A confession
The visitors gathered in the kitchen. ‘Sorry,’ Maria said. ‘I know it’s late but we felt you needed to hear this. Gracie?’ She glared at Gracie, who stood with her head down. ‘Have you got anything to say to Sadie?’
‘Sorry,’ muttered Gracie.
‘What for?’ said Sadie, wondering if the world had gone mad. ‘What have you done?’
‘Tell her, Gracie!’ Maria urged. ‘Tell her why we’ve dragged you here.’
‘T-t-t-tried to poison you! Not a lot, just a little bit!’ Gracie said, and burst into loud wails.
Sadie sat down at the table, feeling her legs wouldn’t support her. ‘You what?’ she said.
Gracie was now babbling away about Gary and how sad and lonely she was and how she had feared Gary might fall in love with Sadie.
‘She used paint thinner,’ Simon said. His eyes were angry. ‘I thought it was suspicious when both you and Maria were so violently ill at the same time. And I’ve noticed Gracie hanging around Bradley’s Cave and Violet a lot recently.’
‘Simon was wonderful. Talk about Poirot,’ said Maria. ‘He actually followed Gracie to the cave and caught her handing over food and money to Violet. She’d been paying Violet to bring things into your house and make a nuisance of herself. Even those stinking rats! She actually bribed poor old Violet into carrying them into the cellar to frighten you.’
‘Why, Gracie?’ Sadie asked.
‘Why do you think?’ Maria said. ‘She wanted to add Poet’s Cottage to her collection. You were in the way.’
Gracie dabbed at her eyes with a white handkerchief. Despite her wails and sobs, Sadie couldn’t help noticing her eyes were dry.
‘I know if I had Poet’s Cottage Bambi would come to live here,’ Gracie said. ‘I miss Bambi, Trixie-Belle and Oscar so much. With Oscar dead, I need to see my grandchildren more. How could you deny me that? You all have family. I’m all alone!’
‘Gracie, your children have shown repeatedly over the years they have no interest in Pencubitt or you,’ Maria said brutally. ‘You might have killed Sadie or me, lacing your home brew with paint thinner!’
‘It was only a little bit,’ Gracie said. ‘I meant no harm. A few drops with a dropper.’
‘You should charge her,’ Simon said to Sadie. ‘I wanted to get your permission before we take her to the police station.’
‘Please don’t!’ Gracie exclaimed. ‘I’m not a well woman since my son died. I’m not responsible for my state of mind.’
‘Even more reason for the police to refer you to somebody who can help you,’ Simon said, at which Gracie started crying in earnest.
Sadie felt confused. Despite herself, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for the woman. Obviously Maria and Simon didn’t share her feelings; they looked repulsed and furious. And Sadie did feel betrayed by Gracie: how could she ever trust her again? Was she so obsessed with buying up the whole town she had no feelings for anybody else? And why didn’t her children want anything to do with her? Did they even exist? It was impossible for Sadie to think clearly; everything she believed about Gracie was turning out to be false.
‘If you don’t want to charge her, Mum, why not insist she get proper counselling in Launceston and monitor it?’ Betty suggested. ‘Then if she doesn’t attend her sessions, take your complaint to the police.’
Sadie was impressed by Betty’s common sense and thought how grown-up her daughter was in that moment.
‘I promise I’ll do whatever you want!’ Gracie said, looking genuinely terrified. ‘Just don’t take me to the police! Please, Sadie. I’m not a bad person. I didn’t want to kill you. I just wanted to make you both sick for a while. If I had Poet’s I know Bambi would return. She always liked the house, with its history of Pearl.’
Maria looked at Gracie with an expression of disgust. Sadie felt overwhelmed with a combination of pity and anger. She’d had no idea this darker, imbalanced side of Gracie existed under that cheery veneer. Perhaps her story was true; on the other hand, maybe she was a lonely ageing woman with a fantasy life she had come to believe in.
‘I can’t believe you would resent Betty and me so much that you would go to such lengths.’ Sadie’s voice was shaking and she attempted to control herself. Bad enough she was standing in her own kitchen in a dressing-gown and curlers with Simon Parish right beside her. What was it with this man and her nightwear? She would not break down like someone from a soap opera – that simply wasn’t her style. ‘I believed you were a friend, Gracie. I thought Poet’s was haunted and all the time it was you! I can’t believe it.’
‘It is haunted.’ The voice coming from the kitchen door made them all jump and Gracie let out a little squeal. Thomasina stood there in men’s flannel pyjamas, gumboots and a woollen beanie. Sadie could sense Maria was close to hysterical laughter. ‘Well, it used to be haunted – until you lot drove them all out with your jabber. I thought something was happening. I came over here to protect you.’ Sadie saw with disbelief that Thomasina was carrying an old cricket bat. Was the entire town mad?
‘Thomasina, did you know anything about Violet sneaking in here?’ Sadie asked.
‘I did. I’ve been watching her for ages skulking around like a frightened dog. I guessed she was spooked by you coming back here to live. She likes to use the bath to wash herself. Has done for years,’ Thomasina replied.
‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Sadie asked, frustrated.
Thomasina shrugged. ‘You never asked.’ And that was the last they could get out of her on the subject.
After eliciting a promise from Gracie that she would attend counselling with a therapist of their choice, Simon and Maria promised to return the following day to help seal off the tunnel. Sadie felt touched by their offer. She could now understand why Maria had spoken so highly of Simon. He was definitely a man you could rely on in an emergency. His tone was far warmer towards her tonight. Perhaps seeing her so violently ill had mellowed him? Or had Maria told him Sadie was not interested in Gary? As Sadie watched them go she wondered how she was going to sleep through the night. Knowing the sea tunnel was there made her feel unsafe. She was afraid of waking up to see Violet standing beside the bed. Betty must have shared the same anxiety because she asked if she could sleep with Sadie for just one night.
As they got into bed, Betty started to giggle, remembering Thomasina with her woolly beanie.
‘You like her though, don’t you?’ Sadie said.
‘She’s cool in a batty sort of way,’ Betty said.
Although Sadie had thought she wouldn’t be able to sleep, she soon drifted away to a confusing dream of running for a train that Pearl had already boarded. Pearl urged her from the window to hurry, but Sadie’s feet felt made of lead. She watched in horror as in a burst of smoke the train began to move; Pearl waved goodbye with her glove, blowing kisses. Sadie knew – but she couldn’t tell Pearl – that there was somebody else in the carriage. Somebody evil, who meant to do Pearl a terrible harm.
‘Stop the train!’ she screamed. Everybody ignored her. Pearl was still waving, oblivious to the danger – and then a dark figure grabbed Pearl and pulled her from sight.
Sadie woke with a jolt to the grey early morning light. She checked her watch – five am. In a few hours Maria and Simon would come to help clean out the cellar. She lay beside her gently snoring daughter, thinking back to Gracie and Violet and how mistaken she’d been about them.
I can’t even tell who’s friend and foe with people in my own life – how on earth will I ever be able to deduce who killed Pearl in 1936? Birdie is right; it was most likely a passing stranger.
And Jack was right when he had cautioned her about letting the dead rest. Birdie, she thought suddenly. I must make peace with Violet and I’ll take Birdie with me. Violet might be more receptive to a familiar face.
Later that morning, a subdued Simon and Maria followed Sadie down the cellar steps.
‘It’s freezing,’ Maria complained. Simon
lay down plastic sheets, while Sadie lit a couple of candles. ‘Be careful nothing catches,’ Maria said. ‘The last thing we need is to be trapped down here with the whole place alight. Where’s the secret tunnel in case I need to make a hasty exit?’
‘I think I know exactly where it is,’ Sadie said. ‘I bet Pearl’s so-called devil was protecting the entrance.’ She began feeling across the brickwork.
Maria and Simon joined in the hunt. ‘There’s something down here,’ Maria called. ‘It’s lower down, so you have to stoop. It’d be easy to miss.’ The ‘something’ was a white wooden door. When pushed, it worked like a cat flap, revealing a dark, damp-smelling, narrow brick tunnel.
‘Simon? Are you game to wiggle along it and see if you end up at Bradley’s Cave?’ Maria asked.
‘I most certainly am not,’ Simon said. ‘It hardly looks safe. Violet is fortunate she got away with using it as long as she did.’
‘Don’t be a chicken, Simon,’ Maria taunted. ‘I’d love to do it if I didn’t have a fear of spiders, enclosed spaces and bumping into a crazed shepherdess. I’ve no idea why she kept coming here. There’s barely enough room for her sheep, let alone her.’
‘I feel cruel closing it off to her,’ Sadie said. ‘And isn’t it illegal to tamper with something so historical?’
‘What option have you got if people are using it to enter your house illegally?’ Simon said reasonably. ‘Anyway, what we’re doing is only temporary. It’s not as if it’s damaging the tunnel.’
They dragged the large wooden sideboard across the entrance.
‘We’ll have to secure the Bradley’s Cave side,’ Simon said. ‘Hellyer must have been a canny devil to come up with this. I wonder if the convict-smuggling stories are true?’
‘Poet’s Cottage has so many stories within its walls,’ Maria said. ‘It’s lucky it now has a writer to tell them.’
Poets had always lived there. It was as if the house called to its own. The line went through Sadie’s mind. She watched her two new friends sparring with each other, washing the old walls in preparation for the undercoat. The cellar already felt lighter now she knew the entrance was sealed. I wonder if Pearl’s killer came through the sea tunnel? If so, it must have been somebody who knew about it. And it could easily have been Maxwell. She saw the genial face of the handsome old man in Birdie’s photograph. Was that the face of a killer? Had Pearl’s behaviour finally pushed him over the edge? Or was it someone Pearl had trusted with knowledge of the tunnel? Violet? Birdie? Or was Birdie right and a stranger had seized an opportunity?
Simon looked across at Sadie and smiled as if he sensed the dark direction her thoughts had travelled and sought to reassure her. He is actually really nice, Sadie thought.
Maria watched the interaction with a small, triumphant smile. Aloud she said, ‘Sadie? Are you planning on doing any work or just lolling about daydreaming?’
The morning saw only a little progress but to Sadie the room already felt entirely different. With the walls and floor washed, the tunnel secured, and the white undercoat slapped on, it looked like a safe and benign place, with no signs of its dark history.
‘I can’t thank you two enough,’ Sadie said.
‘It’s a start,’ Maria said. ‘A few coats of Dulux white and this room will be pristine. We chased a few spiders out, a few old ghosts, and hopefully Violet.’
‘Which reminds me,’ Sadie said. ‘I have to call Birdie and ask her a favour. I’m going to find Violet this afternoon and try to make her understand why I’m shutting her out.’
‘I don’t fancy your chances,’ Maria scoffed. ‘Unless you cover yourself in sheep wool. That’s all she cares about. I say! What about Andrew Weeding, Simon? You two are good drinking buddies. Do you think he’d sell you a sheep as a baaa-rtering tool?’
‘If ewe promise never to make a feeble joke like that again, I’ll ask him,’ Simon said, reaching for his mobile.
Sadie watched Simon’s face as he joked with his friend: where was the stern, judgmental man she’d mistaken him for? How misleading could first impressions be?
‘Andrew’s up for it,’ Simon grinned, putting away his mobile. ‘He’ll bring them around at about three. Do you both want to meet me here to find Violet?’
Maria declined, saying she already had plans, but Sadie nodded. She was confused at how comfortable and relaxed she now felt around Simon. Sadie had found herself staring at him while he spoke to the farmer. All she knew was that she felt happy in his company. She had a sense of coming home – and as corny as it sounded – as if she had known him before.
Looking around the freshly painted cellar while her two friends arranged a working bee for the following weekend, Sadie felt as if everything was coming together. Poet’s Cottage had cast an enchantment upon them all – and life was flowering with some hope and joy for both Betty and herself.
One more job to do. Sadie excused herself to go upstairs to phone Birdie. She wouldn’t feel at ease until she had explained her actions to Violet, even if the attempt was as futile as Maria suggested. She wanted to at least know she had tried.
Violet
Andrew Weeding, a florid-faced farmer with thinning blond hair, was as good as his word. There he was, waiting for Birdie and Sadie outside Poet’s Cottage in a ute with two sheep in the back.
‘I didn’t like to separate these two girls,’ he said. ‘They’ll have a good home with old Violet. She treats sheep better than any person I know.’ He grabbed a battered Akubra hat and placed it on his head. ‘How are you, Birdie? Jane sends her regards and there’s one of her Christmas puddings ready to go in the van for you. It’ll keep well.’
‘Let’s hope I do as well, Andrew,’ Birdie said. ‘Thank your lovely Jane for me. How are the twins?’
‘Grown so big, I can’t believe it. Seems only yesterday they were crawling around in nappies. Now they’re boarding at Launceston. The old house is quiet without them.’
‘Time is a trickster,’ Birdie said. ‘You turn around and an entire life has passed before you realise. A year used to seem an eternity when I was young, but now it’s the bat of an eyelash.’
Andrew shook hands with Sadie. ‘I’ve heard good things about you from Simon,’ he said. ‘Were your ears burning the other day?’
Blushing, Sadie was dying to ask him exactly what Simon had said, but with Birdie’s keen eye upon her, she lacked the courage.
‘I heard on the Pencubitt grapevine Simon Parish had been spotted at Poet’s Cottage,’ Birdie said slyly. ‘He’s a lovely man. And after all he went through . . .’
Andrew and Birdie exchanged a look. ‘He’s a top guy, Simon. We’re lucky to have him at the school,’ Andrew said. ‘Is Violet around? No sign of the old devil, but there’re her girls.’ He pointed down the road to where several sheep grazed on the grassy verge near the graveyard. ‘Let’s introduce her to her new daughters.’ To Sadie’s surprise, he put his fingers in his mouth and gave a loud whistle. ‘Violet!’ he called. ‘It’s Andrew! We’ve brought you some new girls!’
No reply. His blue eyes glanced around. ‘Poor old thing,’ he said to Sadie. ‘Timid as a mouse. Birdie tells me she was a looker in her day, before the fire. Life’s cruel, isn’t it? All that money, looks – now she’s come to this.’ He whistled again. ‘Okay, she’s out there. Let’s get these girls moving. She won’t be able to resist.’
Dash started yapping in excitement as Andrew coaxed the sheep off the back of the ute. Birdie picked up the little dog and stood beside Sadie as the sheep trotted along to the old graveyard.
‘Violet trusts Andrew because he’s the biggest sheep farmer around these parts,’ she explained. ‘He’s been very generous to her over the years, donating feed and lambs. There’s some in the town who think Violet’s a public nuisance with her sheep loose on the roads: they want her put in a nursing home in Burnie, but that would kill her. She belongs to the land here and her family of sheep.’ Birdie’s crisp voice sounded sadder than Sadie had ever h
eard it.
‘Is that why you never mentioned her confession?’ Sadie dared to ask.
Hugging her little dog, Birdie turned to face Sadie. ‘I felt that Violet had suffered enough. Perhaps it was the wrong decision. Angel’s mother is dead but her siblings are still in Tasmania. When you come to write your book, you decide what your conscience dictates. There she is!’
The cloaked figure approached Andrew through the old headstones. Andrew spoke to her for a few minutes. Violet patted the two sheep and then herded them towards the rest of her flock. Andrew turned and beckoned to Birdie and Sadie.
The backdrop of the grazing sheep, historic graves and the ocean gave an almost cinematic effect to the scene as they walked slowly towards Andrew and Violet. As they stood a metre from Violet, Sadie could sense the woman’s terror.
‘It’s alright,’ Andrew said to the woman, reassuringly. ‘They’re friends. This is Sadie, who lives in Poet’s Cottage.’
As the woman turned towards her, Sadie forced herself not to react to Violet’s scarred face. Little remained of the young, pretty woman she had read about.
Violet pointed at Sadie. ‘Gramph!’ she said, or a sound like it.
‘I think she’s afraid Sadie is Pearl,’ Birdie said. ‘There’s a resemblance and perhaps Violet doesn’t understand.’
Sadie moved closer, sensing there was a part of Violet that could comprehend perfectly. How to connect with it?
‘Violet? I’m not Pearl. I’m her granddaughter, Sadie. I live in Poet’s Cottage now. Do you remember Marguerite? She was my mother. She died and the house belongs to me. Do you understand?’ Violet made a few noises which might have been assent. Encouraged, Sadie continued. ‘We’ve sealed off the entrance you were using to enter Poet’s Cottage. If you want to visit, you’ll have to come to the front door and knock. You’re most welcome to do that. And you can bring your sheep to graze on the lawn. I know that you’ve been using the bathroom to wash yourself. You’re very welcome to do that, too, but when we are home. That is the correct and well-mannered way to do things.’
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