House of Echoes (24 page)

‘Neither. Nothing was ever proved. She died at home in her bed.’

‘At Belheddon.’

‘At Belheddon.’

They both stared down at the floor.

‘Do you think she was a witch?’ Joss asked at last.

David shook his head thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know. I wondered if we would find a clue. Some kind of symbol on the brass perhaps. You know, the way you can tell whether a crusader reached Jerusalem or not by whether or not his feet are crossed. I’ve always wondered if that is true or not!’

Joss managed a smile. ‘You mean we’re looking for a heraldic broomstick?’

He shook his head. ‘Witchcraft wasn’t so much a cottage industry then. It was a far more aristocratic pastime at this period, don’t forget. The court was riddled with accusations. There were rumours about Elizabeth Woodville, Edward IV’s queen, and the Duchess of Bedford, her mother, and at least one of his mistresses, Jane Shore – ’

‘Surely a lot of those accusations were part of Richard III’s propaganda against the princes who were Elizabeth’s sons.’ Joss sat down in the front choir stall, still staring down at the brass.

‘But not all. Accusations had been made against Elizabeth Woodville from the start, because no one at court could understand why King Edward married her. There was this young, tall, handsome, romantic king, and he meets this widow, who is a Lancastrian, has two children already, is not even particularly beautiful, in the middle of a forest and within days and against everybody’s advice he’s married her! Perhaps she did bewitch him.’ He smiled. ‘And there lies our problem. No historian worth his solid, scientific salt, would believe it. It must have been something else. Something dynastic.’

‘Or just her beautiful blue eyes?’ Joss smiled.

He scowled. ‘Or was there no smoke without fire? Did these women and others like her – the Duchess of Bedford or Margaret de Vere here, actually find a means of summoning the devil to help them achieve their ends?’

The atmosphere in the church appeared to have dropped several degrees.

Joss shivered. Did he really believe that? ‘You’re talking about Satanism, David, not witchcraft,’ she said at last.

‘Devil worship.’ He glanced at her. ‘Don’t tell me you’re one of these women who believe that witchcraft was some kind of goody goody, never hurt a fly, paganism which does no harm to anyone and is the feminist answer to the patriarchal, misogynist church!’

Joss smiled. ‘Something like that, perhaps.’ She found herself staring into the shadowy nave. ‘But not in this case. Here, I think you may be right.’

Almost unwillingly she looked down at the brass at her feet, picking out one by one the details from the ornate curlicues of the surround. Were there hidden symbols there, clues she could not see or recognise?

‘You believe that she,’ she gestured at the floor, ‘conjured the devil here, at Belheddon.’

‘I think maybe she did something rather strange. Enough to make people suspicious. I’ve a few more sources to look up before I try and formulate a theory.’

‘I think it will be very hard to find proof, David.’ Joss gave him a tolerant grin. ‘We’re dealing with a field here which is not amenable to the kind of reductionist study you are used to.’

He stooped again and began dragging the carpet over the brass. ‘That won’t stop me trying, old girl,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Not now I’ve got my teeth into it.’

She stared down for one last time as he pulled the rug across the cold haughty face of the woman on the floor and she shuddered. ‘It would be wonderful if you could find a way to end all the unhappiness.’

‘We’ll find a way, Joss. You’ll see.’ He reached out for her hand. ‘Come on, let’s go back to the house.’ Did she realise, he wondered, just how beautiful she was looking – more so every time he came to visit the house – every time he set eyes on her.

A
lice was alone in the study reading one of the pile of copies of
Good Housekeeping
which she had brought for Joss and Lyn. She looked up as Joss walked in and put it down with a smile. ‘Hello, love. How are you? I’ve seen hardly anything of you, you’ve been so busy.’

Joss sat down near her and reaching forward took Alice’s hand. ‘I’m sorry. What with the christening and everything. How are you, Mum?’

‘I’m fine. Just fine. Still a bit tired, but better every day for knowing there’s nothing terribly wrong with my insides.’ Alice scanned Joss’s face carefully. ‘Don’t do too much, Joss. Let Lyn help you as much as she can, won’t you.’

Joss gave a wry smile. ‘I think Lyn feels she’s doing enough already.’

‘Rubbish.’ Alice sounded suddenly brisk. ‘That young lady has more energy than she knows what to do with. And she’s worried about you, Joss. You’ve not long ago had a frightening birth and on top of that there’s this big house to look after.’ She stared round the room with pursed lips. ‘I can see it’s a joy for you, but it’s a big responsibility as well. You let Lyn help. And your Dad and I will too, if you’ll let us. You’ve only got to ask. Joe,’ she took a deep breath. ‘Joe feels you might be a bit reluctant to have us here, dear, seeing as it’s your real mum’s house, but I told him you would never, never feel such a thing. I’m right, aren’t I?’

Joss slipped to her knees beside the sofa and put her arms round Alice. ‘How could he even think such a thing? You’ve been more to me than real parents ever could, you know that. You always used to tell me I was special because I was the chosen baby. I really believed it.’ And Lyn, who had once heard her father say it to Joss when no one knew she was there, had never forgotten or forgiven the fact that she was not chosen. She just arrived. She
hoped Alice and Joe would never find out that little source of some of Lyn’s bitterness.

‘Right, dear.’ Alice pushed her away gently and edged herself forward so she could climb off the sofa. ‘Now that’s settled, let’s go and find the others. I let Elizabeth and Geoffrey take that baby out in its pram, and I reckon it’s time this set of grandparents had a go, don’t you?’ She chuckled. ‘So, where’s little Tom got to?’

Joss shrugged. ‘There are so many people looking after him I’ve lost track. He’s having the time of his life with so much attention.’

‘Yes, well. Don’t let him get spoiled.’ Alice pursed her lips as she opened the door. ‘And Joss, remember what I said. Rest. You’re looking peaky.’

Mat was standing in the great hall looking up at the picture over the fireplace. He grinned at Alice and then caught Joss’s hand. ‘A word before you rush off, sister-in-law.’

She looked up at him in surprise. ‘I am popular today.’

‘Popular, and as your mother said, peaky. Luke’s worried about you, you know, Joss.’

Joss shook her head. ‘Why on earth is everyone so concerned suddenly?’

Mat looked down at her, his dark eyes, so like his brother’s, deeply troubled. ‘David Tregarron has no business worrying you about the house. Luke says he’s winding you up, frightening you deliberately.’

‘That’s not true!’ Joss was indignant.

‘Luke thinks it is. Being Luke he’s not about to say anything, Joss. At least not to you. He knows you value David’s friendship, and he knows you’d resent him interfering.’ He paused. ‘David’s in love with you, isn’t he?’

‘That’s none of your business, Mat.’

‘Oh, I think it is. Be careful. Don’t hurt Luke.’

‘Mat – ’

‘No, Joss. Let big brother speak.’ Mat gave his slow, intimate smile. ‘He’s worried sick and not just about David. He says you’re hearing voices, seeing things, scaring yourself witless, and all that is not good, especially when you have a new baby in the house. Thinking there is some kind of a threat to the baby is crazy, Joss. You must get that idea right out of your head. You do see that, don’t you?’

Joss was silent for a moment. ‘I appreciate your talking to me,
Mat,’ she said at last, firmly. ‘But there is nothing wrong with me. You must tell Luke I’m OK. I’m not imagining things, and I’m not letting David wind me up. I promise.’ She glanced at Mat and smiled. ‘And Luke knows that whatever he feels for me, I’m not in love with him. I promise.’

‘You’ve no business complaining to Mat about me!’ Joss cornered Luke alone in the coach house. ‘All you are doing is worrying him and your parents absolutely unnecessarily. What on earth were you telling him, anyway?’

‘Only that I was worried about you. And I did not complain to him. He had no business speaking to you.’ Luke looked at her wearily. ‘Joss, I don’t think you realise how much strain you are under.’

‘I realise perfectly well, thank you. And there is nothing wrong about it. I gave birth only a couple of weeks ago! Ned cries a lot. I am feeding him myself. I am missing a lot of sleep. What is so odd about me feeling strained?’

‘Nothing.’ Luke put down the spanner he had in his hands and came towards her, wiping his fingers on the seat of his overalls. ‘Come here, you gorgeous, clever lady and let me give you a kiss.’

He put his wrists on her shoulders, drawing her towards him, dangling his oily hands behind her head so as not to touch her with his fingers. ‘Don’t take it wrong that I worry, Joss. It’s because I love you so much.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘Now, I’ve got some good news for you. This old bus is just about finished. She’ll be off home next week, if all goes well, and I’ve had two new enquiries, one of which is a definite, for full restoration jobs.’

Joss laughed. ‘That’s brilliant!’

‘And what about you? How is the book going? Are you getting any work done at all with both our families encamped in the place?’

‘No. Of course not.’ She gave him a playful cuff on the side of the head. ‘But I think I’m allowed a few days off while my favourite parents and in-laws are in residence. Plenty of time to write again once they’ve gone.’

He grinned. ‘The trouble is we might not get them to go away. They love it here so much.’

‘I’m glad.’ Walking back to the door she stared out into the yard where Jimbo was industriously polishing two great disembodied head lamps. ‘He’s a godsend, isn’t he.’

‘Certainly is. Who knows. Next year I might just look for another one like him.’

Joss frowned. ‘With all this talk about me, no one has said anything about you looking tired, Luke.’ She reached up and touched his face. He was pale and thin, his eyes reddened from lack of sleep. ‘No one sympathises with the father, do they. It’s tough.’

‘Very.’ He nodded vigorously. ‘Don’t you worry. I’m playing for all the sympathy I can get from my mummy and daddy right now.’ He laughed. ‘It’s nice having them here.’

In the yard, as though sensing their eyes upon him Jimbo had turned and looked at them. He raised a hand and Joss waved back. ‘I’d better go and find Tom. No one seems to know who’s looking after him.’

‘He’s loving all the attention.’ Luke shook his head fondly. ‘We’ll have trouble when they all go.’ He hesitated. ‘Have you heard when David is leaving?’

Why – can’t you wait to get rid of him? Joss was about to reply, but she swallowed the comment. David was going anyway. ‘He’s driving up to town this evening. It’s still term time, don’t forget.’

‘Well, as long as he doesn’t decide to come down here for the whole summer.’ He softened the words with a smile.

‘He won’t.’ She reached out and touched his hand. ‘It’s you I love. Never forget that, Luke.’

There was no sign of anyone indoors. She hurried through the rooms, calling, but the house was deserted. From the study window she could see Elizabeth and Alice strolling across the lawn. Elizabeth was pushing the pram, an expression of intense concentration on her face while Alice was talking nineteen to the dozen, gesticulating as she walked. Joss smiled fondly and turned away from the window. Tom could be with Mat or with Lyn or Geoffrey or Joe or even David. Someone would be keeping an eye on him. So why was she so uneasy? She knew why. Because they could all so easily be thinking the same thing.

‘Tom!’ she whispered his name. Then, ‘Tom!’ louder. Heading for the staircase she ran up into his bedroom. It was deserted and tidy, as was Ned’s. There was no one in her room or Lyn’s or David’s. She stood at the bottom of the attic stairs and stared up. The Grants’ bedrooms were there, and little Tom had plodded up at least twice to find them.

Slowly she climbed the flight and stood on the landing listening. The attics were very hot; they smelled strongly of rich, dry wood and dust, and they were quite silent.

‘Tom?’

Her voice sounded indecently loud.

‘Tom? Are you up here?’

She went into Elizabeth and Geoffrey’s room. It was strewn with clothes; the small chest of drawers was littered with items of make up and Elizabeth’s strings of beads and Geoffrey’s tie, torn off as soon as possible after the christening guests had left the day before and not replaced. The bed was a low divan – nowhere under it to hide. There was no sign of Tom. He wasn’t in Mat’s room either. She stood in the middle of the floor looking round, listening to the scuffling from behind the far door, the door which led into the empty attics which stretched the rest of the length of the house.

There were footsteps, the sound of a piece of furniture being moved, a suppressed giggle.

‘Tom?’ Why was she whispering?

‘Tom?’ She tried a little louder.

Silence.

‘Georgie? Sam?’

The silence was so intense she could feel someone listening to her, holding their breath. Slowly, almost as though she were sleep walking she moved towards the far door. She put out her hand to the key and turned it. The silence deepened. As she pushed open the door it became something tangible, opaque, heavy with threat.

‘Tom!’ This time her shout was loud, high pitched, bordering on panic. ‘Tom, are you there?’

Pushing the door back against the wall she stepped into the empty room and looked round. The light was shadowy, full of dust motes. A bee, trapped against the glass of the window, buzzed frantically, yearning for the sunlight and flowers of the garden. Another door on the far side of the room stood half open. Beyond it the shadows were thick and warm.

‘Tom?’ Her voice was shaking now, the panic heavy in her throat. ‘Tom, where are you darling? Don’t hide.’

The giggle was quite near this time; a child’s giggle, half stifled, very close. She swung round. ‘Tom?’

There was no one there. Almost running she dived back into Mat’s bedroom and looked round. ‘Tom!’ This time it was a sob. Retracing her steps at a run she plunged through the first two empty attics to the third and last, the one with an end window overlooking the courtyard. ‘Tom!’ But there was no one there and no answer save the single panicked sound of the bee against the window. Walking slowly back through the empty shadowy rooms she went over to the small window and forced it open, watching the bee soar with sudden palpable joy up into the sunshine. There were tears on her cheeks, she realised, tears pouring down her face. Her throat was tight and her heart thudded unevenly under her ribs. ‘Georgie, is that you? Where are you? Sammy? Is it you?’

Unsteadily she made her way back through the Grants’ bedroom to the top of the staircase, peering down, trying to see through her tears. ‘Tom? Where are you?’ Sobbing she sat down on the top step as her strength drained from her. She was shaking, exhausted and terribly afraid.

‘Joss?’ It was Mat, peering up from the landing. ‘Is that you?’ He took the stairs two at a time. ‘Joss, what is it? What’s the matter?’

‘Tom.’ She was shaking so much she could hardly speak.

‘Tom?’ He frowned. ‘What about Tom? He’s down in the kitchen with Lyn.’

Joss was clasping her knees; raising her head she stared at him. ‘He’s all right?’

‘He’s all right, Joss.’ He stared at her, searching her face for a clue to her behaviour. Sitting down on the step next to her he put his arm round her shoulders. ‘What is it, Joss?’

She shook her head, sniffing. ‘I couldn’t find him – ’

‘He’s OK. Honestly.’ He hugged her then he stood up and reached down for her hand. ‘Come on, we’ll go and see him.’

She looked up at him, pushing her hair out of her eyes, aware suddenly of how she must look. ‘I’m sorry, Mat. I’m so tired – ’

‘I know.’ His grin was so like Luke’s it tugged at her heart strings. ‘That’s babies for you, I guess. Not enough sleep.’

She nodded, climbing wearily to her feet. ‘Don’t say anything. Please.’

‘Scout’s honour.’ He raised two parallel fingers to his forehead. ‘On one condition. You have a sleep this afternoon. A proper one,
letting us take care of the kids so there is nothing to wake you, nothing to worry you. Agreed?’

‘Agreed.’ She let him take her hand and guide her down the stairs, feeling a little foolish as, following him into the kitchen she found a room full of people, noise and laughter and at the centre of all the activity an unconcerned Tom, kneeling up on a kitchen chair drawing with large plastic crayons on a huge sheet of paper.

‘There you are, Joss.’ Lyn looked up from the work top where she was chopping onions. Her eyes were streaming. Pushing her hair out of her eyes with the back of her wrist she grinned. ‘We couldn’t think where you’d got to.’

She looked too cheerful, almost frenetic.

‘Where’s Luke?’ Joss asked. He was the only one missing from the cheerful gathering.

‘He went out to have a word with Jimbo,’ Lyn said turning back to her onions. ‘Then he’s coming in for lunch. Are you going to feed Ned first?’

Joss nodded. She could see the baby asleep in the pram by the dresser. He seemed able to sleep through any amount of noise at the moment and for that fact she gave a quiet vote of thanks. ‘Sit down, Joss.’ Mat guided her by the shoulders to a chair. ‘I was just telling Joss that she needs to rest,’ he said firmly as she collapsed into it. ‘I think this afternoon the doting grandparents and uncles and godfathers should remove the junior Grants from the premises and allow their mum to have a really good sleep.’