When they weren’t by the lake, Rupert and his fraternal twin would escape into the woods that shrouded Kenning Hall. Tree climbing, insect hunting, den creating, and hide and seeking were just some of the activities the brothers shared during their stay here.
Thus, the musky smell of moss, tree bark and leaves was imprinted onto Rupert’s memories, and it never failed to dredge them from the ocean bed of history to the surface of his mind.
The car emerged from the gloom of the trees, into the sunlit circular forecourt of the mansion, and pulled up alongside a giant fountain.
Inside, stood a pair of gargoyles, ominously overlooking the machine, as if it were an intruder.
Ashley gazed up, at the twin stone weather worn sculptures of the fountain. They bore down on her with cracked eyes and mouths open in a silent screech, that she imagined once spurted water. The floor of the stone basin was dry and covered with twigs, dead leaves and dirt.
“The source was a natural well, but it dried up years ago,” Rupert offered, as he surveyed the rest of the area with his eyes.
The gravelled forecourt was immaculate, the hedging trimmed, and the ivy, that smothered the stonework of the building, kept in check.
Nothing had changed, yet Rupert felt like a stranger. After all these years, the house, that had been his family’s favourite holiday retreat, seemed alien to him.
“Come on, let’s explore!” Ashley said, excitedly, unintentionally reminiscent of Rupert’s young self.
She didn’t notice his reluctant smile, for she had already left the car.
Rupert took a deep breath, slowly pulled on the door handle, and stepped out of the car into a chilling breeze, that brought with it that familiar scent, and a whole flurry of memories. The last time he had stepped out of a car and onto this forecourt, Ben had been with him.
“Scary, aren’t they?” Ashley said, interrupting his thoughts and reaching up to caress one of the statues.
“You’ll get used to them, after a while,” Rupert said.
He looked up at the house, to an arched window that overlooked the fountain. He and his brother had spent many hours standing on the landing and scaring each other, with stories of how these massive creatures took flight in the dead of night, and hunted humans.
“Can we go inside?” Ashley asked.
“Of course.”
They climbed the five stone steps leading to the large front door, which was a masterpiece of wooden artistry; ornate swirling patterns carved into dark wood and bound by black bars of steel. The head of a lion hung heavily against it, as a door knocker.
Rupert unlocked the door and, not for the first time today, Ashley gasped, “Oh my…” This was all new to her. It was like the set of a period drama.
Directly ahead, was a large glass coffee table, with ornate golden legs. It was flanked by two leather upholstered armchairs, crowned by a low-hanging chandelier, and overlooked by a large balcony, reached by a gleaming wooden staircases. To their left, a doorway led into the study, to their right, a heavy oak door opened to the lounge.
The smell of wood polish and lavender hung heavily in the air, as their footsteps echoed on the marble floor.
Rupert’s heart was thumping. Nothing had changed.
Clarence, the administrator, had taken his brief literally, and ensured the building’s meticulous preservation, as was. So much so, that Rupert half expected his mother to call to him, from the kitchen.
“Rupert?”
A small pressure on his shoulder brought Ashley’s blue eyes and button nose into focus.
“Are you okay?” She asked, tenderly.
He smiled, and nodded.
She took his hand, “Come on; show me what our bedroom looks like.”
“Now you’re talking,” he said, breaking into a grin.
They climbed the stairs, passing gold-framed paintings of the countryside and portraits of the men and women of the Harrison dynasty.
The first floor was a long corridor of doors. The walls were made of mahogany, adorned by more canvases. Overhead, hung a row of small gold-plated chandeliers. They ran the length of the corridor, to a small window that did its best to banish the gloom.
Ashley paused to take everything in, and, as she did so, she unconsciously leant on the balustrade, overlooking the entrance hall, and suddenly jumped back, when she felt it give slightly.
Rupert smiled, fondly, “That banister has been wobbly since Ben shoved me up against it.”
Ashley pulled a face.
“Boys being boys,” Rupert said. “Don’t worry. It’s safe, but I probably should ask Clarence to have it seen to.”
Ashley scanned the row of doors that disappeared into shadows. “Which one’s ours?” she asked.
“This one here,” Rupert said, pointing to the door in front of them. “Would you like to do the honours?”
Ashley’s face lit up with excitement.
She placed her hand on the door handle, and lingered there for a few seconds, as she imagined all kinds of romantic images of the room beyond.
That’s when she noticed it.
The painting hung to the right of the door. It was similar to the others, in that it was framed in elaborate gold, but here the similarity ended. Even to Ashley’s untrained eye, the different brush strokes were obvious, the colours more vibrant and modern.
The painting was of a dark green lake, as seen through balcony doors. In the foreground, a winding footpath led to a patio of stone and shrubbery. On the still lake, sailed a group of ducks, beyond them, a wall of trees shared their reflection with a cloudless blue sky. On the footpath, a young man, with short blonde hair, was laughing and waving at the painter. Behind him, his doppelganger, sat, with his back to the world.
Ashley was mesmerised; the canvass was magical.
“My mother’s,” Rupert said.
“Really? It's beautiful,” Ashley replied, breathlessly.
“Yes, one of her best ones.”
“One of?”
“Yes, my mother often painted during the summer holidays. It relaxed her.”
“She was very talented,” Ashley said, unable to take her eyes off the scene. “So, who’s this cute little thing waving at her?”
“That would be me,” Rupert said, with a smile and a tinge of embarrassment.
“You look adorable, and your hair! I take it this other guy is Ben,” Ashley said.
“Yes, it’s my brother, having yet another one of his sulks.”
“What about?”
“Oh I don’t know, probably something insignificant.”
“So, were you two identical twins?”
“Almost, but for the colour of our eyes.”
“Really? Is that possible?”
“Well, it must have been, because most of the time that was the only way people could tell us apart; me with the hazel brown eyes, and Ben with his baby blues. Anyway, did you want to look inside?”
“Of course,” she smiled, and opened the door.
They stepped into a large room with subtle light blue wallpaper, four-poster bed and more of Miriam Harrison’s paintings, all accentuated by the golden rays of the afternoon sun that spilt in through large balcony doors.
Ashley moved across the parquet floor, to the opposite side of the room. Then, with one grandiose move, pulled open the double doors and caught her breath; the scene that greeted her could have been a photo of the painting she had just been admiring. This is where Miriam Harrison must have sat to create her masterpiece, it was all here: the lake, the woods, the sky and even the ducks!
“Is the room to your satisfaction, Madam?” Rupert asked, admiring the glow of the sun in her fiery red hair.
Ashley stepped out onto the balcony and uttered, “It’s beautiful, Rupert. It’s so pretty!”
“I’m glad you approve.” He joined her on the balcony, and slipped his hands around her waist.
They watched in silence, as birds fluttered to and from trees, the ducks bathed in the water
, and a chilled breeze kissed their faces.
Minutes passed, then the silence was broken by Ashley who said, “It’s difficult to think that something so terrible could have happened somewhere so beautiful….” The words just fell out of her mouth, and she could have kicked herself.
She turned to him, “Oh God, Rupert. I don’t know why I even said that. I am so sorry…”
“It’s okay, Ash,” he reassured her. “There’s no point in skirting around it. This is where my brother died. I was there, and even I can’t believe it.” His eyes glistened as he reminisced. “We had so many happy times here.”
“I am so sorry, baby,” Ashley apologised, stroking his hand.
He planted a kiss in her hair.
“Of all the years, that was the one where I refused to come here. I wanted to celebrate with my friends, back in the city, but Ben, as usual, got his way.” He sighed. “I can’t help but wonder just how different things would have turned out, had I not given in.”
Ashley looked him in the eyes, then gently cupped his face in her hands, “No Rupert. Don’t talk like that. It wasn’t your fault.”
He smiled at her. “My parents thought it was.”
“Rupert… you don’t know that…”
“I do. They told me,” he said, flatly, swallowing the lump in his throat.
The pain was clear in his watery eyes.
“Oh God, baby,” she said, unable to find words comforting enough.
He continued, “My mother hardly spoke to me after that day. In fact, we were never the same again, right until she took her life. And my father,” he paused, as if choking on the words, “well, he banned me from ever coming back here. Kenning Hall had become a shrine to Ben, and I wasn’t welcome anymore.”
Ashley said nothing.
She knew that no words could take away his pain. All she could do was hold him close. They remained that way for a few minutes, neither of them willing to break the silence, until Rupert said, “Nothing has changed, though. Perhaps my teenage perspective has, but apart from that, everything else seems the same.”
“I love you,” Ashley said.
He looked into her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she said with conviction.
“Willing to prove it to me?” he asked with a cheeky grin.
She replied by kissing him full on the mouth. He responded by pulling her into him and running his fingers through her hair. Then, with all the grace of a black and white classic, he scooped her off her feet and carried her back, into the warmth of the bedroom, where he laid her on the bed.
They kissed again, but this time their passion was hungrier. She unzipped and pushed off his fleece as he unbuttoned and let her shirt fall open, pausing momentarily to admire the tightness of the white T-shirt over her breasts. She took the opportunity to unzip and unbuckle him, revealing the pleasure trail of hair that started from his navel, and disappeared down, into his jeans.
The sight excited her, as it had many times before, and the naughty smile on her face spurred him to action.
He pulled off his T-shirt in one masculine move.
This overwhelmed her, and she responded in kind by yanking off her T-shirt and pulling him down on top of her, where they kissed hungrily until he broke off to nip her neck. The action tickled and tingled her extremities at the same time.
She ran her fingers through his hair, as his face disappeared into the valley of her breasts, where he continued to sow kisses before pausing to nip at her nipples.
They were protruding through the delicate fabric of her bra.
They both giggled at this discovery.
She wanted him. She wanted him now.
They laughed as obstinate jeans refused to be removed.
But their laughter was cut short when the bedroom door swung open and slammed loudly against a nearby dresser, sending a white vase, with a subtle flowery motif, flying then smashing to the floor.
They both jumped up like naughty teenagers that had just been caught.
“What the hell…?” Rupert breathed as he stared at the door.
Ashley pushed herself up against the head rest, hurriedly and self-consciously covering herself with her shirt.
“Hello?” Rupert called out to the door without moving.
“Rupert…” Ashley prompted, pushing him off her and urging him to investigate.
“Is it the others?” She whispered although she didn’t know why.
“Probably James, playing one of his pranks,” Rupert said, sliding off the bed, buttoning and zipping himself up as he went.
He looked back at Ashley, her beautiful cleavage now covered once more by the shirt she was still clasping.
He made a dramatic forlorn face.
Ashley rolled her eyes and nodded him towards the door.
He sighed and, with a reluctant smile, turned once more.
He shivered when he reached the door as an icy gust of wind blew at him from the corridor, making him wonder if they’d left the front door open.
“Hello?” He called out as he stepped into the hallway and looked over the balustrade.
“Ash?” he called over his shoulder.
No answer.
“Ashley?” he called again.
“What’s the matter?” she replied in a loud whisper as she appeared in the doorway, buttoning her shirt over her bra.
“Did we leave the front door open when we came in?”
She thought about the question. “I don’t think so,” she offered, hugging herself as the icy cold breeze danced around her, and played with the strands of hair in front of her eyes.
She followed his gaze to see the door was wide open.
“Weird. It’s hardly a wind….”
“…Shhh!” he interrupted. “Can you hear that?”
“Hear what?” she asked, still rubbing her arms. The house’s temperature had plummeted. It was suddenly very cold.
“That hissing sound,” he said.
Both paused as they listened.
Silence but for the call of a wood pigeon.
“I can’t hear anything….” Ashley began, but Rupert was already moving towards the stairs. “Rupert…” she said, suddenly unhappy with the idea of being left in the gloomy, cold corridor.
But Rupert was gone, descending the staircase slowly, but with purpose, listening carefully as he went.
Ashley looked down the dark corridor and then back at her man as he rapidly moved away from her.
She glanced down the hallway once more and then said very quickly, “Wait for me!”
The hissing sound seemed to be coming from outside. And its pitch was changing, from a high fizz to a low chopping hum.
Rupert reached the front door and looked out at the forecourt, the Lexus was where he had left it and it was alone. Nobody had arrived, but something was different.
And it was as he was contemplating this that he noticed it and audibly gasped.
“Rupert?” Ashley caught up with him “What is…?” She stopped in midsentence, for she too could not believe her eyes.
Their attention was drawn to the fountain. In particular, to the mouths of the gargoyles from which powerful jets of crystal clear water was now spurting. It rapidly filled the concrete basin, resuscitating the desiccated leaves that had lain dormant all this time and bobbing them about the surface.
“I thought you said the source had dried up,” Ashley said.
“It had.” Rupert responded, incredulously. “I can’t believe it.”
“It must be you, Rupert. Coming back to the house after all this time, you brought it back to life,” Ashley said, brightly.
Rupert said nothing. He was still in awe of the spectacle before him.
The fountain had stopped running water shortly after Ben’s death and he had never known it to run since, until now.
Ashley put her arm around him. “It’s a welcome home, baby.” She smiled, affectionately.
“Yes, I guess so,” was all he cou
ld say.
“Oh, who was at the door by the way?”
“Nobody,” he answered distractedly.
“What do you mean nobody?” she laughed.
He turned to her. “I mean nobody.”
“So, who opened all the windows?”
Rupert looked up, turned around; every single window this side of the house was indeed wide open. That’s when the world darkened as the sun disappeared behind a black cloud.
3 THE GUESTS
It was dusk when the black Range Rover Sport drove onto the Kenning Hall forecourt.
Elisabeth Harrison, Rupert’s 53-year-old cousin, immaculately dressed in a black designer trouser suit, left the vehicle and checked her outfit for creases. She scowled, when she discovered a seatbelt indentation down the front, and tried to brush it out with her hand, but to no avail. It was while she was doing this that she noticed the cascading water of the fountain.
I thought this thing had stopped running.
She pondered this for a few moments. Then, reached into the car and pulled out her mink coat. She wrapped it around herself with a big smile, as if cloaked by the very money it took to buy it.
Yes, it was real fur and yes, that is why she loved it so.
Elisabeth was not an animal rights believer. She had been invited to many such fundraising events, but attended none. She believed society was governed by a natural pecking order. In her opinion, animals belonged at the bottom and not where bleeding heart animal lovers campaigned them to be.
Her green eyes surveyed the building.
It had been a very long time since she had been here. A lot of memories. Many of which came flooding back, as her attention lingered on the arched window. Even now, after all these years, the darkness lurked behind the glass like an evil stalker, biding its time. She remembered how, as a child, she avoided looking directly at that window for fear of discovering a pair of eyes glaring back at her. Much to her surprise, those feelings were still present.
The slamming sound of the car door broke her thoughts and she hurried up the steps to the entrance.
“Come on, Adam!” she shouted when she reached the front door.
Officially, Adam Lewis had been dating Elisabeth Harrison for nearly a year now.
They had met at a charity ball, where not even the tyrannical millionaire shareholder of Harrison Publishing had managed to resist the thirty-year-old in his tuxedo. He had a lean six-foot frame, wavy strawberry blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a strong jawline wrapped in a manicured beard; everything Elisabeth’s ego required.
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