The Dream House (13 page)

The woman’s eyes squeezed closed as if against a wave of pain, and she gestured to the back of the hall.

‘Where are we? I need to say an address.’

‘Seddington House,’ the woman breathed, then grunted as another wave of pain engulfed her. Seddington, the sister parish to Fernley. Kate remembered suddenly where she’d seen this lady before – outside the church there last summer.

Kate found a light switch, though the soft glow of the chandelier in the sunset was no more effective than candlelight. She used an old telephone on a console table in a corner.
Miss Agnes Melton
. That was the name on a doctor’s appointment card lying by the phone.

The man on the 999 switchboard located the village of Seddington on his map and Kate answered his questions as best she could. She was told not to move the patient, but to keep her warm. Kate climbed the straight flight of stairs to find a blanket.

The galleried landing was carpeted, like the stairs, with a long Persian runner, bare boards on either side, and ran off in corridors to left and right. There was a door almost opposite the top of the stairs. Kate opened it and peered inside.

Right first time. Agnes Melton’s bedroom. Once more, furniture was squeezed in against all available wallspace. Pictures, mainly landscapes in oils or watercolour, filled in the gaps. The surfaces were covered with china ornaments, a dressing-table set, vases of dried flowers, a wash basin and ewer . . .

Kate turned her attention to the single bed. It was neatly made, and a woollen travel rug lay folded across the foot. She grabbed it, but as she turned to leave the room, she noticed a photograph on the chest of drawers by the door and froze in surprise. It was a formal portrait of an Edwardian lady in a lacy white dress, very young, very beautiful. Although, in the photographic style of the time, she was not smiling, she looked as though she very much wanted to. But her face. How could it be? Kate stared a moment more, her mind spinning. Then she hurried back down to the great panelled hall. Above the front door, a stained-glass rose window cast patches of sunset onto the carpet and the wall below.

‘Stupid fool that I am,’ murmured Miss Melton as Kate tucked the blanket around her. ‘Dropped my . . . special necklace alarm. In there.’ She nodded towards the half-open door of the library. ‘I needed pills – upstairs. Fell down. Broken my bally hip. Summers will be furious. Get me put in a home.’

‘Don’t talk, you’ll exhaust yourself. The ambulance will be here in a moment.’ Kate’s voice was soft. She lifted Agnes’s hand and began to stroke it. Gradually, the tension left the woman’s face and her eyelids fluttered closed. She must have been very lovely once, thought Kate, with her fine eyes, her small heart-shaped face, high cheekbones and forehead. Her hair, still abundant, was swept up into a French pleat, and her face was framed by the high collar of a pretty cream blouse.

As she sat and stroked the woman’s hand, the eyes opened again, the look was direct.

‘I know you, don’t I? Who are you?’ Agnes asked.

‘Kate Hutchinson. I’ve seen you at a distance, I think,’ Kate said, ‘but we’ve not met.’

‘Kate,’ she breathed. ‘No, I don’t know you. But you look like someone . . .’ Then, after a moment, ‘Talk to me, Please.’

‘Yes,’ Kate said, then felt tongue-tied. ‘It’ll be all right. I mean, the ambulance will be here in a minute.’ Then, seeing an irritated frown cross Agnes’s face she hurried on, ‘Yes, I – that is, we, my children and my husband, live in Fernley. The next village along.’ Don’t be stupid, Kate, Miss Melton would know Fernley. ‘We are living with my mother-in-law, Joyce Hutchinson. We’ve only been there since July. We’re looking for a house, but we haven’t found one yet.’ She stopped. I’m babbling now, she thought.

Agnes’s eyes were closed. ‘Go on,’ she whispered.

‘Daisy and Sam go to Fernley School. Daisy is six. She has wavy fair hair like Simon, my husband. She’s very good at reading and she likes animals. Sam’s dark and more like me – “a late developer”, Dad used to say . . . I’m sorry, I’m being very boring, talking about my family like this, and you in such pain. Is there anyone else I can ring for you?’

Agnes shook her head and gave a feeble gesture with her free hand. ‘Summers is away. Go on with what you’re telling me,’ she commanded.

Kate wondered who Summers could be and where the ambulance was. Should she ring again? She’d wait a moment or two. Her mind moved on, searching for a new subject.

‘Have you lived here long?’ she whispered. Agnes nodded once. ‘Since you were a child?’ Agnes nodded a second time.

‘It’s a beautiful house,’ Kate sighed. ‘It must have been heaven being brought up here.’ That was obviously a stupid thing to have said as Agnes’s eyes snapped open and her gaze was angry.

‘I’m sorry,’ Kate rushed on. ‘It’s just my family used to move about so much . . . I think I must ring again and see if the ambulance has got lost.’

She laid down Agnes’s hand and went to the phone. The man assured her that the ambulance was in the area and would be there in a moment.

Kate put the phone back in its cradle and tried to give Agnes a little more water. Then she went to draw back the bolts on the front door and turn the key in the lock. The door opened easily. Bobby was lying in the porch but sat up expectantly. ‘Stay there, good dog.’ He slumped down again with a moan. Kate looked out across the gravel drive. A hundred yards down, through a garden of trees and shrubs, two great gateposts rose out of the gloaming. The wrought-iron gates stood open. As she watched, an ambulance turned into the drive, blue light flashing. Bobby got to his feet and let out a volley of barks.

‘Shut up, Bobby.’ Kate hurried back in. ‘Miss Melton, it’s here, the ambulance.’ She crouched down again by the old lady’s side, suddenly feeling she didn’t want her to go away by herself in the ambulance.

Miss Melton seemed to sense this and gripped her hand. ‘Kate Hutchinson,’ she said in urgent tones and locked Kate in her stare. The ambulance pulled up in front of the door. Blue light strobed across the floor. ‘Kate. You must go home now . . . I’ll be all right. Come and see me, won’t you? Come and see me. Tell Summers that . . .’ Doors slammed, footsteps marched. Kate never heard what Miss Melton wanted her to say. Whilst the paramedics were busy, she found a bag and collected a few items for the old lady to take to the hospital. Up in the bedroom she glanced at the photograph again. Yes, the eyes that met hers could have been her own. It was almost like looking in a mirror.

After Miss Melton had been safely lifted into the ambulance and driven away – to the hospital near Great Yarmouth, one of the paramedics said – it was another hour before Kate was able to leave.

She had told them about the broken window and they said she should call the local police station, so she did and then rang Joyce to explain what had happened and to say she wouldn’t be home for a while.

‘Is Simon back? Perhaps he could come and fetch me,’ she added. But there was no sign of him yet, although it was a Friday and after nine. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll ask for a lift.’

She did her best to sweep up the glass in the old-fashioned kitchen, then went to the library where Miss Melton had been sitting to make sure the electrics were turned off. By her armchair, a single standard lamp was burning. Kate stared round at the walls of books that faded off into the darkness, guessing that there must be valuable editions tucked between the collections of nineteenth-century literature and the annals of local history she could make out on the nearer shelves. She picked up the book Miss Melton had been reading:
The Dead Secret
by Wilkie Collins, and closed it at the bookmark. Then she looked under the armchair and found the dropped alarm, a special necklace that should be worn all the time and pressed to summon help in an emergency just like this one. She sat down in the chair, suddenly tired and troubled.

Headlights swept the shelves and wheels crackled over the gravel. A security light flooded the concourse. Kate went out to see what was happening. A creaky old orange-and-white Volkswagen van swung in a half-circle and parked as if used to doing so every day. As she waited, a hand on Bobby’s collar, a tall rangy man in his mid-thirties with an unkempt mane of toffee-coloured hair jumped out, slammed the door, raised his arm to her in greeting and went round to open the rear door of the van. He pulled out a toolbox and walked over, smiling in an easy manner. She let go of Bobby, who trotted round the newcomer, sniffing interestedly at the paint on his jeans and sweater.

‘I’m Dan,’ the man said, putting out his hand and shaking Kate’s. ‘I work here sometimes. The constable rang me. Poor Miss Melton.’ He shook his head. ‘The very time her housekeeper has to go away. Lucky you were passing. How is she?’

Kate explained, all the while appreciating that he didn’t seem to question her presence there. Everyone seemed very accepting of the situation. In London there would have been hordes of police nosing about asking her questions.

‘Who is Summers?’ she asked. ‘Miss Melton mentioned that name.’

‘Marie Summers, the housekeeper. She’s in Ipswich tonight. Her sister’s sick.’

Kate took Dan through into the kitchen to show him the broken window. She watched as he fetched a piece of hardboard and some wood from an outhouse and nailed up the gap. He worked quickly and efficiently, without talking. Kate thought about Miss Melton, the pain she must be in. Was she on the operating table even now?

Dan was finished.

‘I’ll get some glass in the morning,’ he said. ‘Now, I’ll just set the alarm and then, if you’re happy, I’ll take you home.’

It was ten o’clock before the car pulled up outside Paradise Cottage.

‘Here.’ Kate scribbled Joyce’s telephone number with a stubby pencil Dan produced. ‘Please – let me know how Miss Melton is. I promised to visit her.’ She looked at Dan. ‘I so hope she’ll be all right.’

She and Bobby got out. She waved to Dan and went in through the gate. When she turned her key and opened the front door, she could hear the sounds of a furious argument.

‘Look, Mother, I don’t want to talk about it,’ Simon was shouting. ‘I’ve had a hell of a week and I just want Kate to come home and to sit down for a bit of peace and quiet.’ He looked up as Kate closed the front door and walked into the kitchen. ‘Oh, there you are. What the heck have you been up to?’

Kate flinched and tried to take in the scene. Simon, tired, grimy and still in his coat, had scraped back his chair and half-risen before slumping down again. She caught a brief glimpse of Joyce’s face, crumpled with misery, before her mother-in-law turned back to the sink and furiously started doing the washing-up.

‘What a welcome! What’s going on, Simon?’ Kate said gently, bending to kiss his cheek. He shrugged but rumpled her hair.

‘It’s my fault.’ Joyce turned round, her hands wet and her eyes full of tears. ‘I was intruding. Come on, dearie. I’ll make you a cup of tea. You must be done in. How is the poor lady? Simon was all for coming out to get you, but I said I thought you were being brought back. I hope I did right.’

Kate looked from mother to son and back again. She felt like crying herself, walking into this after all she’d been through already this evening.

‘It was fine,’ she said as calmly as she could. ‘A guy called Dan gave me a lift. I think he must be the handyman. Anyway, he’s going to find out how Miss Melton is in the morning. I’ll make the tea, Joyce, then I think I’d just like to have a hot bath and go to bed. Simon, do you mind? You look tired, too.’

Just then the phone rang. Joyce picked up the receiver. After a moment she passed it to Kate. ‘Your father. I told you he rang earlier, didn’t I? He rang again a couple of hours ago,’ she whispered.

Kate took the phone from her, wondering what could be wrong.

‘Kate? At last.’ Her father’s voice was high-pitched with relief. ‘Look, it’s about your mother. She’s all right now, thank God, but I’m afraid she has to stay in hospital for another of her little rests.’

‘Oh no, Dad, what’s happened? What’s going on? You didn’t tell me this was coming.’

‘We thought we had her drinking under control recently, but this time she took some old pills of mine. I was prescribed them last year when I had trouble sleeping. There weren’t many. We were lucky – the hospital washed her out. But she can’t come home for a bit. I thought you’d want to know.’

‘Dad, that’s terrible. Poor Mum. I’ll come right away.’

‘No.’ Major Carter’s word was instant and firm. ‘Wait a bit until she’s more herself. I don’t think she wants to see anyone at the moment. She won’t speak to me, even. She’s . . . she’s gone inside herself. Look, I’ll telephone you again when we’ve sorted her out a bit. Then you can come.’

‘But Dad, I ought to be there, surely?’

‘And you will be, but not right away. We need some time.’ His tone was sharp through the weariness. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, more softly.

So there she was, pushed away again. Kate put the phone down and stood there, deep in thought, the others watching her. Perhaps she could get in the car tomorrow morning and go? No, her father would be angry. He and her mother were just two people shut away against the rest of the world. Unfortunately, the rest of the world included their only daughter.

She explained in broken words what had happened.

‘Your poor mother. And your father. Oh darling, I’m so sorry.’ Simon hugged her.

‘Come on, dear, here’s your tea,’ said Joyce. ‘Let’s bring it through to the other room, shall we, where it’s comfortable. Then I’ll run a bath for you.’

‘Were the children all right?’

Joyce sighed. ‘Sam flooded the bathroom being silly with that crocodile your old nanny sent him. You know, I wonder whether a little slap occasionally wouldn’t do him any harm. It never seemed to have a bad effect on Simon.’

‘No,’ said Kate shortly.

Later, Simon and Kate climbed into bed and lay there in each other’s arms.

‘I hadn’t realized your mother had got so bad again,’ he said.

‘I wish we’d encouraged them to come and visit more. They’ve only been that once.’