Mistress of Greyladies (17 page)

The truck door was opened and a voice said, ‘Shall I help you out, miss?’

‘Thank you.’ She wriggled carefully down and turned to look at the house.

It was as if everything suddenly started to move more slowly, as if every little detail of the scene was taking time to impress itself on her.

It was a beautiful old house. She’d never seen anywhere as lovely in her whole life. Grey stone walls, grey stone tiles on the steep roof and gables. Above the front door was a stained glass window. Though she couldn’t make out the scene depicted in the window very clearly, she loved the way the window seemed to be casting subdued jewelled tones over the puddles lying on the path.

She took a step forward, then another, not waiting for Corin, unable to resist the sudden compulsion to go inside.

Harriet suddenly broke off mid sentence, frowned and stood up from the table. ‘I have to go to the front door.’

She didn’t know why, just knew she had to do this. She didn’t even wait for Joseph’s reply or finish answering a question from Jody, but walked through the old oak door and into the entrance hall of the new part of the house.

She was vaguely aware of other people moving about the hall, but her attention was focused on the front door. She didn’t stop to greet anyone, just walked straight towards it.

Before she even reached the door, it swung open and she stopped in surprise. There was no one near enough to open it and the person standing outside was too far away to have done so. She gasped, reminded of the time she’d first come to Greyladies. The door had swung open to her then without human help.

Was this … could it be something Anne Latimer’s ghost was doing? Was another lady about to take over here? She’d felt for a while that her own days at Greyladies were numbered, but not known how the changes would happen. It had made her sad, but seemed inevitable, given Joseph’s family situation.

She stayed where she was, about three paces away from the entrance, waiting for she knew not what. It had stopped raining and the figure standing outside was haloed by sunlight, which glinted off the puddles. It was hard to make out any details except that it was a woman. Well, of course it was. Another lady to care for the old house.

Phoebe began walking towards the grey-stone house, drawn by something, she couldn’t have said what. She only knew that she
had to
go inside it and must do so on her own. She wasn’t in the least afraid. How could you be in such a beautiful place?

She felt as if she knew this house, even though she’d never been here before. It was like coming home, reaching not only a place of safety, but somewhere filled with warmth and happiness, finding a family even. Which was a wonderful feeling for someone who no longer had any close relatives to care about her, and who missed her mother dreadfully.

Still feeling as if everything was happening slowly, she walked up the shallow stone steps. The door swung open before she reached it, and she paused, but though a woman was standing staring at her, she didn’t move to greet her.

That didn’t matter. Something was urging her on, so Phoebe walked inside. She stopped for a moment to look round the huge entrance hall, marvelling at how lovely it was, with its panelled walls and the elegant staircase at the rear.

Before she moved on she looked to the left and saw that the woman was still standing watching her, smiling now as if glad to see her.

How she knew this person had come to greet her, she
couldn’t have said. It was all part of the strangeness of this moment. She wanted very much to speak to the woman, but she had to do something else first. It was important, seemed to be the most important thing she’d ever done in her life.

A movement near the top of the stairs caught her attention and she looked up to see a faint light shining there. It grew brighter by the minute until she could see the outline of another woman. This person had come to welcome her to Greyladies, she knew that instinctively.

As she crossed the hall, people fell back before her. She sensed that vaguely but couldn’t speak a word of thanks. Happiness began to well up inside her as she mounted the stairs, not hurrying, no need for that. There was all the time in the world and this must be done properly, with measured steps and a loving heart.

Once she reached the landing she stopped, puzzled. The lady waiting for her was wearing strange, old-fashioned clothing, all grey and white.

It was a costume from the Tudor age, Phoebe decided. She remembered seeing one like it in a book at school. The long grey skirt was topped by a grey bodice, which ended in a point in front below the waist. The low, square neckline was filled by a white lawn and lace insert. Full sleeves opened out over softly ballooning white undersleeves, the latter gathered at the wrist, with a frill edged in lace.

The lady’s hair was parted in the middle and drawn back under a headdress like a stiffened half-moon of grey velvet. From the back of this crescent, silky grey material hung down past her shoulders. She was holding up the folds of her skirt with one slender, graceful hand and her toe, in a pointed shoe, peeped from beneath the heavy
floor-length folds, as if she was about to dance.

As Phoebe stared, entranced by this delightful vision, the lady stared solemnly back, then smiled and gave a slight curtsey which seemed to be a way of greeting her. Phoebe inclined her head in return.

Words whispered across to her, blurred by an echo. ‘Welcome to Greyladies, my dear Phoebe. May you be very happy here.’

‘Thank you.’ The lady looked wise, not old but not young either. She was beautiful, but in a gentle, rather than a showy way. No, it wasn’t her face that was beautiful, Phoebe decided – it was her expression and the soul that lit those glorious eyes. She looked as if she loved everyone and wanted to help them.

The light began to shimmer and fade. The lady became transparent against the oak panelling.

‘Don’t go!’ Phoebe called.

‘I’ll visit you again.’

The vision shimmered into a drift of sparks, then nothing, and Phoebe was left standing alone, feeling bereft. She caught her breath. It hadn’t been her imagination; she’d been speaking to a ghost. And she hadn’t been in the least afraid, nor had she doubted that this was real.

As she turned, dizziness swept through her, but she felt an arm go round her shoulders and someone led her across to an old wooden settle on the landing. The person helped her to sit down and after a few seconds her head began to steady.

But the wonder stayed with her, and the sense of welcome.

She had come home.

Harriet caught her breath as she watched the young woman walk slowly across the hall. People turned to watch, then turned away again, as if nothing of interest was happening. Some moved out of the way, but no one tried to stop the stranger, thank goodness.

A man came through the front door and looked round, searching for someone. When he saw the newcomer, he stood watching her, with a worried expression.

Harriet went up to him. ‘It’s all right. Let your friend do this. It’s important.’

He frowned and opened his mouth, but she held up one hand. ‘I know exactly what’s happening. It happened to me once. Please leave me to deal with it. She’ll be quite all right, I promise you.’

She crossed the hall in her turn, to stand at the foot of the stairs, watching Anne Latimer curtsey to the newcomer. She didn’t know the young woman’s name, but she
knew
her, oh, she did.

Sensing that now was the time to join them, she too began to walk up towards the landing.

She arrived in time to see the vision start to fade and as Anne Latimer left them, Harriet moved quickly forward to support the stranger, who was swaying dizzily. ‘Come and sit down for a moment. You’ll be feeling a trifle disoriented.’

She’d worried how to find the right person to look after the house, because she’d understood since the beginning of the war that her time here was nearly over. It was all so obvious. And here was her successor, the next chatelaine of Greyladies, come to join them.

The stranger had richly auburn hair and a face that bore a distinct resemblance to Harriet’s own. To Anne Latimer’s
as well. She was undoubtedly a family member.

‘Welcome to Greyladies,’ Harriet said, once she was sure the newcomer had recovered.

‘That’s what
she
said.’

‘Of course she did. We’ve been waiting for you.’

‘How could you be? I only found out today that I was coming here.’

‘You realise that you were seeing a ghost?’

‘Yes.’

‘She’s called Anne Latimer and she built the original house, the one behind this new part. You and I are her descendants.’

‘But you don’t even know who I am.’

‘I can tell that you’re one of the family.’

‘I’m Phoebe Sinclair. My mother’s maiden name was Latimer, though.’ She looked round with an expression of wonder. ‘This house is beautiful.’

‘Yes. Anne founded it and still seems to guard it. I’m Harriet Latimer, by the way.’

‘You look a bit like my mother. She had the same colour of hair. Mine’s darker.’

There were footsteps on the stairs and they looked round to see Corin hesitating near the top.

‘Are you all right, Phoebe?’

She smiled at him radiantly. ‘Oh, yes. I don’t think I’ve felt as right as this for years. Did you see her?’

‘Who?’

‘The ghost.’

He pursed his lips for a moment, then admitted, ‘I saw a light that didn’t seem to come from anywhere specific, if that’s what you mean. Then it faded.’

The two women exchanged glances, already drawn together by what they’d seen.

‘Not many even see a light,’ Harriet murmured. ‘Your friend must be a good man.’

She stood up and held out her hand to pull Phoebe to her feet. ‘Welcome to Greyladies, both of you. Why don’t you both come down and have a cup of tea with me and my husband.’

She laughed, breaking the tension. ‘We always seem to offer tea when someone needs bracing, don’t we?’

‘It’s very comforting.’

A strident voice interrupted them. ‘What are
you
doing up here, Mrs Latimer? You should return to your own quarters and not get in the way of people who have important
work
to do. I don’t think the new occupants will want you wandering about at will, getting under their feet.’

An older woman dressed in a matron’s uniform came towards them. She was wearing a tall, winged headdress, which exaggerated the jerky movements of her head. Her face bore a sour, pinched expression.

‘And workmen are
not
allowed to come in by the front entrance,’ she said sharply to Corin. ‘Who let
you
into the house?’

He stiffened and said in his impeccable upper-class accent, ‘Actually, madam, I’m not a workman. I’m Major McMinty, come to take over here.’

The woman had opened her mouth to say something else, no doubt equally disagreeable, but this remark stopped her dead. Mouth still open, she gaped at him. ‘
You’re
Major McMinty?’

‘Yes. And this is Miss Sinclair, who will also be working here.’

She turned to stare doubtfully at Phoebe. ‘Are you a nurse?’

Corin answered for her. ‘Her position is nothing that need concern you.’ He turned to Harriet. ‘We’d be delighted to accept your offer of a cup of tea, Mrs Latimer. We don’t want to get in the way of Matron’s preparations for departure, do we?’

‘I’m not leaving till tomorrow morning, Major.’

A voice called, ‘Corin, old fellow, what on earth are you doing in those clothes?’ Dr Somers joined them on the landing, looking from one to the other, assessing the situation. ‘I’ll deal with this, Matron. You have your own packing to finish.’

‘But I—’

His voice grew chill. ‘Matron, your responsibilities here have ended. It’s for others to manage what happens from now on.’

She glared at them, swung on her heels and walked away.

Once she’d gone, he smiled at them. ‘I apologise for letting her get to you before I did. What a poor welcome! She’s a dreadful woman. They call her the Dragon, for obvious reasons. But she’ll be gone tomorrow morning early. Don’t let her order you around in the meantime. Her jurisdiction here ends when the last patient leaves, which will be within the hour.’

‘I’ve been offering our new friends a cup of tea,’ Harriet said. ‘Will you join us, Dr Somers?’

‘Delighted to.’

Phoebe still felt as if she could only move slowly. She stared down into the hall as she started down the stairs.

‘Are you all right?’ Corin asked.

‘I feel strange, and yet happy.’

‘I only saw a light. What did you see?’

‘A woman in Tudor costume. Harriet said she was Anne Latimer, the founder of Greyladies. Isn’t it strange? My mother was a Latimer and I seem to have come to my family’s original home quite by accident.’

She was frowning as she went across the hall and stopped by the door to the old part, muttering, ‘Or was it by accident? Perhaps I was meant to come here. Oh, sorry, Corin. I’m holding you up, aren’t I?’

But she had to stop to stroke the ancient wooden door between the two halves of the building. It was such a wonderful old thing. She felt someone’s eyes on her and looked up to the landing, seeing Matron glaring down at them. Poor woman. So full of hatred even a stranger could sense it.

‘Oh, my goodness! This is wonderful!’ Phoebe stopped again just inside the old part of the building to marvel at the former medieval hall.

Two children ran across to join them, hugging their mother, and a man followed them, a man with a striking, intelligent face who limped very badly. By the way Harriet’s face lit up at the sight of him and the children, these people were her family. Phoebe envied her that. She stole a quick glance at Corin. Perhaps one day …

They sat down to tea and small cakes brought by a smiling maid, who took the children away with her to help bake some more cakes. Phoebe heard Harriet murmur to Joseph, ‘This is my successor.’

He looked startled, then took hold of her hand, as if to comfort her, while he studied Phoebe more closely. ‘She could be your sister.’

As they continued to chat, Phoebe noticed that Dr Somers
seemed quite at home here. He seemed a very pleasant man, and she was sorry that he was leaving the following day.

‘When are your people coming, McMinty?’ Joseph Latimer asked.

‘My new adjutant arrives tomorrow. I’ve not met him yet. Apparently, he’s very capable. The convalescent patients won’t come until he thinks everything is ready for them.’

‘All we’ve been told is that they’ll be people considered to be enemy aliens, who are not in fact enemies of our country,’ Joseph said.

‘Yes. People with skills and knowledge useful to the War Office and government. It’ll be my job to settle them in, then someone else will take over at Greyladies.’ He looked across at Harriet and Joseph. ‘We’re hoping you’ll help the people in the village to understand that these people aren’t enemies, so that they can go for walks and generally live as normal a life as possible, though of course they must stay in the district.’