Текст книги "Beneath the Shadows"
Автор книги: Sara Foster
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
At five o’clock on Wednesday, Grace strapped Millie into her car seat, and drove the short distance to Meredith’s house. She felt a little cowardly for not walking, but it was already pitch black outside, and the wind was up. Part of her wished she hadn’t agreed to this meal, but in some ways it was perfect timing. The kitchen was unusable – if she had stayed in it would have been toast or sandwiches for tea.
The downstairs living area of Hawthorn Cottage was now a shambles. Amazing, Grace thought, that things which took so long to construct were so easily returned to chaos. She had spent the previous night clearing out the lounge and kitchen, and it hadn’t taken Ben long to move the furniture down to the cellar when he’d arrived first thing. She had left him to it, and taken Millie on a drive around the moors, thankful for the current mild weather. They had found a small teashop in a sleepy village where the lady owner was very taken by Millie, carrying her around and showing her an assortment of trinkets and knitted teddy bears.
‘You on your holidays?’ she’d asked Grace while putting her tea and scone on the checkered tablecloth.
‘Something like that,’ Grace replied.
‘You should come back and see the moors in’t’ spring,’ the woman said. ‘They’ve hidden their secrets away now, till the snow’s passed and the thaw comes.’
The whole afternoon had been so genteel that Grace felt less troubled as she made her way to Meredith’s front door. Millie was wide awake, which was making Grace a little nervous, remembering Meredith’s attitude towards Millie on Sunday. Grace had brought a bag of toys with them, hoping they would be enough to keep her daughter amused for a while.
When she reached the door, it swung open before she even had the chance to knock. ‘Come in,’ Meredith said, ushering them both out of the cold. They could hear Pippa barking in another part of the house.
Grace followed Meredith through to the dining room. The curtains to the picture window were open, but night had fallen and there was nothing to see beyond them this time, not even a light on the horizon or a star in the sky.
‘Thank you so much for inviting us again.’ As Grace looked around, she noticed that the table was less extravagantly furnished this evening, with only two place settings. ‘Is Claire here?’ she asked, her spirits waning at the thought of trying to make conversation with Meredith on her own.
‘No, Claire’s gone to collect Jenny and bring her home for Christmas,’ Meredith replied. ‘All my girls will be here this year – although Veronica, my eldest, is staying in Ockton. This place is big, but it’s not large enough for her brood and everybody else as well.’
As Grace set Millie down on the floor, Meredith asked, ‘So what are you doing for Christmas?’
‘My sister will be here,’ Grace replied while giving Millie the bag of toys.
‘That’s good. Christmas is a hard time to be alone. Well, I’ll go and dish up – back in a moment.’
Grace began to play with Millie, showing her the toys, though it was obvious that Millie wanted to crawl away and begin investigating this interesting new space. Grace glanced around the softly lit room, with its thick chintz curtains and polished furniture. Everything looked precisely positioned, as though she had found herself on a stage set rather than in someone’s home. She wondered if this room was singled out and kept pristine for entertaining, or whether the whole house was like this. Judging by how well Meredith had looked after Grace’s cottage, it was probably the latter, she thought.
She heard footsteps getting louder, and then Meredith reentered the room, carrying two plates piled high with food. ‘Come and sit down,’ she said. ‘I’ve managed to borrow a high chair, so you can bring Millie over. Will she eat some roast chicken?’
‘It might be messy,’ Grace warned, picking Millie up, wondering if Meredith had found the high chair especially for them, and thinking what a considerate gesture it was if so.
Meredith motioned to the polished wooden floor. ‘It’s easy enough to wipe.’
They took their places, and Meredith chopped up a few pieces of chicken and some vegetables, then presented them to Millie on a child’s plastic plate with a plastic knife and fork. Millie ignored the cutlery, and picked the meat up with her fingers, looking thoughtful as she tested it with her teeth.
Meredith took a sip of water. ‘So, Grace,’ she said, ‘how are you getting on with the cottage? Found anything interesting?’
Grace speared a perfect golden roast potato with her fork. ‘I haven’t got very far yet. It’s been lots of books and clothes so far, but most of them mean little to me, I’m afraid. It’s very odd sorting through people’s belongings and making decisions when you didn’t know them very well.’
‘You know, I think it’s a damn good idea to have a stranger go through your things after you die,’ Meredith said. ‘You’re unlikely to miss the heirlooms for Millie, after all, but you won’t be overly emotional.’
Annabel should be doing this job, Grace realised. Her sister didn’t have a sentimental bone in her body when it came to belongings. She enjoyed buying new things too much to be able to afford any qualms about keeping the old. Nothing delighted Annabel more than going through Grace’s wardrobe and emptying it with strings of exclamatory remarks.
‘I find it more disconcerting in some ways,’ Grace confided. ‘Not knowing the history of anything that I’m looking at. I always have this feeling that I might be missing something important.’
‘There’s not really much we own that is all that important, though, is there?’ Meredith looked around the room contemptuously. ‘I would be a lot less cluttered if it wasn’t for my girls – they practically handcuff me every time I suggest having a clear-out. They don’t want to live here any more, but I think it gives them a sense of security to know that their childhood home is still here, the same as it always was. They come here to feel safe.’ As she spoke, she glanced towards the mantelpiece of photographs.
Grace put down her cutlery for a moment to encourage Millie to try her vegetables. She recalled the contents of the boxes that she’d sorted through so far, debating what Meredith might find interesting. ‘You know, I did find a book about local ghost stories.’
‘Let me guess – Ghosts of the Moors.’
‘Yes,’ Grace said, surprised, ‘I’m sure that was the title.’
‘And did you notice the author?’
When Grace shook her head, Meredith got up, went across to a bookcase and pulled a slim volume from the shelf, handing it over.
Grace recognised the cover, and now she looked at the author’s name: ‘C. Romano?’ She regarded Meredith blankly. ‘Should I know who that is?’
Meredith nodded and waited, but on seeing Grace’s confusion, she said, ‘That’s Connie Lockwood, maiden name Romano. Adam’s grandmother.’
‘Oh.’ Grace looked down again at the slim volume in her hands. Millie’s great-grandmother had written this. She supposed she had better take it out of the charity box.
Meredith took the book and returned it to the shelf. ‘She presented all the villagers with one, when it was first published, back in the eighties.’
‘Why did she use her maiden name?’
‘I’m not sure. Connie was fascinated by the legends around the place. Her mother’s family were local, but her father was Italian. When Mussolini declared war against Britain, her father was sent to Eden Camp, and the rest of them stayed nearby with relatives to be close to him. After the war, when he was released, they remained in Inglethorpe. People weren’t always kind, from what I heard tell, but Connie’s father was a doctor, and before long a few people needed his help. After that, the consensus changed, and the community grew very protective of them. Bill had been away fighting in the war, and when he came back he fell in love with Connie. They moved here once they were married, and it took them a long time to have children – Rachel came late in life for them, and was unexpected, I think, but they doted on her. Didn’t Adam tell you any of this?’
As Grace shook her head, Meredith echoed the gesture sadly. ‘You know, it’s such a shame these stories get lost. Why are we so careless that we let our own histories die without even noticing?’
Grace thought of the little she knew about Connie and Bill. After hearing this small snippet of their lives, she couldn’t help but picture them differently – as a young couple struggling to build a life together after the war. Her sense of responsibility towards them grew stronger – and she wasn’t sure she welcomed the feeling.
Meredith was studying her. ‘You seem lost in thought, Grace?’
‘I was thinking about how I nearly threw the book away – and what a loss it would have been. Thank goodness I mentioned it to you.’
‘Well, that book is an unusual one,’ Meredith said. ‘But, you know, if you need any help I’d be happy to give you a hand … Bill worked for my husband Ted for a number of years, so I knew him and Connie quite well.’
Grace pictured the remaining boxes stacked waiting for her. Going through them was a wearisome task, but she wasn’t sure she wanted someone else involved. She needed to make any discoveries in private. Moreover, there was an aloofness in Meredith’s manner, despite her pleasantries, which Grace found unnerving. But she didn’t want to be rude either. ‘Perhaps you could look at the things I put aside,’ she suggested. ‘In case there’s anything you know more about, or think is worth keeping.’
‘Of course,’ Meredith agreed. ‘But I can help you more than that. I’ll go through everything with you. It must be so much work on your own with a small child – I can’t imagine how you’ll get through it otherwise.’
Her persistence made Grace uncomfortable, but she wasn’t sure how to decline. ‘Thanks, but I’m fine for now. Perhaps in the New Year.’
Meredith said nothing, but looked disgruntled as she picked up her knife and fork. They ate in silence for a little while.
‘Do you like it here, Grace?’
The question was asked off-handedly, but Grace felt the air around them thicken with the anticipation of her reply. Not wanting to offend, or lie, she hesitated before saying, ‘I can’t tell yet, to be honest. I’m sure I would like it a lot more if the circumstances were different.’
Meredith nodded as she thought. ‘You know, I often wonder whether this place – the villages, the moors – has a certain mystical quality that draws people back – or one which won’t let them go. Perhaps I feel like that because it’s where my family are from, where we belong. But people often return here. And I don’t know why – since we’re obviously well away from most of civilisation. You and Adam, for instance …’ She looked at Grace carefully. ‘Why did you decide to come here?’
Grace began to cut up more of her dinner to give to Millie, who had wolfed down her first portion and was banging her plate on the table. ‘Adam thought it would be good for us to get out of the rat race for a while – try something different. We both thought so,’ she amended.
‘Well, it’s certainly different to London,’ Meredith said. ‘I often think about what will happen to the village when my generation dies out. Will people stick it out here, ignoring the lure of the big cities, or will it be abandoned? I have a feeling it will become an out-of-the-way holiday destination, and these old houses steeped in history will be nothing more than the temporary homes of travellers.’
Grace bit her lip. It was probably best not to mention that she was considering letting out Hawthorn Cottage as a holiday home.
‘How long was the school open here?’ she asked, hoping to move to a more comfortable topic.
‘It closed down in the late sixties when there were no longer enough children to sustain it. My brood had to get a bus over the hill to Ockton. Did Adam not tell you anything of the history of the village?’
Grace shook her head. I imagined he’d have plenty of time to show me around, she added to herself. ‘I’m not sure how much he knew,’ she said. ‘I don’t think he ever came here until after his mother had died.’
Meredith seemed sombre. ‘Rachel was only eighteen when she left – there were five years between us, but we were good friends,’ she said. ‘Since we were the only young girls in the village, we leaned on each other. I was shocked when she disappeared overnight, without even saying goodbye – although we hadn’t seen as much of each other since I’d got married and had Veronica. Then, all those years later, Adam was back here with his grandparents. I hadn’t even known that Rachel had a child. But, as I said, if you’ve a connection to this place it draws you back in, one way or another. Of course, Adam wouldn’t have lived here that summer if Rachel hadn’t died.’ She paused, then shook her head as though clearing unpleasant memories. ‘Adam was a rather intense young man, I remember that … but I put it down to grieving rather than character. He was terribly young to be without his mother.’ Meredith looked intently towards the picture window as she spoke, as though something was visible to her in the darkness.
Grace felt her curiosity growing. ‘Did you know Adam’s father?’ Adam hadn’t talked about him much – the topic was obviously painful so she had never pressed it.
‘Yes, I knew him.’ Meredith’s mouth tightened into a grim line. ‘Jonathan Templeton – he lived on a farm not far away. Everyone around here knew him – he was quite the catch. Rachel was madly in love with him. From what I’ve learned since, I gather he got her pregnant just before his family emigrated to Australia on one of those ten-pound tickets. So he fled from the responsibility. And afterwards she ran away …’
‘Adam didn’t know much about him,’ Grace confided. ‘He knew his name, and that Rachel ran off to stay with some friends in York when she was pregnant, gave birth to Adam there. When Adam was two she began a love affair that lasted the rest of her life – although she never married the man; they never even lived together. He was well off, apparently, and took care of Rachel and Adam financially. It was only after Rachel died that Adam found out he already had a wife and two children. Adam never spoke to him again after that.’
Meredith had stopped eating to listen, as Grace trailed off. Had a new baby and their return to the cottage triggered unpleasant memories for Adam? He had been so in love with Millie from the first moment he held her. But he must have wished that his mother could have seen her grandchild. And he surely would have dwelled on what it meant to him to be a dad, having never known his real father, and feeling ultimately betrayed by the man who had taken on the role instead. What were his deepest feelings about fatherhood? Where might they have driven him to?
Grace put her knife and fork down, her pulse beginning to race. She picked up a napkin to wipe Millie’s hands, trying to hide her distress, when Meredith set her cutlery down on her empty plate, placed her arms on the table, leaned forward and said, ‘Actually, Grace, there’s something I want to talk to you about.’
Grace stopped what she was doing, wary of Meredith’s purposeful tone.
‘I’d like to buy Hawthorn Cottage.’
‘Oh,’ Grace answered, astonished. She let go of Millie’s hands and sat back. ‘The thing is, I can’t sell it right now, even if I wanted to. Adam put it in joint names, so there are legal issues while he is missing …’
‘I suspected that might be the case,’ Meredith said, without missing a beat. ‘But if you’re interested in my proposition, my son-in-law Stephen is a solicitor – I can ask him to look into it further, see if there’s anything you can do. I’d be happy to make some sort of arrangement. Perhaps rent it now, with a view to buying it in future.’
Grace had been caught completely off-guard. As Meredith held her gaze, she wondered if these meals had been nothing more than buttering her up. She’d thought that Meredith was being friendly, but perhaps there had always been more to it.
‘Why would you want to do that?’ she asked.
‘Well, I’d like to sell this place eventually. None of my girls want to live here, and it’ll be too big for me to manage on my own as I get older. I’d enjoy a bit of travelling with the extra money, but I’ve lived in this village all my life – I want to stay put. Hawthorn Cottage would be just right for me. I could sublet it until I’m ready to move in myself.’
This seemed an entirely reasonable explanation, but Grace still didn’t want to be rushed into any promises she might regret. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure what I want to do yet …’ she said. ‘Let me think about it.’
There was an awkward lull in conversation, as Meredith got up without a word and began collecting their plates. She disappeared through to the kitchen, and Grace waited uneasily for her to come back. A moment later, Meredith returned with a large bowl of trifle. She sat down and began to ladle a portion into a bowl, her spoon repeatedly striking the china with a harsh clang. ‘I’m sorry, Grace, I didn’t mean to put you in a difficult position. Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought it up. I had imagined you wouldn’t want to stay around – I thought I might be doing you a favour … maybe I presumed a bit too much. But think about what I’ve said, won’t you, and let me know if you’d like to discuss it further.’
‘Thank you,’ Grace replied, accepting the bowl of dessert that Meredith held out to her. ‘You took me by surprise, but I’ll certainly consider it.’
‘Right, then.’ Meredith was all brisk and businesslike now. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
As they finished their meal, Meredith’s interest in Hawthorn Cottage hung in the air between them. Grace felt wrong-footed, all too aware that she was alone in this big old house with only this austere woman and a resident ghost for company. Meanwhile, Meredith kept up a steady stream of conversation about local concerns: the extension of the railway line, the ridiculous price of oil heating, her fight with the council to get the one streetlight in the village working again. Grace half-listened as she turned Meredith’s words over in her mind.
Millie had been set down from her high chair, and for a time she sat on the floor playing with her toys contentedly, but as the evening drew on she began to cling to her mother’s legs more and more, yawning and grizzling.
‘I think I should get her to bed soon.’ Grace set down her empty cup. ‘Can I help you clear up?’
‘No need,’ Meredith said. ‘It was nice to have the company.’
Grace collected the toys together and lifted Millie onto her hip. She felt she should reciprocate Meredith’s generosity with a meal invitation, but her culinary skills were nowhere near as good, and anyway the kitchen was out of action at the moment.
Meredith showed them to the door and held out a hand. ‘Thank you for coming, Grace. And remember to consider my offer, won’t you?’
‘I will,’ Grace assured her. She walked to the car, put Millie in her seat and clicked the buckles together, then had to spray the windscreen with de-icer before she could start the engine. While she did all this, Meredith stood motionless in the doorway, her body backlit by the lights behind her so that all Grace could see was her silhouette. As Grace began to reverse, she waved, but Meredith didn’t move before they drove out of sight.
On Saturday morning, Ben arrived at the front door, toolbox in hand, to clear up the final debris from knocking down the wall. The last couple of days had been difficult for Grace – Millie wasn’t napping well and so she had got little done. She was glad to have made a start on the work, but now looked forward to the break for Christmas. Besides, she missed the kitchen. She’d eaten packet noodles for two nights in a row, and was desperate to cook herself a meal.
Meredith’s offer kept running through her mind, although she had made it without knowing of the renovations underway. Perhaps it wouldn’t stand now anyway. But what if it did? In that case, did Grace really need to be here, resurrecting the past?
She had had a restless night last night. No demonic dogs had appeared to her, but instead, she had dreamed of Adam. He was trying to tell her something, his face frantic, sometimes with worry, sometimes with fear. He looked to be shouting the words, but there was only silence. At one stage he had raised his arms and Grace had seen that he was behind thick glass as he banged his hands on it, over and over.
She had woken numb with cold, to a darkness so absolute that she couldn’t see her fingers held an inch from her face. For a moment it felt as though she no longer existed at all. Shaking, she fumbled frantically for the bedside light switch. The room lit up. Everything in place, at rest.
She had taken long, deep breaths, and when she felt calmer had picked up Rebecca. Soon she was engrossed, getting through almost a hundred pages before she fell asleep again. In her dreams, for a while she lay among bluebells, with a cocker spaniel running through the meadow. But then she was no longer amid flowers but on bare brown earth, and she had scrambled up to see Meredith’s schoolhouse towering above her, windows blazing with light. Shivering uncontrollably from the freezing night air, she rushed towards the brightness and warmth, peeping through a large window to find a dance taking place – couples whirling, a blur of colour – and while she stood there, a woman to one side in a white dress, hat in hand, turned slowly towards the window, caught Grace’s eye, and her mouth opened in the stretched O of a scream.
Grace had woken up sweating this time, still clasping the book. She had thrown it onto the floor and scrambled out of bed, swatting at lights and going to splash water on her face. She had registered herself in the mirror, but looked away before she could catch her own reflected eye.
‘Grace? Grace? Are you all right?’
Ben was speaking to her, his voice drawing her from her distraction. He put down his toolbox and reached out, gently touching her hand. Grace looked at him, and they were still for a second, their eyes locked, before Ben dropped his hand and picked up his toolbox again, waiting expectantly.
It took Grace a moment longer to recover. She took a breath. ‘Yes, of course. Come on in,’ she said, and made way for him.
Half an hour later, Grace heard the crunch of gravel as she was tidying upstairs while Millie napped. She peered out of the window and saw Annabel climbing from her car, no doubting the city girl from her sparkling knit top and jeans teamed with knee-high boots. Ben was downstairs somewhere, pottering about clearing up and doing some preliminary work on the fireplace. She ran down to the front door to make introductions, and got there in time to see Annabel stop halfway along the path, dragging an enormous suitcase, her mouth dropping as Ben opened the door ahead of Grace, carrying a bag of rubbish.
‘Annabel, this is Ben …’ Grace said behind him.
Annabel glanced towards her sister, her face full of wry amusement.
‘He’s helping with the renovations, remember?’
‘Ah.’ Annabel grinned. ‘I do remember, Grace,’ she said, looking at Ben and offering him her hand. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’
Annabel’s flirtations were never subtle, and Grace watched on with resignation as Ben took hold of her slender fingers. ‘Same here.’ He smiled civilly. ‘Would you like me to take that for you?’ He motioned towards her case.
‘Yes please!’ Annabel looked delighted.
As soon as he’d gone, Annabel came close to Grace and said in an undertone, ‘You didn’t tell me he was so good-looking. Finally, this place has something to recommend it. I might have to buy myself some shiny new wellies and come and visit more often.’
Grace rolled her eyes at her sister’s back as she followed her inside. Annabel claimed she didn’t have time for romance while she focused on her career, but she had no qualms where flirting was concerned. Her friend James regularly joked that it was Annabel’s favourite sport. At the thought of James, Grace felt guilty. She hadn’t even let him know that she was back in Yorkshire. She knew she was putting it off, in case he questioned what she was doing there. The problem was, he knew her too well.
While in the hallway, she heard Millie beginning to stir. She went to collect her daughter, finding her yawning and needing her nappy changed. By the time they got back downstairs, Annabel was curled up on the sheet-covered sofa, steaming mug cradled in her hands, observing Ben as he worked by the fireplace.
‘I was just asking Ben about his Christmas plans,’ Annabel said as she spied Grace. ‘And he hasn’t got any, as it turns out. So I’ve invited him to join us – the more the merrier, right?’
As Ben faced them, Grace saw that his cheeks were slightly flushed. ‘Look,’ he began, ‘I hadn’t actually –’
‘Ben, it’s fine,’ Annabel chided, ‘it’s the least Grace can do when you’ve spent all week working on the cottage. Come on, I promise us Taylor girls know how to have a good time – don’t we, Grace?’
‘Of course,’ Grace agreed. ‘Annabel’s right, you’re very welcome to join us.’
‘In fact we’ll be completely offended if you don’t,’ Annabel added cheerfully.
Ben looked unsure, but said, ‘In that case, thanks,’ and moved back to the fireplace, continuing to take measurements. Millie struggled out of Grace’s arms and crawled over to Ben, putting her hands on his knee and pulling herself up to inspect what he was doing. Ben turned to her and smiled, and she gave a shy smile back.
Grace watched them, wondering what it was about Ben that Millie found so intriguing.
‘I thought that thing was supposed to have wound down by now?’ Annabel was looking beyond the living-room doorway towards the grandfather clock.
Grace frowned. ‘Actually, you’re right, it should have. I thought it had stopped last weekend, but it started again, and I think it’s been going ever since.’
‘Did you want to let it wind down?’ Ben sounded apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. It stopped on Wednesday while I was here, so I wound it up again for you.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Grace was just relieved that there was a rational, ordinary explanation. What has got in to you? she scolded herself. You didn’t believe in ghosts before, there’s no reason to start now.
Then her focus shifted to her sister, as Annabel cried, ‘Guess what, Grace, I’ve got some great news.’ She nearly spilled her tea as she bounced up and down on the sofa. ‘I pitched a piece about living with ghosts to my editor, and she loved it! So I’ll be able to do some research while I’m here for Christmas!’
‘Oh, right.’ Grace was unable to match her sister’s vivacity. ‘When did you decide to do that?’
‘On the drive back from here. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Meredith and Claire said. I can’t believe they’re so glib about living with a ghost! If there really is a ghost in the house, of course. Perhaps they’re fibbing and that’s why they don’t care. But, whatever, readers will lap it up, it will make a great story. I’m going to try to persuade them to talk to me, and see what else I can uncover of the local spirit population. I can see the piece now, all moody black and white photographs. I haven’t quite got the angle yet, but it’ll come.’
Grace had kept her eye on Ben and Millie as Annabel talked. He was holding a tape measure along one side of the mantelpiece, but he wasn’t moving, and she was sure he was listening to them.
Annabel hadn’t noticed. ‘I’m actually quite excited about it. Who would have believed that a bit of frosty old countryside would fire up my imagination!’
‘Yes, it’s great,’ Grace agreed, trying to be supportive. Then a thought came to her. She went across to the boxes, rummaged around and returned with a book.
‘Adam’s grandmother wrote this.’ She passed it over. ‘I’ve been meaning to rescue it from my charity pile – it should help you with the piece.’
‘Wow, Ghosts of the Moors. This is perfect,’ Annabel said as she began flicking through it.
Grace knelt down on the floor beside Millie. She spent a few moments showing her daughter how to stack her blocks to make different shapes. In the silence, Ben kept his back to them, ostensibly making notes, but Grace wasn’t convinced.
Annabel continued leafing through the book with interest. ‘Looks like most of my research has been done for me. God bless you, Granny Lockwood,’ she cried, waving the book in the air as though Connie were floating above them in the room.
‘Are you related to Adam Lockwood, by any chance?’
Both Grace and Annabel looked at Ben in astonishment. He had got to his feet. His brow was furrowed, his eyes full of interest.
‘Yes,’ Grace replied. She took a breath, summoning up the courage it took to explain. ‘Adam was – is – my husband. He went missing this time last year, just after we’d moved in here. I’ve come back to sort through his grandparents’ belongings, decide what to do next with the cottage …’
Ben’s eyes were wide as he listened, his mouth agape. He seemed lost for words. Grace felt herself flushing under his stare.
‘Did you know Adam?’ Annabel asked.
The question drew him out of his stupor. He blinked rapidly and shook his head as he answered, ‘No, not really, but I know the name.’
‘It made the news last year,’ Annabel said. ‘When he disappeared.’
‘I didn’t see that. I’ve lived in Australia for a long time. But I grew up not far away.’
‘Australia – fantastic!’ Annabel exclaimed. ‘So what the hell are you doing here?’
Ben didn’t reply. He and Grace were staring at one another. Grace was full of questions; while it appeared as though Ben were seeing her in a completely new light – and she wasn’t sure whether she liked it. He broke away first, picking up his notepad and tape. ‘I’ve got what I need. I’ll leave you both to it.’
As he headed for the door, Annabel followed him. ‘Hang on a moment, Ben. If you know the area, can you take me out one day on a ghost hunt?’
Grace expected him to decline, but he answered, ‘If you like.’
‘Great! I’ll pop by later and we can plan a trip.’ Annabel looked at her sister and winked. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Grace? I won’t distract him for long.’
