The Last Daughter

by Nicola Cornick

  ‘Oh…’ Jack laughed. ‘We’re meeting at midday.’

  ‘Are you free before that?’ Serena dropped her voice. ‘We could walk to the ruins, if you like, and talk on the way over there.’ She hesitated. ‘I came back here to try to recall some of my lost memories,’ she said. ‘It might help to go to the hall with you. When I saw you this morning—’ She stopped again, self-conscious.

  ‘What?’ Jack said. ‘What happened?’ The way he was looking at her made her suddenly feel very hot. She gulped down the last of her wine.

  ‘Just that it felt as though I was about to remember something from the day Caitlin disappeared,’ Serena said. ‘Something to do with you.’

  ‘Here’s your bill!’ Eve trilled, slapping a little silver tray down in front of them. Serena almost jumped out of her skin.

  ‘She does pop up at the most inopportune moments,’ Jack said ruefully, as the landlady walked away. ‘You were saying?’

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ Serena said. She felt awkward. ‘I mean, it’s probably nothing. I might be wrong. Or it might be nothing to do with Caitlin, but—’

  ‘Serena.’ Jack stilled the rush of her words with a light touch on her arm. ‘Let’s see, shall we? In the morning?’

  He stood up and Luna, who had been dozing with half an eye open, leaped to her feet too.

  ‘Goodbye, gorgeous girl,’ Serena said, patting her. ‘See you tomorrow, I hope. Jack…’ She smiled at his expression. ‘A less effusive goodbye for you,’ she said, ‘but thank you all the same.’

  Jack gave her another of those heart-shaking smiles. ‘See you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Sleep well.’

  He went out and Serena headed up to her room to fetch a jacket. The conversation with Polly was another one that she didn’t want overheard. She went out into the car park and found a spot with good mobile reception, crammed into a corner near the bins. The position had the benefit of being near the kitchen extractor fan so no one could overhear her. The downside was that the air was thick with the oily smell of fried food which was nowhere near as pleasant as eating the chips had been.

  ‘Are you OK, hon?’ Polly picked up on the second ring. ‘I’ve been so worried about you.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Serena said. She smiled. Just hearing Polly’s voice did her good. Her phone call to her parents earlier had been significantly less easy.

  ‘I’ve seen the police,’ she said, in answer to Polly’s next question. ‘They’re treating Caitlin’s death as unexplained at the moment.’ She gave her aunt a very brief summary of her interview with Inspector Litton but missed out the bit about the mysterious circumstances around Caitlin’s burial. She was interested to hear what Jack had to say about that tomorrow but couldn’t see any point in telling either her parents or her aunt at this stage. The most likely explanation was that the grave had been opened and resealed in some way so as to appear that it hadn’t been disturbed. She knew nothing about archaeology but she did know that the most obvious explanations were usually the right ones and no doubt the police would discover how it had been done sooner or later.

  ‘Keep me posted if there’s any more news,’ Polly said. ‘I’m so sorry you’re having to go through all of this, hon. Have you’ – she paused delicately – ‘remembered anything yet?’

  ‘Not really,’ Serena said. She didn’t think that telling her aunt she thought she’d seen Caitlin’s ghost would help. ‘I went to see Grandpa today, though,’ she said. ‘He sends his love.’ This was not strictly true, but she knew Polly felt guilty about living on the opposite side of the world to her father. It wouldn’t hurt to tell a white lie.

  ‘Ah…’ Polly’s voice warmed. ‘How is he?’

  ‘Much the same,’ Serena said. ‘He was quite animated and chatty today although I’m not sure how much of what I said to him he understood.’

  ‘Did you tell him they’d found Caitlin’s body?’ Polly asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Serena said. ‘I didn’t want to pretend to him.’ A shiver ran over her skin as she remembered Dick’s words. ‘He seemed to think it was his fault.’

  ‘Poor Dad.’ There was a catch in Polly’s voice. ‘He was always so protective of the two of you. He adored you both. For this to happen to Caitlin when he was looking after you just about killed him.’ She sighed. ‘God, how awful – for you to have to tell him and for him to have to hear that. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘There was something I wanted to ask you, actually,’ Serena said. ‘After I’d told Grandpa about Caitlin he said something along the lines that he should have told us where we came from. I’m not sure what he meant but I wondered if you know anything about our family history?’

  There was a silence at the other end of the phone. Serena wondered whether they had been cut off or whether Polly – firmly if not aggressively modern in her outlook – didn’t even understand what she was asking. ‘I mean,’ she added, ‘do you remember your grandparents, for instance?’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Polly said. ‘Yes, of course. They were lovely. They spoiled me and your dad rotten.’

  ‘Wasn’t that Grandma’s parents, though?’ Serena said. ‘Did you ever meet Grandpa’s parents?’

  ‘Well, you know that he was fostered,’ Polly said. ‘I think his parents were killed in the war, during the Blitz. We never heard anything about them. We never met his foster parents either, for that matter. I sort of assumed that they were long gone by the time Paul and I were born.’ She hesitated. ‘I think Dad had some sisters… they were all split up as children, and there was a brother who died young as well.’ Serena heard her catch her breath. ‘That’s funny, I’d forgotten all about that. He only ever mentioned his brother once. Perhaps it had such an impact on him that he didn’t want to talk about it. People of that generation are so much more reticent, aren’t they? They bottle things up and hide them away.’

  ‘Grandpa certainly did,’ Serena agreed. She was thinking of what Lizzie had said when she had touched the spoon and seen the vision of a child dying. Had that been her grandfather’s brother? Had he been there, the child whose grief and loneliness Lizzie had experienced? Yet, Lizzie had said it had been a long time ago, centuries, in fact…

  ‘I don’t suppose he ever tried to trace any of his siblings, did he?’ Serena asked.

  ‘Not as far as I know,’ Polly said. ‘It wasn’t the sort of thing you did in those days, was it? Not like now. There wasn’t the technology that could help you. It was all about getting on with life and not complaining. Pretty harsh.’

  ‘And there are no photos of his family, or anything like that?’ Serena asked. ‘I’ve seen the ones of Grandpa before he married, and the ones of him and Grandma when they were young.’

  ‘Oh, they were so glamorous!’ Polly’s voice had warmed again. ‘You know that he was a dancer? Professional, I mean. Ballroom. I’ve seen pictures. He worked on the cruise ships and at posh hotels under the name Richard Shrewsbury. It must have been in the 1950s, I suppose. I remember him teaching me to dance when I was a kid and saying it was all in the footwork.’

  ‘I thought he worked in films?’ Serena said. Richard Shrewsbury, she thought. Like the spoon. No wonder he’d liked the pun of having it on the kitchen wall.

  ‘He did,’ Polly said. ‘He was a talented rider and fencer. I think he used to work on those historical epics that were so popular in Hollywood in the Fifties and Sixties. After he was married, though, he gave up all the exciting stuff and became a teacher and never really talked about it again.’

  ‘I had no idea.’ Serena felt winded. ‘I mean, I knew some of it – the fencing and stuff, and I’ve seen some of the pictures, but it sounds amazing. Why would he never tell us about it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Polly said. ‘Maybe because we didn’t ask? He’s always been a quiet man, hasn’t he? I don’t mean he was shy, but he was very private.’

  ‘I suppose he was,’ Serena said. ‘It’s weird how you can know someone all your life, and yet not really know them at all. I wish I’d asked h
im so much more before it was too late, especially as now he seems to want to tell me something.’

  ‘That is odd,’ Polly agreed. ‘What were his precise words to you, Serena?’

  Serena cast her mind back to that afternoon and Dick’s reference to the night of Caitlin’s disappearance. ‘He said he should have warned us,’ she said slowly. ‘That he should have told us where we came from. And he mentioned something called the lodestar. At least I think that’s what he called it. Does that mean anything to you, Aunt Pol?’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ Polly said. ‘The lodestar? What is that?’

  ‘I haven’t had a chance to look it up yet,’ Serena said. ‘I thought I’d ask you first. It sounded vaguely familiar to me for some reason, but I don’t know why.’

  ‘Sorry I can’t help, hon,’ Polly said. Her voice changed. ‘Look, I’ve decided I’m going to come over. To England, I mean. It’s time I saw Dad again anyway, and…’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t like you doing this on your own. Could you book me into that pub you’re staying in? I’ll get a flight tomorrow and be with you on Friday.’

  ‘What? Wait—’ Serena was taken aback at the abruptness of Polly’s decision-making. ‘This is all very sudden. Are you sure?’

  ‘I’ve already squared it with work,’ Polly said. ‘I want to be there for you whilst this is going on and I miss Dad.’ There was an odd tone in her voice. ‘Besides, I have a strange feeling…’

  Serena waited but her aunt’s words trailed away. It was odd. Polly never had feelings, at least not of the spooky kind. She was far too down to earth for that sort of thing.

  ‘OK,’ she said after a moment. ‘If you’re sure. I’ll book you a room and I’ll come to pick you up from Oxford station on Friday. Let me know when to expect you.’

  ‘Thanks, hon,’ Polly said. ‘Now, you take care, all right? And ring me tomorrow? It doesn’t matter if I’m travelling. I still want to hear from you.’

  ‘Of course I’ll ring,’ Serena said. ‘Have a safe journey and I love you.’ She put her phone away, shaking her head a little at the suddenness of Polly’s decision. It wasn’t like her aunt to be so impulsive but she knew Polly had wanted to come with her when the news had broken about Caitlin and she knew she missed Dick terribly. Perhaps this might be the thing that prompted her to come back to England for good. Or perhaps, Serena thought, she wouldn’t want to give up California, and who could blame her?

  The phone rang again as she was heading back into the pub.

  ‘Serena?’ It was Lizzie. ‘How are you? How did you get on today?’

  Serena could see Eve hovering in the hallway, ears on stalks. ‘Hi, Lizzie,’ she said. ‘I’m good, thanks. Are you around tomorrow for a chat? It’s a bit… busy here at the moment.’

  ‘Oh, you mean that landlady is listening in,’ Lizzie laughed. ‘Look, why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow evening like we said, and we can catch up properly? Seven o’clock at The High?’

  ‘I’d love that,’ Serena said warmly. ‘See you then.’

  She went upstairs to her room. The uneven treads of the stair beneath the faded carpet betrayed the antiquity of the building. The wooden bannisters were painted black to match the beams of the ceiling. It was much quieter up here with the sounds from the bar and restaurant muted. Serena wondered whether there were any other guests besides her. It felt uncannily as though the place was deserted.

  Once inside her room she turned on the lamps, slipped off her shoes and propped herself up against the pillows on the bed. It was only eight o’clock but she felt incredibly weary, the events of the day catching up with her and combining with the lingering jet lag to make her feel at once physically exhausted but with a mind that was frustratingly wide awake. She decided to run a bath and read one of the books she’d picked up earlier in Witney, and then try to get an early night. But before that… Snapping open her phone she logged into the pub internet and searched on the word ‘lodestar.’ A number of references came up to a music festival and to a type of boat. The dictionary definition of lodestar, she read, was a star that was used to guide the course of a ship, particularly the Pole Star. Alternatively, it was a word used to describe a person who served as an inspiration or guide. It wasn’t at all obvious to her what relevance that had to Dick, and Serena wondered again if she had misheard him.

  She was about to close down the webpage when she spotted a reference to ‘lodestone’ being another word for lodestar. A lodestone, she read, was a naturally magnetised mineral that had been used in antiquity as the first compass and now had a variety of purposes, particularly in steel manufacture. There were also pictures of polished lodestones that were sold as jewellery. According to the more paranormally inclined, lodestones were said to possess the power to work with you to attract all that you most desired.

  Serena turned off the phone and put in on the nightstand.

  The power to attract your heart’s desire…

  What was it that she desired most in the world? To find out what had happened to Caitlin? Or even to have Caitlin back?

  A shiver skittered down her spine. Did people really believe that a stone could possess that sort of supernatural power? It felt out of place in the modern world, the sort of thing that belonged with medieval superstition, and for all that she was prepared to accept Lizzie’s feyness, she wasn’t sure how she felt about magic.

  She got up to run the bath, then paused with her hand on the doorknob. There was another reason that the word lodestar had seemed vaguely familiar to her when Dick had mentioned it. In her mind’s eye she could see the bookshelves on the landing outside her room, Eve’s collection of true-crime books mixed in a little incongruously with some classics and children’s paperbacks. She was almost certain that one of those had had the word ‘lodestar’ in the title.

  She went out onto the landing, flicking quickly over the bloodstained spines and sensationalist titles of the true-crime books until she found what she was looking for. There was a small selection of old Penguin books and children’s novels including a book by Rosemary Sutcliff called Knight’s Fee and another old favourite, Moonfleet by J. Meade Falkner. She picked it up and saw her own name in the front of it, written in a childish hand. It was the strangest sensation, like time travel, until she realised that there was a perfectly logical explanation for it – the books, like the contents of the manor and the crockery and cutlery in the café, must have been sold and someone had bought a job lot of them to furnish the bookshelves at the pub. She recognised more of them now – Children of the New Forest, A Traveller in Time, and some of the Goosebumps series, which had been Caitlin’s favourites.

  The Lovell Lodestar.

  There it was, a slender paperback, blue, with the name printed in bold black on the spine. It wasn’t a novel; it looked more like an old local history book. Suddenly shaky, Serena slid Moonfleet back onto the shelf and reached for the smaller paperback, and in that moment, she sensed someone watching her.

  ‘Anything I can help you with?’ Eve was standing on the half-landing, looking at her with a bright and somewhat unfriendly gaze. Serena almost jumped out of her skin. Her hand dropped to her side. Instinctively she didn’t want to draw to Eve’s attention the book she was interested in, although she couldn’t have explained why.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Thank you. I was just… looking for something to read.’ She turned back to her room.

  ‘Aren’t you going to choose one, then?’ Eve was still there, poised, one hand on the bannister, head tilted curiously to one side.

  ‘I just remembered I bought a couple of things earlier when I was in Witney,’ Serena said weakly. ‘Goodnight.’

  After her bath she briefly contemplated venturing out again and retrieving The Lovell Lodestar from the shelf but she couldn’t face the thought of bumping into Eve again. It was ridiculous to imagine that the landlady would have been lurking out there all this time waiting for her and yet Serena couldn’t shake the idea that she was. Instead she made a c
up of hot chocolate and read for a little before falling into a light sleep that was punctured by dreams in which Caitlin was forever running from her, a wraith leading her on into darkness.

  To her surprise it was eight o’clock and bright sunlight when she woke, and there was a text from Jack suggesting that they meet by the bridge over the river at ten. She got up feeling more rested and went out onto the landing where the scent of bacon was already thick on the air and the sound of voices from the breakfast room suggested that there were in fact other guests staying at the Minster Inn after all.

  There was no sign of Eve. Serena furtively sidled up to the bookcase and looked for The Lovell Lodestar amongst the children’s books on the second shelf. It wasn’t there. She checked along the row, then on the shelves above and below, but it seemed to have vanished. Just to be sure, she ran her gaze over the whole bookcase one more time before she went slowly down the stairs to breakfast.

  ‘I’ve set your table up by the fire,’ Eve called out gaily from behind the reception desk. She seemed to have overcome her odd mood from the night before.

  A middle-aged couple were sitting in the breakfast room, talking quietly as people tended to do at breakfast in hotels if they talked at all. A copy of The Times was folded on the table between them and they had almost finished their breakfast. They looked up and greeted Serena as she came in before the woman poured herself another cup of tea and made some comment about the weather. It was cold in the breakfast room despite the sun; Serena was glad that she was sitting by the fire, where a small blaze burned merrily and brightly. It seemed to throw out very little heat but amongst the wood snapping in the grate, Serena could see the pages of a book turning to translucent ash before her eyes, and the black-lettered spine that even as she watched, curled and crumbled into dust.

  Chapter 14

  Anne

  Minster Lovell, 1476

  Mother took one look at us when Francis and I came back from the lake that afternoon and told him very dryly that he had better set about arranging his household so that I might join him at Minster Lovell as soon as possible. I do not know what it was that gave us away – the grass stains on my skirts, perhaps. However, there was no censure in mother’s words, indeed she seemed relieved, and when the time came for us to repair for the night, she allowed Francis to join me in my chamber, where the giggling maids were shooed away.