I took a deep breath. ‘I know things have been difficult—’
‘Bah!’ He growled.
‘—but you can’t deny something weird is going on. You’ve seen how I’ve been writing – have you ever known me work like this before? You know about the nightmares, and you were the one who saw me writing in the dark – I had no idea. I’ve not been myself. Can you not open your mind just a little bit and accept something we can’t explain is going on? Or are you arrogant enough to believe that the human race knows absolutely everything, and can explain it all with the science we know? Is there not even a tiny bit of doubt in your mind?’
I took another deep breath. ‘I’ve told you how sorry I am. I’ve told you I never even fancied him, and can’t understand why this happened. You’ve seen how Jennet’s story has taken me over – why can’t you see that it’s even more than that – that she’s taken me over? It’s like . . . like I’m her pen or something. I’m not writing her story or living my life – she is!’
His lips remained pressed closed.
‘I’ve done what you asked, been to the doctor and had the assessment. I’ll go to counselling when the appointments come through. I know I’ve hurt you and I wish with every fibre of my being that I hadn’t. But what’s happened has hurt me too – I didn’t make these choices, they were made for me by something evil and vindictive. My body was taken from me!’
I sat down at the table and put my head in my hands. ‘God, I need to get away from here – from her.’
‘That’s not a bad idea.’
I glanced up at Dave, hardly daring to hope.
‘I can’t deny you’ve been different since we moved in. I’m not sure I can believe it’s Jennet, but I want to . . .’ he tailed off. ‘I really do, it would mean you’re still the Emma I married. It’s just so . . . preposterous.’
I stared down at the table again. ‘I don’t want this to break us, Dave. I love you, I want to fix this, but I don’t know how.’
I looked up at him, and finally he met my eyes.
‘Please, let’s go away somewhere – a last minute booking. A week away and leave the book here, have a complete break. Please, can we try and save our marriage?’
He watched me for a couple of minutes; I didn’t look away. Then he nodded, and I felt my body crumple as the tension left my muscles.
‘Alright, I can’t deny this place is getting to me. We’ll find a last minute deal somewhere warm, and talk. It doesn’t matter where we go, but I do want to see who you are away from Thruscross.’
He wasn’t smiling, but I was. I got up, crossed the kitchen and hugged him. His body was tense, and his arms stayed by his sides, but he didn’t push me away. We had a chance.
Chapter 44 - Emma
29th January 2013
‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’ We clinked glasses and I grinned at my husband. After a tense couple of days wondering if our flight would be cancelled due to the weather, we had made it to the relatively balmy Algarve. We’d had a lovely week here, and it was our last night.
We hadn’t talked – not properly – but we were speaking. We were even sharing a room. Ok, so it was a twin rather than a double, but it was an improvement on separate rooms.
We’d played golf every day. Well, Dave had played golf; I had walked and hit lots of little balls in directions I hadn’t meant to.
‘I believe you.’
‘What?’ I glanced up at him, scarcely daring to accept what I thought I’d heard.
‘I believe you, about Jennet.’
‘Oh, Dave.’ Tears welled up in my eyes.
‘You’ve been different here – the old Emma. You’re sleeping again. I thought you’d be itching to fill the hotel stationery with Jennet, but I’ve not seen you glance at it once. You’re a different person, you’re the Emma I used to know.’
He leaned towards me and took my hand.
‘I feel different, I really do, she can’t . . .’
‘Let me speak, Emma,’ he said, and I shut my mouth.
‘If it was psychological, the problem would have come with us and it hasn’t. Therefore, the logical explanation is some kind of haunting.’ He smiled wryly at the paradox.
I thanked the waiter when he put a plate piled high with fresh clams in front of me, and returned Dave’s smile with relief. Finally, he got it. I took a sip of wine from the one glass I allowed myself with dinner.
‘It’s been awful, Dave. She’s so strong, she took me over completely! I can’t tell you what it means to me that you finally understand.’
He stared at my belly and frowned. ‘I can’t say I do understand. How can a ghost make you sleep with another man? Why is her love for Ramsgill stronger than your love for me?’
I sat back, stunned, then said, ‘She doesn’t love Ramsgill. It’s a different motivation altogether, and I don’t fully understand it yet. But please don’t doubt my love for you, Dave.’
He nodded, then ate. I tucked into my own food. The clams were delicious. I had chosen them every night and would miss them once we were back home.
‘So what do we do?’
I was disappointed that Dave hadn’t said anything about loving me back, but maybe that was expecting too much.
‘I don’t know, Dave. All our money is tied up in your project, and that house and land – it won’t be easy to move.’
‘No, and in this housing market, we’ll be hard pressed to find a buyer.’
‘Even if we did move, the problem would still be there, and another family would suffer.’
‘What are you suggesting?’
I took a deep breath. ‘I finish her story – write her out. Maybe once what happened to her is known, she can rest in peace.’
‘And what about Mark?’
‘She’s got what she wanted from Mark, he’s not a problem any more – he didn’t want to be with me any more than I wanted to be with him.’
He stared down at his plate. ‘What if the baby’s his?’
‘I don’t know. What if it isn’t?’
He raised his eyes and looked at me. I needed all my willpower to meet his gaze. I was trapped in my lie about twins. We were still in trouble.
*
We flew home the following day. The easy atmosphere between us grew more and more strained as we approached Thruscross, and as soon as we entered the house I went to the office and started writing.
Chapter 45 - Jennet
7th December 1777
I threw a handful of scraps to the chickens and glanced up at a noise. I stared at the new wall that were slowly creeping up the lane toward my house, but heard nowt else. I threw more scraps, but kept looking at that wall. It would soon be right round the house; enclosing me; cutting me off from the moorland I loved. Soon, there would be no such thing as open space.
I bent to pick up a rare winter egg, then went back to the house.
I opened the door, stepped across the threshold and fell forward from a violent push. I heard the door slam and the locking bar fall into place and I pushed myself up; only to feel a boot in my back, kicking me down.
‘Stay there, witch, on the floor where thee belongs!’ It were Robert Ramsgill’s voice – the young one. I heard laughter – at least two more.
I tried to speak, but Little Rob Ramsgill’s boot were still on my back, and my face were pressed into the flags – only a garbled sound came out of my mouth.
‘She can’t get air!’ Billy Gill.
‘Aye, turn her over, Rob, we’re not here to kill her.’ That were Johnny Ward speaking, it were the same three who had threatened me in the stocks.
I took a deep breath as I were rolled over.
‘Billy Gill, what does thee think thee’s doing? What’ll thy mam and pa have to say about this?’
He stared at the floor, then at Rob Ramsgill, who kicked me.
‘Nowt to do with thee, witch! Does thee think anyone in’t village cares wh
at happens to thee?’ He kicked me again, spat, then bent and ripped my dress down the front, exposing me to the three boys. All three laughed and the other two crept closer to get a better look. Little Rob planted his boot on my belly to stop me scrabbling away.
‘Don’t do this, boys, thee don’t want to do this,’ I begged, but Little Rob only laughed.
‘Who’s first?’ he asked.
‘Don’t thee dare!’ I screamed at them. ‘I curse any part of thee that touches me to rot and fall away!’
‘Come on boys, don’t be shy!’ Little Rob laughed again. ‘They’re just words; no potions or owt like that, she’s just trying to scare us. Who’s up for it?’
The other two stared at the floor as I continued to scream curses at them. I tried to get away, but Little Rob put more pressure on my belly – he stood with enough force to keep me pinned in position.
‘No? Blithering cowards! Hold her down, then.’
The two boys grabbed a shoulder each. Under other circumstances, I might have laughed to see them both spit on the floor as a charm against witchcraft, before they pulled their sleeves down so their skin did not touch mine.
‘Billy, Johnny, please . . .’ I tried again; but neither boy would meet my eyes. Their stares were fixed on my exposed breasts.
I looked back up at Little Rob; he were untying his breeches.
‘Thee won’t get away with this, Rob Ramsgill—’ the rest of my threat were knocked away by his kick to my mouth. My head snapped to the side; blood pooled on the stone.
My legs were pulled roughly apart and a new weight settled on me.
I struggled hard, but fingers dug into my shoulders and Little Rob’s weight kept my lower body still. I screamed at a sharp pain between my legs, then again and again. It were hard to believe this were the same act I had enjoyed with Richard.
I shut my eyes and kept my head turned to the side. I gritted my teeth against more screams. I were not a party to this, so I would play no part. I tried to blank out what were happening, and welcomed the darkness that spread through my mind.
*
‘Is she dead, has thee killed her?’
I opened my eyes, saw the boys and sat up. They pulled away from me, startled. I covered myself as best I could with the remnants of my dress, and pushed my way backwards across the floor, away from them.
‘I curse thee, Little Rob Ramsgill! And thee Billy Gill and Johnny Taylor! None of thee will forget this day, all thy lives will be lost because of it!’
I lifted a shaking finger at Little Rob. ‘Thee! Thee’ll be first to die. Thee won’t see year end, I promise thee that!’
‘Remember that wolf, Little Rob!’ Billy Gill squealed.
‘It means nowt, they’re just words,’ Little Rob shouted at them, but his two friends had backed away. They were at the door, freeing the locking bar.
Little Rob glanced at me, then his friends. If he did not move quickly, he would be alone with me. I saw fear flare in his eyes, and he stepped away, spat once more, then turned and ran after the other two boys.
Chapter 46 - Jennet
8th December 1777
There were a banging at the door; I flinched and huddled under Pa’s coat in fear. Were they back?
‘Jennet! Jennet! Is thee well? Jennet!’
My body shook with sobs. It were Mary Farmer.
‘Jennet! Why’s door barred? What’s up? Let me in!’
I pulled the coat around me and pushed myself up from the floor where I had spent the night huddled in front of the fire, though it had now burned out. I had not been able to face going outside for more peat. I kept my eyes firmly on the door and did not look at the room. I pulled up the locking bar and unlatched the door. Mary Farmer burst in.
‘What is it, lass? What’s wrong?’
I checked there were no one else outside, then shut and barred the door again.
‘What the heck’s happened, Jennet?’ Mary Farmer stared at me and my swollen mouth.
I glanced around the room, but kept my face still. After the boys had gone, I had burned the remnants of my dress, then washed and washed and washed, before wrapping myself in the coat – the familiar smells soothing me. But I could not tell Mary Farmer any of that.
‘John saw there were no smoke at thy chimney, we thought something had happened. What’s gone on?’ She reached her hand out to my face, and I flinched away from her. The coat fell open and her face paled.
‘Them marks! Thy wrists, shoulders – what’s happened Jennet, tell me!’
I covered myself again and shook my head. Mary sighed and shook her head. She hunted around my cooking area.
‘Why’s thee got no peat in, lass? There’s no watter, neither! Unbar the door, and I’ll be off to well. Get theesen dressed, and get that fire going – I’ll put on some posset and we’ll talk.’
I did not move, but that did not stop Mary Farmer. She picked up a couple of buckets and let herself out. I barred the door behind her, then went upstairs to find some clothes.
*
Mary took one look at me when she returned. I wore the thickest, most shapeless woollens I had over Pa’s hobnailed boots. She said nowt.
She stared at the fire. It were still dark and cold.
‘I couldn’t go out there,’ I said, my voice sounding small and childlike even to my own ears.
She sighed and went back out, returning with a scuttle full of peat from my precious supplies in the turf-house. The fire soon blazed, then glowed with heat. She added water to a pot, along with some mutton bones I had left over and a handful of herbs. I had no cream or eggs for posset. She hung the pot over the heat, then sat at the table. She stared at me, and I sat opposite.
‘Is thee gonna tell me what happened, or do I have to guess?’
I hung my head and hugged myself.
‘Did they hurt thee?’
I nodded.
‘Did they . . . did they . . .’ She did not know how to ask. I nodded again.
She blew out another sigh and sat back. ‘Who were it, lass?’
I stared at the table. I could not tell her. If those names passed my lips it would bring it all back. I could not bear to form the sounds of their names in my mouth.
Mary Farmer sighed once more and got up. She stirred the soup, then poured liquid into two jugs.
‘Here, drink this, then we’re off up to Thomas Ramsgill’s. If thee won’t tell me, thee’ll tell him.’
I stared at her in horror and shook my head.
‘No use arguing with me, lass. Thomas Ramsgill’s Constable. It’s his job to keep peace. He did thee a disservice in October, locking thee in stocks like that. He can make up for it now.’
‘No! Not Ramsgills! No!’
She looked at me a moment, then shrugged. ‘Can’t be helped, lass. Now drink down that soup, and we’ll be off.’
*
As usual, there were no denying Mary Farmer when her mind were set, and we walked up the hill to Thores-Green; a collection of three or four farms set in the middle of the moor itself. Thomas Ramsgill’s property were stone built, as they all were round here, with a long, sloping, slate roof. Mary walked straight up to the door and banged on it. I cringed behind her.
His eldest son, Neville, opened the door. His eyes widened when he saw me. I knew he knew. ‘What’s thee want?’
‘Thy father, is he here?’ Mary pushed past him and I followed. We stood in a small enclosed hall. Tapestries hung on the walls, and lanterns lit its entire length.
‘Wait here,’ Neville Ramsgill muttered, and disappeared through a doorway. A few moments later, Thomas Ramsgill appeared. He were shorter than his brother Richard, and fatter, but his features were similar and it were hard to look at him.
‘We’s here to report a rape, Constable,’ Mary said, coming straight to the point. ‘Jennet here were attacked in her own home last night. Look at her face!’
Thomas stared at me; his face betrayed n
o expression.
‘It can’t be allowed, Constable, rape’s a serious matter, it needs dealing with.’
I winced every time she used the word.
‘Tell him what happened, Jennet, go on.’
I glared at them both in horror, would they really make me say it?
‘Go on, Jennet, tell him!’ Mary squeezed my arm and I told a very short version of my story. Mary paled.
Thomas turned back to the doorway and spoke to whoever were inside. At the same time, Mary whispered to me, ‘Thee should’ve told me it were Little Rob, afore we come.’
I glared at her. I had not wanted to come in the first place, nor had I wanted to tell anyone at all.
Thomas came back into the hall, followed by his wife Hannah, who hid behind her husband and refused to look at me. Richard and Elizabeth followed, then Big Robert Ramsgill and his wife Margaret. Neville smirked behind them.
I watched Richard, wondering if he would help me. He had heard his nephew threaten to rape me when I were in the stocks after all. He did not look at me, and dread crept through my insides with icy fingers.
‘So, had to have another Ramsgill did thee, Jennet?’ Elizabeth sneered. ‘What is it about men in this family thee finds so fascinating?’
‘Elizabeth!’ Richard tried to shush her, but she ignored him and spoke louder.
‘There are no secrets here, not any more, we all know about Jennet. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d cursed them into it. We all know thee’s a witch, Jennet. What did thee do, call on thy Devil lover? Have him trick the boys into lying with thee? Is thee that desperate for a man?’
‘Elizabeth! Enough!’ Richard grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the room. The door slammed shut, but did not shut out the sound of raised voices.
Mary Farmer put her arm around my shoulders, and I realised I were trembling. Not with fear as Mary seemed to think, but with rage.
The Haunting of Thores-Cross Page 17