‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry you had all that to cope with,’ he said.
‘Not at all. I was just relieved we got JoJo back safely. But the thing is, my friend found this under the floorboards.’ I passed him the tin box and he turned it around in his hands, frowning. ‘I’m sorry, but we were kind of nosy,’ I went on. ‘We looked inside. And … well, you’d better take a look for yourself.’
I sat back in my chair while he took the lid off the box. I was trying to listen out for the sound of Billie coming back downstairs. I could hear her talking in a constant, quiet voice and presumed she was reading the boys their bedtime stories. Downstairs, we were silent apart from the occasional whirr of JoJo’s wheel as he took his usual lively evening exercise. Carl’s eyes were almost popping out of his head as he thumbed through the pile of banknotes and let the gold necklaces and bangles drape across his fingers.
‘I presume you didn’t know about any of this,’ I said.
‘No. But the house has been in the family for more than a century. We inherited it from my Great Aunt Maud. She was a wealthy lady, the only daughter of a rich family who used to own a lot of land around here, so I can only presume this little lot belonged to her. Oh! Yes, I recognise this ring.’ He suddenly looked quite overcome. ‘She used to wear it all the time. I always liked looking at it when I was a little boy, the stones fascinated me. I think she stopped wearing it because it became too loose for her as she aged. How nice to see it again. And I remember this brooch too. What a find! Fancy it lying under our floorboards all this time.’ He shook his head, and then picked up the papers that Matt and I had folded carefully underneath everything. ‘What are these?’
‘Well …’ I lowered my voice. ‘I didn’t want to talk to Billie about them without showing you first, because they’re a bit, um, disconcerting.’
‘Really?’ He spread the typewritten sheet out in front of him and started reading. To my surprise, he began to smile, and by the time he’d read to the end of the page he was chuckling to himself.
‘You don’t think there’s any truth in it?’ I said. ‘But look: it was even written up in the local paper.’
He opened out the old newspaper and immediately started chuckling again. I was completely perplexed.
‘What – do you think it’s just somebody’s overactive imagination, then?’ I said.
‘Yes.’ He grinned up at me. ‘That’s exactly what it is. Good old Great Aunt Maud! I’d heard this story when I was a boy, but I’d forgotten all about it. Apparently she was always up to mischief, had a wicked sense of humour and loved to play tricks on people. As a teenager it seems she drove her parents mad, always hanging around with the local kids and frightening visitors up at the castle by dressing up in sheets and making ghostly wailing noises.’
I smiled to myself, thinking of this high-spirited young girl whose wealthy parents would probably, in those days, have preferred her to sit quietly at home doing her sewing.
‘And this,’ Carl went on, jabbing a finger at the newspaper page, ‘is what she did when she was a lot older and living here on her own. She never lost her sense of fun, you see. She just loved to tease people. Apparently this story really got everyone around here excited and worked up – but when people started wanting to come to the house to hunt for ghosts, she eventually had to admit it was all a practical joke.’
‘Oh, I see.’ I was relieved, really, for Billie’s sake, but I couldn’t help feeling just a tiny bit deflated too – just as, I supposed, the townspeople had felt back then. ‘Were people annoyed with her?’
‘She said most of them took it in good part. But some people actually took a lot of convincing that it wasn’t real. That’s why some of these ghostly stories still come up today, from time to time.’
‘Do they? I haven’t heard anything.’
‘Oh yes. The story about the man in military uniform is repeated by tour guides up at the castle!’
Just then Billie appeared back in the lounge.
‘I hope you’re not scaring Emma with all these old ghost stories,’ she said, smiling at me. ‘They’re all made up, Emma – mostly by Carl’s great aunt!’
‘So I hear.’
Carl pushed the tin box across the table towards his wife. ‘Look what Emma found.’
By the time we’d filled Billie in about JoJo and the floorboards, it was nearly nine o’clock, but they wouldn’t hear of me leaving until I’d had a drink with them to celebrate finding the jewellery, which I completely understood was more important to Carl, for sentimental reasons, than the money and the papers. They opened a bottle of wine and we shared it, toasting each other and also raising a glass to Great Aunt Maud and her quirky sense of humour. Billie seemed completely relaxed, and I came to the conclusion that it was mostly with her children that she became anxious. Perhaps she was just an overprotective mum. I was glad I hadn’t had to scare the life out of her or make her want to move away from their lovely old family home.
‘There’s one more thing,’ I said after we’d all drained our wine glasses. ‘My friend – the one who actually found the box – works for the Chronicle.’
Carl immediately started laughing again. ‘I bet he liked this story, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, he did! He wondered whether you’d mind if he wrote it up for the paper. I could get him to come round and talk to you, and you can decide how much you’re happy for him to include.’
Billie glanced at Carl and they both smiled. ‘Wouldn’t your great aunt have loved that?’ she said. ‘The irony of it – after all this time, getting her story in the paper again!’
‘She would have,’ he agreed. ‘Of course you can bring your friend round, Emma. And he can write whatever he likes. A lot of people around here still remember Great Aunt Maud and they’ll think it’s wonderful to see her story in print again. I’ll hang onto these original papers, though. I’d quite like to have them framed! Your friend can make copies.’
‘I’ll make sure he explains that it’s all made up, this time,’ I said.
When I finally said goodbye to them, and to JoJo, Carl gave me some extra money on top of my payment.
‘A little of my great aunt’s money,’ he said. ‘Share it with your friend. It’s made my day, coming home from holiday to find all these things. We’d never have known they were down there if it hadn’t been for you.’
‘Thank you, that’s really kind. But really it was all because of JoJo,’ I reminded him. ‘Perhaps it’s hamsters that have supernatural powers, not cats!’
I’d arranged to meet up with Matt the next day in The Star to tell him what had happened, and his eyebrows shot up with surprise when I gave him his half of the money Carl had shared with us. I expected him to be a bit disappointed that there weren’t any genuine reports of hauntings to write about, but he was quite philosophical about it.
‘It’ll make quite a nice little story,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Not my big break, exactly, but I can describe how we found the box, and write about the great aunt’s mischievous childhood, as well as telling the story of her ghost hoax.’
He picked up his drink and took a big gulp, suddenly looking away and sighing.
‘What’s wrong?’ I said. ‘It sounds really good. I bet the Chronicle readers will lap it up.’
‘It’s not that.’ He was silent for a moment, looking down at his beer glass, then he suddenly looked up at me again and said, quietly: ‘It’s just – what you told me about that family, how they inherited the house from his great aunt – it’s a little bit like my own situation.’
I waited, silently. He’d told me so little about himself so far, and I sensed that I was finally going to get a revelation about his family or his childhood. Something that seemed to be upsetting him to think about.
‘I’ve recently inherited a house, too,’ he said. ‘From my grandparents. Well, it’s a cottage, actually.’ He looked up at me then, and immediately I saw it in his eyes. I understood.
‘Bilberry Cottage,’ I s
aid, letting out a long breath. ‘That’s why I’ve seen you there. It’s yours, isn’t it? Why didn’t you say?’
‘I’m sorry. I … just didn’t want to talk about it.’
‘Oh.’ I swallowed back my irritation. So he’d lied to me – said he just ‘liked’ the cottage. The day he took me to hospital, he’d told me that he’d just happened to be passing – when in fact he had been inside the cottage at the time. It hadn’t been Shane, obviously, but it wasn’t a hallucination either – it was Matt. He wasn’t only doing the place up, he actually owned it! ‘Don’t you like it, then?’ I couldn’t help saying. ‘Are you doing it up to put it on the market? I saw you taking photos of it.’
‘No, I’m not selling it. Well, probably not. The photos were just for me to keep, for sentimental reasons. So that I can remember how it looked when my grandparents lived there. I suppose I’ll move in, one day. When I’ve finished renovating it.’
‘You don’t sound too excited about it. If I owned a beautiful cottage like that, I’d be—’
‘Well, there you go,’ he cut me short. ‘I’m sorry for not telling you. I just … don’t like talking about it.’
I looked back at him in surprise. His face was a picture of misery.
‘Did your grandparents only pass away recently?’ I asked gently, reaching out to take his hand across the table.
He nodded, swallowing hard. ‘I’m sorry, Emma. Can we change the subject?’
‘Of course.’
We sat like that, in silence, holding hands across the table, for a few minutes while he managed to compose himself. I was sorry for his loss, of course, although I hoped he wasn’t making things worse by bottling up his feelings. And how could I blame him now, for not telling me the truth about Bilberry Cottage? Not only was he battling his own grief, but I still hadn’t told him a single iota of truth about myself or my background. I liked Matt, a lot. I’d been harbouring the hope it might develop into something between us, somehow, eventually, if I could ever get over my fear of journalists. But if he couldn’t confide in me about things like this, and I couldn’t confide in him about, well, anything, really – what was the point of it? There was no future for us.
And no future for me in my dream cottage, either, I thought to myself sadly as I eventually walked back home. There was no point taking any more little strolls down Moor View Lane to stand outside and daydream about living there. It belonged to Matt, even though he didn’t seem very happy about it. Was he really going to move in there? It would make sense; at present he rented a one-bedroom flat above the Chinese takeaway. Or would he finish smartening the cottage up and then put it on the market at a massively inflated price, as people tended to do after a renovation? Either way, it was going to be out of my reach. Not that it was ever seriously within my reach, but at least I’d been able to dream, and now I couldn’t.
I sighed. The day had somehow gone sour. Matt had remained quiet and sad for the rest of our time together, and although he’d given me a little kiss on the cheek when we parted, I’d been aching to be kissed again the way we’d kissed in the car the previous day. It was my own fault, of course – it had been me who’d asked to take things slowly. Now I was wondering if it would be better if we didn’t even see each other. I might be making a success of my little business here in Crickleford, but if I thought I could make a success of a relationship with a man, I was surely fooling myself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
For the rest of the day I moped around at home, unable even to make the effort to play with Holly. I listened to Lauren and Jon chatting and laughing together in the kitchen as they cooked the Sunday dinner, and instead of the happy glow it normally gave me to be included in this nice little family, it gave me an ache in my chest that made me want to cry.
More than ever, I missed my family. I missed my sister. I wanted my mum to hug me, my dad to call me his little girl. Why had I messed everything up so badly with them? Would I ever be able to go back home? Would I ever have a life like Kate’s, a proper life with my own home, a man who loved me, children of my own? It seemed so unlikely, all I could envisage was a future of being an eternal lodger in other people’s homes, growing old and embittered, talking to myself and resenting other people’s happiness.
‘Snap out of it, girl!’ I told myself crossly. Skulking around feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to change anything. Juliet was dozing on my bed, and I lifted her onto my lap, immediately feeling the wave of contentment that comes with stroking a cat, the warmth of her fur and the pleasant rumble of her purrs. ‘You still love me, don’t you, sweetie?’ I said. ‘You might not, though, if you really knew me.’
I pulled the photo of Albert out from under my pillow. It was already creased and dog-eared from so much handling.
‘This is my own cat, my lovely Albert,’ I told Juliet, showing her the picture. She looked at it and meowed, finally making me smile. ‘You might have been friends if you could have met him,’ I said. ‘But I … I left him behind. I did something very bad, you see, and I had to run away and leave poor Albert behind.’ I wiped a tear from my eye. No use crying about it. It was all my own fault, after all.
Juliet yawned and stretched, and jumped down from my lap.
‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘It’s time to stop moping around and go and help with the dinner.’
She meowed again and padded to the bedroom door, looking back at me to make sure I was following. I’d always known cats were empathetic. It felt like she’d understood every word I was saying.
The next day I felt better. I was back with Sugar, the pedigree Burmese, for the week. She’d become one of my favourites and I always enjoyed spending time with her. It was a pity I couldn’t say the same for her owner’s husband. Because of the occasion when he’d let Sugar outside and failed to close the door of her run, Vanya now wanted me to stay overnight at the house. And the fact that I was sleeping just along the hall from him seemed to give Rob the incentive to pester me as much as he possibly could.
‘Please don’t do that, Rob,’ I told him as he leant over my shoulder, breathing into my ear, while I was dishing up Sugar’s food.
‘I thought you liked it,’ he responded huskily. ‘How about this?’ He snaked his arm around my waist, giving me a squeeze that made me jump and spill some of Sugar’s food on the worktop.
‘I’ve already told you: if you keep on like this, I’ll have to tell Vanya,’ I said. I was trying to sound firm, but his nearness, his physicality and overt masculinity, were getting to me. Of course, it wasn’t him I wanted, but the memory of being in the car with Matt, his fingers caressing my neck, his lips against mine, was still achingly fresh in my mind and my loneliness were intensifying the need for someone to hold me.
‘Just leave me alone,’ I said shakily, pushing him away.
But of course, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. For the next couple of days it was exhausting trying to keep him at arm’s length. I found myself thinking that if he hadn’t been married, and more particularly if his wife hadn’t been my best client, I’d probably have given in by now, just to stave off the feeling of emptiness. But as it was, he was strictly off limits.
I tried to make sure I never ventured outside of my guest bedroom in my pyjamas, and took to carrying Sugar around the house as much as possible. He couldn’t do much to me while she was in my arms – if he’d made me drop her, Vanya would never have forgiven him. It would probably have been a far worse crime, in her eyes, than any kind of infidelity on his part.
‘Us girls have to stick together, don’t we,’ I whispered to Sugar, and she looked back at me adoringly, answering me with her usual loud meow, as if to say that being carried around like royalty was exactly what she deserved and expected.
But on the last day, needing the bathroom early in the morning, I opened my bedroom door to find Rob waiting outside, blocking my way.
‘Excuse me,’ I said quietly, but instead of moving away, he jostled me back into the room
.
‘Come on, Emma,’ he said, holding my arm firmly as I stumbled backwards towards the bed. ‘You know you want to.’
The reality of the situation banished any lingering temptation from my mind.
‘No!’ I said firmly. ‘I don’t. Let me go!’
He was holding me close to him, fumbling with my dressing gown, one hand already finding its way inside. I was losing my balance and knew that if I fell onto the bed he’d take it as a green light.
‘Stop it!’ I shouted, stumbling and putting my hand behind me on the bed to stop myself from falling – but he completely ignored me, using his strength to force me backwards while his hands continued to pull my dressing gown open. As I struggled frantically, turning my face away from him to stop him slobbering over me, I caught sight of the jewellery box on the dressing table. Instantly the memories came rushing back to me. That last day in New York. The shock, the violence, the angry words. The heavy jewellery box being thrown across the bedroom, finding its target. The screams. The hasty escape from the apartment, never to return.
‘Get off me!’ I gasped now. Rob was laughing at me, and he seemed to have no intention of stopping. I pushed at his chest as hard as I could. How could this be happening? How was it that men seemed to end up treating me so badly? He was on the point of overpowering me now and I knew there was no alternative. I slapped him, hard, across the face. He reared back in surprise, and I pushed him again, making him lose his balance just enough for me to get away from him. I grabbed my clothes off the end of the bed and ran to the bathroom to get dressed, locking myself in.
When I came back out, the house was in silence. His car was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief, but I was still badly shaken. Despite my anger with Rob, I found myself wondering if it was partly my own fault, whether it had been too obvious to him, despite how often I’d rejected his advances, that I was longing to be held and loved by someone. I would never actually have given in to his demands – he was a nasty piece of work, after all, who treated his beautiful wife with complete indifference. And not only was he married, he was about twice my age. He wasn’t even my type, I thought miserably, thinking of Shane’s dark good looks, Matt’s beautiful brown eyes.
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