A note. She should have left a note. Oh God! They would wonder where she was. She looked beside her to the passenger seat where her shoulder bag should be lying, chucked there as she got in. It wasn’t there. It was still lying on the kitchen table together with her house keys. Almost as soon as she thought of it she knew she was going to do nothing about it. They would guess when they saw Lyn’s car was gone that she had driven somewhere and she could phone them once she got to the Gowers.
In the drive she pulled up and for a moment sat staring over her shoulder at the front of the house as she tried to steady her breathing. The windows were all blank. There were no faces looking down at her from her bedroom window.
The roads were almost empty. She made good time as far as Woodbridge and was setting off northwards when she happened to glance at the petrol gauge. It was hovering over empty. She had been driving fast, concentrating on putting as much space between her and Belheddon as possible, thinking about Edgar Gower and what she was going to say to him when she got there.
If she got there.
Without a handbag she had no money.
‘Shit!’ She didn’t often swear, and certainly not alone, out loud. ‘Shit shit shit!’ She banged the steering wheel. ‘Oh please, let there be enough to get me there.’
Leaning across, she pulled open the glove compartment and rummaged through the tapes and sweets which Lyn had left there. She found a couple of fifty pence pieces, her fingers sorting through the contents while her eyes were still fixed on the road ahead of her. All she needed was another pound and she could perhaps get a gallon – enough to get her there. A garage loomed ahead, its ugly neon sign bright in the rain-swept landscape and she pulled in, avoiding the pumps, drawing up near the air and water. With both hands now and the help of her eyes she began to ransack the glove compartment. Sweet papers, tapes, shopping lists tumbled to the floor. How strange that Lyn, so meticulous at home, should be so messy in her car. She smiled as she realised that most of the sweet papers related to Tom and then she frowned, wondering just how many sweets Lyn gave him. Her fingers closed over another coin. Five pence. Please, please, let there be some more money there.
In the end she found three pounds in scattered coins around the car – one coin under the floor mat, one down the side of the seat, another on the shelf under Lyn’s sunglasses. Relieved she backed the car up to a pump, put in the petrol and at last was on her way again.
She drew into Aldeburgh as a heavy thundery shower of rain began to fall. It was very hot. Pulling into the square she climbed stiffly out and ran, awkwardly because of her bulk, towards the Gowers’ house. The door had opened before she got there. ‘I saw you from the window, my dear.’ Dot pulled her in. ‘Are you soaked? You should have brought an umbrella, you foolish child!’
In no time at all, it seemed to her, she had been dried, reassured, settled into a comfortable chair in Edgar’s study and given a glass of iced lemonade. Edgar had waited behind his desk whilst his wife fussed around Joss and only when she too had at last settled onto the sofa by the window did he come forward and sit down.
His face was very serious as he reached for his own drink. Then he glanced at Dot. ‘She is expecting a baby,’ he said with a slow shake of the head. ‘I should have guessed.’
‘We can all see that.’ Dot sounded impatient.
He gave a deep sigh. ‘So, Joss. What can I do for you?’
‘What do you mean? Why is it significant that I’m expecting a baby?’ She needed to hear him tell her why.
Edgar Gower shrugged. ‘Perhaps you should tell me first why you wanted my help.’
‘You know about Belheddon. You know what it was that haunted my mother and grandmother. You know what happened to my brothers. You know about the roses.’
He frowned. ‘I know a certain amount, my dear. Not perhaps as much as you might be hoping. Tell me what has happened. From the beginning.’
‘I went to see John Cornish after you gave me his name last year. I tried again and again to ring you and thank you. It turned out that I had been left the house in my mother’s will. She said if I turned up within seven years of her death I was to inherit it. As you know, I did. It came at the right moment for us. My husband lost his job and we were penniless. We moved in, even though it was fairly run down and we are living there now. Myself and my husband and my sister – my adopted sister, that is – and my son, Tom.’ She scarcely noticed as Dot leaned forward and took the empty glass out of her hands. ‘I found diaries and letters in the house. My mother and my grandmother seem to have been haunted by something. They were very afraid. And now – ’
She couldn’t go on. Afraid that she was going to cry she reached for a handkerchief and found a wad of crumpled tissues in the pocket of her skirt.
‘And now it is your turn to be afraid.’ Edgar’s voice was matter of fact, unemotional. ‘My dear, I received your letter. I’m sorry. I hadn’t got round to replying as yet. Perhaps I wasn’t sure what to say. You have made me feel very guilty. Can you tell me what has happened since you arrived in the house?’
‘Roses.’ She found the laugh she was going to give came out as a sob. ‘It sounds so silly. To be haunted by roses.’
‘In what way are you being haunted by roses?’ Unseen by Joss Edgar gave his wife a quick worried glance. She was sitting, lips pursed, Joss’s glass still in her hand.
‘Just that. They keep appearing. Dried roses – no, not always dried. Sometimes fresh and cold – almost slimy –’ she shuddered. ‘On my desk. On the table, on my pillow – ’
Edgar sighed once again. ‘At least roses are unthreatening. You have never seen anything else?’
She shook her head and then shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I sometimes wonder if Tom has.’
‘Tom is your son?’
She nodded. ‘He’s only two. He doesn’t understand. But something frightens him. He has bad dreams. I’m sorry. I really am. I can’t sleep any more. I’m so afraid. They want me to leave the house. To go away until the baby is born, but I don’t want to do that. It’s my home. My family home. And I’ve been part of the family for such a short time.’
He nodded. ‘I can understand that, my dear. But nevertheless I’m not sure that they’re not right.’
‘There must be something else I can do. Something you can do. Is it the devil? Does he really live at Belheddon?’
She expected him to laugh, to shrug; to deny it absolutely but instead he frowned. ‘There have been exorcisms at Belheddon. Several, I think. I know your mother had one carried out before I came to the parish, and I myself blessed the house and celebrated holy communion there on one occasion. Your grandmother too may have done the same. There was a history going back many centuries of reports of ghosts and even of devils, though I don’t myself believe it is the devil or even one of his minions.’ At last he permitted himself a little smile. ‘No, I think there is an unhappy spirit in the house. And I think it finds itself attracted to women. I don’t think you yourself are in any danger, Joss. None at all.’
‘But what about the others?’
He looked up and met her eye. For several seconds he said nothing. ‘I think you should be aware that it is possible that it is in some way more hostile towards men. And boys.’
‘So hostile that no boy has ever lived to grow up in the house.’
He shrugged unhappily. ‘Your brothers’ deaths were recorded as accidental, Joss. Both seemed terribly, terribly sad accidents, the kind of thing that can happen anywhere in any period. I really don’t know if there was anything sinister about them. I was with your mother after the deaths of both boys, and she never for a moment seemed to suspect anything else. She would have told me if she had, I’m sure of it. And yet –’ he stood up, shaking his head uncomfortably and went to stand at the window, looking down at the sea which was black and oily beneath the thunder clouds. Running his finger round the inside of his collar he turned at last. Perspiration was standing out on his for
ehead. ‘Joss. I do not want to alarm you, but I am not happy about you and your family staying in that house. Why not go away for a few weeks. When is the baby due? Surely you could stay with friends or family until then.’
‘You could even come here, my dear,’ Dot put in. ‘We’d be happy to have you. All of you.’
Joss shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t know. I don’t want to go away. Belheddon is my home now. I love it so much.’ She shrugged. ‘And the others don’t feel anything. Luke loves it there too. It’s perfect for him. He can run his business from the courtyard, and he’s doing really well. He would think it a tragedy to leave now, just when it’s all coming together. And I … I’m happy there.’
‘What about your son?’ Dot’s voice was sharp.
‘Dot!’ Her husband rounded on her. ‘Young Tom will be fine. Joss is a different woman from her mother. She can cope. She can keep them all safe, I’m sure she can.’
Joss stared at him. ‘What exactly does that mean?’ Her own voice had suddenly become hard with suspicion.
‘It means that your mother became nervous and lonely after your father and brothers died. And who can blame her. She was not a strong woman at the best of times and she became a little neurotic. I think she imagined a great deal of what she thought went on in the house.’
‘What sort of things did she imagine?’ Joss was watching him intently.
He did not meet her eye. ‘She imagined she heard things; saw people. She thought things were being moved about. Towards the end she was hallucinating – of that there is no doubt. When her French friend suggested she move away from Belheddon, for a long time she was too afraid to go. She seemed to feel that someone was keeping her there. We – that is the village quack and I – thought it was the memory of the boys – and of course your father. Nothing could have been more understandable. Less hard to understand was her resolve to give you away. No one understood that. No one.’ He shook his head.
‘She did it to save me.’ Joss was twisting her fingers into the cotton of her voluminous shirt. ‘She wrote me two letters which John Cornish gave me. One said she hoped one day I would understand why she had given me away; the other said that it was my father’s idea that I should be allowed to inherit Belheddon and that she could not leave until she had arranged that I should, even though it was not what she wanted. My father died before I was born, so presumably he left some kind of will which included his unborn child.’ She shrugged. ‘He must have loved me.’
Neither of the Gowers reacted to the illogicality of this remark. Edgar merely slowly shook his head. ‘They both loved you, my dear. Your father was so pleased your mother was going to have another baby after all the unhappiness in the house. His accident was the most dreadful tragedy. My hope is that the happiness of having a young family in the house again will wipe out all the sadness once and for all.’
‘And the unhappy spirit you were talking about?’
He glanced at his wife. ‘I think what I will do is have a talk to one or two colleagues who know more about these things than I do. I have an idea what we should do, but I need to consult. Will you trust me?’ He smiled. ‘And above all be brave. Remember prayer will act as a shield and a strength. I will come and see you as soon as I have worked out what to do. And now –’ he took a deep breath, ‘I think what we are going to do is give you a decent lunch to fortify you before you go home.’
Home! She hadn’t rung. They would be wondering what on earth had become of her.
When she finally got through Lyn was furious. ‘Who said you could take my car? I was going home this afternoon and Luke needs the Citroën. What were you thinking about? For God’s sake, Joss, you could have guessed we were only down in the village. What the hell is the matter with you?’ The angry voice echoed round the Gowers’ living room. Joss’s hosts had withdrawn tactfully to rummage in the kitchen and begin to make lunch.
Joss looked out of the window towards the sea. ‘I’m sorry, Lyn. I really am. It was urgent.’
‘And what am I supposed to do? Isn’t it bad enough having to look after your bloody family every second of the day, without you taking my only means of escape!’
There was a long silence. Joss’s attention had come back sharply to the phone. ‘Lyn – ’
‘Yes, Lyn! What would you do without Lyn?’ The voice had grown more shrill. ‘I’m sorry, Joss. But it is too bad. I am fed up with it all. I know you can’t do much at the moment, but why should it all fall on me?’
‘Lyn, I am so sorry. I thought we’d talked it through. I had no idea you still felt like that.’
‘No. You have no idea about a lot of things.’ The resentment in the voice was unabated. ‘You live in your own happy little world, Joss, and see nothing of what is going on around you. That’s always been your trouble and now it’s ten times worse. I don’t know what this bloody house has done to you, but it is not good.’
‘Look I’ll come back straight away – ’
‘Don’t bother. Luke is going to drive me to the station. And now I’ve got to go and get Tom’s lunch. You’d better see you’re back in time for his tea because Luke is going to be in charge all afternoon!’
Joss sat staring at the receiver in her hand for several minutes after Lyn had banged down the phone. Lyn was right. She had been so involved with the house and the book she had not noticed that Lyn was unhappy and restless again. She did take Lyn for granted. Lyn would look after things. She always had.
Wearily she stood up and made her way towards the kitchen. It was a small room, warm and cheerful, full of flowers and scarlet French cooking pans, decorated with Provençal pottery. It made the kitchen at Belheddon look very dark and Edwardian in contrast. She took the chair that Edgar Gower proffered and sat down heavily, her elbows on the small littered kitchen table.
‘My sister is furious. I pinched her car without asking.’ She tried to make it sound like a joke, but her exhaustion and worry were beginning to wear her down. ‘It sounds as though she’s had enough of us.’
Dot sat down opposite her. ‘Come here to stay, Joss. Bring your little boy. I would love to look after him. It would be no trouble. It would give your sister a rest and I am sure your husband wouldn’t mind being on his own if he has a business to run. Ask Edgar. I am a sucker for children and our grandchildren live so far away I can only indulge myself once a year. You would be doing me a kindness.’ She reached across the table and took Joss’s hand. ‘Stop trying to take it all on your own shoulders, Joss. Let other people help.’
Joss rubbed her hands up and down her cheeks wearily. ‘I feel tempted. It would be nice to get away – just for a few days.’
She meant it, she realised, suddenly. No more listening for children’s voices. No more glances over her shoulder into the dark shadows of her bedroom. No more stomach turning fear each time Tom awoke screaming from a nightmare.
‘Good. Then that’s settled.’ Pushing back her chair, Dot stood up. ‘Go home this afternoon and pack up some things, put Tom in your own car this time, and bring him to us. This afternoon I shall get the rooms ready. We have a couple of lovely spare rooms in the attic. A bit of a climb, I’m afraid –’ she paused, eyeing Joss’s figure. ‘If it’s too much then Edgar and I will move up there and you can have our room. The trouble with this house is it’s tall and thin. Everything on top of each other.’ She beamed happily. ‘Now, let me make us a salad and we can all get on.’
The salad was delicious with home-made dressing, whitebait, fresh from the beach and home-made bread, followed by strawberries and cream. At the end of the meal Joss felt calmer, and it was with something like optimism that she walked back to the car, with borrowed money in her pocket for petrol, amid promises to return with Tom the next morning.
Tom and Luke were in the kitchen when she arrived home. Tom was filthy – still covered, obviously, in his lunch, together with a great deal of black motor oil. Luke’s mood was as black as his son’s hands and face.
‘Were you out
of your mind, taking Lyn’s car like that? Couldn’t you have left a note? Anything? That woman has given me complete hell, thanks to you, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if she didn’t come back. Then where will we be?’
‘Don’t be silly, Luke.’ Extricating herself from Tom’s ecstatic welcome at seeing his mummy again, Joss was reluctant to abandon her good mood. She went to the sink and squeezed out a sponge. Kneeling down she began to wash the little boy energetically. ‘Of course she’ll come back. I’m sorry I upset her, I really am. She was only miffed with me because she had an arrangement this afternoon. But there was no need for her to behave like that. I know Lyn. She’ll be terribly sorry once she’s cooled down. You’ll see.’ She sat Tom down and gave him one of his books. ‘Lyn has a self-esteem problem. If she doesn’t think people are acknowledging her full worth she gets really shirty. But it doesn’t last. I shall grovel all over the place when she comes back. And,’ she hesitated. ‘Luke, I’ve arranged to go away for a few days with Tom. That will give her a break. And you.’
‘You’ve arranged to go away for a few days!’ Luke echoed. He was standing hands on hips watching her. ‘You have arranged to go away for a few days! And were you going to tell me about this or is this a spontaneous decision too?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ She didn’t look up. ‘I am telling you now. I went to see the Gowers in Aldeburgh and they have suggested that I go and stay with them for a few days to give everyone here a rest. Dot says she will look after Tom. She loves children.’
‘I see. And who exactly are these people?’
‘The Gowers. You remember. It was Edgar Gower who gave me John Cornish’s address right at the beginning. He was my parents’ rector here.’
‘And why, may I ask, did you find it so urgent to go and see them this morning that you had to drop everything, leaving the radio on, half the lights, no message, doors unlocked! Can you imagine what we thought when we got home and found the house abandoned?’
House of Echoes Page 19