Beneath the Shadows (10 page)

Meredith had stopped eating to listen, as Grace trailed off. Had a new baby and their return to the cottage triggered unpleasant memories for Adam? He had been so in love with Millie from the first moment he held her. But he must have wished that his mother could have seen her grandchild. And he surely would have dwelled on what it meant to him to be a dad, having never known his real father, and feeling ultimately betrayed by the man who had taken on the role instead. What were his deepest feelings about fatherhood? Where might they have driven him to?

Grace put her knife and fork down, her pulse beginning to race. She picked up a napkin to wipe Millie's hands, trying to hide her distress, when Meredith set her cutlery down on her empty plate, placed her arms on the table, leaned forward and said, ‘Actually, Grace, there's something I want to talk to you about.'

Grace stopped what she was doing, wary of Meredith's purposeful tone.

‘I'd like to buy Hawthorn Cottage.'

‘Oh,' Grace answered, astonished. She let go of Millie's hands and sat back. ‘The thing is, I can't sell it right now, even if I wanted to. Adam put it in joint names, so there are legal issues while he is missing …'

‘I suspected that might be the case,' Meredith said, without missing a beat. ‘But if you're interested in my proposition, my son-in-law Stephen is a solicitor – I can ask him to look into it further, see if there's anything you can do. I'd be happy to make some sort of arrangement. Perhaps rent it now, with a view to buying it in future.'

Grace had been caught completely off-guard. As Meredith held her gaze, she wondered if these meals had been nothing more than buttering her up. She'd thought that Meredith was being friendly, but perhaps there had always been more to it.

‘Why would you want to do that?' she asked.

‘Well, I'd like to sell this place eventually. None of my girls want to live here, and it'll be too big for me to manage on my own as I get older. I'd enjoy a bit of travelling with the extra money, but I've lived in this village all my life – I want to stay put. Hawthorn Cottage would be just right for me. I could sublet it until I'm ready to move in myself.'

This seemed an entirely reasonable explanation, but Grace still didn't want to be rushed into any promises she might regret. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I'm not sure what I want to do yet …' she said. ‘Let me think about it.'

There was an awkward lull in conversation, as Meredith got up without a word and began collecting their plates. She disappeared through to the kitchen, and Grace waited
uneasily for her to come back. A moment later, Meredith returned with a large bowl of trifle. She sat down and began to ladle a portion into a bowl, her spoon repeatedly striking the china with a harsh clang. ‘I'm sorry, Grace, I didn't mean to put you in a difficult position. Perhaps I shouldn't have brought it up. I had imagined you wouldn't want to stay around – I thought I might be doing you a favour … maybe I presumed a bit too much. But think about what I've said, won't you, and let me know if you'd like to discuss it further.'

‘Thank you,' Grace replied, accepting the bowl of dessert that Meredith held out to her. ‘You took me by surprise, but I'll certainly consider it.'

‘Right, then.' Meredith was all brisk and businesslike now. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?'

As they finished their meal, Meredith's interest in Hawthorn Cottage hung in the air between them. Grace felt wrong-footed, all too aware that she was alone in this big old house with only this austere woman and a resident ghost for company. Meanwhile, Meredith kept up a steady stream of conversation about local concerns: the extension of the railway line, the ridiculous price of oil heating, her fight with the council to get the one streetlight in the village working again. Grace half-listened as she turned Meredith's words over in her mind.

Millie had been set down from her high chair, and for a time she sat on the floor playing with her toys contentedly, but as the evening drew on she began to cling to her mother's legs more and more, yawning and grizzling.

‘I think I should get her to bed soon.' Grace set down her empty cup. ‘Can I help you clear up?'

‘No need,' Meredith said. ‘It was nice to have the company.'

Grace collected the toys together and lifted Millie onto her hip. She felt she should reciprocate Meredith's generosity with a meal invitation, but her culinary skills were nowhere near as good, and anyway the kitchen was out of action at the moment.

Meredith showed them to the door and held out a hand. ‘Thank you for coming, Grace. And remember to consider my offer, won't you?'

‘I will,' Grace assured her. She walked to the car, put Millie in her seat and clicked the buckles together, then had to spray the windscreen with de-icer before she could start the engine. While she did all this, Meredith stood motionless in the doorway, her body backlit by the lights behind her so that all Grace could see was her silhouette. As Grace began to reverse, she waved, but Meredith didn't move before they drove out of sight.

On Saturday morning, Ben arrived at the front door, toolbox in hand, to clear up the final debris from knocking down the wall. The last couple of days had been difficult for Grace – Millie wasn't napping well and so she had got little done. She was glad to have made a start on the work, but now looked forward to the break for Christmas. Besides, she missed the kitchen. She'd eaten packet noodles for two nights in a row, and was desperate to cook herself a meal.

Meredith's offer kept running through her mind, although she had made it without knowing of the renovations underway. Perhaps it wouldn't stand now anyway. But what if it did? In that case, did Grace really need to be here, resurrecting the past?

She had had a restless night last night. No demonic dogs had appeared to her, but instead, she had dreamed of Adam. He was trying to tell her something, his face frantic,
sometimes with worry, sometimes with fear. He looked to be shouting the words, but there was only silence. At one stage he had raised his arms and Grace had seen that he was behind thick glass as he banged his hands on it, over and over.

She had woken numb with cold, to a darkness so absolute that she couldn't see her fingers held an inch from her face. For a moment it felt as though she no longer existed at all. Shaking, she fumbled frantically for the bedside light switch. The room lit up. Everything in place, at rest.

She had taken long, deep breaths, and when she felt calmer had picked up
Rebecca.
Soon she was engrossed, getting through almost a hundred pages before she fell asleep again. In her dreams, for a while she lay among bluebells, with a cocker spaniel running through the meadow. But then she was no longer amid flowers but on bare brown earth, and she had scrambled up to see Meredith's schoolhouse towering above her, windows blazing with light. Shivering uncontrollably from the freezing night air, she rushed towards the brightness and warmth, peeping through a large window to find a dance taking place – couples whirling, a blur of colour – and while she stood there, a woman to one side in a white dress, hat in hand, turned slowly towards the window, caught Grace's eye, and her mouth opened in the stretched O of a scream.

Grace had woken up sweating this time, still clasping the book. She had thrown it onto the floor and scrambled out of bed, swatting at lights and going to splash water on her face. She had registered herself in the mirror, but looked away before she could catch her own reflected eye.

‘Grace?
Grace?
Are you all right?'

Ben was speaking to her, his voice drawing her from her distraction. He put down his toolbox and reached out, gently touching her hand. Grace looked at him, and they were still for a second, their eyes locked, before Ben dropped his hand and picked up his toolbox again, waiting expectantly.

It took Grace a moment longer to recover. She took a breath. ‘Yes, of course. Come on in,' she said, and made way for him.

 

Half an hour later, Grace heard the crunch of gravel as she was tidying upstairs while Millie napped. She peered out of the window and saw Annabel climbing from her car, no doubting the city girl from her sparkling knit top and jeans teamed with knee-high boots. Ben was downstairs somewhere, pottering about clearing up and doing some preliminary work on the fireplace. She ran down to the front door to make introductions, and got there in time to see Annabel stop halfway along the path, dragging an enormous suitcase, her mouth dropping as Ben opened the door ahead of Grace, carrying a bag of rubbish.

‘Annabel, this is Ben …' Grace said behind him.

Annabel glanced towards her sister, her face full of wry amusement.

‘He's helping with the renovations, remember?'

‘Ah.' Annabel grinned. ‘I do remember, Grace,' she said, looking at Ben and offering him her hand. ‘It's very nice to meet you.'

Annabel's flirtations were never subtle, and Grace watched on with resignation as Ben took hold of her slender fingers. ‘Same here.' He smiled civilly. ‘Would you like me to take that for you?' He motioned towards her case.

‘Yes please!' Annabel looked delighted.

As soon as he'd gone, Annabel came close to Grace and said in an undertone, ‘You didn't tell me he was so good-looking. Finally, this place has something to recommend it. I might have to buy myself some shiny new wellies and come and visit more often.'

Grace rolled her eyes at her sister's back as she followed her inside. Annabel claimed she didn't have time for romance while she focused on her career, but she had no qualms where flirting was concerned. Her friend James regularly joked that it was Annabel's favourite sport. At the thought of James, Grace felt guilty. She hadn't even let him know that she was back in Yorkshire. She knew she was putting it off, in case he questioned what she was doing there. The problem was, he knew her too well.

While in the hallway, she heard Millie beginning to stir. She went to collect her daughter, finding her yawning and needing her nappy changed. By the time they got back downstairs, Annabel was curled up on the sheet-covered sofa, steaming mug cradled in her hands, observing Ben as he worked by the fireplace.

‘I was just asking Ben about his Christmas plans,' Annabel said as she spied Grace. ‘And he hasn't got any, as it turns out. So I've invited him to join us – the more the merrier, right?'

As Ben faced them, Grace saw that his cheeks were slightly flushed. ‘Look,' he began, ‘I hadn't actually –'

‘Ben, it's fine,' Annabel chided, ‘it's the least Grace can do when you've spent all week working on the cottage. Come on, I promise us Taylor girls know how to have a good time – don't we, Grace?'

‘Of course,' Grace agreed. ‘Annabel's right, you're very welcome to join us.'

‘In fact we'll be completely offended if you don't,' Annabel added cheerfully.

Ben looked unsure, but said, ‘In that case, thanks,' and moved back to the fireplace, continuing to take measurements. Millie struggled out of Grace's arms and crawled over to Ben, putting her hands on his knee and pulling herself up to inspect what he was doing. Ben turned to her and smiled, and she gave a shy smile back.

Grace watched them, wondering what it was about Ben that Millie found so intriguing.

‘I thought that thing was supposed to have wound down by now?' Annabel was looking beyond the living-room doorway towards the grandfather clock.

Grace frowned. ‘Actually, you're right, it should have. I thought it had stopped last weekend, but it started again, and I think it's been going ever since.'

‘Did you want to let it wind down?' Ben sounded apologetic. ‘I'm sorry, I didn't realise. It stopped on Wednesday while I was here, so I wound it up again for you.'

‘It doesn't matter.' Grace was just relieved that there was a rational, ordinary explanation. What has got in to you? she scolded herself. You didn't believe in ghosts before, there's no reason to start now.

Then her focus shifted to her sister, as Annabel cried,
‘Guess what, Grace, I've got some great news.' She nearly spilled her tea as she bounced up and down on the sofa. ‘I pitched a piece about living with ghosts to my editor, and she loved it! So I'll be able to do some research while I'm here for Christmas!'

‘Oh, right.' Grace was unable to match her sister's vivacity. ‘When did you decide to do that?'

‘On the drive back from here. I couldn't stop thinking about what Meredith and Claire said. I can't believe they're so glib about living with a ghost! If there really is a ghost in the house, of course. Perhaps they're fibbing and that's why they don't care. But, whatever, readers will lap it up, it will make a great story. I'm going to try to persuade them to talk to me, and see what else I can uncover of the local spirit population. I can see the piece now, all moody black and white photographs. I haven't quite got the angle yet, but it'll come.'

Grace had kept her eye on Ben and Millie as Annabel talked. He was holding a tape measure along one side of the mantelpiece, but he wasn't moving, and she was sure he was listening to them.

Annabel hadn't noticed. ‘I'm actually quite excited about it. Who would have believed that a bit of frosty old countryside would fire up my imagination!'

‘Yes, it's great,' Grace agreed, trying to be supportive. Then a thought came to her. She went across to the boxes, rummaged around and returned with a book.

‘Adam's grandmother wrote this.' She passed it over. ‘I've been meaning to rescue it from my charity pile – it should help you with the piece.'

‘Wow,
Ghosts of the Moors
. This is perfect,' Annabel said as she began flicking through it.

Grace knelt down on the floor beside Millie. She spent a few moments showing her daughter how to stack her blocks to make different shapes. In the silence, Ben kept his back to them, ostensibly making notes, but Grace wasn't convinced.

Annabel continued leafing through the book with interest. ‘Looks like most of my research has been done for me. God bless you, Granny Lockwood,' she cried, waving the book in the air as though Connie were floating above them in the room.

‘Are you related to Adam Lockwood, by any chance?'

Both Grace and Annabel looked at Ben in astonishment. He had got to his feet. His brow was furrowed, his eyes full of interest.

‘Yes,' Grace replied. She took a breath, summoning up the courage it took to explain. ‘Adam was – is – my husband. He went missing this time last year, just after we'd moved in here. I've come back to sort through his grandparents' belongings, decide what to do next with the cottage …'

Ben's eyes were wide as he listened, his mouth agape. He seemed lost for words. Grace felt herself flushing under his stare.

‘Did you know Adam?' Annabel asked.

The question drew him out of his stupor. He blinked rapidly and shook his head as he answered, ‘No, not really, but I know the name.'

‘It made the news last year,' Annabel said. ‘When he disappeared.'

‘I didn't see that. I've lived in Australia for a long time. But I grew up not far away.'

‘Australia – fantastic!' Annabel exclaimed. ‘So what the hell are you doing here?'

Ben didn't reply. He and Grace were staring at one another. Grace was full of questions; while it appeared as though Ben were seeing her in a completely new light – and she wasn't sure whether she liked it. He broke away first, picking up his notepad and tape. ‘I've got what I need. I'll leave you both to it.'

As he headed for the door, Annabel followed him. ‘Hang on a moment, Ben. If you know the area, can you take me out one day on a ghost hunt?'

Grace expected him to decline, but he answered, ‘If you like.'

‘Great! I'll pop by later and we can plan a trip.' Annabel looked at her sister and winked. ‘You don't mind, do you, Grace? I won't distract him for long.'

Ben was already in the hallway, and Grace was glad that he couldn't see her face as she replied, ‘Of course not.'