House of Echoes

by Barbara Erskine

  She stared at him blankly for a moment, then she sat up, leaning towards the crib. ‘Is Ned OK?’

  ‘Ned?’ For a moment Luke paused, head to one side. ‘Yes, I think I like that. Edward Grant. He’s fine.’ Luke stood looking down at the baby fondly.

  ‘And Tom?’

  ‘Tom is happy as a sandboy. I’ve left him with Janet for the day. And their phone was working, so I’ve rung your Edgar Gower and he and his wife are going to drive over tomorrow to see you. I’ve rung Lyn and she is coming back immediately and some good news: she said Alice’s tests are encouraging. The biopsy showed no malignancy. So, sweetheart, you don’t have a single thing to worry about in the entire world! And another piece of good news. My parents are back. I rang them in Oxford just in case and they got home last night! They send all their love and congratulations and they’re longing to see their new grandson!’

  Joss smiled. On the floor, the photocopied pages which had slipped from her knee were scattered around her feet. ‘So, all that and a perfect husband and a cup of tea as well.’

  ‘All that!’ He sat down on the window seat. ‘Oh, and Jimbo has brought you a box of chocolates!’

  Janet brought Tom back while Luke was collecting Lyn from the station that evening. Stooping over the baby she examined the sleeping child with the same dispassionate eye she had turned on their cooking range. ‘Bit small, I suppose, but very pretty,’ she announced. ‘Well done you!’ She straightened and turned her back on the baby, the inspection complete. ‘A bit dramatic, even for Belheddon, wasn’t it? Giving birth in a thunderstorm like that!’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Joss lifted the baby out of his basket. ‘The midwife has been twice and so has Simon, so I’m being kept a strict eye on!’ She glanced up at Janet. ‘You and Roy were here when Edgar Gower was rector, weren’t you.’

  Janet nodded. ‘He’d been here years when we bought the farm.’

  ‘What did you make of him?’

  Sitting down she unbuttoned her shirt and put the baby to the breast. Janet looked the other way but Tom, fascinated, leaned against her knees and poked at the small ear with his finger.

  ‘A man of fire and steel – so different from dear gentle James Wood. Come here, Tom.’ She hauled the little boy onto her knee. ‘Luke rang him, you know, from our place. He wanted to come over now, today, straight away. He sounded terribly worried.’ She eyed Joss for a moment. Joss’s face was hidden by her curtain of hair as she looked down at the baby in her arms. ‘Joss –’ she paused. ‘Listen, I know we’ve all made a bit of a drama out of the stories about this house. One does. It’s –’ she hesitated, ‘ – it’s fun, I suppose. Dramatic, spooky. Everyone loves a good ghost story. But you mustn’t take it too seriously. Edgar was a bit –’ she stopped, searching for the right word. ‘Superstitious, I suppose. A mystic. Some people might have said a bit of a nutter. Some members of the PCC used to have terrible doubts, you know. Not quite the thing at all in a conservative parish. The thing was, he and Laura used to wind each other up. Nothing really out of the ordinary happened here, you know. Just a series of terrible tragedies. Laura just couldn’t accept that they were accidents. She needed to believe there was more to it than that. But these things do happen. Families have the most rotten runs of luck and then it changes suddenly.’ On her knee Tom, his fingers wound into her pearls, had closed his eyes. She hugged him gently. ‘He’s exhausted poor lamb. A new brother and the promise of his very own kitten when it’s old enough to leave its mother. You don’t mind, do you?’

  Joss looked up at last. ‘Of course not. We need a cat. That would be lovely.’

  ‘And you won’t worry any more?’

  ‘Not if the cat is black.’ Joss managed a smile.

  Janet shook her head. ‘They’re all splodgy. Calico cats. But just as lucky.’

  She stood up carefully, holding the sleeping child. ‘What shall I do with him?’

  ‘Can you put him in his cot? Through there, on the left.’ She sighed as Janet disappeared with Tom. Was that what it was? Imagination. A superstitious man and a hysterical woman in a hot house environment: isolated, bored, lonely.

  She cocked her head suddenly at a noise above her head. Mice playing in the attics, or children?

  Dead children.

  Generations of little boys, their shouts and laughter still echoing in the roof timbers of the house.

  ‘Lyn!’ Joss threw her arms round her sister and hugged her. ‘I’m so sorry about the car.’

  Lyn smiled. ‘All forgotten. You were obviously under stress.’ She looked round as she dropped her bags on the floor. ‘So, where is the latest little Grant?’

  ‘Upstairs. They’re both asleep. Oh Lyn, I don’t know how we would ever manage without you!’

  ‘You can’t. It’s as simple as that.’ Lyn looked at her for a moment before turning away and heading towards the door. ‘So, are you going to show me?’

  They stood for several minutes by the crib, staring down at the sleeping baby. Gently Lyn reached in and touched the little hands. Her face softened. ‘He’s gorgeous. You haven’t asked me about Mum.’ She was still concentrating on the baby.

  ‘Luke told me. It’s not malignant.’

  ‘You might have rung her!’ Lyn looked up at last. ‘You might have told her about the baby!’

  ‘Lyn, I couldn’t!’ Stung, Joss spoke more loudly than she intended and the baby stirred. ‘The phones have been out of order since the storm. Luke must have told you. That was why we were stuck here on our own, for God’s sake!’

  She stooped as Ned let out a wail of anguish and she scooped him out of the cot.

  ‘OK. I’m sorry. Of course you couldn’t. Here, let me hold him.’ Lyn reached out her arms. ‘But ring as soon as you can, Joss. It would mean so much to her. He is her grandson, remember.’ She said it with a note of defiance in her voice.

  Joss frowned. Laura’s grandson. A son of Belheddon.

  ‘Of course.’

  Joss woke at the first sound of a whimper from Ned. She lay for a moment in the darkness staring towards the window where the garden was as bright as day in the moonlight. In the silence she heard the sharp yip yip of a little owl and again Ned gave a little cry. Sitting up, trying not to disturb Luke, she pushed her feet over the side of the bed and reached for her cotton bathrobe. The room was cold. Too cold. She glanced round with a shiver. Was he there, lurking in the shadows, Tom’s tin man? The man without a heart. The alien intruder. The devil of Belheddon.

  The moonlight was flooding the small basket bed as she crept over to it and stared in. Ned’s face, turned away from the brightness, was alert. He appeared to see her at once, and she saw a small fist appear from beneath the swaddling, waving in the air. She stood looking down at him, overwhelmed by such a flood of love and emotion that she was incapable for a moment of doing anything. Then at last she picked him up; kissing him she carried him to the seat by the window. Before she sat down she stood for a moment staring out into the garden. The central casement between the mullions was open a crack. She pushed it slightly, surprised to find that the sweet night air which flooded in was considerably warmer than the air in the bedroom. For a moment the balmy beauty of the night overwhelmed her. Then the distracted crying of the baby in her arms brought her back to the present. Pushing her night shirt off her shoulders she put the baby to her breast still staring into the distance towards the lake. A cloud shadow drifted across the grass. She frowned. The night was very silent. She stood there for several minutes, lulled by the gentle rhythmic sucking of the baby, conscious of the gentle snores of her husband in the bed behind her then, tired, she lowered herself at last into the chair. It was as she was preparing to move the baby to the other breast that she heard the nightingale. Entranced she stared up at the window. The pure notes poured on and on, coming she supposed from the woods behind the church. The sound filled the room. Standing up again she walked back to the window and looked out. Two children were playing in the moonlight near the la
ke. She stiffened. ‘Georgie? Sammy?’

  Sensing the change in her mood at once Ned stopped sucking and turned his head away, screwing up his little face to cry. Her mouth had gone dry. ‘Sammy?’ she breathed the name again. ‘Sammy?’

  ‘Joss?’ Luke stirred and turned towards her. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Everything is fine.’ Shushing the child she rocked him against her gently, realising suddenly that the nightingale had stopped singing. And the figures in the moonlit shadows had disappeared.

  ‘Come back to bed.’

  ‘I’m coming. As soon as he’s asleep again.’

  Tucking Ned back into his little crib at last, Joss straightened wearily and stretched her arms. She could hear the nightingale again now, more distant, echoing in the silence of the garden. ‘Can you hear it?’ she whispered to Luke. ‘Isn’t it beautiful.’

  There was no answer.

  Turning she stared at the bed. Luke’s face lay in shadow, the heavy drapes of the bed curtains half pulled across by his head as though warding off the moonlight. With a smile she turned back to the window. On the sill, silver in the moonlight, lay a white rose.

  She stared at it for several seconds, feeling the scream mounting in her throat. No. She must be imagining it. It wasn’t there. It could not be real! Taking a deep breath she shut her eyes, her fists clenched, and counted slowly to ten, hearing the clear liquid notes of bird song louder and louder in her brain. Then at last she opened them again and stared down at the stone sill.

  The rose had gone.

  21

  Leading the way into the sun-filled study next morning Joss set her tray of coffee and biscuits down on the desk. The midwife had gone as the Gowers arrived. They stood just inside the doorway now staring round the room.

  ‘Why, it hasn’t changed at all since your mother was here,’ Dot said in evident delight. ‘Oh, Joss, dear, this is such a lovely room. And is this the little one? May I see?’ Ned was sleeping in his crib beside the open window. She stood looking down at him for several seconds, then she turned and smiled. ‘Edgar? Come and look. I think this house is blessed. I think all the unhappiness has gone.’

  Her husband stood looking down into the crib as she had, then his face too relaxed into a smile. He glanced up at Joss. ‘My dear, the last time I came into this house I performed a service of blessing and exorcism for your mother. I think it worked. Dot is right. The atmosphere has changed completely. I will never forget the anguish and fear and hatred which seemed to pervade the very walls on that occasion. I felt as though I were wrestling with the devil himself. But now …’ he shook his head wonderingly. ‘This place is full of joy and light.’ Turning to the fireplace he stood for a moment with his back to it, then he lowered himself into an arm chair. ‘May I suggest something?’

  Joss gestured Dot towards the other chair and then turned to pour out the coffee. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I think it would be nice to baptise the little one as soon as possible. Would you allow me to do it? Unless of course you have already made plans in that direction.’

  ‘Well, no, we hadn’t.’ Joss passed him a cup. ‘I must discuss it with Luke, but I think that would be wonderful. Tom Tom was christened in London.’

  ‘Soon.’ Edgar’s brilliant blue eyes were fixed on her face.

  Joss frowned. ‘You are still worried.’

  ‘No. But I believe in taking no chances. I know that to many people the baptism is merely a social occasion – a marker to place the child in the community – but it has a far more important purpose than that: to save and protect the child in Christ’s name. You do not need to send out invitations.’

  Joss sat down, suddenly very weary. ‘You mean you want to do it now.’

  ‘It would be best.’

  ‘Here. In the house.’

  ‘In the church.’

  ‘Would James Wood mind?’

  ‘I shall ring him first, of course.’ Edgar sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee. ‘My dear, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to railroad you into this. You need time to think and discuss it with your husband, of course you do. I can always come back. Or Wood can do it.’ He smiled, pushing the shock of white hair back out of his eyes. ‘There is no need for an indecent hurry. I was filled with such unease about this place, but it was not necessary. I can sense that. I think the problems have gone. Perhaps your poor mother, God rest her soul, brought them on with her unhappiness.’ Putting down his cup he stood up restlessly and went back to the window, glancing down at the sleeping baby as he did so. Then he swung round. ‘May I wander round a little? Forgive me. Call it professional interest.’

  Joss forced a smile. ‘Of course.’

  He nodded. ‘Stay and talk to Dot. She’ll tell you what an insufferable boor I am, and you can moan about my ideas as much as you like!’

  In the hall he stood still, gazing up the staircase. For a moment he did not move, then slowly he reached into his pocket for his crucifix.

  The staircase was dark. Groping on the wall he found the light switch and flicked it down. The lights were dim – a bulb had gone half way up at the corner of the stairs and the flight wound up into the shadows. Taking a deep breath he put a foot on the bottom step.

  Ignoring Lyn’s room he made his way at once into the master bedroom and looked round. The four poster was the same, the heavy cupboard by the window, the rugs, the chairs. The only differences came from the clothes scattered around, the books piled on the window sills, the flowers in vases on the chest of drawers and the shelf by the chimney breast and the small crib by the back window with its trail of white shawls, the attendant piles of small garments, the garish plastic changing mat and huge bag of disposable nappies.

  Standing in the middle of the room he listened intently.

  Katherine

  Was that a voice in the echoes? He remembered from last time the anguish, the pain that permeated the very plaster of the walls of this room, the conviction that if he tried harder he would be able to hear the voice that seemed to scream its agony beneath this roof.

  A pox on you priests. Why could your prayers not save her?

  With a sigh he turned round, then taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders he knelt on the rug at the end of the bed and began to pray.

  When he returned to the study Dot and Joss had been joined by Lyn and Tom. ‘I was telling Lyn that we thought we might have the christening early,’ Joss said slowly as Edgar appeared. She was tight lipped. ‘She doesn’t feel it would be right.’

  ‘Of course it’s not right.’ Lyn was clearly angry. ‘You can’t do it without Mum and Dad. They would be desperately hurt.’ She turned on Joss. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with you! Doesn’t the past mean anything to you at all? All the years they have treated you as their daughter, loved you, cared for you! Now this bloody house comes into the picture and dear old Joe and Alice are so much rubbish you’d rather forget about!’

  ‘Lyn!’ Joss stared at her. ‘That’s not true. That’s absolute nonsense and you know it! We’re not talking about a christening to thwart Mum and Dad’s chances of a nice party, we’re talking about saving a baby who might have a terrible accident at any moment!’

  There was a shocked silence.

  ‘Joss, dear.’ Dot put her hand on Joss’s arm. ‘I am sure there is absolutely no danger of little Ned having any kind of an accident. Edgar had no business frightening you like that. And I don’t think we should discuss it any more at the moment. Edgar, a christening is a family occasion and it’s important that Joss’s parents have a chance to be here. A few days or even weeks are going to make no difference whatsoever.’ She sounded really cross.

  Edgar shrugged. ‘I’m sure you’re right, dear.’ His eyes contradicted the meekness of his tone. They were plainly angry. ‘Very well, may I suggest we leave the discussion now. Should you wish me to baptise little Ned I shall do so of course. Otherwise fix it up with James Wood, but I beg you to do it as soon as possible.’ He cleared
his throat. ‘Dot, I think we should be going. Jocelyn has only just had a baby and she must be very tired.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘He is a beautiful child, my dear. Congratulations. Don’t let my wittering on frighten you. Enjoy the baby and enjoy the house. It needs happiness – the best exorcism of all.’

  As soon as the Gowers’ car had disappeared up the drive Joss turned on Lyn. ‘What on earth is the matter with you? How dare you think I am trying to cut out Alice and Joe. That’s an outrageous thought. What kind of person do you think I am?’

  Lyn was unrepentant. ‘I am beginning to wonder. I think all your new-found grandeur has gone to your head.’

  ‘Lyn!’

  ‘Take a look at yourself, Joss.’ Lyn scooped Tom up into her arms. ‘Now, I’m going to get lunch. May I suggest you rest or something as the lady of the house should!’

  Joss stared after her as the door closed. Then, miserably she turned towards the pram. Picking Ned up she cuddled him for a while before carrying him to the chair and sitting down. Closing her eyes she tried to relax. It was natural for Lyn to be jealous. She had every reason. Joss had a husband, children, a beautiful house – it must seem like untold riches to Lyn, who had failed to find a job at all for the last year, and had until Joss and Luke had offered her this one, been unemployed. Joss dropped a kiss on Ned’s little head.

  In her arms the baby slept. Closing her own eyes Joss, worn out, let her head rest against the chair back and drifted into sleep.

  She was awoken by screams as Ned suddenly slipped from her arms.

  ‘Ned! Oh God!’ She grabbed at him in time to stop him falling to the floor and clutched him against her. She was shaking. ‘Oh my little love, are you all right?’ Ned was crying hard, small high-pitched screams of distress which tore at her heart.

  ‘Ned! Ned, little one, hush.’ She cradled him to her, cursing herself for falling asleep.