House of Echoes (30 page)

The gate was swollen and hard to open. Pushing it with all her strength she let herself out into the lane and stopped, flashing the torch in front of her. The hedges, newly slashed by a hedge trimmer, showed raw torn spikes of white wood. In the distance an owl gave a series of sharp quick cries as it floated on silent wings over the field.

She swallowed, gripping the torch more tightly. Luke would have assumed that she would go down the lane as far as the
footpath towards the cliffs and then follow it across the short rabbit cropped turf to where the land dropped sharply towards the beach. It was one of her favourite walks, easy to manage, even with the buggy, and led round in a wide circle either back to the house or if one took another path across the newly planted winter wheat to the back of the farm. The whole walk was, she supposed, about three miles. She shivered. It was bitterly cold and the night seemed very quiet. Gritting her teeth she began to walk briskly forward, shining the torch to right and to left into the hedges and down into the deep ditches which lined the lane.

‘Luke!’ Her voice was thin and lacked strength in the immensity of the silence. ‘Luke, are you there?’ He could have fallen, twisted his ankle – or worse. He could be anywhere along the route. She stopped, shining the torch down into the ditch where it widened between the angle of two fields. Drainage pipes deep beneath the black newly ploughed soil were pouring water beneath the mat of nettles and bramble making the ditch sound like a fiercely running river. As she walked slowly on, the torch light picking out the coral pink berries of a spindle bush at the corner of the lane, she heard the indignant metallic shout of a disturbed moorhen on its roost.

‘Luke!’

Her boots were uncomfortable on the frosted ridges of the lane. ‘Luke, where are you?’

She swung round suddenly, flashing the torch behind her. Her heart had started thumping wildly. But there was nothing there.

How far from the house would he – it – travel? She swallowed, standing still for a moment, listening carefully.

‘Luke?’ It came out as a whisper now.

Suddenly she was running, the torch light flailing in front of her as she slid and stumbled, turning onto the footpath across the grass.

She was panting violently when she reached the edge of the cliff. Standing still she stood staring down at the sea. The tide was high. In the patchy moonlight she could see the water, a slate-coloured heaving mass, silently shifting immediately below her. There was no beach to be seen. The tide was as high as she had ever seen it. Raising her eyes she looked out towards the horizon. She could see the lights, a long way off, of a huge North Sea ferry moving purposefully and at surprising speed towards
Harwich. For a moment she was comforted at the thought of the huge vessel, with its crowds of passengers and steadily beating engine, then she became aware once more of the immense expanse of the sea around it and she found herself shivering violently again.

The path was so easy to see on the cliff top that she switched off the torch, walking quickly on the short grass. She could see a long way and there was no sign of another human being. Or anything else. She was conscious of a sudden soreness on her lips and she realised she had been biting them in the cold wind. She could taste the sharp salt of blood on her tongue. ‘Luke!’ The call was fruitless. Stupid. A waste of her voice, but the sound of it comforted her as she trudged on.

She switched the torch on again when she came to the mid field path, following the frozen mud track over the newly sprouted winter wheat, on up the hedgerow and towards the old orchard at the back of the farm. She was miles from Belheddon Hall here. Surely there could be no danger. No danger other than the normal hazards of the track. The torch wasn’t so bright now. She flashed it ahead into the grey tangle of old apple boughs.

‘Luke!’ Hoarse with exhaustion she felt hot tears well up suddenly in her eyes and splash down onto her cheeks. ‘Luke? Are you here?’

There was no reply. Behind her, on the field a flock of pewits called to each other, gossiping in the starlight which was suddenly as bright as day as the clouds rolled back.

W
ith Tom settled in his chair with a plate of Marmite sand wiches, Lyn sat down at the kitchen table opposite Janet.

‘Lyn, don’t underestimate Joss’s worries about the children.’ Janet hesitated. ‘Not all her concerns are imaginary, you know.’

‘The ghosts, you mean.’

Janet nodded. ‘This house has a reputation for strange happenings – a reputation which goes back hundreds of years. I don’t think they should be completely written off.’ She smiled, half apologetically. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth and all that.’

Lyn raised an eyebrow. ‘I think it’s all rubbish. I don’t believe in ghosts and I never have. What you see is what you get in this world. And this world is it. Nothing else afterwards.’ She got up and going to the tap drew herself a glass of cold water.

‘And you can see no possibility that you might be wrong?’ Janet spoke mildly, hoping her rising antagonism didn’t show.

Lyn shrugged. ‘I may not be as well educated as Joss, but I know enough to realise that religion is no more than glorified crowd control. It’s brainwashing on a vast scale. Wishful thinking. Man is so arrogant he can’t believe he can just stop being.’ She sat down and put her glass down in front of her. ‘You will have gathered that I’m a bit of a cynic.’

Janet gave a wry smile. ‘Just a bit.’

‘Joss, besides being over educated in my view, is also a bit hysterical.’ Lyn sighed. ‘Something which is obviously hereditary judging by all this stuff her family have put in their letters and diaries. And of course the village believed them. Everyone loves a good ghost story. So do I, as long as one remembers that that is all it is. A story.’

‘So, you’re not worried about Luke.’

Lyn shrugged. ‘I’m a little worried I suppose in that he has been gone a hell of a long time. But I don’t think he’s been attacked by ghosts and demons. And I don’t think Joss will be either. I would hardly have let her go off on her own if I thought there would be any danger out there.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you would.’ Janet’s voice was a little bleak. ‘Obviously a few days’ change of scene will benefit Joss and the boys, though, don’t you agree?’

Lyn shrugged. ‘I suppose so. Anyway, I’d be glad of a break, to be honest. It all gets a bit incestuous round here – the atmosphere is dreadful sometimes.’

‘The atmosphere between Luke and Joss?’

Lyn shook her head. ‘Not exactly. Just Joss and her theories, I suppose. She believes it all so passionately I sometimes think she could make it happen by sheer will power.’ She glanced up suddenly, her head to one side. ‘Is that someone at the door?’

Janet felt a small shiver of apprehension. She glanced over her shoulder. An icy draught swept through the kitchen and then stopped as suddenly as it had come as the outer door was banged shut.

‘Lyn, has she appeared yet?’ Luke stood in the doorway, still in his jacket. His gaze took in Janet and then Tom, earnestly stuffing bread and Marmite into his mouth and his expression softened. ‘I see she has. Was she with you, Janet?’

Janet nodded. ‘I’m sorry. It all seems to have been a misunderstanding.’

‘And where is she now.’ He stripped off his jacket.

‘She’s gone to look for you.’ Lyn stood up, automatically reaching for the kettle. ‘She thinks the ghost has got you.’

‘Oh my God, not that again.’ Sitting down he gave a deep sigh.

‘Luke,’ Janet leaned forward on her elbows. ‘Listen, please don’t dismiss everything Joss is saying out of hand – ’

‘The trouble is, you encourage her!’ Luke shook his head. ‘The last thing she needs if you don’t mind me saying so, is local gossip egging her on in these wild fantasies of hers. There is nothing wrong in this house. There is no danger to the children and there never has been. It’s all in her head. A story. Make believe. A romantic fiction she’s concocted, with herself as the lead heroine. Don’t you see, Janet? It’s all part of her background. Adopted. A dreamer, bless her. Suddenly fact seems to be even better than
any fiction she ever dared invent for herself and it’s all got out of hand. Just leave her alone and she’ll get over it.’

‘She was thinking of taking the children over to Janet’s for a few days, Luke,’ Lyn put in quietly. ‘To get away from the atmosphere here.’

‘No!’ Luke banged his fist on the table. ‘No, Janet, it’s kind of you, but absolutely not. I’d be grateful if you’d just leave her alone.’

‘It’s for her to decide, Luke, surely.’ Janet spoke as calmly as she could.

‘No. It isn’t. Not in this case. This is a matter between her and me.’

‘But – ’

‘Janet,’ he stood up abruptly. ‘Please, don’t think me rude, but I’d be grateful if you could leave us now. It’s time for Tom to go to bed. Please allow Joss and me to work this out for ourselves.’

Janet stared at him open mouthed. Slowly she pushed back her chair. She took a deep breath. ‘Very well. If that’s the way you want it. Poor Joss.’ She glanced at Lyn who had gone very pink. ‘Take care of them all. Tell Joss I’m there if she needs me.’

No one spoke until she had gone. ‘That was very rude, Luke,’ Lyn said mildly. ‘She’s a nice woman.’

‘She is sometimes an interfering busybody.’ He stood up. ‘I’m going out to check the garages are all locked up for the night.’

Lyn sat for several minutes after he had gone, then with a sigh she stood up and turned to Tom. ‘Ready for your drink, young man?’

Pulling the carriage house door open Luke stood staring at the bonnet of the Lagonda. In the light of the fluorescent strip which ran down the ceiling of the garage the pale blue paintwork gleamed softly. Folding his arms across his chest, he sank into deep thought, listening as the sound of Janet’s Audi died away in the distance.

‘Luke?’ Joss’s voice was hesitant. ‘Luke, is that you?’ She had appeared at the gate of the courtyard.

He sighed. ‘It’s me.’

‘And you’re all right?’ Her chilled hands fumbling with the latch she pushed the gate open and came towards him. ‘Oh, thank God! Luke, I thought something awful had happened to you!’

‘Which is exactly what I thought about you earlier.’ He put his
arms round her and held her close. She was shivering violently. ‘Why on earth didn’t you say you were going out for the entire afternoon?’

‘I did. I’m sure I did.’

He smiled ruefully. ‘Well, never mind. You’re all back and safe now.’ He pushed her away gently. ‘Come on, let’s go back indoors. Lyn will be getting the supper on.’

‘Where’s Janet’s car?’ Wearily Joss looked round.

‘She’s gone.’

‘Gone? But I was going over there. I was taking the boys – ’

‘I told her it was a bad time, Joss. I need you here.’ He took her hand.

‘Luke!’ She pulled away from him. ‘You don’t understand. I have to get them away from here. I have to.’ The net was closing; she could feel the lethargy, the reluctance, the pull of the house like a huge magnet, holding her close.

‘No, darling. You don’t. I think it’s time we got this quite straight, don’t you. An awful lot of what has been going on has been totally in your imagination. You have to admit it. Lyn and I are here to help you. There is no threat – none at all – to the boys. This ghost business is just so much hysterical rubbish on the part of people like David and, let’s face it, Janet herself. Come on. Let’s go indoors. We’ll talk about it after supper.’

‘Luke – ’

‘Later, Joss. Come on. It’s bloody cold out here. Let’s go in.’

He pulled the carriage house door shut and clicked the padlock into place then he held out his hand. Reluctantly she took it.

The kitchen was very warm after the frost outside. Tom, surrounded by toys was playing on a rug in front of the television, half heartedly watching Pingu whilst Lyn was peeling potatoes. She glanced up as they appeared. ‘At last. The whole family together. If you’re going upstairs, Joss, you might look in on Ned. He sounds a bit restless.’ She dug her peeler energetically into a deep eye.

Joss stared at her. Then she turned and ran from the room.

There was a single lamp on in their bedroom. Tearing off her jacket she threw it down on the bed before hurrying towards Ned’s little nursery. There was no sound from him now, just the soughing of the wind in the bare branches of the creeper outside the windows. She pushed open the door.

‘Ned?’ she whispered. She crept towards the cot. ‘Ned?’

He was lying on his stomach, his small fists clenched on either side of his head.

‘Ned?’ She bent over him. He was very still. In sudden panic she pulled back the covers. ‘Ned!’

Her sharp cry woke him with a start and he jumped. As she gathered him up into her arms he was screaming indignantly.

Lyn was in the room in seconds, with Luke just behind her. ‘Joss, what is it? Is he all right? We heard you on the baby alarm.’

‘He’s fine.’ Joss cradled him gently in her arms, soothing him. ‘I didn’t realise he was asleep, that’s all and I woke him up, poor little darling.’ She was shaking like a leaf.

Lyn noticed. She glanced at Luke, then she held out her arms for the baby. ‘Come on, Joss. You’re cold and tired. Why not have a hot bath while I get supper? I’ll take this young man and put him back to bed.’ She took Ned and gave a grimace. ‘I’ll change him quickly first. Go on. No arguments. Have a nice bath. Get Luke to bring you up a drink.’

Laying the baby down on his changing mat she began to strip off his pyjamas. Joss was just leaving the room when she heard Lyn’s sharp intake of breath, hastily swallowed. She stopped and turned, in time to see Lyn pointing to Ned’s arm. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, love. Ned’s had a bit of a bash, that’s all. I expect he’s knocked his arm against the cot.’ Lyn was frowning.

‘Let me see.’ She was frantic.

‘No need. Nothing to worry about. Hardly a mark.’ She pushed her gently out of the room and Joss found herself staring at the closed door.

Exhausted, defeated and cold she was suddenly too tired to argue. Walking slowly back into their bedroom she kicked off her wet shoes and began to unfasten her jeans. Running hot water into the huge old-fashioned bath she tipped in some bath oil and stood in front of the swiftly steaming mirror, slowly brushing her hair. How had Ned got bruised? Had she done it, when she pulled him out of the cot? It was quite possible. She had been in such a panic. Or had something else been near him. Something, or someone. Her knuckles whitened on the hairbrush. Putting it down she unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off. Then her bra. Her breasts were still heavy and blue veined; she surveyed them
miserably through the condensation before turning to bend over the bath, stirring the water with a hand which still tingled with cold.

Katherine

The sound had mingled with the rush of water in her head. For a moment she didn’t react. Then slowly, she turned off the taps. The skin of her back was crawling. Not looking round she groped behind her for the towel on the rail, her fingers flailing in the air till at last they connected with it. Grabbing it she pulled it off the rail and whisked it round her.

Katherine

It was louder this time, easy to hear above the drips from the taps. She backed away from the bath. Wraiths of steam hung in the air, condensing on the walls. The water was growing cooler already as she stood with her back to the wall.

Katherine

It was stronger again. No possibility of it being her imagination. She stared round wildly, clutching the towel round her breasts.

‘Joss? Can I come in?’ It was Luke’s voice that brought her out of her panic-stricken daze. She flung herself at the door and slid back the bolt.

‘Why on earth did you lock it?’ He had a couple of glasses with him. ‘Come on. I thought I’d talk to you while you have a soak. Lyn’s getting supper and Ned is fast asleep.’ He grinned at her then, as he noticed her white face his smile died. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ She shook her head. She was trying desperately to get a grip on herself. ‘Nothing’s the matter. I’m just much tireder and colder than I thought.’ She took the glass, sipping at the white wine gratefully. ‘Sit yourself down and talk to me.’

With him there she would be safe. Glancing round in spite of
herself, she dropped the towel and hopped into the bath, lowering herself with a groan into the steaming water.

‘Better?’ Luke was watching her carefully. He could see clearly the signs of strain and agitation. Closing the lid of the loo he sat down on it and leaned forward, elbows on knees, studying his wife. She was still very beautiful, her body already more or less recovered from the birth; the only sign was a wonderful voluptuousness of breasts and belly which he found a great turn on. Leaning forward he put a hand gently on her breast. ‘Nice.’

She smiled sleepily, submerging beneath the viscous bubbles, feeling the water and Luke’s presence comforting, reassuring. Closing her eyes she reached up to touch his hand. ‘You’re sure Ned was OK?’

‘He was OK.’ His voice was calm but he frowned suddenly. The bruises on Ned’s arm had definitely been the marks of fingers. ‘Here.’ He lifted her glass and passed it to her. ‘Drink.’ Slipping onto his knees beside the bath he pulled up his sleeve and putting his hand into the water he ran his fingers down and over and round her breasts, feeling the slipperiness of the bath oil on her skin, gently massaging and rubbing, sliding his hands on down over her belly.

She took a sip of wine, giving a quiet groan of pleasure. ‘Does it matter if we’re late for supper?’

He smiled. ‘Not in the least. Lyn is putting Tom to bed. I said you’d look in later and say good night, but we both know he’ll be asleep by then.’ His hand was still moving rhythmically over her breasts making little choppy waves in the bath water.