Laura Possessed (13 page)

‘Actually it doesn't. I'd rather she saw him than Lewis.'

‘But why? I thought you liked Castleton?'

She
drew a long, tremulous breath. ‘I do, but frankly these daily visits are beginning to be a bit much. The house isn't our own any more. I can't relax. You know how I often have my bath about nine o'clock and come downstairs in my housecoat? I can hardly do that when he's liable to walk in at any minute!' She was not even aware of the irony of her complaint.

‘I don't see why not,' Edward returned reasonably. ‘It's not you he's coming to see. And anyway there's nothing wrong with your housecoat. As a matter of fact, I'm more concerned about you than about Laura at the moment. You're very tense, aren't you? Is she really getting you down to that extent?'

Her eyes strayed out of the window in time to see Lewis's dark head bent close to Laura's over a scrapbook. ‘Yes!' she said tightly.

He sighed. ‘I'm sorry, dear. I suppose I should have realized. Never mind, as soon as she's finished writing, she can go to Richard or Toby for a while. She could even type out the manuscript with them and give you a break.' He paused. ‘Surely she's not all that much trouble though? She seems to spend most of her time in her room anyway. Why don't you put her out of your head occasionally and carry on as you did before she came? Phone Val or Philippa for a game of bridge or something.'

‘The panacea to all ills!'

‘You
don't seem prepared to make any effort to help yourself.' Edward, losing interest, picked up his paper again.

She stood up. ‘I'm going for a bath. Perhaps that will help me to relax.'

‘And to hell with Lewis?'

‘Exactly!'

She stayed in the bathroom a long time, creaming and massaging her face, giving herself a manicure and finally settling down with a magazine in the hot, scented water. But though the physical strain slowly eased away, her mind was still locked on Lewis. When would he ask her to the cottage again? Had that unguarded mention of love given him second thoughts after all about the wisdom of continuing their association? It may well be, because if he really wanted to see her, surely he could spare a little time from the hours he spent here with Laura. Perhaps, she thought suddenly, the house itself was the magnet rather than Laura. What had he said about that girl wanting to hear about it? ‘Perhaps because it was so much a part of me.' And that awoke another, less unpleasant echo in her mind. On the night he had been to dinner he had said about the ‘ghost child': ‘It's rather nice to think there's still a part of me here.'

Caroline shivered suddenly, reached for the voluminous towel and stepped quickly out of the bath. She had schooled herself to forget all that nonsense. When they'd told Richard
about
it a fortnight ago, she had been almost frightened and she didn't intend to let it get hold of her again.

She stretched up to open the window. It was dark outside, the pulsating purple of summer night, star-sprinkled. Laura and Lewis must have come in by now. Caroline unlocked the door and had started back towards her bedroom when she stopped abruptly, her breath clogging in her throat. From behind Laura's closed door came the sound of low voices. With her heart hammering high in her breast, she moved a little closer in time to hear Lewis's voice say quietly, ‘Do you think you can understand how much it means to me?' and Laura's whispered reply, ‘Of course I do!'

He couldn't—he wouldn't dare! Scarcely aware of what she was doing, Caroline caught hold of the handle and wrenched the door open, rocking it violently back on its hinges. Laura's startled eyes flew to her face. She was sitting up in bed hugging her knees and on the table beside her was the cassette recorder. She leant over and switched it off, her eyes never leaving Caroline's. Then she said quietly, ‘Did you think he was here with me?'

Caroline's harsh breathing hurt her chest and rasped in her throat. ‘I'm sorry,' she said at length. ‘I'd no right. Good night.'

Laura's eyes, unreadable, were still steadily on her face. ‘Good night, Caroline.'

It was two days later that Paul Denver
phoned,
and after a lot of low-voiced talk Laura eventually agreed to spend his free afternoon with him.

Caroline watched her go from the bedroom window. The temptation that had been with her ever since she burst into Laura's room could no longer be denied. Moving like a robot, trying not to think what she was doing, she crossed the landing to Laura's room, opened the door softly and closed it behind her.

The cassette recorder still lay on the bedside table. Caroline's mouth was dry. She sat on the bed and switched it on. Laura's voice, loud in the listening room, said clearly, ‘. . . the ormolu clock.' Quickly Caroline turned down the volume. There was a pause while the tape went on turning, then Lewis's voice, jerky and strange: ‘How did you know about that?' ‘About what?' ‘The ormolu clock, for God's sake!' ‘I—I don't know. You must have told me.' ‘I know for a fact that I didn't. There was only one person I told about that clock.'

Caroline leant forward anxiously, afraid the tape had broken in some way, but it was still winding on in another long silence. At last Lewis's voice came again, making her jump. ‘You know exactly what happened, don't you? That bloody crystal ball or whatever it is tells you everything about me!'

Caroline was gazing at the revolving
cassette
without breathing. Make it stop! she thought. I've heard more than enough! But she made no move to switch it off. She heard Laura start to reply and then suddenly, terrifyingly, a new voice cut in, a girl's voice which, in the initial moment of shock, reminded her in some way of Fenella Gray's.

‘What are you trying to prove?' it demanded furiously. ‘This is no concern of yours!' As though pulled by strings, Caroline rose from the bed, staring down at the machine in fascinated horror. ‘Leave us alone, for God's sake, and be content with your husband!'

Caroline clasped her hands over her ears, her glazed eyes still on the suddenly hostile machine. Of its own accord the tape came to a sudden halt. Released at the same moment from her paralysis, Caroline rushed out of the room, down the stairs, out of the open French windows and across the garden, where she flung herself down under Lewis and Laura's tree and gave herself up to the terrified, tearless sobs that racked her shaking body.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Caroline had been badly frightened by her experience with the tape, but gradually, as panic receded, she convinced herself that there must be a logical explanation. The fact that the
words
had seemed directed specifically at her was due to her own guilty conscience. It was the voice itself she couldn't explain—she hadn't known Lewis and Laura had met elsewhere with the tape, but they obviously must have done. ‘Leave us alone,' it had said. Could it have been speaking to Laura? But she had no husband to be content with.

It was about a week later, when Laura had again given in to Paul's persistent invitation, that a ring at the doorbell roused Caroline from her sun-drenched dozing on the terrace.

Since it was Mrs. Baines's day off, there was no help but to answer it herself. She thrust bare feet into thonged sandals and went through the hall to the door. Lewis was standing there, and at the sight of him a wave of weakness flooded over her and she put a hand on the lintel for support.

‘Hello, Lewis.'

‘Good afternoon. I've brought a few photos that Laura wanted.'

‘I'm afraid she isn't in.' She paused, her eyes on him. ‘In fact, no one is, except me.'

His eyes held hers and she watched them change, become aware of her.

‘How very fortunate,' he said softly.

‘Would you—like to come in?'

‘I should indeed.'

She stepped aside, trembling as he brushed past her into the hall. Now that at last she was alone with him, she was flustered, unsure of
herself.

‘I was sunbathing.'

‘So I see.' He followed her as she led the way into the sitting-room.

‘Can I get you a cold drink?'

‘No, thank you.'

She hesitated, searching for something to say, and he gave a low laugh. ‘Come here!'

She lifted her head to meet his eyes but made no move towards him.

‘Defiance?' He smiled. ‘Then the mountain will come to Mohammed!' With a quick stride he reached her, his hands moving over her bare back and shoulders, his mouth closing on hers as she strained feverishly against him.

‘God!' he said shakily. ‘It's been a long time—too long. I can't imagine why I—' He broke off and turned his head sharply.

‘What's the matter?' Her lips moved caressingly over his cheekbone and jaw.

‘I thought I heard something.'

‘There's no one here, I assure you. Oh, Lewis!'

His mouth came back to hers, but a moment later he broke away again.

‘Darling, what
is
it?'

‘I'm not sure.' He gave a short laugh. ‘You know, I always have the most damnable feeling in this house that someone is watching my every move. You don't go in for two-way mirrors, I presume?'

‘That wasn't one of the mod cons we put in,
no.
But if you'd prefer it, we could go upstairs?' That, surely, was what he was angling for?

‘An excellent solution! Clever Caroline!' He caught hold of her hand and they went together up the wide staircase. Around them the old house lay passive, listening. On the landing a board creaked suddenly and Lewis stopped, his hand tightening on hers.

‘Look, on second thought we might be taking rather a risk.'

‘Nonsense!' she said quickly. ‘Laura's out with Paul and it's Mrs. Baines's half-day. No one will be back for hours. Relax, darling!'

She slipped her hand from his and pushed open the bedroom door. A trembling impatience took hold of her as she bent to fold back the counterpane.

‘Oh, Lewis, I was really beginning to wonder—'

Suddenly aware that he hadn't followed her, she turned quickly. He was standing in the doorway, a strange, embarrassed expression on his face.

‘Caroline—' His eyes fell away from hers. ‘Look, I know it seems ridiculous, but—I can't. Not here.'

‘What on earth are you talking about?' Her voice was unbecomingly shrill.

‘I don't know what the hell it is, but this house inhibits me. The clinging strands of my childhood, perhaps.'

‘But,
Lewis, it's the first chance we've had for ages!' She had no pride left, only her desperate need of him.

‘Do you think I don't know?' His voice was jagged. ‘God, I want it too, you know that. But not here.' He gave a helpless shrug. ‘Sweetheart, I'm really terribly sorry—'

‘Think nothing of it.' She turned and walked to the window, hugging herself tightly with both arms to stay the trembling.

‘I'd take you back to the cottage with me now, but I'm on my way to an appointment. I had half an hour in hand, that was all.'

‘I said it doesn't matter.'

There was a brief, taut silence, then he said awkwardly, ‘Perhaps you'd like me to go, then.'

‘Please.'

He waited but she didn't turn, didn't even move, and a moment later she heard his footsteps going back down the stairs. The front door opened and she stared stonily down as he came into sight, walking rapidly to his waiting car. Only then did the tears of frustration and bitter humiliation well up in her eyes. The house, the house, always the blasted house. If he loved it so much, how could it make him feel uncomfortable? There wouldn't be another opportunity like this. They had had the place to themselves and now, stupidly, pointlessly, she was left alone. Or was she? The numbing uncertainty which flitted without warning into her mind raised the hairs on her
scalp
in prickling slow motion and she felt the goose flesh shiver on her bare arms.

Suddenly, overwhelmingly, she was conscious of a feeling of deep resentment directed specifically against herself, as though her presence here was an intrusion, as though she and the house had been engaged in some silent struggle to claim Lewis, and the house had won.

Almost fearfully she moved her head slowly from side to side, but the scene which met her apprehensive eyes was no different from at any other time. The only thing out of place was the hastily turned-back counterpane, and as she caught sight of it, her breath twisted in a hard, choking sob.

‘Well, are you satisfied?' she flung at the empty room. The door swung shut on a tiny, answering click, and she bit back a cry. Ridiculous—Lewis hadn't shut it properly, that was all. But what had Edward said about Laura being afraid to enter that first day? And there had been that uncanny business with the tape. Could there after all be something in all these unaccountable happenings?

She straightened, fighting to control her racing breath. Imagination. Of course it was. And she had resolved not to give in to it. If she could explain to her own satisfaction the mystery voice on the tape, that would be one step in the right direction. In fact, that was the only concrete fact in the whole ludicrous case
she
had built up.

Before she had a chance to change her mind, she ran across to Laura's room. Since some days had passed, a new cassette was in the machine. Ignoring the ethics of her actions, Caroline tugged open the drawer of the bedside table. Sure enough, the completed cassette lay inside. Swiftly she slipped it into the machine and played it back till she judged it was the part she had heard before. Laura's voice said suddenly, ‘I was up to date with the notes by lunchtime, so I thought I might as well start on the actual appearance of the house as you knew it. You'd described it so well I could almost see it, anyway, the horsehair sofa in the sitting-room, the turkey red carpet and the high mantelpiece with the ormolu clock.' The tape whirred on for awhile before Lewis's sharp query: ‘How did you know about that?' and then Laura saying she thought he must have told her and his denying it. Now, this was the part she wanted—