocated his own small bedroom, opposite Tom’s. A cot, a pine chest of drawers and now lots of shiny christening presents adorned the room which Lyn had papered in a pattern of teddy bears and balloons. Luke peered in. The baby was fast asleep his little hands lying half clenched above his head, his face pink. Above him hung a mobile of small red fire engines, a present from his godfather, Mat. ‘He needs something he can use now,’ Mat had said cheerfully. ‘The mug is boring. He won’t need it till he’s about twenty. I wasn’t sure what babies like when they’re this big – or,’ he had peered into the pram doubtfully, ‘to put it another way, small.’ The mobile was perfect. Already Ned had spent a happy half hour seemingly gazing at it before he drifted off to sleep.

Tom was fast asleep too, lying on his tummy, his bedclothes tumbled at the end of the bed. Luke left them.

Even with the windows thrown open it was too hot to breathe. He stood for a while in the bathroom sluicing cold water over his face and head then at last he climbed into bed and lay staring into the darkness.

He was woken much later, by a piercing scream from Tom.

‘Christ! Joss, what’s that?’ He was out of bed before he was properly awake and before he realised that Joss wasn’t there. Scrabbling for the light switch Luke ran into Tom’s room. The little boy was lying on the floor beside his cot amidst a tangle of sheets, sobbing his heart out.

‘Tom? Tom, my God, what happened old chap?’ Scooping him up into his arms Luke was trying to comfort the little boy as Joss appeared in the doorway. In her white cotton night-dress she looked almost ethereal for a moment as she peered in. ‘What’s wrong?’ She looked odd to Luke. Vague. Spaced out.

‘Where on earth have you been?’ he shouted. ‘Didn’t you hear Tom crying? He fell out of bed!’

Joss frowned. ‘Tom?’ She stared round. ‘He can’t have. The cot side is up.’ She took a step into the room. ‘I was feeding Ned.’ She reached to touch Tom’s head with her finger tips then she stooped and picked up the tangled sheets. ‘He must have climbed out. I’ll remake his bed and you can settle him down again.’

Shaking out the small white cotton sheets she smoothed them over the mattress, tucking them in. ‘OK? Do you want to put him down now?’

‘He won’t go, Joss. He’s too upset.’ The little boy was clinging to his father’s neck, his face red with screaming, tears pouring down his cheeks and nose.

Suddenly Joss too was near to tears. ‘Luke – I can’t cope. I’m too tired. You’ll have to deal with him.’ She was white and strained. ‘Do you mind?’

Luke stared at her then his face softened. ‘Of course not, sweetheart. Off you go. Go to bed.’

It was a long time before he climbed back in beside her.

It was Joss who moved first. ‘What’s the time?’

‘About three, I think. Sorry. Did I wake you?’

She grimaced. ‘I couldn’t sleep. Too tired. Is Tom OK? I can’t think why he didn’t wake everyone.’

‘He’s settled now. Poor little chap. Joss –’ he turned to her and propped his head on his arm. ‘Joss, when I changed him – he was covered in bruises.’

‘But he was all right.’

‘Yes, he was all right.’

‘He must have got them falling out of bed.’ Her voice was blurred with exhaustion. ‘Don’t worry. He’ll be OK.’

The next morning the storms had cleared away out to sea and the air was fresh and bright.

Matthew was entranced by everything he saw. Standing next to his brother on the terrace at the back of the house he took a deep breath and beamed. The same height and colouring as Luke with dark hair and hazel eyes, he had inherited a crop of freckles from his mother which gave him a carefree, unruly appearance that made him irresistible to women. ‘I’m going to say it again, brother. You’re a lucky, lucky sod!’ Mat clouted Luke affectionately across the shoulders. He raised his hands above his head and took a deep breath of the sweet air. ‘It’s a heavenly place for
kids to grow up. I heard young Tom playing in the attics behind my bedroom this morning. God, I wish you and I had had somewhere like this when we were kids!’

‘You heard Tom in the attic?’ Luke stared at his brother, surprised. ‘Well, that’s somewhere he shouldn’t have been. He’s too young to go off up there on his own. I expect he was looking for you or Ma.’

‘Georgie. He was calling someone called Georgie.’ Mat stepped onto the lawn. ‘Come on. I want to see your fish. Are there carp in that lake?’ He set off over the grass, leaving Luke staring at him thoughtfully.

‘You know Tom’s covered in bruises.’ Lyn had come up behind him, her bare feet silent on the warm York stone terrace.

‘I know. He fell out of his cot.’

‘When?’ Lyn stared at him in horror.

‘Last night.’

‘And where was Joss. Why didn’t you call me?’

Luke shook his head. ‘Joss was feeding the baby. I didn’t call you because there wasn’t any need. I coped.’ He smiled. ‘Come on. Let’s go and find a carp for Mat.’

David was watching them from the study window. He stepped back as Joss came in behind him and he felt his heart turn over. Her exhaustion had forged her dark beauty into something ethereal. He closed his eyes, willing himself to put all his lustful thoughts out of his head and with a supreme effort kept his voice steady. ‘Kids OK?’

She nodded wearily. ‘Two grannies baby sitting. I thought I’d have a sit down for a minute.’ She glanced out of the window where Luke and Mat and Lyn were strolling down across the grass towards the water.

‘Poor old Joss. But sorry old thing. No time for resting. I want you to come with me back to the church. There’s something I want to check.’

‘No, David.’ She threw herself into a chair. ‘I told you, I don’t want to think about all that now. I really don’t.’

‘You do, Joss, if it puts your mind at rest.’ He squatted down in front of her and reached for her hand. ‘I had a long talk to your rector yesterday – the old one with the white wild hair – and I put one or two thoughts I’d been having to him for his
views.’ He stared up into her face. ‘I think he and I may have similar theories on this one, Joss, and I think that whereas he is coming at it from an intuitive angle, I as a historian have the edge. I know where to look for the proof.’

‘Proof?’ She rested her head against the back of the chair, her eyes on his face. ‘What sort of proof?’

‘Evidence. Gossip. Chronicles. Records. Letters. Not proof perhaps that would stand up in a court of law, but nevertheless something to substantiate and explain what has happened here in the past.’

‘And stop it happening again?’ She looked at him wearily.

‘Until we know what it really is, we won’t know how to fight it, Joss.’

‘And the answer is in the church?’

‘Maybe.’ He stood up and held out his hand again. ‘Come on. Take the opportunity, while the grandmas are here and on call and still delighted with their new grandson. Take advantage of the chance. It probably won’t last.’

‘All right.’ She grasped his fingers and let him pull her to her feet. ‘Let’s go and look.’

The path to the church, cut back neatly for the christening, was lined with pink roses, cascading in heavy curtains from the wild rose bushes, nestling between hedgerow trees and curtains of ivy. Under foot the soft moss, greened by the thundery rain, allowed them to walk silently as far as the door. Reaching for the handle Joss swung it open and they stepped down into the dim cool interior.

‘Don’t the flowers look nice.’ David pulled the heavy door closed behind them.

‘We didn’t come to see the flowers.’ She averted her eyes from the window with the white roses. One of them had blown and she could see the petals on the floor, drifting over a grating.

‘Up here.’ He headed towards the chancel steps. ‘Gower said to look under the carpet.’

They stood looking down at the faded Persian runner which lay between the choir stalls. Even in the dim light they could see the richness that had once been there. David crouched and flicked back one corner of the rug. ‘Good Lord. Look. He’s right. There’s a beautiful brass under here.’ He dragged the carpet back revealing the exquisitely elaborate detail of an inlaid brass about six feet long.

‘It’s a woman,’ Joss said after a moment. She grimaced. What else would it be at Belheddon.

‘A beautiful rich woman.’ David stood with his back to the altar so he could see her the right way up. ‘Gower said this was only uncovered in 1965 when they took the floorboards up because of dry rot. The original stone floor had been covered to raise it at some point.’

‘Who is she, do we know?’ Joss joined him with her back to the altar.

‘Margaret de Vere. See.’ He pointed to the ornate lettering: ‘
Hic
jacet … Margaret … uxor … Robert de Vere … morete in anno domine
1485
.’ He glanced at Joss. ‘This is Katherine’s mother!’

Squatting by the elegant pointed feet of the woman on the floor before them David leaned forward and touched the cold brass with a tentative finger. ‘Margaret de Vere was accused of sorcery and fortune telling, which was their way of saying witchcraft,’ he whispered. ‘It was even rumoured that she had brought about the king of England’s death. The king being Edward IV – the king who came to Belheddon.’

There was a long silence. Joss’s first reaction, incredulous disbelief, wavered. At Belheddon anything was possible.

‘What happened to her? Was she burned or did they hang her?’ Joss stared down at the aquiline features beneath the ornate head-dress.