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Beneath the Shadows
  • Текст добавлен: 24 сентября 2016, 01:13

Текст книги "Beneath the Shadows"


Автор книги: Sara Foster


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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 18 страниц)






Grace barged in front of Meredith, grasped the door handle and shook it hard, but it wouldn’t budge. She looked at it in a panic, mind and heart galloping together.

A hand grasped her arm and she instinctively shook it off. ‘Grace,’ Claire shouted, ‘this way, come on.’

They charged along the side of the house to the back, flinging the door open. Grace raced through the dimly lit kitchen, into the corridor towards the lounge. When she reached the room, she paused in horror.

In the muted light, a shadowy figure stooped over Millie’s pushchair. As he straightened, Grace saw that it was Feathery Jack, and he held Millie in his arms. Millie’s small face was panic-stricken. Grace rushed across and snatched her daughter.

‘What the hell is going on?’ she demanded, fright becoming fury in an instant.

Jack appeared confused as he looked from Grace to Claire. ‘Ah heard the bairn skrikin’,’ he said.

Millie began to cry hysterically and Grace tried to shush her. She whirled around, her only aim to get away from this house, but her escape route was blocked by a crowd of worried faces.

‘What happened?’ Veronica was asking.

‘She must have had a nightmare or something,’ Claire said.

Grace could feel all their eyes fixed on her, burning into her, bringing her close to screaming herself.

‘Poor little mite,’ Liza murmured. ‘Will she be all right, Grace?’

‘She’ll be fine,’ Grace replied through clenched teeth, ‘but I think I’ll take her home.’

She walked across to try to put Millie back in the pushchair, but Millie clung tight and sobbed harder. Grace attempted to soothe her, rocking her gently back and forth.

‘Bit of a bad omen, that, isn’t it, us all sprinting round the back,’ Dan commented. ‘I think you were the last-footer, Steve, not the first,’ he chuckled.

‘Rubbish,’ Meredith said. ‘This’ll be Timmy, up to a bit of mischief, no doubt.’

Grace’s blood ran cold at the idea of a ghost child in here alone with her daughter on the stroke of midnight, while she stood locked outside with this strange family. A spike of fear shot through her. ‘I need to take Millie home,’ she said. ‘Now.’ Her voice came out low and strange. ‘Let me out.’

No one moved, everyone just kept staring, but then Claire’s kind face appeared in front of her. She held Grace’s arms as she said gently, ‘I’ll walk you home.’

‘Can you take the pushchair?’ Grace asked, and then headed towards the door, holding a shrieking Millie tightly to her. Everyone parted to let her through, but no one said a word. She avoided their eyes, making her way quickly outside and onto the road. The cold hit her like a blow as the darkness enveloped her, and she hurried down the hill. The light was on in the pub, and she used that as a guide. They were almost at the cottage when she heard footsteps behind them.

‘Is Millie all right?’ Claire asked breathlessly as she caught up.

Grace had Millie cradled against her, but the little girl had gone quiet now. Grace nodded and didn’t speak further until they were at the cottage gate. ‘Thank you for bringing the pushchair. You can leave it by the porch – I’ll put Millie to bed and then I’ll come back for it.’

She didn’t wait for a response, and hurried upstairs to settle Millie in her cot. The little girl rolled to face the wall without a sound. Grace watched her sleeping for a while, wanting to make sure she was all right, but Millie didn’t move again. By the time Grace headed back downstairs, she was both relieved and exhausted.

She went to collect the pushchair, to discover that Claire was still hovering in the garden.

‘I wanted to check you were both okay.’

‘Really, we’re fine,’ Grace replied wearily.

‘Are you sure?’

Grace took in Claire’s earnest face. This woman was a Blakeney – and she wanted little more to do with them after tonight. But Claire had always seemed different, and Grace felt a sudden need for company, so she found herself saying, ‘You’re welcome to stay for a drink if you like. Then I have to get to bed.’

Claire followed her into the lounge.

‘Tea or something stronger?’

‘Tea is fine.’

Grace made the drinks, then they sat down. Claire fiddled with the handle of her mug for a while before she looked up. ‘I feel I should apologise for my family …’

Grace shook her head. ‘Perhaps I’m overreacting – my head’s a bit all over the place.’

‘Well, at least take no notice of the Timmy comments. He was a bit of a joke among us when we were little, but Mum really believes in him – she gets extremely irate if we push her too far on it.’

‘Well, maybe she’s right. Maybe he does exist, and he scared the hell out of Millie tonight.’

Claire seemed astonished. ‘Do you really believe that?’

Grace ran a hand over her face. ‘I didn’t. If you’d told me a few months ago that I’d be talking seriously to somebody about seeing ghosts, I would have laughed. But since I’ve been here, I’ve been dreaming of black dogs, hearing spooky stories everywhere, and standing in front of a clock that appears to choose when it stops and starts … I don’t know any more …’

‘But Grace, there are perfectly reasonable explanations for those things … The clock might have a fault. And perhaps the dreams about black dogs are happening because you’ve made them significant, so your subconscious keeps throwing them back up again. All the ghost stuff is just hearsay. Until you see some incontrovertible evidence for yourself, don’t believe it.’

Grace smiled at her. ‘You’re probably right.’ She hesitated. ‘You’re different to the rest of your family, Claire. More …’ She wasn’t sure how to finish.

‘I’m hoping you’re going to be the first person ever to say normal,’ Claire chuckled, indicating her piercings as she did so. ‘These usually make me stand out for a start. But I am very different to them. I think Ben and I have more trouble hiding our feelings than the others. And there’s so much going on in our family that I’d rather not know about. You’ll have to excuse Jenny, for a start. She’s all bitter and twisted at the moment because Liza is pregnant. Jenny would love a family, but she had to have an emergency hysterectomy a few years ago. She’s trying to live with it, but she doesn’t do a great job at times … She’s had a tough time of it lately, anyway – she was always Dad’s baby and it hit her particularly hard when he died. No doubt she’s envious of you having Millie – I remember her having a bit of a crush on Adam when he lived here. She always used to tag along when I went out for a sneaky cigarette with him. It annoyed the crap out of me, I quite liked him myself.’

Grace smiled, still having trouble picturing Adam as a chain-smoking teenager.

‘My role in the family is primarily as the dumping ground for everyone else’s stress and problems,’ Claire continued, ‘most of which, if not all, are self-inflicted. You can see why I like to go on long trips away …’ Claire smiled as she said it, but her underlying frustration was clear. ‘And what about you, Grace?’ she asked. ‘What are your plans now?’

‘I have no idea.’ Grace sighed. ‘I’ve only been on my own here for a couple of days, and it feels like everything is getting on top of me again. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to see this out. I’m normally pretty strong – I don’t know why I’m struggling so much …’

‘Well, you’ve been through a lot,’ Claire said. ‘Give yourself a break. Besides, struggling doesn’t make you weak, Grace. Considering what you’re dealing with, it would probably be more of a concern if you weren’t struggling …’

Grace put her head in her hands. ‘Well, I’m fed up of it. I don’t know how much longer I can live here without going crazy, but there’s still quite a bit to do …’

Claire looked thoughtful. ‘You know, when I go travelling, I pick up a bag, and I go. Sometimes I’m away for a few weeks. The longest I’ve been gone is a couple of years. But everything I’ve needed has been in that bag … When I come home from a trip it always takes me a while to get used to living in a house, and it always seems strange how attached people get to a lot of irrelevant, unnecessary stuff.’

‘Point taken,’ Grace said. ‘But I’m not attached to this place at all. That’s what I’m trying to say. I want to sort every thing out here and then move on, give myself and Millie the best shot at a life somewhere else. But if I can at least get the cottage generating an income for us, I’ll have so much more freedom to choose what I do next.’

‘Well, money isn’t everything. The people I meet on the road who do have money don’t have half as much fun. Because the ones without too much ready cash have to take risks – they can’t play it safe because they don’t have that luxury. So we don’t lock ourselves away in posh hotels, or on guided tours, even though we probably would if we could afford it. But as a result, the experience is so much richer. Those who can play it safe, invariably do – and, you know what, I think they miss out. So don’t be afraid of risk, Grace.’

Grace was listening hard. ‘But that’s the funny thing, I thought I was taking a risk – coming here,’ she said.

‘Really?’ Claire looked bemused. ‘To me it seems like you’re trying to do the responsible thing.’

‘Maybe.’ Grace smiled at Claire. ‘I’ll certainly think about what you’ve said.’ She took a sip of her drink. ‘I’m sorry Ben didn’t come tonight.’

Claire shrugged. ‘He has his reasons. I should stop interfering, he’s a big boy.’

‘So, if you and Adam were good friends when you were younger,’ Grace asked, ‘how come Ben didn’t know him very well?’

‘Oh, Ben was doing his own thing by the time we were eighteen, certainly not hanging around with me. It’s that strange twin thing – we’ve got a strong bond, but we can irritate the hell out of each other as well.’

Grace stared at her in astonishment. ‘You’re twins?’

‘Yes – I thought you knew.’

Grace shook her head. ‘It makes sense though – Ben seems so much closer to you than the others, and you share certain similarities.’

‘Yes – as Mum used to say, we’re both wilful and pig-headed,’ Claire laughed. She finished her drink. ‘It also makes me piggy in the middle in the case of everyone versus Ben. But then my brother doesn’t help that really – he’s so hard to predict, or prise information from. Well, thanks for letting me stay for a chat. I’d best get back to the house now and see what’s happening. Will you be okay?’

‘I’ll be fine, thanks.’ Grace followed her to the front door.

‘Happy New Year,’ she called out belatedly, a few seconds after Claire had closed the gate behind her.

‘Happy New Year,’ came Claire’s disembodied voice in reply, her body already engulfed by the night.

When Grace shut the front door, she went back into the lounge and poured herself a glass of wine. She took it out to the hallway and stood in front of the grandfather clock, feeling impetuous. ‘Happy New Year, and fuck you,’ she said to the clock, raising her glass to it.

The clock ticked on.

It was after two a.m. She knew she was going to regret staying up in a few hours, but the night had thrown up so many things to think about. Pieces were beginning to come together in her mind. From what she had overheard earlier, there could be little doubt that Liza and Steve were having an affair. Perhaps Liza wasn’t meant to be in Ockton on the day she had bumped into Adam? It would certainly explain her reluctance to get involved. Especially if Dan was friends with people on the investigation.

She remembered what Claire had said about Adam. She smiled to herself, wondering if Adam knew what Meredith’s girls had thought of him.

Then something occurred to her that made her freeze.

Jesus, she thought. If she were right, this would change everything.

She hurried over to a pile of papers, and leafed rapidly through them until she found those strange notes. She searched for the only one that was signed. She had read it as Jonny. But that o could easily be an e. In fact it was an e, the more she looked at it.



If you go, I will die.

I love you.

Don’t leave me.

Don’t make me hate you forever.



I can’t bear the thought of being apart from you. Please don’t go. We can work this out, whatever our parents say. I love you.

Jenny







Grace sat staring at the notes in front of her, then reached out and topped up her wine glass without even thinking about it.

These letters were obviously written by a girl who was hopelessly in love. The one that she had signed bothered Grace the most. ‘… whatever our parents say …’ implied that Adam had reciprocated, didn’t it? She remembered Claire saying that Jenny had just turned thirty – so there were only a couple of years between her and Adam. She would have been sweet sixteen when Adam had moved into the village.

If the two of them had had a secret romance, and their parents had conspired to separate them, Meredith might not be best pleased to see Adam back. But that was fourteen years ago. Surely this couldn’t have any bearing on Adam’s disappearance, could it?

Moreover, surely Adam wouldn’t have brought Grace and Millie to live here if he had any notion that there was a big problem lurking in these backwaters. No, whatever the notes indicated, it had to be firmly in the past as far as Adam was concerned. After all, Grace had never heard him talk about the Blakeneys before. He obviously hadn’t kept in touch with any of the girls after he moved away. They couldn’t have been that important to him in the long run.

Unless … What if Adam had been searching for Jenny in the library, and Jonny was a cover story he’d given to Liza? Perhaps he had really wanted to find Jenny again? But then why not ask Liza where Jenny was? Maybe Liza had left that part out? Perhaps they were all in it together, determined to throw Grace off the scent?

Off the scent of what, though? Grace felt increasingly confused. She was going around in circles, with no idea whether she was getting any closer to the truth. Frustrated, she took another slug of wine.

Where did this new information leave her search for Adam’s father? She’d never thought about it before, but she only really had Liza’s word that Jonny was relevant anyway. She tried to think back. She could still picture Liza’s face on the steps of Freeborough Hall. She had seemed so earnest. Why would she lie?

She would lie if Jenny asked her to. She would lie if Adam’s disappearance involved her sister. Perhaps they all would. Had Grace experienced any genuine friendliness or hospitality from them since she’d been here, or was it all an elaborate subterfuge to get her to leave? Perhaps Ben was involved too – passing information along from inside Hawthorn Cottage, keeping them posted on what she was up to.

As her theories grew more and more elaborate, Grace felt as though she was losing her grip on reality. She looked at her half-full glass and went across and poured it down the sink. Then she took herself upstairs to bed.

As her foot touched the top step, the clock began to chime three.

And then it stopped.

She couldn’t even summon the energy to be frightened. In fact, she felt fury coursing through her instead – at everything and everyone who had led her to this point.

She flung open her bedroom door, and halted. Finally, fear got sharp teeth into her, and instantly clamped down.

On her pillow was Ghosts of the Moors. Connie’s book. Grace knew, without a doubt, that she had packed it ready to leave, but now it lay spread open, face down, as though she had paused in reading it.

She picked it up. It was open at a page she recognised.

The black barghest.

A fearsome hound with razor-sharp teeth and claws. Seen shortly before the death of a local.

She flung it across the room. Then she took her duvet, went through and lay down on the floor next to Millie’s cot, trembling, her mind tumbling over and over, not daring to close her eyes even though she wanted to, her ears straining for any hint of movement close by.







As light began to spread over the moors, Grace crept around the cottage, hurriedly packing suitcases, putting items in the last of the boxes they would take with them, and stacking the ones for the charity sale together.

Today, they were leaving.

Much of the organising was done, but the kitchen was still full of odds and ends. She walked past the now ticking grandfather clock and headed into the lounge. There, she paused, looking at the hole where the kitchen wall had been. The ceiling was a mess too, and the floor needed finishing. She would ask Ben to sort it out after she’d gone. The rest of the renovations could be done by somebody else. She didn’t care any more.

She pictured herself storming up to the schoolhouse, getting everyone out of bed and demanding answers. Someone had put that book on her pillow last night, she was sure of it. Claire had been the last person in the cottage with her, but she couldn’t remember Claire having the opportunity to go upstairs without Grace noticing. Besides, if Meredith had a copy of the key to the cottage, any of them could have done it.

Unless the cottage had its own ghost? Stopping the clock and moving things around, just like Timmy. Perhaps Timmy had come back with them last night; perhaps Millie really had seen him?

Grace shook herself out of that daydream. She would begin to fall apart if she believed that. She couldn’t afford to consider it.

Before Millie woke up, she called Annabel.

‘Grace,’ came her sister’s tired voice. ‘Why are you calling so early? I’ve only just got to sleep! How was New Year?’

‘Rubbish,’ Grace said. ‘How was yours?’

‘It was fine,’ Annabel replied. ‘But it would have been better with you. I feel horrible for leaving you. I’m sorry. Mum and Dad are really cross with me. How are you getting on?’

‘You don’t have to apologise,’ Grace said, hearing her voice crack slightly. ‘You’ve done so much for me in the last twelve months. But, listen, I’m thinking about taking a breather. We might come down to London – can we stay with you?’

‘Oh Grace,’ there was no mistaking the delight in Annabel’s voice, ‘that’s great. Of course you can. You’re doing the right thing. I know you want to sort out the cottage, but you don’t have to put yourself through hell to do it. You’ve done enough – the rest can be taken care of without you having to live there.’

As she listened to her sister’s comforting words, a few tears broke loose and ran down Grace’s face. When she hung up, she walked upstairs and looked out of the window across the moors. There are so many reasons why I can’t wait to get out of here, she reminded herself as she surveyed the bleak view. So why do I still feel this galling pull to stay?

When Millie woke up, Grace dressed her warmly. ‘We’re leaving today,’ she whispered to her daughter.

Millie played at her feet for most of the morning while Grace rushed about packing up the kitchen. She was emptying the cutlery drawer when there was a loud rap on the door. She dropped the spoons she was holding, and they fell to the floor with a clatter, but Millie didn’t even flinch.

Grace walked across to the window and pulled back the curtain to see Ben jiggling impatiently on the doorstep, his hands pushed into his pockets. Bess sat patiently next to him. As she looked at the dog, Grace remembered the open book on her bedside: a black dog that foretold death. Don’t be so silly, she told herself, finding that in daylight it was a little easier to repel her fears.

She walked to the front door and pulled it open. He smiled easily at her. ‘Happy New Year, Grace.’

‘Happy New Year,’ she echoed, feeling unaccountably pleased to see him.

‘I came to see what you’d like to do next on the cottage.’

‘Come in.’

He knelt close to Bess. ‘I won’t be long. Stay here.’

Bess lay down on the doorstep in resigned reply.

As Grace brewed the kettle, Ben crouched down on the lounge floor and spoke to Millie. Grace watched as Millie pulled herself up against Ben and stared into his face, putting a tiny finger out to poke at his nose, making him laugh.

‘Here you go,’ Grace said a few minutes later, offering him a mug of steaming tea.

He got to his feet, took it from her, then they both sat down opposite one another.

Grace looked at his hopeful face. ‘I’m sorry, Ben, but I’ve decided to go away for a while – so everything will have to be put on hold.’ She tried to pretend she didn’t care that they would be saying goodbye, but she couldn’t hold his gaze. This gentle, unexpected bond she’d formed with Ben was one she would certainly miss.

Ben looked surprised. ‘Where will you go?’

‘We’re going to stay with Annabel, figure things out from there. I’m hoping to leave today.’

Ben cradled his mug in his hands. ‘Well, I’m sure you’re doing the right thing. But for what it’s worth, I will miss you both.’

Their eyes met. Ben looked away first, back down at his tea, as he said, ‘Now, can I do anything to help you, before you go? You’re going to need to get cracking, Grace, the snow is due again this afternoon – you don’t want to be driving in that in daylight, never mind at night.’

There was nothing tying them together any more, but Grace didn’t want to say goodbye yet. So she hunted around for how he might help.

‘I’m pretty organised, I think. I just need to get the stuff in the hallway over to Ockton – I promised Emma that her sister could have them today for a jumble sale.’

‘Right then, I’ll load them up for you.’ He finished his drink, went through to the hallway and began taking boxes out to the car. After ten minutes, he was back at the door. ‘I don’t think I can get any more in.’

Grace walked out into the hallway. There was one box left.

Millie had crawled behind her, and now she clung on to her mother’s leg, wanting to be picked up. Grace stooped to get her, and Millie rubbed her eyes and leaned her head on Grace’s shoulder.

‘You’ll have to sleep in the car today, Millie,’ Grace said. ‘We’ve got to go to town.’ As Millie began to grumble, Grace realised that they hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and it was now almost lunchtime.

Ben was watching them. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said. ‘Why don’t I mind Millie for you? Then you can put that box on her car seat, pop Millie into bed and spare her the trip to Ockton? And if you like, while Millie’s asleep I’ll sort that out for you a bit more.’ He gestured to the mess where the kitchen wall had been.

After last night’s upset Grace was uneasy about leaving Millie, but when she looked at Ben’s gentle face, she was sure she could trust him. Millie obviously adored him, and it would really help her out. If Millie stayed with Ben she could have her lunch and then a proper nap, which would make her much better tempered for the journey later. Meanwhile, Grace could get through everything as fast as possible. She could drive to Gilldale before heading to Ockton and dropping off the boxes. She’d be back to pack up the car again and get well clear before the snow began. She didn’t want to spend another night in the cottage.

‘I’d really appreciate that,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll be as fast as I can. There’s a bowl of pasta for her in the fridge – can you give her that and then put her down for her sleep?’

Ben nodded. ‘Sure.’

Yet still, Grace hesitated.

‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Ben asked. ‘Go on.’

As she looked at his open face she had an urgent desire to tell him everything. Her suspicions about his family. The word LEAVE written on her car. Her vague concerns about Millie. How frightened she was that she would never shake off her torment over Adam’s disappearance. And beneath it all lay her growing doubts about herself, and her state of mind. She opened her mouth to speak, but then he held his hands out to take Millie, and the moment passed.

She lifted her little girl up, looking into her eyes. ‘Mummy’s nipping out for a while,’ she told her. And then we’ll leave – go and figure out the next part of our life together. As long as we have each other, Millie, I know it will work out …

Millie reached a hand out and touched her mother’s cheek, as though she was giving Grace a small, reassuring caress. Grace kissed her daughter’s forehead, feeling unaccountably emotional, then held her out to Ben, relieved that Millie went to him willingly.

They followed Grace into the hallway as she collected her coat. ‘I’ll be as fast as I can,’ she said, opening the door and wavering on seeing the dismal grey sky.

‘Don’t worry, take your time,’ Ben said from the porch, bending down to give Bess a pat. ‘I’ve got no particular plans today.’

Grace smiled, ‘Thank you, Ben.’

He straightened, and she saw a flash of deep emotion in his eyes, gone in the moment it took her to blink.

She walked down the path and through the gate, then climbed into her car and set off on the drive along the top of the moors. As she headed away from the village, she reassured herself that in a few hours she could make this journey for the final time.


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