by Peppi Hilton
It had all happened when Magdalena had taken Beryl to London to be auditioned by a renowned master-of-ballet. He had been one of the greatest dancers the world had ever known and many world-famous ballerinas had been trained by him. He was one of the most sought after ballet teachers in the world. Beryl had only ever shown the one talent – she could dance. And it was her dream to become a world-class ballerina. But the short visit which had been planned turned into a week, due to them visiting an ailing aunt. Beryl’s excitement at being told she had a special talent, was advanced for her years, and should start with the school as soon as possible, was beyond her wildest dreams.
But it all came to an abrupt end when they returned home. The house was grimly silent and Magdalena’s husband, Sinclair, and her son Billy had gone and their clothes and personal belongings cleared out. Magdalena was devastated, and Beryl’s dreams of becoming a dancer were gone forever.
Beryl blamed it all on Billy, whilst Magdalena blamed the loss of her son on Beryl; after all, if they’d never gone to London in the first place, none of it would have happened. Nothing was ever the same again and her dreams of being a ballerina were crushed.
From that day on Beryl and her mother grew apart. Magdalena adored Billy. He was the youngest of the two children and the apple of her eye. But he was also a musical genius; a gifted child who was being trained as a concert pianist. His playing was already concert material by the time he was two years old, and he would conduct his mother in time as she played. He was born a genius, and he was being studied carefully for a future career on the world stage. And although Beryl had been a talented dancer from a very young age, she didn’t compare to the favoured member of the family, Billy. His amazing talents not only excelled in music, but he began to show the same artistic flair as his mother too, which all added to the admiration and pride she felt for him as she nurtured his abilities.
Beryl however, had always dreamed of impressing her father, and whilst he had never shown great paternal instincts to any of his children, she knew she was more like her father than her mother, and therefore leaned more towards him rather than try to compete with Billy. She couldn’t wait to impress her father when they returned with the good news from London. But it wasn’t to be. Her father and brother were never seen again.
Magdalena never recovered from her son’s loss. He was only six years old when he was taken by his father and no-one ever knew their whereabouts, or what had happened to them. They were written off by the authorities eventually and no-one knew if they were dead or alive.
As for Beryl she was only ten years old and her loss was two-fold. Not only had she lost the only chance she had to become a dancer, she had also lost the one person who she could relate to – her father.
From then on life was intolerable and empty for Beryl. She watched her mother’s decline, as all interest in life was gone. She more or less had to fend for herself, as well as taking care of her mother for what it was worth. But she was unable to fix things as Magdalena was inconsolable. Seven years later Beryl left too, to seek her fortune in London. She simply packed a few things and walked out of the door and never came back. They were never in touch again.
Beryl had no conscience because she was her father’s daughter. She felt no remorse and didn’t have a problem putting her own interests before anyone else’s feelings. She never stopped to think about what would happen to her mother, she didn’t really care. Her own draw to London had a stronger place in her heart than any family interest. She had followed in her father’s footsteps and abandoned her mother by walking out of the family home without as much as a word. And she didn’t even bother to leave a note. She was convinced that her mother wouldn’t even notice she’d gone anyway – and too heartless to even care.
Now she was back and she intended to claim what was rightfully hers. She had heard through the grapevine that the house had been burgled so many times over the years that there was hardly anything left inside it. Apparently rumours were rife that the old woman ‘had lost it’ and wouldn’t have any idea if anyone slipped into the house. Now Beryl had returned she could see that the rumours were genuinely founded. The house didn’t resemble the once grand house she had left behind all those years ago. It had clearly suffered from the elements and neglect over those many years. And it was now hard to imagine her mother being the competent musician and pianist that she’d once been, as well as having taught Art and Sculpture. She had been a very talented sculptress and had held many exhibitions in London, her sculptures being widely sought all over the world.
Magdalena had been very beautiful, articulate and well-educated. She was sophisticated and refined, which made it more the pity that Beryl hadn’t followed in her footsteps; but she was too much like her wayward father. She silently recalled her tall, slim, debonair father with his trim black moustache and smooth short black hair. He could turn on the charm like the flick of a switch and women couldn’t resist him. Behind the cultured façade he was a callous rogue, squandering mother’s earnings on gambling and alcohol. He would disappear for days on end without any of them knowing where he was. Her mother tried to cover for him of course, knowing all along what he was, but she was a firm believer that if you make your bed you must lie in it. And so she continued to fund his extravagant lifestyle in the manner he enjoyed, for the purpose of shielding the children from the truth.
But Beryl always knew what he was up to – at least she’d always been sharp-witted enough for that. But Billy was much too young to know and he was too focused on his music anyway. He was just like mother with his ice-blue eyes and blonde hair, and he looked to be inheriting his mother’s good looks as well. But Beryl was not as fortunate in that respect. Her hair was a boring mousey-colour – often the result of having a mother with blonde hair and a father whose hair was black. She’d also had the misfortune of coming somewhere in between when the looks were handed out. She’d always felt that she was a misfit neither one thing or the other – and she was insanely jealous of perfect Billy. But jealousy breeds resentment and Beryl’s position was no exception – she even gloated on the fact that he was gone.
It had dawned on Beryl as the years passed, that her father had probably found another financially-secure woman of his choice, and had seen Billy as a meal-ticket for his own future. He’d probably thought that by stealing him away he would be guaranteed security in his later life, whilst he continued to live his rampant lifestyle with, no doubt, his new conquest. But although she herself had tried to locate him she had always come up against a dead end, until finally she gave up. And as she’d never been drawn to children, or to motherhood itself, she was unable to understand Magdalena’s emotions and devastation and therefore had been unable to offer any support, or kindness, that might have helped her on the road to recovery. And quite frankly, she’d never really cared either.
She dragged herself up off the step and wheeled the suitcases one by one across the long, bare landing. She glanced up at one particular door on the way past and noticed it no longer had a handle and the door itself had been sealed up. She automatically headed for her old bedroom. It hadn’t been altered at all, except the carpets and the furniture had all gone, but there was an old mattress on the floor which would be better than nothing .Walking back along the landing she noticed that the floorboards still creaked from one end to the other – nothing much had changed in that respect. She remembered how no-one could sneak past that particular area without everyone knowing. She felt no emotion at any of her childhood memories and no fondness. She had a plan in mind and she intended to carry it out, and there was no place in her heart for nostalgia.
Once her belongings were in the bedroom, she wandered back downstairs. She needed to sort out her cat and she knew mother wouldn’t like that as she’d always been allergic to them. As she walked into the sitting room, she glanced over to the grand piano which was still there in the same position as it had always been. It wouldn’t exactly be an easy item to steal, and its lack of use ove
r the years was evident by the cloak of cobwebs strewn across it. Of course no-one could possibly take it without the necessary equipment to move such a weight, or at least being noticed in the attempt. So that’s probably why it still remained; but she doubted if mother had ever played since Billy had gone. There had also been a beautiful and rare antique musical clock which had always sat on top of the piano, but that was no longer there. A valuable and unique piece, it was elaborately decorated in black and gold, with two dials above the clock face giving a choice of settings. A cord drawn from the side would allow it to play a choice of music. But mother had it set at her favourite piece, which was the one that Billy had first learnt to play; a masterpiece which for a six-year-old was unheard of. She had listened to it constantly after Billy had disappeared, no doubt imagining him sitting at the piano playing for her. The haunting melody had almost driven Beryl mad. The thieves must have been canny to get that out of the place without mother knowing. She recalled how her mother had shut herself away, spending her days and nights in the rocking chair in the scullery, gazing into the fire and waiting for Billy to return. She had always believed that her husband would return with Billy once he ran out of money, and she never locked the front door just in case.
But they never came back.
5
NOW
Anton and Lucy had eaten in the van, tidied up, explored the hamlet, and wandered around the caravan park whilst waiting for seven ‘clock to come so they could return to the pub and give the keys back to the old man. There wasn’t a great deal to do to while away their time, as there was very little in the hamlet of interest and due to the time of year it was pretty dead. The weather was miserable, it had been constantly drizzling for most of the afternoon, and Lucy was feeling peeved that they had missed out on their planned day because of what appeared to be an old and decrepit empty house. They had returned to the van to read, but Anton was edgy and couldn’t settle.
“Could we still not set off to our village after we’ve given the keys back?” Lucy asked hopefully.
“I had thought about it, but we couldn’t take the planned route as it will be too dark and it’s a road we don’t know. We could go back and pick up the road which we normally take. We’ll arrive there late, but we should still be able to pull in. Everything will be closed no doubt.”
“The pub will be open.”
“Yes I suppose we can always spend an hour in there and then have an early night. We can set off early to walk in the morning.”
But Lucy knew his enthusiasm had somewhat wilted and she knew it was all due to Juniper House. She knew him well and it was obvious that his mind was permanently on that property. He had continually checked his watch, but only because he couldn’t wait to get back to the old man to ask him more questions. She sighed, knowing full well that they would end up staying the night in the hamlet so he could explore again the next day. But whilst the house was drawing him in, she felt it was pushing her out.
Her mind continually focused on the old woman she’d seen when peering through the glass. They had stared at each other, albeit for only a few seconds. She was old and her clothes very ragged and she looked pretty feeble; but her face had an aged beauty about it, and although her eyes seemed younger than her years they were full of sadness. Her hair was white and reminded Lucy of freshly fallen snow, and there was a gentle elegance about her despite the rags which were hanging from her frail body. It’s quite amazing how much detail the mind takes in within such a short space of time, and how much the memory retains. But the vision had remained with her, and left her with a feeling about it that she couldn’t explain. That was the reason she had been so adamant about her existence.
She would much prefer to get out of there and away from it all. The house was unfriendly and uninviting, and whilst it was seemingly empty Lucy had felt a presence when she was inside it as if someone still lived there. Maybe she was being foolish, it was probably just an atmosphere about the house that had got under her skin, but it was deep enough for her to feel scarred already. She had begun to dwell on her relationship with Anton, how it all seemed too perfect, how perfectly matched they were, and how perfectly well they got on. But nothing remains perfect forever, she knew that, and deep down she also knew that eventually it would have to change, just like relationships do; but she didn’t want that change just yet. Changes take place gradually over time – perhaps many, many years, and then they change into something stronger, deeper, and lasting. It was too soon for those changes yet, far too soon.
“It’s seven o‘clock – dead on!” Anton jumped up, interrupting her thoughts with a vengeance.
“But if the pub only opens at seven o’clock, surely the old man won’t be hanging around waiting outside the door?”
“I bet he will be,” replied Anton with an abundance of delight. “Do you want to stay here and read your book? You don’t need to worry about getting cold and wet out there, I can go on my own whilst you stay here nice and comfy.”
“It’s cold in here,” she snapped. “And I don’t intend to sit in it on my own. Anyway, if you go in there by yourself, you may never come out until they shut.” She jumped up off her seat and grabbed her coat.
“Aw, alright then, I thought I’d just check,” he said downheartedly. He actually sounded disappointed, which didn’t do much for Lucy’s feelings.
They both walked round to the pub which took about five minutes, although if Anton had gone alone it wouldn’t have taken so long due to his long stride – as he repeatedly told her as she lagged behind. Lucy was grumping all the way there, after all he’d made it pretty clear he didn’t want her with him. She’d never seen him like this before – if they were on their way to the local pub back home, she’d be convinced he’d got another woman!
Out of breath and feeling a bit bedraggled, Lucy trailed behind him for the last few metres. The pub was shut and that made her feel even more exasperated. Luckily there was a stone porch which they could stand in out of the rain – which they had to do for twenty minutes in the cold.
The door finally opened and the familiar face of the barman appeared.
“You’re at the early doors aren’t you?” he grumbled.
“I’ve come to return the keys.” Anton jangled them before his eyes with a mischievous grin on his face.
The barman grunted and went back inside.
“He obviously doesn’t like customers,” Anton whispered to Lucy as he led her into the pub.
“That’s probably because he’s not used to having any. I don’t see why he couldn’t have taken the keys from you yesterday, so he could’ve given them to the old man instead of us hanging around,” Lucy complained. But then she was niggled by a troubling afterthought. “What if the old man doesn’t come in?” she blurted.
“I never thought of that,” Anton said, his face beaming.
“But you can’t seriously think of holding onto the keys – can you?” Lucy had stopped in her tracks and was now glaring at him. She was beginning to think the real Anton had been taken over by someone else. What on earth had got into him?
“Well we can’t stay here forever. We have to go home sometime. If the barman won’t take responsibility for the keys, and the old man doesn’t come back to-night, there isn’t much choice but to hang onto them – unless you’ve got any bright ideas!”
“Now listen to me, if that old man doesn’t appear by eight o’clock, I insist you leave those keys on the bar regardless of what that barman says – and we just go. It’s as simple as that!”
Lucy’s chin was tilted upwards as she raised her voice to him. But he just looked down at her and frowned.
“Don’t give me that puppy-dog look either,” she ordered, before finally gasping in frustration at him. “Anton you’re impossible!”
She shook her head in defeat as she followed behind him.
Once inside the pub Anton ordered two lagers at the bar, after ushering Lucy to a seat near the fire.
“What ti
me does he come in, you said he came in at seven o’clock?” Anton asked the barman, knowing full well that he’d had no intentions of opening at seven.
“I don’t have control over his time.”
The barman didn’t sound much pleased as he slid the two glasses of lager across the counter and took the money from Anton.
“Well tell me where he lives and I’ll go and drop them off.”
“Can’t do that,” he said.
“Why can’t you?”
“Because I have no right to disclose a customer’s address, after all, you wouldn’t like me to give your address to any Tom, Dick or Harry now would you?”
“But I’m not any Tom, Dick or Harry. After all, he gave me the keys and he’ll want them back. If I disappear with them, surely he’d be more annoyed at you for not telling me where he lives?”
But Anton was being ignored and he was feeling tetchy.
“How come he has the keys anyway? Does he own it?” Anton had never thought of that before. But his question still didn’t prompt an answer. There was something fishy about the whole thing.
“I don’t get involved in that old place, and if you take my advice you won’t either. Leave it alone,” he growled. “No good will come of it, mark my words.”
Anton picked up the drinks and sat down beside Lucy, who was sitting taking it all in.
He remained quiet as he sipped at his drink and they both sat in silence. Lucy was the first to speak, but only in a whisper: “I don’t know what’s going on around here, but I think we should leave and go home. I don’t like this place, I don’t like this hamlet and I certainly don’t like that house.”
Anton never spoke, he was deep in thought. Lucy looked at him and decided to drink her lager and keep quiet. She wished they’d never chosen to try out the new route. If they had gone their normal way they would never have known about that house, and they wouldn’t be stuck here like two prunes. It had been such a miserable week-end up to now, the first bad one they’d had since buying the van and Lucy was feeling downhearted.