THE TRYSTING TREE (23 page)

Connor shuffled over to the studio door. Pulling it open, he called out, ‘Ann, are you okay?’ She didn’t look back. Even before he registered the pale soles of her stockinged feet in the moonlight, he realised she was sleepwalking, with no coat or cardigan over her sleeveless dress.

Connor cast the duvet aside and hurried back to the chair where he’d left his work clothes. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then slid his bare feet into wellingtons. Grabbing the torch Ann kept under the sink, he raced out of the studio, slamming the door behind him. He ran through the garden, looking to left and right, but a gut feeling told him Ann would be heading for the clearing in the wood that had so disturbed her, the spot where the Trysting Tree once stood and where all that was left of it now lay.

~

That was where he found her, apparently staring into space. Ignoring the carved tree stump, Ann gazed higher, where the tree had once stood. She stood still for several moments, trembling. Connor wondered if she was just shivering with cold or if she was in the grip of fear again. He was about to approach when she wheeled round suddenly and began to walk away, very quickly, towards Connor who was watching from a distance. Oblivious to his presence, Ann broke into a run and would have collided with him, had he not side-stepped out of her path.

Connor was so surprised, it was a few seconds before he started to run after her, calling her name. He couldn’t remember if it was dangerous to wake a sleepwalker or if that was just one of Ivy’s old wives’ tales, but he knew Ann wasn’t safe running blind, so he ran and overtook her, turned and then blocked her way. She ran straight into him.

He dropped the torch and enfolded her flailing body in his arms. Holding her firmly, he spoke in a calm, even voice, as if trying to soothe a child. He could see her feet were muddy and bleeding where stones and tree roots had ripped her tights, then her skin. When she stopped struggling, he said evenly, ‘You’ve hurt your feet. They need attention. I’m going to carry you back to the house, okay?’

She gave no sign of understanding his words, but allowed him to lift her chilled body without protest. Settling her securely in his arms, he strode back towards Garden Lodge where he found the back door standing open. Light from the sitting room spilled into the dark kitchen.

As he entered the house, he kicked off his wellingtons, then carried Ann into the sitting room where he set her down on the sofa. He grabbed a newspaper and put it under her bleeding feet, then arranged the discarded rug round her shaking shoulders. The stove was still alight, so he opened the door and threw on another log. He turned to look at Ann and said, ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ She stared into space, white-faced and unresponsive.

Connor hurried back to the kitchen where he filled the washing-up bowl with warm, soapy water. While the tap was running, he opened cupboards looking for a First Aid kit. He thought of calling out to Phoebe, then remembered she’d taken a sleeping pill. He locked the back door, pocketed the key, then took the stairs two at a time.

In the bathroom he found plasters and a fleece dressing gown hanging on the door. He picked them up and thundered downstairs again, into the kitchen where he turned off the running tap.

When Connor entered the sitting room carrying a washing-up bowl, with a towel over his arm, a pink dressing gown slung over his shoulder and a box of Elastoplast in his mouth, Ann looked up, alarmed. ‘Connor! What on earth is going on?’

Relieved to see some colour back in her face, he set the bowl on the floor and removed the plasters from his mouth. ‘This is for your feet. You need to wash them.’

She looked down at her shredded tights. ‘Oh my God, what happened?’ she said, lifting her muddy feet off the newspaper. ‘They’re
bleeding
!’

‘You went walkabout outdoors. I found you sleepwalking in the beech wood. Phoebe and I left you in here, fast asleep on the sofa. We didn’t want to disturb you. You’d dozed off leaning on me hours ago. I don’t suppose you remember.’ He offered her the dressing gown. ‘Put this on. You’re frozen.’

‘We drank champagne… It’s Phoebe’s birthday, isn’t it? But I saw someone in the wood,’ she added, shivering violently.

‘The Green Woman. It was my present for Phoebe.’

‘Oh yes… But there was someone else. Wasn’t there?’ She looked confused and Connor could see she was close to tears.

‘I didn’t see anyone, but I think
you
did. Or thought you did. Come on, get your feet into this water while it’s still hot,’ he said pushing the bowl towards her.

Ann ripped what was left of her tights away from her feet and placed one foot gingerly in the water, then the other. ‘You say I
saw
something?’

‘No, there was nothing to see. You just stood there, staring into space. You seemed calm enough to begin with, then you took fright and ran away. I followed and grabbed hold of you. I was worried you’d put an eye out running through the wood in the dark.’

‘
Dark
? But in my mind it was
light
. Almost light anyway. It was morning.’

‘Can you remember what made you run?’

She was silent for a moment, then her face crumpled. ‘No, I can’t!’

‘Do you think it’s something you’ve dreamed up? Or was it something that actually happened?’

‘I don’t know! How
can
I know, Connor? Stop asking me all these stupid questions!’ she said, burying her face in her hands.

‘Sorry. I was just trying to help.’

She reached out and grasped his hand. ‘I know you are. I’m sorry. I’m just… frightened. And I don’t even know what I’m frightened of!’

‘Nothing can harm you, Ann. You’ve got me and Phoebe looking out for you. What’s the worst that can happen?’

‘My memory could come back.’

For a while he didn’t reply, then he said gently, ‘You think that’s what this is about? Something bad actually happened – but so bad, you wiped it?’

‘I think so.’

‘And you think your memory’s coming back?’

‘Yes. Something is getting closer. Creeping up on me. It’s as if I’m being stalked by my own memory.’ She covered her face. ‘Is this what it feels like when you’re losing your mind? Please help me, Connor. I can’t bear it!’

He dropped on to his knees in front of her and she launched herself at him, throwing her arms round his neck, her feet still immersed in the bowl of water. She clung to him, sobbing, so he held her until she was calm again, then he reached for a box of tissues and placed it beside her.

She grabbed a handful and began to mop up. ‘I’m sorry to blub all over you like this.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘I haven’t slept in days. Well, not properly for a couple of weeks now.’

‘Yes, Phoebe said.’

‘So I suppose I must be overwrought.’

‘I imagine so.’

‘Now I’ve started sleepwalking, everything seems so much worse. I’m afraid to go to sleep. Phoebe offered to lock me in my room, but I can’t bear the thought of being trapped… And with these thoughts!’

‘I have a suggestion to make. Just for tonight.’ Ann looked up, her eyes so full of apprehension, Connor wanted to hold her again. Instead he lifted her feet out of the water and started to pat them dry with the towel. ‘Now, don’t go getting the wrong idea here, but what I suggest is, you allow me to stay in your room, with the door locked and the key in my pocket. If you’ve got a spare duvet, I’ll kip on the floor, but don’t worry if you haven’t. I can sleep anywhere.’ He opened the box of plasters, extracted a few and began to apply them to the cuts on her feet. ‘You won’t be able to get out, but hopefully you won’t feel too bad about that because you won’t be alone. Chances are, you’ll go out like a light as soon as you get into bed after all your nocturnal wanderings. You might actually get a good night’s sleep – well, what’s left of the night. What do you think?’

‘I think you’re kindness itself, Connor. And your kindness makes me feel very guilty. And rather foolish.’

‘Oh. That wasn’t the idea. I was hoping you’d feel reassured. Protected.’

‘I do.’

‘Good! So it’s settled then?’

‘Yes. It’s settled.’ As he applied a final plaster, she said, ‘There’s just one thing, though.’

‘What’s that?

‘I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.’

‘It’s not a problem. I really don’t mind.’

‘But I do. I want you in the bed. Please.’

‘Oh. I see...’ Connor blinked several times, then a slow smile spread across his face. ‘Right, that’s absolutely fine, because I also want you in the bed. No – don’t get up. You’re not walking on those feet, not after all the trouble I’ve taken with those plasters. I’m carrying you upstairs, no arguments.’ He bent down and slipped one arm round her waist and the other under her knees. ‘Put your arms round my neck and hold tight.’

He swung her up into the air and as he did so, she giggled. Exhausted now, Ann rested her head on his chest. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, she was almost asleep. Connor laid her down gently on the bed and, as she stirred, he whispered, ‘You’re sure now?’

‘Oh yes. I’m sure.’ She propped herself up on one elbow and watched him undress. ‘My goodness, that didn’t take long. Only two garments?’

‘I got dressed in a hurry when I saw you heading for the wood.’

She got off the bed and turned her back to him so he could unzip her dress. As she wriggled out of it, he said, ‘I forgot – I need to lock us in.’ He strode over to the door, turned the key and removed it from the lock.

Slipping under the duvet, Ann laughed as she regarded him. ‘Well, there’s nowhere you can hide it on your person.’

‘Close your eyes. I’m going to hide it somewhere secret so you won’t be able to get out.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t be going anywhere. My feet hurt too much to walk. In any case, here is where I want to be. And
here
,’ she said, throwing back the duvet and patting the mattress, ‘is where I want
you
to be. Hurry up, Connor, before I fall asleep.’

Tossing the key into a corner of the room, he covered the floor in two strides. ‘There’ll be no sleeping on my watch. Not for a while anyway.’

She giggled again and took him in her open arms.

It was not the last of the laughter.

ANN

When I woke Connor was gone. It was very light and I knew I must have slept late into the morning. As the events of the previous night came back to me, I felt disappointed that I’d woken alone, until common sense reasserted itself and I realised Connor had wanted to spare me embarrassment.
He
might have withstood a ribbing from Phoebe, but he knew I wouldn’t have taken it so well. He’d no doubt risen early and returned discreetly to the studio.

As I sat up in bed, I registered aches and tenderness in various parts of my body. Accounting for them wasn’t difficult, apart from the soreness of my feet. Swinging my legs out of bed, I examined them and remembered Connor administering First Aid, then I remembered why he’d had to do it. I lay down again and hauled the duvet back over me, wishing Connor hadn’t left me to start the day alone.

The sound of lively voices drifted up the stairs, along with the aroma of frying bacon. Suddenly hungry, for bacon and the sight of Connor, I got up, showered and dressed quickly, then went downstairs to the kitchen.

~

‘Ah, you’ve decided to join us at last! Connor, slice some more bread and I’ll shove a few more rashers in the pan. Did you sleep well, Ann? I assume you must have done, lying in till this hour.’

Phoebe’s cheerful prattle eased my embarrassment at seeing Connor again. He gave me no special look, nor did he avoid my eye. It was clearly business as usual, but I still felt at a loss, not knowing what he might have told Phoebe about my sleepwalking.

As I limped over to the table, Connor quickly pulled out a chair for me and I was able to sit before Phoebe noticed I was having trouble walking. He poured me coffee, set the mug in front of me and said, ‘You slept, then.’

It wasn’t a question because he knew I had. Eventually.

‘Yes, I did, thank you.’ I looked him in the eye. ‘I had a wonderful night. The best in a very long time.’

His expression remained serene. ‘Must have been all that champagne.’

‘I always say champagne cures whatever ails you,’ Phoebe said, chipping in. ‘And if it
doesn’t
, well, you’re probably past saving.’ She dished up the bacon on to a plate, then handed it to Connor who deposited it in the middle of the table. ‘Tuck in! This is brain fodder, Ann. Connor and I were in the middle of an investigation,’ Phoebe said, pouring coffee and splashing some on to the table in her clumsy excitement, ‘and frankly, we need your help. You’re the one with the brains.’

‘Thanks,’ Connor mumbled, his mouth full of bacon sandwich.

‘We need to put
all
our heads together because we’re actually no nearer solving the Mordaunt mystery, despite the shocking events of last night.’

I looked up at Connor, alarmed, wondering what my mother knew. He held my eyes, shook his head almost imperceptibly, then said, ‘I take it, Phoebe, you’re referring to the identity of my great-grandfather.’

‘Yes, of course! There’s so much more to think about now we know about William. The plot thickens!’ Phoebe said with relish.

‘Okay, fill me in then.’ I said, relieved to be able to focus on the details of a hundred-year-old love affair. It meant I could postpone thinking about Connor and the incident that had finally brought us together. ‘What do we know about Hester and William in later life?’

‘The information’s patchy,’ Connor said, ‘Mostly hearsay. If Hester kept any diaries, they’re missing.’

‘Missing, presumed burned?’

‘Yes. There was just one fire-damaged journal covering a period in the 1920s. It was half-burned and not a single complete page was legible, so I got rid of it. It stank the place out.’

‘Do we know how William died?’

‘TB. Ivy said he died in a sanatorium, but he’d been ill for many years. It wasn’t just his mind that was affected by his experiences in the trenches. His lungs and hearing were damaged too. Hester’s health also declined after William’s death, but if he was the love of her life, that adds up.’

‘Poor old Hester,’ Phoebe said, shaking her head. ‘She saw an awful lot of death, didn’t she? Far too much.’

‘It must have taken its toll,’ Connor admitted. ‘She lost most of her family during the war, then her mother and Violet died in the Spanish ’flu epidemic.’

‘No!’ Phoebe was aghast. ‘
Both
of them?’

‘Afraid so. After the war Spanish ’flu killed more people than the Black Death. So by 1919 Hester’s only connections with her past were William and little Ivy. She sold the Beechgrave estate in various parcels during the 1920s, but retained some of the houses on the estate. She and Ivy lived in one and William stayed on as a tenant at Garden Lodge with a housekeeper to care for him after Violet died. Eventually Hester paid for his care in a sanatorium.’

‘Maybe she sold Beechgrave to pay for his care,’ Phoebe suggested.

‘That’s possible. Ivy assumed Hester’s generosity stemmed from her affection for the Hatherwick family. She had no idea her adoptive mother – as she thought – was caring for a dying lover.’

‘So we’re pretty much dependent on what Ivy told you about her family,’ I said, clarifying. ‘There’s little documentary evidence left.’

‘That’s right, apart from the odd letter or photo that survived the fire.’

‘Did William ever get his memory back?’

‘Yes, a few days before he died. Well, that’s when he told Hester he finally remembered everything. I think memories might have been coming back to him for some time,’ Connor said, with a glance at me. ‘But Ivy always said he got his memory back after she sent him a letter.’

‘After
Ivy
sent a letter?’

‘Yes. Hester apparently gave her all the credit for restoring William’s memory.’

‘What was the letter about?’

‘Gardening.’

‘
Gardening?
’ Phoebe exclaimed.

Connor shrugged. ‘That’s what she said. She was away at college, just a kid, only seventeen or so. She wouldn’t have been discussing his war experiences, not in 1934.’

I shook my head, puzzled. ‘I find it hard to believe Ivy would have destroyed the letter –
her
letter – that brought William’s memory back.’

‘At the time of her death, Ivy was apparently trying to destroy
everything
,’ Connor said grimly.

We all fell silent. The bacon sandwiches were finished and the coffee pot was empty. Connor and Phoebe looked at me expectantly and I suddenly felt overwhelmed with tiredness. Then my mother did an odd thing. She reached across the table and took my hand. Squeezing it, she smiled and said, ‘Come on, Ann! We’re counting on you. Aren’t we, Connor?’ she added, nudging him with her elbow.

He looked at me then, the veil of circumspection cast aside. ‘I really appreciate what you’ve done for me, Ann, but you can quit, any time.’

‘No, she can’t! What are you saying? I want this mystery solved before I pop my clogs,’ Phoebe said, rapping the table.

‘Sshh, Mum! Let me think. God, the
pressure
,’ I said with a smile at Connor. ‘So, to summarise… We’re certain it was a letter from
Ivy
that restored William’s memory?
All
of it?’

‘That’s what she said.’

‘Then he must have remembered what Hester meant to him before the war... He must have realised they’d lost
years
.’

‘Seventeen,’ Connor said. ‘And all because Hester never spoke of their love.’

‘Yet somehow a letter from
Ivy
brought everything back…’

We sat in silence again, contemplating the wasted, loveless years William and Hester had endured, then another thought struck me.

‘Connor, do you remember that jolly letter with the inkblots? Ivy’s first letter home from college, wasn’t it? We wondered why she’d sent a tear-stained letter home, especially as she didn’t seem particularly homesick. I wonder… Perhaps those weren’t
her
tears.’

Connor frowned. ‘Whose could they be?’

‘I’m wondering if they were William’s.’