At the front was a formal-looking document with his mother’s signature on it, and behind that were a few other pieces of paper, including an ancient electricity bill and some stuff from the council.
But that was it.
Nothing that looked even remotely interesting.
Sighing, he made to replace the folder – then stopped, his eye caught by a tiny flash of gold at the back of the drawer. Something had been pinned to the wood: a cream-coloured envelope held in position by a single drawing pin.
He put down the folder and unfastened the envelope from its hiding place…
…and there it was, in faded black ink – his father’s name laced across the centre in his mother’s handwriting, calling to him from another world.
Phoenix jumped as the carriage clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour. Dad would be back soon. Even Mrs Hopwood with her chatterbox ways couldn’t keep him talking much longer.
If he was going to do this, he didn’t have long.
Quickly, he lifted the flap and pulled out a single sheet of paper, his guts twisting at the sight of the same spidery hand that had looped his father’s name on the front of the envelope. Straightening up, he smoothed it out and began to read.
My dearest Joel,
By now you will have received the news that you have inherited Gravenhunger Manor.
I’m sorry you have had to find out about it this way – that I didn’t have the courage to tell you in my last weeks. I expect it has all come as a bit of a shock.
But telling you about it myself would have led to questions. Questions which, after all this time, I do not think I could have found it in myself to answer.
I owe you, however, at least some kind of explanation. Please accept this as the best I can give.
My parents moved to Gravenhunger Manor when I was twelve years old. They had grown tired of city life, so when my father was offered a job near the coast, it seemed their prayers had been answered, and together they ploughed their savings into the purchase of what was to become our new home.
It was the most magical place I had ever set eyes on. I could see the blue sea from my bedroom window and the river running at the bottom of the pine forest. It was a child’s paradise.
But something happened there, Joel. Something so terrible that we left only a few weeks after we arrived.
From outside, Phoenix could hear voices drifting on the evening air. He edged towards the window and glanced out, taking care to keep behind the curtains.
His father was standing on the neighbour’s doorstep, nodding and smiling and saying his goodbyes.
He flicked his gaze back to the letter.
Exactly what happened is a secret. No one ever knew the truth but me – not even my poor, dear parents. It is a secret I have chosen to take with me to the grave. Know only that it was every bit my fault – and that I will never forgive myself, neither in this life nor in the life to come.
After we left, my parents tried to sell Gravenhunger Manor, but nobody would buy it. When they died, the house was passed down to me in their will. I did not try to sell it. It was easier simply to keep away.
Footsteps were coming up the garden path…
Sell the place if you wish, Joel. Use the money to make you both comfortable. Nothing would give me greater pleasure.
Take good care of yourself – and above all, look after Phoenix. He is your very greatest treasure.
Your loving wife,
Elvira
His hands shaking, Phoenix tucked the letter inside the envelope again. He bent to re-pin it to the back of the drawer and replaced the folder as he’d found it.
Then he slid the desk drawer shut and hurried out into the hallway – just as his father pushed open the front door.
2.
GRAVENHUNGER MANOR
Phoenix blinked back the sunlight that was streaming towards him and looked at the clock on the dashboard.
Only eleven o’clock, and even with all the windows open the car was like an oven. Perhaps they really were in for a heatwave this summer. It certainly felt that way.
“You’ve been spark out for nearly two hours,” said his father, glancing across at him. “Didn’t you get much sleep last night?” He swung the car down a narrow lane bordered by low hedges and clumps of yellow gorse. “Were you thinking about what I told you last night? About your mum and Gravenhunger Manor, I mean? D’you want to talk about it?”
Phoenix shook his head. “No thanks, Dad. It’s cool, OK.”
His father raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? It must have been a bit of a shock.”
A bit of a shock. It was the same expression his mother had used in her letter. I’m sorry you have had to find out about it this way … I expect it has all come as a bit of a shock.
Too right it was a shock. How else were you supposed to feel when the person you thought you knew so well, the person you had shared all your thoughts and worries and feelings with, turned out to have had a strange and secret past?
“Really, Dad, I’m fine,” he murmured. “I’m tired after the school term, that’s all. In any case, it’s too hot to talk about anything right now.”
He closed his eyes again and turned away.
It wasn’t that he blamed Dad for keeping quiet about the letter. After all, he must have been feeling pretty mixed-up about the whole thing himself. It was just that what he had read was completely doing his head in, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it.
He had lain awake for hours last night, going over and over his mother’s mysterious words in his mind.
…something happened there … something so terrible that we left only a few weeks after we arrived … it was every bit my fault … I will never forgive myself, neither in this life nor in the life to come.
What on earth was this terrible thing that had caused the family to leave Gravenhunger Manor in such a hurry? And why hadn’t she felt able to share whatever it was with him and Dad?
When sleep had come at last, he had been swept up into a wild tangle of dreams, where image after image of his mother had flashed before him. Images of her reading to him when he was a small child; images of her face the day she had told them she was ill; images of her right at the very end.
He had woken drenched in sweat, his stomach churning, waiting for dawn to rescue him from the suffocating darkness.
Phoenix shifted in his seat, relaxing a little as he felt the silver angel nudge against his leg from inside his jeans pocket.
One thing was certain. He was going to use every second of his time at Gravenhunger Manor to find out what had happened there all those years ago. Exactly how he would go about it he didn’t yet know, but he wouldn’t rest until he had uncovered the truth.
Beside him, his father’s voice roused him from his thoughts.
“Nearly there now,” he was saying. “I caught a glimpse of the sea just then. It’s such a wonderfully clear day.”
He checked the clock.
“There should be just enough time to open up the house and get the bags in before I need to collect Rose from her train.”
Phoenix groaned to himself.
If only Dad hadn’t invited his cousin to stay with them. Having her around was going to make finding things out a million times more difficult.
He glanced outside as the car slowed to a halt beside a narrow track leading off through a forest of pines. A pair of rusty entrance gates, long since fallen from their hinges, lay in the undergrowth, half covered in drifts of pine needles.
He screwed up his eyes in an effort to read the signpost that stood at the side of the road. But where words had once been, only the ghost of letters remained – and he could only guess at what must lie at the end of the track that snaked its way through the forest and out of sight.
Rose stepped off the train into the stream of passengers heading towards the main station concourse.
She was practically dying of heat.
The onboard trolley service had ru
n out of drinks halfway through the journey and then the air conditioning had broken down in her carriage, sending the temperature rocketing, along with everybody’s tempers.
But she was here at last, and with half an hour to spare before her connection left for the coast, at least now she could get a drink and find somewhere to cool off.
It seemed like only yesterday since the journey back from Dad’s last posting abroad, and here she was on the move again, after less than a month of getting used to life at home, all set to spend the entire holidays in some weird old house by the sea with her cousin and uncle.
Even now she could hardly believe she had let her parents talk her into it.
Still, it wasn’t as if she’d had any better offers. They weren’t going away as a family this summer, and although she was beginning to make friends at her new school, no one was about to invite her to go on holiday with them, were they? In any case, Mum reckoned her cousin was lonely and needed a bit of company. He’d certainly looked pretty terrible at the funeral, his face all pinched and tight, his eyes ringed with dark circles. She’d tried talking to him after the service, but he’d barely said a word – just bent his head and stabbed at the frosty January ground with his shoe. In the end she’d given up and gone off to talk to somebody else.
Rose dumped her rucksack outside the newsagent’s. She pushed a stray red curl from her face, then reached into one of the side pockets for her purse.
Phoenix, her cousin was called – after his mother’s maiden name, apparently.
Fancy giving your kid a name like that. What on earth had Uncle Joel and Aunt Elvira been thinking?
She sighed.
It had been years since she had seen her aunt, yet she remembered her quite clearly. A tall, slim woman with eyes so dark they were nearly black, her raven hair cropped like a boy’s. Half Italian, Mum said. Apparently Uncle Joel had fallen for her at first sight.
Something had stopped her from being truly beautiful though: the too-deep creases in her forehead, perhaps – or the sad look in her eyes. It was as if someone had come along and sucked the fun out of her.
Rose shuddered. Just the thought of losing one of her parents was too much to bear. Poor Phoenix. She would do everything she possibly could to cheer him up.
Hitching her rucksack back on to one shoulder, she stepped inside the newsagent’s.
She took a bottle of water from the cooler and made her way towards the counter, cursing under her breath as the corner of her rucksack caught against a shelf of maps and guidebooks, knocking a pale blue booklet to the floor.
A Guide to Gravenhunger, she read, bending to pick up the little volume. There was a photo of a busy harbour on the front cover, and on the back a shot of what was almost certainly the high street, all brightly coloured shops and stripy awnings.
Glancing at the booklet, she considered for a moment, then tucked it under her arm and joined the queue at the counter.
It was probably only a collection of dry old facts, not worth the paper it was written on, but she would buy it anyway.
It would help pass the time for the rest of the journey.
The car rattled over the ruts and potholes, scattering rabbits in every direction.
Everywhere was thick with brambles, their spiky tendrils reaching across the track as if trying to knit together the two sides of the forest. But for the occasional snatch of sky, it seemed they had been swallowed up in a never-ending tunnel of deep and shadowy green.
Now they were veering off to the right and something else was coming into view.
Phoenix gasped.
How could she have kept a place like this a secret?
It was huge. Four storeys of dark grey stone glowering down at them through a multitude of mullioned windows. Ivy trailed from the rooftops and over the gigantic front door there hung an ancient hurricane lamp, its glass casing cracked and blackened.
He shivered as a gust of wind blew in through the car window and caught the hairs on the back of his neck.
The sun had disappeared behind a dense bank of cloud – and above the towering chimneys of Gravenhunger Manor a thin grey rain was falling.
If any more daytrippers tried to squeeze on to the train, Rose reckoned it would never move out of the station.
Gravenhunger was obviously a very popular seaside resort, and she didn’t need to read her guidebook to prove it.
Her own carriage was full of families mainly: pink-faced women clutching even pinker-faced babies on their knees while their husbands bribed older children with sweets and crisps. There were teenagers too, blowing bubble gum and listening to music and texting on their mobiles.
She could imagine them all now, spilling out into the hot July sunshine at the other end of the line, in search of sun and sand and sea and freedom.
At least the air conditioning was working on this train. And at least she had a seat, even if it did happen to be next to an old man in a tweed cap who seemed intent on peering over her shoulder at her guidebook.
She couldn’t help feeling just the tiniest bit proud of herself. OK, so she’d done long train journeys alone before, but she’d never had to change from one train to another.
Mum had been in two minds as to whether to let her do it at all, but Dad had talked her into it, reasoning that their daughter was more than up to the challenge and that it would be a character-building experience.
That was Dad all over. Always eager to drag her and Mum off on some crazy adventure or other. Sometimes she wished he’d just ease off a bit.
From outside the carriage the guard blew his whistle and the train jolted into action.
Beside her, the old man lurched forward in his seat, then subsided into a raucous fit of coughing.
Rose edged towards the window, trying not to breathe in the heavy fumes of whisky and tobacco that were now wafting her way.
It was going to be a long journey.
“I can’t do it,” muttered Phoenix, wiping the rain from his face and jiggling the key in the lock. “It just won’t open.”
His father lifted the bikes down from the roofrack and leaned them up against the wall of the manor. Then he brought the bags over to the front door and held out his hand for the key.
“Let me try,” he said. “It was like this when I came down before. It took me for ever to get in.”
He pushed the key into the lock and turned it to the right, then jerked the old brass handle towards him.
The door shuddered open at last, creaking on its hinges, and a damp chill seeped across the threshold to greet them.
Ahead lay a vast entrance hall, bigger than any room Phoenix had ever set eyes on.
It was as unwelcoming as it was huge, its walls dark with damp, its paintwork peeling, its flagstoned floor bare and uncarpeted. In the centre a wooden staircase spiralled up and away out of sight and in one corner a grandfather clock glared down at them, its unmoving hands stuck at twenty minutes to four.
Dr Wainwright heaved their luggage in from the rain and glanced at his watch.
“I’m going to have to leave you to it, I’m afraid,” he said. “I don’t want Rose waiting at the station. Why don’t you choose yourself a room and make up the bed? The sheets and pillowcases are in that bag there.”
Phoenix nodded. “Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Does Rose know about all this? About the house having belonged to Mum, I mean?”
Dr Wainwright shook his head. “No. I had to explain things to her parents, of course, but I asked them to keep it to themselves. I thought we could tell her once she was here – after you’d had a chance to get used to the idea.”
“Can’t we just not tell her at all?” asked Phoenix. “I mean, it’s our business, isn’t it, not anybody else’s?”
His father gave a small smile.
“I think we’ll have to tell her sooner rather than later. I mean, this isn’t exactly your usual holiday accommodation, is it? But I’m sure we can keep things vague for the moment,
especially if you feel so strongly about it.” He turned towards the door. “I’ll pick up some essentials on the way back. Matches and firelighters for a start. It looks like we might be needing them later on. Goodness only knows what’s happened to the weather.”
Halfway to the car he stopped.
“You’ll stay near the house, won’t you?” he called back through the rain. “The grounds are pretty wild to say the least. We can have a bit of an explore tomorrow, perhaps. But I don’t want you going beyond the garden without me, OK?”
Phoenix rolled his eyes. “I can look after myself, you know. I told you, I’m not a kid any more.”
His father sighed.
“I’m well aware of that,” he replied. “But you’re still my son.”
He hurried on towards the car and opened the door before turning round once again.
“And you’re all I’ve got.”
Phoenix flushed.
He stared down at the grey stone floor, listening as the car revved up and crunched across the gravelled driveway.
Only when he was sure he was quite alone did he make his way across the hallway, his footsteps echoing on the flagstones.
He stopped at the foot of the staircase and looked up into the eerie gloom.
The bed-making business could wait till later. Somewhere up there was his mother’s old room – the room from which she had gazed out at the sea and the river and the pine forest – and before he did anything else, he was going to find it.
3.
THE WARNING
He was doing it again. Craning over her shoulder and wheezing with the effort of reading the text in the far corner of the page. It was really starting to get on her nerves.
Rose gave the old man a sidelong glance and snapped the guidebook shut.
If he wanted to read A Guide to Gravenhunger then he could go and buy a copy for himself. She was sick to death of sharing hers.
Gravenhunger Page 2