No Place to Hide (34 page)

“I’ll have to check when they’re coming, but it would be nice if I could. When do you think you’ll go to the cottage?”

“Today. Sallie Jo’s coming with me.”

“That’s good of Sallie Jo. I can’t vouch for how safe it is after all these years, so you shouldn’t go alone.”

“Would you rather I waited until you came?”

There was a moment before her mother said, “You have the keys, it’s as much your place to explore as mine, and I have a feeling Sallie Jo might expire with frustration if you told her you’re not going in yet. Has she read the letters?”

She hadn’t then, but Justine had given them to her when she’d arrived earlier, so she knew as much as Justine now, and was clearly every bit as intrigued about what they might find—though Justine was perhaps a tad more apprehensive.

Descending a set of crooked steps at the side of the house where Daisy was sniffing around an abandoned bistro-style chair barely visible among a small forest of brambles, Justine almost collided with Sallie Jo as she stepped onto a ruined patio. It ran the entire length of the house and had apparently once been sheltered by some sort of wooden structure, the remains of which now lay rotting among the weeds and nettles pushing their way up through the old slabs of stone. The view of the lake spreading widely into the distance was exquisitely uninterrupted, due to how carefully the sloping gardens had been tended right up to the edge of the patio, where everything suddenly fell into disrepair. She saw no sign of a pier belonging to the property, nor of any other structure that could once have been a boathouse.

Turning back to the once stately old residence, whose formerly whitewashed walls and coal-black paintwork were almost lost behind rampant ivy, she could only wonder why the gardener didn’t clear the ragged clamor of briars and scrub that assailed the place with such vigor. It could only be because he’d received instructions not to go near the house.

Or maybe someone had told him it was haunted and he was afraid of disturbing the occupants.

With that cheering thought she used her phone to take shots of the exterior, careful to include the striking contrast between the forlorn-looking property and immaculate gardens. It was like coming across a once dignified old lady gazing nostalgically upon a shining array of young girl’s clothes.

Following Sallie Jo past four lofty windows, all firmly shuttered from within, to a centrally placed set of double doors with rusted hinges and handles, she took out the keys again.

“Do you think these doors are going to fall apart when we open them?” she asked, struggling with the lock. “We should have brought some WD-40.” Withdrawing one key to slot in the other, she started as Daisy gave a sudden yelp. The door was tipping toward them.

Managing to catch it, Sallie Jo said wryly, “Well, I guess you’ve got your answer to that.”

Slightly shaken, Justine stepped out from under it. “Amazing that the wind’s never taken it down, with it being so fragile,” she remarked.

After carefully leaning both doors sideways against the frame, Justine stepped cautiously into the dark, moldering interior, just able to make out two weatherstained walls either side of her that opened out after a few steps to form a large, dome-ceilinged circle. There were doors all the way round the entrance hall, and a very grand, exquisitely carved oak staircase was still struggling to look proud of its sweeping rise to the upper floors. Hearing something crunch underfoot as she moved forward, she looked down. Guessing much of the debris mixed with old leaves and ragged particles of carpet was made up of mouse droppings and perhaps even decayed animal bones, she glanced at Sallie Jo, pulled a face, and inched on.

“Anything coming back to you?” Sallie Jo joked as Justine craned her neck to look up at the shadowy landing.

“Let’s just say it’s not happening yet,” Justine responded. “Do you think it’s safe to go up there?”

“Don’t you want to look down here first?” As she asked, Sallie Jo pushed open a door to the right, went to go in, and suddenly shrieked. “I think it was a rat,” she gasped as Daisy shot past in hot pursuit.

Not doubting this was the long-term residence of all sorts of rodents, bugs, birds, and maybe even snakes, Justine crossed to the door and peered warily into the room. Apart from Daisy sniffing at the scratched and rotting skirting boards, there was no sign or sound of anything moving. “We should have brought a torch,” she whispered.

“If we can get the shutters open, we’ll be able to see,” Sallie Jo pointed out. Bravely striking forth, she went to draw back the heavy drapes.

Minutes later, still fanning away clouds of silvery dust and picking off strings of clinging cobwebs, they were standing in a dazzling stream of sunlight, gazing around the spacious room. In spite of its shapeless mounds of covered furniture, mildewed wallpaper, and crumbling cornices, its former grandeur was crying out to be recognized.

“Wow,” Sallie Jo murmured, taking it all in. “This is one of the best examples of an early lake cottage I’ve ever come across.”

Justine was watching Daisy nosing around the hems of a dust sheet that clearly covered a sofa. “You don’t think anyone’s still sitting there, do you?” she murmured drily.

Sallie Jo laughed. “Actually, that might not be funny,” she decided. “Oh my God, will you just look at that fireplace? I swear the only time I’ve seen anything like it was in a chateau in France. All that beautiful white marble and filigree work, the cherubs, flowers, and moldings. I bet they had it shipped, or maybe specially made?”

Deciding it was ostentatious enough to create a new level of style and elegance, Justine was about to go for a closer inspection when she caught the sweet scent of oranges. She turned, half wondering if she might find someone behind her. “Can you smell it?” she asked Sallie Jo.

“Smell what?” Sallie Jo inhaled deeply and said, “Yes, I can. It’s like…roses?”

“Oranges?”

“Maybe that. Where’s it coming from?”

Undecided, Justine moved toward the window, as if following the scent, but it had disappeared.

“Daisy, what are you doing, honey?” Sallie Jo laughed.

Looking down to where Daisy was growling as she tugged at the corner of a dust sheet, Justine said, “I hope she hasn’t found the rat. Daisy, let go.”

But Daisy was on a mission, and before Justine could stop her she’d dragged the linen cover to the ground, sending up a billowing cloud of dust—and in its midst, almost like an apparition, was an ornate lady’s writing desk.

Justine almost gasped. “Oh my God, this must be where my grandmother was sitting when she wrote to my mother,” she said, looking out at the lake. She felt sure she was picking up the sweet scent again, but could find no obvious source for it as she pulled open the drawers of the desk in search of stationery or perhaps some sort of potpourri.

What she did find, however, was a handful of silver-framed photographs, the first of which showed a sharp-featured young man with slick fair hair and vaguely haunted dark eyes. She showed it to Sallie Jo as she came to look over her shoulder.

“Do you think that’s Phillip?” Sallie Jo murmured.

“I’m guessing so,” Justine responded, noting his resemblance to her mother.

“He sure was handsome. How old would you say he is there?”

“Early twenties, maybe.”

Wondering what had been going through his mind as he sat for the photo, how many fears and demons he’d been trying to hide, how much prejudice and misunderstanding he’d already suffered, she moved on to the next, and felt her heart give a sudden and painful lurch. “This is definitely my mother,” she said hoarsely. “I hadn’t realized until now just how much Abby resembled her.”

“She’s beautiful,” Sallie Jo remarked softly. “Like a young Grace Kelly.”

Justine couldn’t help but smile to think of how her mother would glow with pleasure at the flattering comparison.

Tearing her gaze from the face that was so like Abby’s, she moved on to the next and gave a little laugh. “This is me in a boat with Rob and…Oh my God, it’s my father. Proof we were once here. I can’t be much more than five, which would make Rob three. He’s so cute, isn’t he?”

“You both are.”

Thrilled that her grandma had kept a picture of her and Rob close by, Justine turned to the next photograph and felt herself melting with affection. “Her wedding photo,” she said softly. “Doesn’t she look beautiful? Don’t you just love her dress?”

“Your grandpa is very like Phillip,” Sallie Jo commented, and returning to the moody-looking young man in the first photo, she held the two pictures side by side.

Justine wasn’t going to say so, but she was sure she knew what Sallie Jo was thinking—of the two, her grandfather looked the more effeminate, which made her wonder if it was his own suppressed sexuality that had caused him to find his son’s proclivities so frightening and abhorrent.

She guessed they would never know—unless, of course, there was a diary waiting to be found.

Discovering in another drawer a small album filled with shots of her and Rob during their summers here, she wondered if she could take it away with her, but for some reason it seemed important for everything to stay as it was, at least until a decision had been reached on what they were going to do with the house.

“I wonder what happened to the paintings,” Sallie Jo pondered as she gazed around the walls. “You can see where they were hanging…You don’t guess someone has taken them?”

Justine had no idea.

“Maybe they’re in storage,” Sallie Jo suggested.

Justine was about to return to the writing desk when the sound of something moving about upstairs made her stop.

She looked at Sallie Jo.

Sallie Jo looked back. “Birds,” she decided.

Agreeing, Justine carried on rifling through the desk, finding more small albums, a bundle of letters tied with a blue ribbon that turned out to be from her mother, an assortment of pens and pencils, a dried-up bottle of ink, and a small tin of breath-freshening mints.

By now Sallie Jo had moved across the hall and was calling for her to come look at the amazing seventies kitchen.

Justine was on her way and already starting to smile at the avocado appliances and flowered wallpaper when another sound from upstairs caused her to stop.

“Did you hear that?” she whispered to Sallie Jo.

Sallie Jo nodded.

Deciding once again that it had to be birds, she was about to move on when Daisy suddenly shot up the stairs.

“Daisy, come back,” Justine shouted after her.

Daisy wasn’t listening; she was already charging up a second flight and quickly disappeared from view.

Sallie Jo came to join her and together they gazed up at the landing.

Telling herself that no one was up there, so there was no one to hear her, or to harm her precious little dog, Justine shouted, “Treat,” while knowing it was next to useless, since Daisy had never been much interested in snacks.

Suddenly Daisy started to bark, but from a farther distance than Justine might have expected, suggesting she’d gone into a top-floor room.

“I wonder what she’s found,” Sallie Jo murmured.

Reining in her imagination, Justine waited for the barking to stop so she could call again, but it didn’t seem it was going to happen anytime soon.

Glancing at Sallie Jo in dismay, she said, “I think we’ll have to go and get her.”

Sallie Jo didn’t disagree; however, neither of them moved.

“The stairs look quite sturdy,” Justine observed, “provided we tread carefully…” Daisy suddenly stopped barking, but only long enough for Justine to call for her to come before starting again with renewed vigor.

Seriously glad she wasn’t alone, Justine started toward the stairs.

“What are we going to do if someone’s up there?” Sallie Jo whispered from behind her.

Justine’s heart thudded. She had no idea. “Let’s just tell ourselves it’s a trapped bird,” she suggested, and after carefully testing the first step with most of her weight, she started to climb.

Staying close, Sallie Jo called out to Daisy again, but the dog was clearly deafened by her own noise.

As they reached the first landing the barking suddenly stopped again. This time it didn’t resume, nor did Daisy come when both women shouted out to her.

Not sure she had the nerve to go any farther, Justine turned to Sallie Jo.

“We could wait it out,” Sallie Jo suggested. “She’ll have to come sooner or later.”

Thinking that might be the best course of action, Justine looked up to the next landing and to her surprise, and relief, she spotted Daisy watching them through the stair rails. “Good girl,” she cooed. “Come on down now.”

Daisy simply wagged her tail and trotted back to wherever she’d come from.

As the barking started again Justine braced herself, and attempted the next flight. The treads here were much more decayed, and the banister didn’t feel stable either. Cautioning Sallie Jo not to lean on it, she kept tight to the wall as she rounded a curve, not wanting to think about what might happen if they had to run. Finally she reached the top landing.

A moment later Sallie Jo was with her.

“She’s in there,” Justine whispered, pointing to a partly open door only feet away.

Sallie Jo glanced down at the hall below.

Justine did the same and immediately wished she hadn’t. It was a very long way to fall.

Accepting that it was her dog, so she had to continue to go first, Justine bolstered herself with brisk strides toward the door, pushed it open, and immediately screamed as something hit her face.

“Jesus Christ,” Sallie Jo muttered, quickly ducking out of the way. “Bats! Ugh!”

Though Justine wasn’t at all keen on them herself, she had no problem deciding they were better than many alternatives. Wrapping her coat around her head, she ventured farther into the room.

To her amazement she caught the sweet scent again, but so briefly she might have imagined it. “Daisy, naughty girl,” she scolded, going to scoop her up.

“There must be a bat stuck behind these…
paintings
,” Sallie Jo declared with widening eyes. “So they are still here,” and going to break open the shutters to let in some light and flapping her hands to shoo away the bats, she began helping Justine to haul off the heavy canvas. They knelt down to examine their find.