Angela's Dead

by Lou Peters

  ANGELA’S DEAD

  BY

  LOU PETERS

  Copyright Lou Peters 2009

  All the characters in this book are fictitious

  And any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

  is purely coincidental.

  Front Cover Design: By Melody Simmons

  of eBookindiecovers

  For My Family

  PROLOGUE

  August 1996

  Monday morning arrived in a blistering heat haze of burnished gold and sapphire as sky earth and sea melded into one glorious vista. For the young girls it had been the commencement of the second week of the camping holiday in rural Northern France. Set free from adult constraints for the short time bequeathed, the two made the most of the opportunity. They ran chasing butterflies across fields bright with bursting sunflowers. Ahead, a dense line of woodland appeared cool and inviting. Laughing, Mary and Angela raced towards the trees.

  It was almost midday and a change had occurred. The air hot and stagnant even in that shadowed place, seemingly absent of motion. Not the merest hint of a breeze to offer relief. The calm before the brewing storm hanging heavy above the surrounding canopy, grey and menacing but unnoticed by the young explorers. The woods were dark and silent. The only sound came from the crunching of freshly fallen dried leaves beneath the girls’ feet as they walked hand in hand along the underused pathway. Clawing brambles reached out long vicious tentacles along the route to scratch and tear unwary, exposed bare limbs. With caution, they carefully picked their way through these prickly obstacles.

  They chanced upon the house quite suddenly, as if appearing out of nowhere in the blink of an eye. Or so it seemed to Mary and Angela stumbling into the unexpected clearing. The building rose up, a dark mass beyond the open rusting gates, yet was still dwarfed by its surroundings. The ivy clad facade blended into the tree filled background. Camouflaged, muted shades of browns and greens, as though the house wasn’t there at all but was merely a figment of their imaginations. The ten year olds stood on the parched earth gazing upwards. Hands shielding eyes from the glare of light momentarily piercing through the gaps in the misshapen branches of the enormous trees, they made a pact. Made it their mission to reach the very top of the house, to the room with the faded shutters, and to look down on where they now stood.

  Hesitantly pushing through the heavy creaking door, it had been a relief to enter the coolness of the old French manoir. Their initial investigation of the cobweb draped lower rooms concluded; carefully the girls had climbed the crumbling staircase. Avoiding the gaping holes and splintered wood in the rotted framework until they’d reached their goal. It was clear the house had been abandoned long ago and yet something remained. Some unexplained presence that seemed to follow them from room to room, as if eyes were watching their movements from the dusty portraits hanging in the immense hall. Intention fulfilled, Angela and Mary now waited silently in the darkened passageway, unsure, if, after all, they should take that final step. What had appeared as a great adventure outside in the overgrown garden, had somewhat lost its lustre.

  The door was slightly ajar. Apprehension prickled the skin, accelerated the blood pulsing it through their veins. Slightly braver than Angela, Mary pushed the door experimentally with the toe of her well-worn trainer. The door’s rusty hinges let out a moan of disapproval, forcing her breath to lodge at the back of her throat along with a mouthful of ingested fetid air. Inexorably slowly, the creaking aperture widened as if drawn by a ghostly hand, bidding them entry into the unknown. It may have been a hot and humid mid-summers day, however the house appeared ignorant of the season. It remained in the depths of winter. Especially here, in this gloomy place where no birds’ song permeated its thick walls. Goose bumps appeared on the surface of the girls’ sun kissed skin, a reaction to the sudden lowering temperature. All was quiet and still. The air hushed as if the very house was holding its breath. The two stepped into the room starved of light. Shadows thrown against the walls at their entry intensified into distorted moving shapes. A noise from one of the corners startled. Hearts already thumping wildly beat that little bit faster. Angela exchanged a nervous glance with Mary. Fear reflected in eyes made large by imagined terrors. Rats or something worse? It was too late to go back now. Similarly dressed in shorts and t-shirts, the girls crept a little further into the room. The seeping stench was overpowering. Dampness and mould assailed their senses, mingled with a more basic essence – the vile perfume of human sweat and excrement.

  Movement... and the air became alive with electricity, as though some dark thought from the past had been released to be given life and purpose. The girl’s anguished cry was short lived – a reflex action instantly devoured into the pulsating silence. The single heavy blow struck at the base of the unsuspecting victim’s head, floored her and she fell to her knees. Laughter followed abrasive and shocking filling the room, the sound seeming to go on for an eternity. Then as abruptly as it’d commenced the laughter abated. Cut off like the flow of running water by the turning of a tap, leaving behind an eerie after echo in the near darkness. Like an obnoxious odour the oppressive intensity lingered in the space, appearing louder than the original clamour. His breath came out ragged and strangled as though he was clutching for his last gasps of air. The sound of running footsteps thundering down the staircase further shook the ancient house.

  Slivers of sunlight trespassed into the room through the wooden slats of the warped shutters encasing the high, solitary window. Revealing in small patches, where the sparse light filtered through, hundreds upon hundreds of tiny dust motes. They swirled joyously on the tide of recent movement. Released, the particles danced over the lifeless body crumpled in a heap on the floor, as if it was nothing more than a small bundle of discarded clothing. Somewhere in the near distance a door slammed shut, leaving the old house to go back to its previous slumber.

  CHAPTER ONE

  October 2009

  ‘What do you think of that Rache?’ Richard Johnson waved the black and white image under his girlfriend’s nose. Not allowing her eyes time to focus on whatever it was, the paper jiggled blurred in front of her. She took the leaflet from his grasp. Studying the grainy photograph superimposed on the cover of the estate agent’s blurb, the creaking cogs of her brain tried to work out the relevance of Richard’s obvious excitement.

  Unable to wait any longer for her knee jerk reaction, he announced, ‘I’ve bought it.’ Richard snatched the leaflet from within her fingers before Rachel had the chance to open her mouth in response. A wide grin appeared across his handsome features, his eyes danced with inner excitement. He could almost have been on the television, she thought, advertising a new super duper brand of toothpaste. At any moment she expected to see a sparkle of light bouncing off the enamel accompanied by a “ping,” to complete the illusion.

  ‘When you say you’ve bought it, what exactly does that mean?’Rachel said confused, aware he’d only been out of the flat for an hour at the most, ostensibly to buy teabags. With no prior interest in house hunting indicated on his departure, what was she meant to think? Surely, he’d not had enough time to purchase a property. And where were the teabags?

  ‘Are you not paying attention Rachel?’The use of the normally missing “L” in her Christian name reinforced the seriousness of his question. ‘I’ve bought us a cottage, the opportunity to start a new life together. And not just any old cottage, but a cottage by a river with enough land for me to start up my nursery, and continue my landscaping business.’

  As they stood in the kitchen Richard pulled her towards him. Easily, he encircled her waist within his strong, suntanned arms. Brushing her shoulder length hair secured with a scrunchie at the nape of her neck, aside with his nose, he began kissing th
e revealed portion of skin, sending tingles down her spine.

  ‘I’d better have a closer look then.’ Wriggling free from his embrace she gave a nervous laugh, finding it almost impossible to accept the truthfulness of his statement.

  Rachel sat at the table, eyes screwed up scrutinising the photocopied details, of the supposed aptly named, River Cottage. Judging by the state of the “For Sale” sign, the place had been on the market for some time. Soulless windows stared back at her. As if they were issuing a challenge to see which one of the two would break first. Her initial observation was the cottage appeared to stand on its own. From the image held in her hands, no neighbouring properties could be discerned. Trees and shrubs obscured a large proportion of the property making it difficult to judge its true condition. However, what she could see, she didn’t like. In her opinion the place oozed malice. But maybe she was being over dramatic and the poor quality of the leaflet certainly wasn’t doing it any favours.

  ‘How can you go to the shops for teabags and come back with a cottage?’ To Rachel’s ears that sounded like a reasonable question.

  Normally sensitive to her moods, too embroiled in his own heightened excitement, Richard failed to pick up on her lack of enthusiasm. ‘I was just passing the agent’s window and it leapt out at me. I couldn’t believe the price for one thing. While I was outside, I thought there wouldn’t be any harm in popping in to enquire if there’d been a mistake. Apparently, it had been up for sale for a quite a bit more, but you know how things are these days. The owner’s been forced to reduce the price to combat the effects of the present sluggish market, hoping to revive interest.’

  He stood with his back resting against the sink. His voice like a well rounded wine was rich and smooth. Watching his wide, crooked mouth moving, Rachel felt the urge surge through her to get off the chair and kiss him hard on the lips. With difficulty, she refocused her attention on what he was actually saying. As the words permeated, the thought formed in her mind that the owner, whoever he or she may be, would’ve had to considerably reduce the price of the property. She looked once more at the details in front of her. If the photograph was anything to go by, the place was a ruin.

  ‘Richard when you came in I thought you meant you’d actually bought the cottage.’ Again a nervous giggle escaped from between Rachel’s parted lips. He came and sat at the table, placing himself in the chair opposite. She smiled across at him. Relief washed over her as she realised what must have occurred. ‘But you’ve only just seen it advertised, right?’ Hope shone in her blue eyes, as they locked with his. However, his response left her in little doubt.

  ‘No Rache. I’ve bought it. Put in a cheeky offer three grand below the reduced price. Thought that would help towards solicitor’s costs. The agent got on the blower while I was there. She was really helpful...’

  I bet she was, Rachel thought.

  ‘...spoke to the vendor. He accepted the revised offer. Hands were shaken in the office to seal the deal and I signed on the preliminary dotted line. The property is now officially off the market and I need to get that solicitor rather quickly,’ he grinned.

  ‘But you haven’t even seen the place Richard,’ she wailed. ‘It could be falling down, need a new roof. For all you know, the only wall standing maybe the one in the photograph.’

  ‘It’s not like you to be so negative. Don’t you like it Rache?’ Richard looked at her as if considering Rachel for the first time. His beaming smile temporarily vanquished, as he studied her face, trying to read what she might be thinking. ‘I thought you’d be pleased, you’re always banging on about how great it would be to get away from here.’

  What could she say? Richard was impulsive, Rachel knew only too well. Normally, being a hesitant person herself, she admired that trait. However, buying a property without seeing it was more than impulsive, it was downright foolhardy. Then again, what about her and her thoughts on the place? Obviously Richard, at the moment of agreeing to purchase the rundown building, hadn’t taken the time to think of her at all. But did Rachel enlighten the man standing in front of her, brows drawn, with a solicitous look on his face, to any of this? Not wishing to burst his bubble, she uttered lamely. ‘Err. Maybe it’s just the bad photograph.’ The opportunity to say what she really felt, passed in front of her like the dissolution of cloud formations in a summer sky and just as transient.

  ‘There’s a girl. You’ll love it when you see it.’ The grin had returned with a vengeance. ‘Are you in work tomorrow?’

  ‘No, I’m off now till Monday.’

  ‘Great, we’ll drive down in the morning,’ Richard proclaimed enthusiastically. ‘I’ll nip in the agent’s office first thing to collect the keys. Then we can head off. Make a day of it, have a pub lunch somewhere.’ He was doing his utmost to put a positive spin on the event, trying to make the outing sound more appealing to her. However, Rachel remained unconvinced.

  ‘Where exactly is this cottage Richard?’ She enquired hesitantly, not sure if she was going to like the answer.

  ‘Rasburgh, it’s a little village in the South West, you’ll love it,’ he repeated.

  Rachel hated it.

  It was one of those damp, murky final days of October when Rachel and Richard set off. Firstly Richard had collected the keys from Biggins and Wallace, the estate agents. Luckily the couple had been able to park in a clear space directly in front of the agent’s building while they waited for the business to commence trading. At twenty to nine there were plenty of cars crawling along the main street, bumper to bumper. Fifteen agonisingly long minutes later the doors opened. Rachel remained in the car while Richard bounded through the entrance door like an over exuberant dog. She witnessed through the large, plate glass windows, the attractive woman, who seconds earlier had sat down at her desk leap up at Richard’s entry. Her face wreathed in smiles, hand extended in greeting. Rachel felt an irrational stab of jealousy. She’d witnessed this reaction before of course, many times over the past two years. The thing was Richard didn’t know the impression he made. Just how attractive he appeared to the opposite sex. Making the man all the more endearing to her, despite the difference in the couple’s ages. Tall and slim, yet at the same time broad and manly, his body toned by his chosen profession. Alert grey eyes, sparkled with intelligence and humour. Richard had an unconscious way of looking at a person. Which precluded anyone else in the near vicinity, making that someone feel special. His hair was thick, dark and curly, reaching to the shirt collar poking out from beneath the navy sweater he wore that morning. At thirty eight he was at peak perfection. Or perhaps Rachel had a one sided view of the man, because she was in love with him.

  It’d been decided to use Rachel’s Peugeot for the journey to view the cottage. Deeming the Transit Richard used for work would be too heavy on fuel and less comfortable. Richard behind the wheel, the two had remained in companionable silence for the most part. The radio signal had become fuzzy and distorted and so they’d reverted to listening to her limited selection of CDs. Rachel looked out of the window at the indistinct changing landscapes. As if viewing numerous water colour paintings left out in the rain to run and spoil, washed in sepia of blurred grey, greens and browns. The overcast sky bled into the towns and stretches of countryside, as the car sped along. However, Rachel preoccupied with her unsettling gut feelings was unable to absorb much of her surroundings. The tight ball of unreasonable anxiousness lurking in the pit of her stomach, expanded with every mile covered. Her fingers with nothing to occupy them moved restlessly in her lap. The windscreen wipers screeching against the glass jangled Rachel’s frayed nerves further. Not enough lubricant on the surface to work effectively, but enough to mist up the screen and need clearing.

  Richard noticed the tension in her body. He leant towards her to ask if she was feeling okay. She smiled; trying to assume a more relaxed position assured him everything was fine. He went back to tapping his hand against the steering wheel in time to the current track filling the car with sound. Jo
ining in with the one line of the chorus he knew. His voice was slightly off key; nevertheless he gave it plenty of oomph. Reaching across the limited space he gave Rachel’s knee a quick squeeze, treating her for a couple of seconds to one of his wide mouthed, crooked smiles. His eyes creased at the corners as he glanced across at her. Rachel loved sitting close to Richard. His aura exuded masculinity, positivity, a man in control of his own destiny. In short, he made her feel safe. She’d tried to explain that once to her best friend, Jackie, but the woman had scoffed. Same old reaction, Richard was too old for her. A sudden waft of his woody aftershave had Rachel wanting to rest her head against his shoulder, explain to him her fears. However, she resisted the temptation, not wanting to distract him while he was driving the unfamiliar route, or to spoil his ebullient mood.

  Nearly four hours later, after a couple of short comfort stops to break up the journey and after stopping to ask for directions, the Peugeot eventually turned off the lane they were travelling to enter an even narrower track. A fairly steep ditch ran the whole length along one side of the hedged route. Slowly driving down its rutted, pitted contours Rachel contemplated what it was doing to her car’s suspension. As if on cue, once again she was roughly thrown against the passenger door having encountered yet another aggressive pothole in the un-adopted road’s surface. Crossing a small humped back bridge which traversed a narrow, but fast flowing river Richard finally pulled the black car onto the sodden grass verge outside of the property.

  It’d stopped raining. However, the air remained cool and damp. A slight mist clung about their clothing in a silver sheen as Rachel and Richard alighted from the car, giving legs a much needed stretch. As she’d suspected from the monochrome print the place was isolated. Not another building in sight. That fact alone made Rachel feel uneasy. A tall overgrown hedge surrounded the perimeter and entrance to the property was through a white painted, arched wrought iron gate. Peeling paint fell to the ground like curls of white chocolate as soon as Richard touched the fabrication. The bad vibes emanating from the place made Rachel want to turn and flee. Longing to return to the security and familiarity of where they’d recently come from.