Текст книги "Beneath the Shadows"

Автор книги: Sara Foster

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Ben stayed with Grace while she spoke to the emergency operator. She was surprised at how composed she sounded as she answered his questions. Inside, she was seething.

‘I’m going to have to go and find out what’s happening,’ he told her when she’d finished.

‘I know.’

‘I’ll come back as quickly as I can.’

He headed out, but as soon as the front door banged shut, Grace knew she couldn’t wait there alone doing nothing. She pushed her mobile into her pocket, picked up Millie and grabbed their coats. Then she wrenched the door open and charged down the path. ‘Ben, wait …’

Bess ran out with them, bounding eagerly towards the Land Rover, her tail wagging. Ben was already inside, his hand poised to pull the door closed, but he stopped when he saw them.

Grace unlatched the gate and rushed around to the passenger side, opening the back door first so that Bess could jump in. ‘We’re coming with you. The police will take an age to get here from town. I’m not sitting on my hands in there. I’ve done enough of that.’

He shook his head. ‘This is not a good idea, Grace.’

She ignored him, handing Millie over and climbing in. ‘Yes, it is. I want to hear first-hand exactly what went on last night. I can’t believe I let this happen. I should have phoned the police straight away.’

Ben said nothing more as he gave Millie back to her, but his grim expression made his reservations clear. As they set off, Grace saw that the snow had come to stay this time. It lay in deep shrouds over hedges and paths, formed delicate lacework over smaller nooks and branches, and magnified all it touched. Not much was left uncovered, only a few dark patches lying like shadows delineating a world of white. Overnight, the village had been transformed.

The Land Rover struggled the short distance up the hill, its tyres grinding hard to keep traction. Grace’s mind turned to her own car, abandoned on the top of the moors. Until the snow subsided she doubted she could even get back to it, never mind drive it further. And if she had problems getting out of the village, how easily would the police get here? Four-wheel drives like Ben’s and Meredith’s were the only vehicles that stood a chance of moving in this weather.

Unlike last night, today Millie was wide awake and not keen to keep still. Grace was struggling to hold on to her by the time the Land Rover reached the gravel drive. The schoolhouse roof had been smothered by snow, and a row of icicles had formed underneath the ledges of the upper windows, their spikes glinting in the morning light.

The front door opened before they were out of the car. Claire waited on the step for them, her face haggard and pale.

Ben hurried around to help Grace with Millie. Bess scrabbled between the seats, trying to come too, but Ben snapped a stern ‘Wait’ and shut the door on her. Bess began to scratch at the windows, barking and whining, as they headed away.

‘What the hell happened?’ Ben asked as they got near the door.

Claire pulled her dressing gown tighter around her. ‘Last night, Mum and Jenny had the row to end all rows. Or, rather, Jenny poured her scorn out on Mum, while Mum sat and listened. I tried to intervene, but Jenny was too furious. She basically told Mum what a terrible person she was, and that as soon as she could get away from here then Mum would never set eyes on her again.’ She paused, peering past them. ‘Are you going to let Bess out?’

They all looked at the Land Rover. Bess was still up at the windows, barking indignantly at being left behind. Millie pointed at the dog, her little face concerned.

‘I’m worried she’ll run off when she’s like this,’ Ben said. ‘I should have left her back at the house … So tell us, what happened in the end?’

‘The conversation went round in circles, until Jenny was hysterically ranting and crying, and I managed to drag her off up to bed. I checked on her a moment ago – she’s still asleep.’

‘And what about Mum?’

‘Mum was just … weird. She sat there and took everything Jenny hurled at her and didn’t say a word. She flinched a few times, but she pretty much gave Jenny a free rein. I know Jenny has a lot to be furious about, but I wish Mum had fought back a bit. After I’d sorted Jenny out, I sat with Mum and tried to hold her hand, but she shook me off, got up and said she was going to bed. I stayed downstairs for a while, knocked back a glass of brandy or two, and by that time it was all quiet. But this morning when I looked in on them, Mum wasn’t there – and her bed hasn’t been slept in.’

Claire’s voice was now barely audible over the sound of Bess’s barking. ‘I’ll have to let her out,’ Ben grumbled, dashing back to the car and opening the door.

In a flash, Bess leapt down and hared around the bushes towards the moorland beyond, still barking. ‘Bess,’ Ben yelled angrily, ‘come back here.’ He threw his hands in the air in frustration. ‘I bloody knew it. I’ll have to go and fetch her.’

As Ben jogged away, Grace and Claire were left alone. They listened to Bess’s barking in uncomfortable silence. Even Millie’s attention seemed held by the noise, as she sat quietly in her mother’s arms. Eventually, Grace murmured, ‘I’m sorry, Claire.’

Claire gave no reply. She was still listening. Grace watched as her features changed, a frown forming. ‘That’s not just Bess barking,’ Claire said. ‘I think it’s Pippa too. It sounds like they’re near the Leap.’

At once, her tired eyes filled with terror. She dashed over to the garage and heaved up the door.

Meredith’s four-wheel drive sat snugly inside.

Claire turned to Grace in horror. ‘She always leaves it on the drive. Except sometimes – in snow … I just assumed …’ And then she began to run towards the noise.

Grace and Millie were left alone on the driveway. Everything around them was frozen, but in the distance the dogs’ demented barking was a dreaded omen. There was another noise now too, very faint – perhaps she was imagining it, but it sounded like a siren.

Ben’s car door hung open. Grace walked across and sat on the back seat, settling Millie next to her and pulling out her phone. She spoke quickly and urgently when her mother answered, and once she knew that her family were on their way, she held her daughter close, waiting for whatever would come next.

After Grace had fastened Millie into her car seat, she turned back towards the cottage. Now spring had arrived, the place looked much more inviting. The grey stone glowed in the weak sunshine, and the garden was beginning to burst into flower.

‘You ready?’

Grace looked over the car’s roof at her father. ‘Yes.’

He opened the driver’s door. ‘Let’s go then,’ he said gruffly.

She got into the car and her gaze lingered on the cottage one last time, her eyes drawn to the brand-new ‘For Sale’ sign beside the gate.

‘I found this in there.’ Her father handed her a book.

She was surprised to see the familiar cover. ‘Where was it?’

‘On the alcove shelf. Good job I double-checked.’

Grace put the copy of Rebecca into her bag while her dad checked his phone messages. ‘Your mother says she’s finished in Ockton. Do you want to go to the churchyard? If so she’ll meet us there.’

‘I’d like that, thanks.’

They set off down the lane, past the pub at the bottom, and on up the hill. As they went, wisps of Grace’s memories floated with them: Adam carrying Millie; Annabel complaining about the weather; James in his tux; Ben whistling to Bess … She was surprised at how fondly she recalled some of them. But there were many others she was glad to be leaving behind.

The schoolhouse stood as dark and empty as it had the past few months, since the day the bodies had been taken away from the bottom of the Leap. Grace had kept her composure remarkably well, until she had seen an ambulance head silently past the house. Then the tears had begun to stream down her face. That phase had lasted a long time – way beyond the point that her parents and Annabel had arrived, and they had all moved to stay in Ockton while an autopsy was conducted. She had been touched at how full the church had been for Adam’s funeral – all sorts of people coming up from London, including James, who sat towards the back, on the opposite side to Ben.

After that, Grace and Millie had gone to London for a time, before returning with Grace’s parents for the weekend, to oversee the final details on the cottage and put it up for sale. Yesterday, soon after they had arrived in Ockton, Grace had spotted Liza hurrying along the street with a pushchair. Before she could decide what to do next, Liza had looked across and caught her eye. Grace had smiled, and was about to go over to congratulate her, but Liza’s stare was empty. She had put her head down and hurried away.

Her father’s grim voice interrupted her reverie. ‘Do you reckon it will ever sell?’ He flicked a hand towards the schoolhouse as they drove by. Grace followed his gaze without a word. It had been empty for months, its ‘For Sale’ sign now much more battered and weathered than the one outside the cottage. Each time Grace went past she didn’t dare look at the windows in case she saw a small boy’s lonely face – or, worse, the viperous eyes of a woman who felt herself wronged.

The car moved on, up the hill, before her dad swore and swerved at the top as a sheep hurried out of harm’s way, two small lambs scampering behind.

‘This place …’ he muttered.

Grace leaned round to check on Millie, who was turning the pages of a board book, her little hearing aids fastened firmly onto her ears. Seeing that her daughter was amusing herself contentedly, she settled back in the car seat and let out a long, slow breath.

A little while later they came to a tall stone cross. ‘See that?’ Grace pointed. ‘That’s one of the way markers Annabel mentioned in her article. People used to leave pennies on the top of it for poor travellers to collect on their way past.’

Her dad looked, but didn’t comment. However, when they were on the main road leading to Ockton, he said, ‘Now, Grace, I’ve been wanting to talk to you …’

Grace sensed what was coming, and waited.

‘I don’t see the need to rush off overseas. Come and stay with your mother and me for a little while.’

‘Dad, I’ve got the tickets booked! I won’t be gone for long – and I need a holiday,’ she added, knowing that her reason for going was much more than that. It was a longing to see a tall, dark-haired man who lived on the other side of the world, whose presence she’d missed for close on two months, despite emails and phone calls.

‘Millie will be a horror on the flight.’

‘Dad, stop!’

‘I know you, Gracie, I know exactly why you’re going. And I don’t like him.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because he lives twelve thousand miles away, for Christ’s sake.’

‘Hang on a minute, you moved to France – it’s only a longer plane journey.’

‘Hmm.’ He didn’t look impressed. ‘Well, when you get back, come and stay with me and your mother.’

‘Dad, I’m not staying with you again while Mum insists on keeping that clock,’ Grace said, only half-joking. ‘It stops when it chooses, you know, usually on witching hour. Why she wants it is beyond me.’

Her dad shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s an heirloom for Millie, apparently. Your mum didn’t think it was right to part with it – we can mind it for her until she’s old enough to decide what to do with it.’

Grace acquiesced. ‘Well, it’s nice of you. But if it gives you any trouble …’

‘Don’t worry, I’m sure someone on the internet can tell me how to conduct an exorcism.’

Grace laughed as she watched houses beginning to appear along the road. They were coming into Ockton now, and she sobered straight away as she saw the church spire ahead. A short time later, the car slowed to a stop, and Grace’s mother walked across and opened the door for her.

‘We’ll go and park,’ she said, getting in after Grace had climbed out. ‘We’ll leave you alone for a little while. I bought these.’ She handed Grace four roses, each with a sprig of rosemary bound to its stem. ‘They’re for love and remembrance.’

Grace felt tears well up. ‘Thanks Mum.’

‘Do you want to take Millie with you?’

‘No, can you watch her for a second?’

‘Of course. We’ll walk back and meet you outside the gate.’

Grace set off down the churchyard path, and picked her way across the grass until she reached three headstones. The grass was damp but she knelt anyway, leaving two flowers and sprigs at the foot of one stone. For Connie and Bill. Then she moved to the next one and placed another flower in front of it. For Rachel. As she turned to the final grave, she laid the last red rose on top of it. She put her hand on the cool stone and closed her eyes, conjuring up Adam’s smiling face.

A gentle breeze blew from behind her, caressing the back of her neck. She felt the light press of a hand on her shoulder and spun round, opening her eyes, expecting to see her parents there. But all she saw was a weak yellow sun, beyond the small clouds that freckled the palest of blue skies.

The past is still too close to us … How does the past infiltrate and affect the present in Beneath the Shadows?

Grace is driven by her need for resolution: did you see this as an obstacle or a necessity for her?

Ghosts, omens, clocks that stop and start by themselves – is there a supernatural element in Roseby, or was it all just a figment of Grace’s imagination?

Windows and reflections are strong symbols in the novel. How do you interpret their significance?

Not only is Grace reading Rebecca, but throughout the book the classic novel is alluded to in other ways too. Consider these parallels, and what they contribute to the story.

By the end, the mystery of Adam’s disappearance is resolved. Yet Adam didn’t tell Grace where he’d put their money, about his relationship with Jenny, or of the existence of the cellar. How much do you think the reader gets to know the ‘real’ Adam?

How did you interpret Grace’s strange dreams? Were they warnings, her subconscious trying to process her fears, or something else?

How important is Annabel to the story? What role does she play?

Is Meredith a villain or a victim?

By going through their belongings and their memories, Grace seems to be trying to understand who Adam’s grandparents were. How far can she succeed, do you think? And why is this so important to her?

This book would not exist had I not been introduced to the wonderful North Yorkshire moors by my husband Matt and his family. Thank you to all of you for your steady support over the long writing process, in particular to Jo and Steve for letting me quiz you and for all the research you have done on my behalf. And thank you James and Dan for your creativity and cinematic know-how. I must also add that I have met many locals over the years I have visited the area, and all of them have been far friendlier than some of the people portrayed in this book – so I hope they will forgive me my artistic licence! Thanks also to Big Jon and Caroline Foster, Neil Raynsford and Fiona Thorp for answering police-procedural questions, and to Rosemary Johns for the legal input.

I am very fortunate to be published by such a supportive team of people. Thanks to everyone at Random House, in particular Larissa Edwards, Elizabeth Cowell and Patrick Mangan – your insights improved the story immeasurably. Thanks also to Tobie Mann and Emma Caddy for championing the book, and to Debbie Clement for the beautiful cover designs of both my novels.

To Tara Wynne: you are a steadfast support in these interesting times, and I know how very lucky I am to have you on my side.

To Jen Shelton: thank you for taking such good care of my baby girl that I haven’t had to worry about her while I’ve been working. To Punita Mandalia: thank you for bringing my imagination to life with your talent, let’s collaborate more often! To Julie Cripps, Claire Moritz and Louise Clarke: I really appreciate your friendship and practical help. And to Kirsty Aldridge: many thanks for your time and expertise.

To Marian and Ray, your unwavering support is inspiring. Thank you for everything you have done for all of us over the past year or so. You know how much you have helped to bring this book to life.

And finally, to my husband Matt and my daughter Hannah. When it comes to you two, thank you doesn’t even begin to cover it.

www.randomhouse.com.au/beneaththeshadows