‘How on earth will she manage?’ Millie said. ‘She lives alone and it’s Christmas, with everything closed down.’
‘I’m not far from her flat later today so I’ll call and see what we can do,’ he said. His glum expression was not for the struggles of Madeleine, but anxiety for his own arrangements. He knew that even with his future dependent on the next few days, he would be unable to walk away and leave her in trouble.
Millie called him back and handed him a letter. ‘This came for you this morning,’ she said. ‘That’s the third one this week! Aren’t you lucky. I never get any letters except and Christmas and birthdays.’ A glance at the envelope told him it was from Zena. He didn’t open it as he needed a quiet moment to read it. Millie’s words about this being the third didn’t penetrate as he thanked her and pushed it into his pocket.
When he finished his calls he went first to see Rose. She was sure to help Madeleine after receiving so many kindnesses from her. Rose wasn’t there. Another tenant offered to give her a message, but that wasn’t reliable enough. He couldn’t leave unless he knew that someone was there to help Madeleine, even if that someone was himself. A small voice inside him murmured that this was exactly the kind of situation that Zena would never understand.
He left a note and pushed it under Rose’s door promising to call back later, then went to find a café to eat and pass a couple of hours. There was still no sign of Rose. He drove back to the office and pushed his day’s orders and cheques through the letter box. Another visit to Rose, another note passed under the door, then, with no alternative, he went to see Madeleine.
He knocked on her door and heard her call, ‘Wait, please. It will take me a minute or so to answer.’ He heard shuffling footsteps and the tapping of a walking stick until she finally opened the door. Giving a sigh of relief she hugged him. ‘Jake, I knew you’d come.’ Struggling with an obviously painful foot, she led him into the living room.
‘Sorry it’s so late, but I’ve been trying to find Rose to see if she can help while I’m away.’
‘She’s at a party tonight and she’s going to Norfolk for Christmas, so she can’t help me. There’s only you, Jake.’ She struggled to sit in an uncomfortable dining chair. ‘For this evening at least,’ she added sadly. ‘I just don’t know how I’ll manage.’
‘Can’t you go to your parents?’
‘Definitely not. But even if I chose to, they both live in France. How d’you think I’d get there?’
‘There’s time to arrange the journey. I can help, I’ll book everything before I leave in the morning.’ He tried to speak with determination but he was wavering.
‘Sorry, Jake, I’m on my own; there’s no one who will help. I’ll have to manage, won’t I? Perhaps, if you could do some shopping for me …’
‘Maybe I could leave my visit home for a day or so, but, Madeleine, I really have to go. I have to put things right between myself and Zena.’
He drove back to his sparse room which looked even less inviting now he had cleared everything ready for his departure. Angry with himself, he knew he would have to stay at least for another day or two. Thank goodness he hadn’t told Zena he would be there.
Greg stepped off the London train. It was still very early but he was meeting Jake at twelve and hoped to find Rose soon after. He fingered the note in his pocket with a cutting from the newspaper attached. A death announcement. Rose’s stepfather had died and, unsure about writing to the house where letters could so easily go astray, he hoped to see her, tell her and perhaps persuade her to go back with him to see her stepmother and offer sympathy.
He waited at the place he had suggested to Jake they would meet but after more than an hour had passed, he knew Jake was not coming. He was unaware that the letter he had written making the arrangement had been read, torn up and thrown in the litter bin. With a sigh of irritation, he set off to find the house where Rose lived.
This wasn’t his kind of place and he felt like a visitor from another world. The voices were almost like a foreign language, the shops weren’t the same and even the buses sounded different from the familiar buses at home.
He found the house, went in and knocked the door of her room. No reply. He gave an irritated growl. This has been a waste of money and time. He had written to Jake over a week before and asked to meet him, stating a time and place and Jake hadn’t bothered to turn up. Now his kind thought in letting Rose know about the death of her stepfather had gone wrong too. He stepped out into the street, tightening his scarf around his neck, pulling up his collar and tightening his trilby more firmly on his head. It was very cold. A keen wind wailed between the buildings and sent leaves and rubbish bowling along the gutters. Storm clouds were a heavy grey and seemed to be low enough to touch the roofs. He was fed up and a long way from home.
With his head bent against the wind he stumbled as he bumped into someone. He began to apologize but stopped and stared angrily at the man, who, like himself, was wrapped in extra clothes. ‘Jake! I waited for over a hour, where were you? Weather put you off, did it? Couldn’t be bothered to meet me?’
‘Meet you? What are you talking about? Why are you here?’
‘I wrote explaining about Rose’s stepfather and asked you to come with me when I tell her. I gave a time and place but you didn’t turn up!’
‘What about Rose’s stepfather? Ill, is he? I haven’t had a letter from you.’
‘Of course you did. I posted it days ago.’
They found a café for a late lunch and it became clear that the letter hadn’t arrived. Or, Jake was beginning to suspect, it had arrived but not handed to him. He belatedly remembered Millie remarking on that morning’s letter being the third that week. ‘I’m sorry, Greg, but – and this isn’t a made-up excuse – I think my mail is being given to the wrong person.’
Greg showed him the obituary Then they went back to the house where Rose lived and prepared to wait.
‘Madeleine told me Rose is going away for Christmas but she should be home this evening. How long can you stay? ’
‘I can’t wait to get home, to the soft, clean sea air and the peace and quiet of living in Llyn Hir but I think she would want to know, so I’ll suffer the city for another couple of hours, or,’ he said hopefully, ‘perhaps you could tell her?’
‘Madeleine has hurt her ankle,’ Jake explained. ‘I wanted to see Rose in the hope she would stay with her until she’s able to walk easily.’ He looked away from Greg’s curious gaze. ‘Truth is, I was all ready to leave for home today, but, Madeleine, well, I can’t leave her in such a state. I have to get some help for her.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s Christmas; she’s hobbling about in two sticks. I can’t leave her without help, can I?’
‘And if you can’t find any help? What then?’
‘I’ll still come home but I’ll have to shorten my visit.’ He looked at Greg’s cynical face. ‘All right, what would you do?’
‘Oh, I’m an old-fashioned sort, I’d put my fiancée first.’
Before Jake could say anything more, Rose approached the door, stopped and called to them. ‘Greg? Jake? What are you doing here?’
‘Freezing to death!’ Greg said. ‘I have some news for you, not good news I’m afraid.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Let’s go inside.’ The room was no warmer than the street and, with hands stiff with the cold, he took out the cutting again and handed it to her. He put an arm around her shoulder but she pushed him away.
‘Oh.’ She thrust the cutting back at him. ‘I suppose you think I should go and see Mother,’ she said harshly.
‘The reason that I’m here,’ Jake said, ‘is that Madeleine has hurt her ankle and she needs some help. I have to go home, but we can’t leave her without some help over the holiday. Can we?’
‘I’ll cancel everything and stay with Madeleine,’ Rose said. ‘Mother will have to wait.’
‘You can’t do that!’ Greg gasped.
; Rose looked at him, ‘Madeleine’s friendship is more important to me than my stepmother.’
‘Is there a phone box near here?’ Jake asked. ‘I’ll ring my landlady and see if she has a spare room. What about you and Madeleine coming? You can see your mother and stay with us. It’s the best solution.’
It was agreed and, two hours later, Madeleine and Greg were in Jake’s car and arrangements were made for Rose to travel down after the shops closed on Christmas Eve. When they stopped for a warming drink somewhere near Gloucester, Greg looked at Jake and demanded, ‘If you hadn’t been able to arrange this, you’d have stayed with Madeleine, wouldn’t you?’
‘I’m sorry, Greg, but it’s what I do, what I am. I can’t ignore someone in need of something that I have. In this case, my time. One day Zena will understand and know I love her in spite of the things I do for other people.’
‘That’s presuming that my sister is a fool. I think you’re in for a disappointment, Jake.’
Rose didn’t want to see the cold, unkind woman who insisted she called her mother. The room into which she was ushered like an uninvited visitor was cold too. Not even a bar on the electric fire offering a semblance of welcome. There were no Christmas trimmings and not a single card on display. How had she survived sixteen years living here, she wondered? She didn’t stay long. She said her piece and came out in just under four minutes, calling, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ knowing that was not going to happen.
Greg was waiting and they walked to the room Jake had booked for her, and joined Madeleine who looked quite excited at the prospect of an unexpected Welsh Christmas. Greg wondered if he was the only one who noticed how frequently she walked on her damaged ankle when she thought no one was looking.
‘Is your mother all right?’ Jake asked and Rose glared at him.
‘Of course she is. She wouldn’t let a trivial thing like the death of her husband change anything!’
‘Rose, you can’t talk like that!’
‘Oh yes I can. One day I’ll tell you the truth about my loving stepmother; what it was really like living in that awful place. It’s something I’ve never told a soul. But not now, so don’t ask!’ Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
As they walked back to the lodgings Jake put an arm around her shoulder and this time she didn’t pull away.
Chapter Eight
Greg and Zena were in the front garden of the house, carrying some refuse to the bin near the gate, when a car went past. They looked at each other in surprise. Apart from the big house at the end of the lane, beyond it was a neglected woodland and Uncle Sam’s farmland. So where would the car be going?
‘That’s the third one I’ve seen this week,’ Zena said. ‘Do you think the new tenants for our haunted house are coming at last?’
‘Builders to knock it down more likely. According to what you saw when you went in with Kevin, it’s in a poor state.’ He grinned, a boyish, mischievous grin. ‘Shall we go down tonight and look around like we did when we were little?’
‘Scare ourselves silly, you mean? Yes, why not.’
Wrapping themselves against the gloomy evening, and armed with two torches, they set off about nine o’clock. It was very cold and a mist had settled close to the ground. When they came to the edge of the woodland they stopped. Moisture dripped from the evergreen leaves of holly and ivy making small rhythmical tapping sounds. Other unidentifiable squeaks and scurrying sounds made them look nervously about them, their eyes trying in vain to pierce the moist darkness.
They were tempted to give up and turn back but continued on, more afraid of the teasing they would face from Lottie and Mabs if they ran home scared, than anything they could imagine confronting in the eerie darkness. In the distance there was the occasional hum of traffic, close by there was silence, broken only by the sound of their footsteps. The quiet made them whisper and tread carefully to avoid unnecessary noise. ‘I feel like an interloper,’ Zena whispered, and Greg whispered back, ‘We are! We passed the sign warning trespassers to go no further, minutes ago.’
The large wooden gates creaked as they pushed them open and they went slowly along the drive, listening for a sound that might represent danger. Although they knew nothing was there to harm them, their childhood memories returned to make their hearts race as though the dangers were real, reliving their childish adventures when every leaf that moved made them start in fright.
Soon they began to laugh as they pictured what they must look like, creeping along towards an empty house like the scared children they had once been. Again the eerie silence around them sobered them, stifled their laughter, as they headed for the steps leading up to the porch and the imposing front door.
Leaves had built up in the porch but there was a pattern shaped like twin fans where the doorway had been carelessly swept, presumably by the broom that stood in a corner. ‘Someone’s been here since I came with Kevin,’ she whispered. ‘Perhaps they’re still inside, watching us.’
‘How can you imagine that!’
‘The porch, it’s been swept, the leaves weren’t neatly piled up like that.’ She flicked the torch on briefly, the darkness greater because of it. They stood for a moment then walked down the steps and along the side of the building.
Peering through a dirt-stained window revealed nothing and they went further, towards the back of the house. No lights showed through the mist and peering through other windows revealed nothing. It was difficult to make out the path amid the overgrown weeds, but with growing confidence they turned another corner towards the back door. They stopped in shock seeing a car parked there revealed by a thin light coming through a window that looked out onto what once had been a lawn. A voice from inside, called, ‘Karen? Are you there? Can you find the Bing Crosby record for me?’
Before they could turn away they heard the sound of footsteps running towards them and Greg pulled Zena against the wall. A man came lumbering past without seeing them, dressed in heavy clothes and carrying a bag over his shoulder. A large, wide-brimmed hat on his head added to the impression of a very large individual. He was enormous and, as he passed very close to them a musty smell invaded heir nose. ‘A tramp by the smell of him,’ Greg whispered. In the faint light from the window they saw that he was bearded. Then, a branch of a holly tree touched his head and his hat came off and revealed a head of thick, white hair. They waited until he passed them, afraid to move, until the sound of his footsteps faded then they ran, uncaring about being seen, for the gate.
They slowed their pace and relaxed as they left the house further and further behind. By the time they were back at Llyn Hir they were laughing breathlessly, as they tried to tell their mother about their adventure between giggles, exaggerating what had happened, adding to the fun.
‘It was fun,’ Zena admitted, ‘but I wouldn’t fancy going there on my own, even in the daytime.’
‘I bet that old man we saw has been sleeping there and was as frightened as we were at finding it occupied.’
From the first moment he had met Susie Crane, Greg had warmed to her. She was small, barely up to his shoulder, rosy-faced, with wildly luxurious hair in a soft shining light brown, and she extended a cheerful smile for everyone she met. Greg had spoken to her on her first shift, welcomed her and promised to help with any problems she might have, although he was certain even at a first meeting that she wasn’t the type to need help with anything she encountered. Behind the smile was a young woman brimming with confidence.
They had been out together a few times and, when they met in the canteen and he told her about the previous evening when he and Zena dared to go to the big house, he didn’t exaggerate his nervousness! He implied that he was looking after his sister. Susie crocked an eyebrow and gave a mischievous grin. ‘All right, it was creepy,’ he admitted, ‘but we both knew there wasn’t really any danger.’
‘It sounds like fun,’ she said. ‘Was there really someone talking, or was it a ghost? If you go again, can I come?’ Her blue eyes were
shining at the prospect of a ghost hunt. Greg thought that searching for ghosts with Susie would most definitely be fun.
He invited her out for a meal a few days later and he laughed as she told him some of her misconceptions about the job, and about the customers she was getting to know, and a few who thought that, as they were neighbours, they might get off without paying.
‘No chance of that!’ she said firmly. ‘I like this job and I want to keep it.’
Greg asked what she was doing at Christmas. ‘You’re local, so I presume you live at home?’
‘Right, and there are aunties and uncles and cousins by the dozen. Why don’t you join us? Mam loves visitors and likes nothing better than a full house at Christmas.’
They made plans for a visit to Susie’s family on Christmas evening, and Susie was invited to Llyn Hir for afternoon tea on Boxing Day. Greg rode home singing at the top of his voice, peddling in time to the music. He would forget about Rose; they were unlikely to meet again anyway, and enjoy the company of the light-hearted and uncomplicated Susie.
When he reached home a phone call told him that Rose was coming for the few days and he shed his happy mood like an oversized cloak. His feelings were mixed; pleased at a chance for her to explain, and disappointed. He explained to Lottie that he might have to rearrange Susie’s visit to avoid Rose and Susie arriving together. Lottie couldn’t see why but she said nothing. Greg and Zena had to sort out their own problems.
On the phone to Madeleine’s flat, Greg asked Jake when Rose was likely to come to see him and explained about Susie. ‘Just a friendly invitation,’ he assured Jake.
The End of a Journey Page 19