Whispers
| Whispers | |
| Rosie Goodwin | |
| Headline (2012) | |
| Tags: | Literary, Fiction |
Copyright © 2011 Rosemarie YatesThe right of Rosemarie Yates to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2011
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN : 978 0 7553 8383 2
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
An Hachette UK Company
338 Euston Road
London NW1 3BH
www.headline.co.uk
www.hachette.co.uk
Contents
Rosie Goodwin has worked in social services for many years. She has children, and lives in Nuneaton with her husband, Trevor, and their three dogs.
To find out more, go to
www.rosiegoodwin.co.uk
Praise for Rosie Goodwin’s writing:
‘Rosie is a born storyteller – she’ll make you cry, she’ll make you laugh, but most of all you’ll care for her characters and lose yourself in her story’ Jeannie Johnson
‘Brilliant, a real tissue-box tale, heartrending’
Daily Echo
, Bournemouth
‘A gifted writer. . . Not only is Goodwin’s characterisation and dialogue compelling, but her descriptive writing is a joy’
Nottingham Evening Post
Love you both xx
As always, a big thank you to my lovely family for their patience and understanding during the writing of this book. Especially to my long-suffering husband for always making the time for me to write.
Also, sincerest thanks to the lovely staff at Headline for their unfailing support, not forgetting my copy editor and of course my readers.
We meet them at the doorway, on the stair, Along the passage they come and go, Impalpable impressions on the air, A sense of something moving to and fro.
Prologue
As the estate agent fumbled with the keys, Jessica Beddows smiled at her husband. Simon was frowning and she could tell that he was less than impressed with what he had seen so far, but she was prepared to look around the house at least. Now that they had come this far it seemed silly not to, to her way of thinking. They had been house-hunting for months, but up until now Simon had picked fault with each one they had viewed. The two girls weren’t looking too happy about it either as they stared around the overgrown courtyard, but Jess was determined to stay positive.
‘Come on, you lot,’ she urged, as the harassed estate agent finally located the right key and slipped it into the lock. ‘It might be lovely inside.’
‘I did warn you that Stonebridge House has been with another agent and that it has stood empty for some time,’ the estate agent pointed out, already feeling a sale slipping away. ‘Hence the ridiculously low asking price of less than half a million. You need to see the potential here and picture this wonderful property as it could be if it were returned to its former glory, rather than view it as it is now. When the recession has run its course, prices round here are going to rise, and the value of this place will go through the roof.’
He ushered them all into a large dim hallway.
‘Here we are then,’ he said jovially, spreading his hands as if he was about to escort them around Buckingham Palace. ‘The place is quite
enormous
, as you can see. Would you like me to show you around, or would you rather have a mooch about by yourselves?’
‘I think we’d like to explore on our own if you don’t mind,’ Jess told him quickly as she saw Simon wrinkle his nose in distaste. She had to admit the smell of damp was overpowering.
‘No problem at all.’ The man backed towards the door again. ‘Take as long as you like. I shall be waiting for you in the car outside.’
The second he disappeared out of the door, eleven-year-old Josephine skipped ahead and promptly shot off into one of the numerous rooms
leading
off the hallway. ‘Jo, don’t get going too far,’ Jess warned, then turning back to her other daughter and Simon, she said brightly, ‘Right. Let’s get this show on the road then, shall we?’
Thirteen-year-old Melanie folded her arms and said, ‘Do we
have
to?’ She glanced up at the festoons of cobwebs that hung like lace from the ceilings. ‘Ugh. It’s like one of those haunted houses you see in horror films.’
‘That’s the problem with you, you watch far too much TV,’ her mother scolded. ‘Now come on, the pair of you.’
They moved forward, and after pushing a door open they found themselves in the biggest kitchen that Jess had ever seen. It was like stepping back in time. A deep stone sink stood beneath the window overlooking the courtyard, and a large Aga was set into an alcove on the wall facing them. Thick with dust and surrounded by six solidly built chairs, a long table took up the middle of the room. Mel grimaced as she looked at the plate that still stood there. Food had obviously been left on it but it had long since crumbled to dust.
‘Ugh!’ she shivered. ‘How creepy is that? Someone left their meal there. Did someone die here or something? I bet you any money this place is haunted.’
‘Don’t be such a drama queen,’ her mother told her. ‘This kitchen could be wonderful if you’d just open your eyes to it.’
‘Yes, it could – if you were willing to spend a small fortune on it,’ Simon grunted. As a builder, he knew the real cost of renovations. ‘This place would be like a bottomless money pit.’
Jess’s tawny eyes stared coldly back at him. ‘That’s perfectly true, but we have the money to do it now, don’t we?’ She was obviously far more concerned about what her daughters thought of the place than her husband’s opinion of it.
Simon seemed to deflate like a balloon as he looked away from her without arguing and Jess felt a little ripple of satisfaction. For the first time in the whole of their married life she had the upper hand. Her beloved gran had died and left her with substantial inheritance. Jess’s parents had both been killed in a car crash when she was little more than a baby, and her gran had brought her up from that day on. Jess had never wanted for anything, least of all love, but even she had never realised how much money the old lady had had stashed away in the bank. She could still remember the look of shocked disbelief that had flashed across Simon’s face when the solicitor had read out the will. Gran had never made a secret of the fact that she didn’t like
Simon
and felt that Jess could have done better for herself, but when Jess became pregnant at eighteen, her gran had begrudgingly given the pair her blessing to marry. And now here was Jessica with more money than she had ever dreamed of, and looking for her ideal home. She set off across the kitchen towards a door in the far wall.
‘Look at this,’ she shouted across her shoulder. ‘It’s a storage room and there are some steps here that must lead down to a cellar. How handy would that be, eh?’ She clicked on the light switch at the side of the door and when nothing happened she sighed with disappointment. ‘It looks like the electricity’s off,’ she murmured. ‘And it’s too dark to see anything. Never mind. Let’s go and look at the rest of the place, eh?’
Simon and Melanie followed her resignedly down the hall. The wallpaper was hanging off the walls and the windows were so dirty that they could barely see anything through them. The next room they came to was an enormous dining room, and once again they found the furniture still in place although it was so shrouded with dust it was impossible to see what it was like.
‘It’s probably riddled with woodworm,’ Simon said nastily, as Jess rubbed at the corner of a large sideboard with the sleeve of her cardigan.
‘Actually, I think it’s mahogany,’ she replied, ignoring his tone. ‘And I bet it would be quite beautiful if it was polished. It certainly goes with the style of the house.’
The next room they came to was a large sitting room boasting high sash-cord windows giving wonderful views across the garden.
‘Just think, this place has got three whole acres,’ Jess said dreamily as she ran her hand across the original wooden shutters. It was certainly a far cry from the tiny square of lawn they had at the back of the neat semi-detached house in Hinckley where they were living now.