by Jo Victor
“You know bloody well what I mean. You’ll be going back to the States in a few months, but I’ll still be here. Or are you planning to pitch a tent out on the moor when your grant’s done?”
Alex winced at the derisive tone, but she sensed the fear underneath and her own anger melted away. Cam had given voice to something she herself had been studiously avoiding thinking about.
She took Cam’s hand, clasping it in both of her own. “I’m worried about that, too, sweetheart. I don’t know what I’m going to do—what we’re going to do—when the time comes. Hell, I don’t even know what we’re going to do tomorrow, or five minutes from now. And unless you’ve got second sight, you don’t either.”
“True enough, love—although I do know what I’m set on doing at the moment, and that’s checking on the state of things in the kitchen.”
Alex sighed. “Obviously I can’t stop you. But there’s no way you’re going back in there by yourself. If you go in, I’m coming with you.”
Cam snatched her hand back. “I don’t think so.”
“Fine. In that case, you go right ahead.” She made a sweeping gesture in the direction of the back door. Cam didn’t move, giving her a suspicious look.
“Right then, what’s the catch?”
“Catch? There’s no catch. You want to do your superhero routine, please feel free.” She paused for effect. “Meanwhile, I’ll be around front getting my laptop from the study. I’ll only be a minute, just like you.”
Cam grabbed Alex’s arm, her face a thundercloud. “Try again.”
“The way I see it, you’ve got some choices. You can stand here holding on to me—which is absolutely fine with me. We can stand here till doomsday or the house burns down, whichever. Or you can let go of my arm, and we can each go inside by ourselves, as you’re determined to do. Or—”
Cam suddenly looked much less unhappy. “Or nothing. You’re not going in there, with me or on your own, and that’s final.” Surprisingly, she let go of Alex’s arm. “You’ve forgotten one thing—the front door’s closed, and you’ve no key. Unless you’ve managed to hide it somewhere…?”
She grinned, damn her, giving Alex an appreciative once over. But then Alex remembered the other time she’d been locked out, and she grinned back. “Not to worry. I’ll get Janet to open the door for me. I got her to do it once before—at least, I’m pretty sure I did.” She took a step backward, then another.
Cam started to lunge for her but caught herself in midstride. “Janet! That’s it! The flaming bloody damn place isn’t on fire at all.”
*
Alex felt instinctively that Cam was absolutely right. So when Cam ran to the back door, which—no surprise—was helpfully ajar, and disappeared into the kitchen, Alex just followed her inside, barely even apprehensive. There was smoke everywhere, which did seem to be originating from the fireplace, but there was no fire to be seen, there or anywhere—not even a single glowing ember.
Alex grabbed a couple of dish towels and ran water on them, handing one to Cam and putting the other over her nose and mouth. Cam did likewise, then went over to the fireplace, fumbling with something. Alex heard clanking, and then the smoke near the hearth seemed to lighten a little.
Despite knowing it wasn’t necessary, Alex filled a pot with water and carried it over, poured it on the ashes, then went back for more. She wanted to make absolutely sure there was no danger. Cam followed her example, and by the time they were done the whole bottom of the fireplace was a soupy black mess of half-dissolved ash and scraps of unburned wood.
“Let’s go outside for a bit.”
“Yes, I’d like to try breathing again.”
Once they were outdoors, Cam said, “So. Flue was closed up tight. What do you reckon?”
“There aren’t a whole lot of possibilities. Somehow I doubt Grace could have managed it. But someone certainly did, and it wasn’t you or me.”
“Which pretty much leaves our departed friend.”
“I wonder why she did it—it’s not like she needed to, this time.”
“What do you mean?”
Alex smiled. “Just something that occurred to me when she arranged for the candlelight last night. A few things fell into place. Ian told me once that Janet was known in the village as a matchmaker. Stands to reason that wouldn’t have changed.”
“Matchmaker? Wait a bit, all those breakdowns…?”
“Every single one of which meant that you had to come over here and fix them. I overheard Mrs. Tate once telling Janet there wasn’t any point in causing another one right then, since you were out of town. Of course at the time I thought she was just talking to herself.”
“So all this while—”
“We’ve been set up. By a ghost.” Alex put her arms around Cam and hugged her, loving the feel of her skin. “I suppose it ought to give me the creeps, but I think it’s kind of sweet.”
Cam kissed her on the forehead. “As do I. I wish there was a way I could thank her somehow.” She glanced at the open doorway. “Sadly, I’d say it’s time we got back to work.”
“I suppose we should open every single window.”
“If a job’s got to be done, best to do it right.”
By the time they had finished, and Cam had double-checked that they hadn’t missed even one window anywhere in the entire house, the air inside was much clearer, but enough smoke still lingered that they decided to go out for breakfast while waiting for it to dissipate completely. Cam grabbed her clothes from the kitchen and they hurried up to Alex’s room to get ready.
It only took a moment for Cam to pull on her trousers. Her shirt was another matter, of course, but as there wasn’t much to do about it, she just left it lying there. She sat on the bed to put her shoes on. Watching Alex dress, she wondered what she was feeling, and whether she was hurt by the harsh way Cam had spoken to her earlier. She thought about asking but decided to wait. She had surprised herself with her own anger, and she wanted to try and work out what was going on first.
Of course the knowledge that Alex would be going away much too soon was never far from her mind, but she certainly hadn’t been thinking about it last night, not one bit, nor this morning either, not in the midst of all the rumpus.
And if you had asked her, she would have said that she didn’t want to discuss it with Alex, not for a good long while—let alone throw it in her teeth the way she had. And definitely not on their very first morning together.
She coughed once, the smoke still lingering enough to be irritating, and met Alex’s concerned glance with a smile she hoped was free of shadows. How could they be together at all if she spent every moment imagining the time when Alex would be gone? Whatever time they did have was too precious to waste. Alex was here, now, right in front of her. Somehow she had to make that be enough.
Alex soon finished dressing, crossing her arms and smiling at Cam, an expression on her face that would have held interesting possibilities if the house weren’t quite so inhospitable at the moment. Cam hoped that by the time they got back from their meal, conditions would have significantly improved. She leaned back on her hands and arched her back, enjoying the way Alex’s eyes flashed as she flaunted herself.
Alex was breathing a little harder. “As much as I like that look on you, I don’t think they’ll enjoy it quite as much at the café. In the US, some restaurants even put up signs: No shirt, no service.”
“Get a lot of topless women roaming the streets, do you? Must be quite a hazard.”
“Sorry to disillusion you, but it’s not a major problem, at least not in Boston.” She picked up the remains of Cam’s shirt. “You looked so good in this. It’s really a pity.”
“Don’t suppose you’d fancy trying to mend it.”
“Not a chance.” She smothered a cough. “I’m hopeless at sewing. I think it’s probably a lost cause anyway.” She balled up the shirt and tossed it into a corner, then gave Cam a considering look. “The T-shirts I sleep in are pretty loose on m
e. They’d probably fit you all right.” She pulled two from the drawer and held them out. “Teddy bear or kittens?”
Cam froze. Then she took a good look at Alex’s face. “Very funny, ha-ha.” She chose one at random, checking just to be sure. No picture at all, just an Artemisia Foundation logo. The shirt was a little tight in the shoulders and arms, but wasn’t a bad fit otherwise.
“Right, then.” She held out a hand to Alex and off they went.
*
They got their food to go and brought it back to Dawson House. Alex was glad—it was much more fun lounging on the grass in the backyard with Cam’s arm around her, the two of them feeding each other morsels of pastry in between kisses, than sitting in the café trying to be decorous.
Trying being the operative word—not that it would have mattered much either way. Judging from the sidelong glances and whispers, everyone present had been well aware of how things stood between them. Probably something to do with the way Cam kept a hand on the small of her back the entire time, which had interfered somewhat with her simultaneous efforts to open doors and carry all the food for both of them. Alex had worked very hard at keeping a straight face during the more awkward moments. Truth to tell, she was beginning to get a sneaky little thrill every time Cam went out of her way to do something for her.
No, sitting here alone like this, in their own private space, safe from prying eyes and interruptions, was definitely a much better idea. Gradually, between the warmth of the sun and the comfort of Cam’s presence, Alex grew drowsy. She rested her head on Cam’s shoulder and let her eyes drift closed, thoughts roaming through her mind and starting to slip away.
No doubt the news about the two of them would be all over town and halfway to Leeds by noon. Alex smiled softly to herself. Who needs the Internet when you have village gossip? She wondered what it had been like for Artemisia, living out her days in a place where all the details of her life—painful or joyful—would have been considered public property, part of the fabric that knit the community together. Had she kept any of her secrets? Had she even tried?
From far away, she heard Cam’s voice. “Now that’s peculiar.”
“Mmph?”
“I could have sworn we opened all the windows.”
Alex kept her eyes closed. “We did. You checked.”
“Then why is one of them still closed?”
Reluctantly, Alex lifted her head and opened her eyes. “Where?”
“One floor up, in the center.”
Alex looked carefully. “Huh. One of the windows is closed. You’re right, that is strange. I wonder which room that is.”
“One way to find out. Count over from the end and let’s go inside and take a look.”
It was an excellent idea, except for the fact that it didn’t work. They tried it a couple of times, counting from both ends of the hall, but the windows in every single room were open.
Cam sighed in frustration. “What do you reckon? Could she be playing with us, opening and closing the windows?”
“I suppose so, but it seems unlike her, somehow—causing trouble with no purpose. How about this: one of us stays inside and leans out, while the other goes outside to see where the closed window is relative to that room.”
“Great idea. You stay here and I’ll go out.”
A few minutes later, Cam looked up to see Alex waving from an open window. The closed window was next to the one where she was standing.
“It’s just to your left.” Cam pointed. “Go next door and see.”
But when Alex did, she stuck her head out of another open window, and this time the closed window was to her right.
“Stay there, I’m coming back up.”
Once Cam had rejoined Alex, she quickly explained what she had seen. The two of them were standing in the hall in between the two rooms. They were right at the top of the stairs, facing a set of shelves built into the wall.
Cam looked at them carefully. The shelves were covered in fancy carving and were just barely deep enough for the few bits of bric-a-brac they held, including a small vase and a couple of tiny figurines. She had walked past the shelves hundreds of times, of course, but never paid them any mind. Now it was obvious that something about them wasn’t right. For one thing, they were far too shallow to be of much practical use. Why go to all the trouble of building shelves like that?
And there was something a bit off about the wall on either side. It was hard to put her finger on just what was wrong, but something definitely was.
Standing in the open doorway of the room Alex had just been in, she started to work it out. To be sure, she checked the room on the opposite side of the shelves.
“These rooms are too small,” she said to Alex.
“What do you mean?”
“These two rooms on either side should each be at least a foot or so wider than they are. There’s a good three feet or more of missing space in between them, right behind these shelves.”
“You mean there’s something back there?”
“Exactly. This isn’t a bookcase. It’s a door.”
Chapter Twenty-one
“A door!” Alex said. “And somewhere back behind it is that closed window. You’re right—it’s the only thing that makes sense. But if it’s a door, how do we open it?”
“Well, with no doorknob ready to hand, I’d say we look for a catch or a button or some such.” Cam removed the things that were sitting on the shelving, then reached up and started running her hands over the wood, both the shelves themselves and the carving surrounding them. However, she found nothing, even after going over the whole area several times.
She stepped back and stared at the decorations, wondering what she was missing. But all she could see was a load of fruit and flowers mixed together. Pretty enough, if you liked that sort of thing, but otherwise not very helpful.
Alex came to stand beside her, humming under her breath, and slipped a hand around her waist.
“It’s a pity there aren’t any books on the shelves,” she said “Not that they’d fit, of course. But in the movies, it’s always moving one of the books that opens the secret passage. Unless it’s moving an ornament. But you’ve already taken everything off.”
Cam put a hand on the back of Alex’s neck and began playing with her curls. Maybe they could take a break.
Alex smiled at her. “Oh, well. Guess this isn’t the movies.”
Then she started humming again—the same few notes over and over. It was getting just a bit annoying. “What is that song?”
“Just some silly thing from a kids’ TV show. I’m looking for something here that doesn’t fit, that’s not like the others—something that breaks a pattern.” She let go of Cam and stepped forward, scanning the carving intently. Suddenly she stopped. “Oh, please. It can’t be that easy.”
“What can’t be?”
“Everything on the decoration is in multiples—there are three apples and two lilies, and so on. Except for the rose. There’s only one rose. Of course.”
“Why of course?”
“There’s a Latin phrase that’s used in English: sub rosa. Literally it means under the rose but what it really means is keeping something secret. So the secret to opening the secret door is—”
“Under the rose. Well, go on, then, give it a try.”
Alex fumbled with the carving for a few minutes. Cam heard a small but definite click.
Alex stepped back and gestured triumphantly. “Ta-da!”
The carving of the rose was pushed in and sideways, revealing a small slot. “Um, congratulations and all that, but I don’t see how that helps us. That looks to me like a keyhole.”
“Yes, it certainly does. And I know exactly where the key is.” She ran to her room and came back a moment later grinning broadly, swinging a key back and forth on the end of a cord.
Cam recognized it immediately. “Don’t tell me that’s the key the cat hit you with?”
“The very same. I told you then it felt li
ke Janet had given it to me. I guess she really did, and now I know why.”
Alex slid the key into the slot and tried to turn it. “Huh. It doesn’t seem to be working. Maybe I was wrong.”
“More likely the mechanism’s just a bit stiff. Stands to reason after a century or so. Let me fetch my tools.”
Once Cam had oiled the lock and made a few adjustments, the key turned easily. The shelving unit swung slowly open with a terrible creaking worthy of any horror film, revealing a dark recess behind it. Cam took a light from her tool case and played the beam over a small, narrow room, not much bigger than a wardrobe, with what looked like a desk, a couple of chairs, a few bookshelves, and on the wall at the back, a set of shutters, closed tight.
She would have insisted on going in first, just to be sure it was safe, but Alex had already rushed past her to throw open the shutters, flooding the space with light through the—yes—closed window.
Cam stepped inside, surprised that the air seemed fresh and cool, not musty as you would expect of a space so long closed up. And there was no dust anywhere to be seen. She smiled to herself. Janet’s doing, most likely.
A gasp from Alex claimed her attention instantly. “What?”
“That notebook. The one on the desk with the marbled cover and the tiny gold rose stamped in one corner. I recognize it. It’s the one Janet’s holding in the photo downstairs. That means Janet was in here. She was in here the day she died.”
“What? How can you possibly know that?”
“Ian told me the photo downstairs was taken the morning of her birthday, and she died that afternoon or evening. Ian’s great-aunt Oona was the one who found her the next morning. She was lying at the top of the stairs, right over there. Right outside this room. I think she must have come in here, and after she’d stepped out again and locked it up, she collapsed and died. And I think the reason she came in here in the first place was to hide this notebook. I wonder why.”
Alex sat down at the desk, and Cam took the other chair.
Alex set her hands flat on the desk on either side of the notebook, not quite touching it, as she stared down at the cover. “When I first saw the photo, I assumed this was a book of household accounts, or something similar, and that she had included it in the photo as a token of her professional responsibilities. But that doesn’t make sense—if that’s all it is, why keep it locked away in here?”