“Oh?” James turned his gaze on her.
“Alice is an actor too, James,” said Zoe.
“I trained at Bristol,” said Alice. “I’m waiting to hear from my agent about new work. I help out here part-time.”
James raised his eyebrows. “So what are you doing here in the Cotswolds, Alice? All your big opportunities will be in London. Shouldn’t you be on the spot?”
“A lot of people think that,” said Alice coolly. “Some of my friends from drama school went to London hoping for an acting job; and they’re having a really tough time. I’m glad I’ve stayed in Cirencester with my mum for the time being, and that I’ve got this job. It suits me fine while I’m waiting for a part. And Zoe and Theo understand my situation. I can be on a train to London in half an hour if my agent calls with an audition.”
“Fair enough,” said James, his eyes trained on her.
Zoe had heard a lot about this from Alice, ever since she’d persuaded Theo and their chair of trustees, Jessica, to appoint Alice to the job six weeks before. They’d all known it was a risk. Alice could be up and off as soon as she won a part. But it was a risk Zoe was happy to take because she liked Alice so much and believed she was exactly right for this centre. And – though she didn’t dare admit it to Jessica – she felt something special, too, for Alice, because she herself had as a child dreamed of becoming a film actress.
“I’ve been based in London myself since I saw you last, Zoe,” said James. “Should still have some of my cards left; do take one.” He drew a card from his pocket and handed it to her.
She studied it then passed it to Alice to read.
James Willoughby, PhD, Actor
Equity member
For casting enquiries, contact my agent
And there followed a London address.
“So you no longer hold your academic post at Edinburgh University?” enquired Zoe. “I thought you were a research fellow there?”
“Used to be,” said James.
Before he could expand on the subject, Natasha gave a light laugh. “James is far too busy now to continue his academic career.”
“Busy with acting?” asked Zoe.
Natasha shook her head, smiling, but gave no further details.
“So, James,” said Zoe, “what brings you and Natasha to visit us today?”
James thrust his hands into both pockets. “A great discovery.”
“That sounds exciting,” she replied.
“Yes. Recently I’ve been interested in looking up my family and researching my history; and I’ve traced my father’s line back to the sixteenth century.”
“Fantastic.”
“So imagine how thrilled I was,” said James, “when I learned my fifteen-times great-grandfather was the very yeoman farmer who built this house.”
Zoe’s eyes opened wide. “Wow. You sure?”
“Oh, it was a long process,” said James. “Sometimes, of course, it’s impossible to get hold of birth, marriage and death certificates. They weren’t issued prior to the nineteenth century. Churches recorded births and deaths but not all records survive. But good evidence links me through to one Thomas Willoughby, 1503-1562, a ‘man well at ease and having honestlie to live, and yet not a gentleman’. He acquired the lands around here, and in 1532 he built this house, then called Owlecotes.”
“And did the house pass down through his descendants for the next few generations?” enquired Zoe.
“Yes. But during the late 1600s, one of them must have sold it on, for it passed out of the family.”
“Fascinating,” said Zoe. “This house is, of course, full of stories.”
“Yes,” broke in Alice, “because spirits lie hidden in the timbers.”
James chuckled. “Well put, Alice,” he said. He turned back to Zoe. “As fellow actors, we understand each other.”
James snapped into a brisk tone of voice. “So, Zoe,” he said, “you and Theo have added a reception office here, and carried out other building work. Listed planning consent must have taken a long time.”
“Several months,” said Zoe. “Theo and I are employed by the Trust. They make the decisions.”
Meanwhile, she noted, Natasha began to walk around the office, looking at things – books, labels on files, pictures on the wall.
“Yes, noticed a section on your website about the trustees. Didn’t get into it though,” said James. “Great design, by the way. And this set-up – creative arts centre – wonderful idea.”
Zoe wondered what James’s relationship with Natasha was. She’d rather expected him to volunteer this information. Natasha had no ring on her finger. But from the expression in James’s eye whenever he looked at her, she deduced that they were lovers.
James continued speaking. “I enjoyed reading Theo’s vision statement on the homepage.”
“Thank you.” Zoe looked back at James again. He was – on the surface – charming, just as he had been before. But even so, there was, for her, still that disturbing note. She decided to have a word with Alice about it later, when James and Natasha had gone. For Alice had a special ‘sensitivity’ about people, Zoe understood. Alice described it as a ‘sixth sense’. It was a gift she’d been born with. She saw pictures in her mind’s eye, and then read those pictures as energy that told a story.
“Any chance we can book in for a course?” said James.
Zoe started.
“Sure we’re right for you?” she asked. She caught Alice’s glance, but couldn’t interpret the message in it.
“Oh, yes,” said James. “We’d love it. Do please tell me if you have any vacancies this week.”
“This week? That’s very short notice.” But Zoe knew they had some spare places.
Alice reached for the diary, which was open at the current week. James came and glanced at it with her.
Zoe felt a sense of disdain. She joined Alice herself, and saw the vacancies in the schedule.
“Double room?” she said between gritted teeth.
“Oh no. Separate.” Natasha had finished her survey of the office, and was seated on one of the easy chairs.
Zoe stared at her. Then she pulled her gaze away.
James cleared his throat. “Is the goose house still available as ensuite accommodation?” he asked.
“Yes it is,” said Alice.
“Then it’s ideal for Natasha,” James said. “Is there another room available for me?”
“Well,” said Alice, “there is one free room on the first floor, right next to the inglenook chimney stack.”
“Perfect,” said James. “I’m thrilled. What a stroke of luck, us calling in like this, with a free week ahead of us; though we had hoped that, as it’s autumn, you might have some spare places.”
Zoe wondered what Theo would make of the new arrivals.
“What strange twists and turns life takes,” James observed, studying Zoe’s face.
“Any plans to start a family, Zoe?” Natasha enquired.
“No, not right now. We’re both so busy with the centre.”
Natasha’s eyes seemed to penetrate Zoe’s.
“Don’t leave it too long, will you?” she said.
With an intense effort, Zoe tore her gaze away. She and Theo had been trying for a baby all this year. That was information they’d shared only with Alice.
She turned to a pile of paperwork on the desk and picked up a couple of A4 sheets.
“We need each of you to fill out a booking form,” she said.
“Of course.” Natasha got up and came to stand beside James. They both completed their forms. Zoe saw that Natasha gave a different London address to his.
“We’ll collect our luggage and bring it into the entrance hall,” said James. “Then I should love to show Natasha through the house.”
“When you’re ready,” said Zoe, “come back, and I’ll take you both through the ground-floor rooms.”
James nodded, and they left the office, nearly bumping into Bernie.
He acknowledged them courteously then came into the office.
“Bernie!” said Zoe. “Did you find the little girl?”
“No. Sorry. No sign of her,” replied Bernie. “Nor the tramp either. I combed the grounds. Vito would have sniffed them out, I’m sure.”
“Oh dear,” said Zoe. She bit her lip. Then she noticed the look on Alice’s face.
“What little girl?” Alice asked.
“Have to get on. See you later,” said Bernie, disappearing out through the doorway.
As soon as the door closed, Zoe shared with Alice the story of her two encounters near the barn earlier that morning.
Alice stared at her. Zoe felt uncomfortable.
“Did you say the child looked through you?” asked Alice.
“Yes. Alice, what’s the problem? You’ve been a bit down in the last couple of days. I couldn’t help noticing. And earlier you said something about weird experiences.”
Alice nodded. “I’d love to tell you. But I feel I’d sooner share it with both you and Theo. Can I wait until he’s free to hear as well?”
“Well yes, of course, if you don’t mind coming back here this evening at about six.”
“That’s fine.”
“Now, Alice, tell me what you think of James and Natasha.”
Alice shook her head. “Only this,” she said. “When I looked at them both I saw one of my mental pictures. It was of a tarantula on a jewelled mask.”
When Zoe spoke again there was a tremor in her voice. “What on earth do you mean by that?”
“Sixth sense,” said Alice. “How did you know James before?”
“About four years ago, I came to this house when it was in the hands of the previous owner,” said Zoe. “I was a different person then, Alice. A New Age group occupied the house, and I was attracted here.”
“You’ve kept that dark!” said Alice. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Didn’t want to,” admitted Zoe. “Preferred to put all that behind me.”
Alice considered this. “Tell me more.”
“Theo arrived a few days after I did. You know him; he’s all about people on spiritual journeys. And not long afterwards, he and I fell in love. But to make the rest of it brief – James was a member of the group. The leader had been his PhD student at Edinburgh University. So, that’s how I met him.”
“Hmm,” said Alice, resting her chin on her hands. “I’ll save what I think about James and Natasha till our meeting later. But meanwhile I feel I have to tell you this: your dream and the little girl you saw…”
“Yes?”
Alice’s eyes opened wide.
“They’re not just a coincidence. They’re serious. I’ll tell both you and Theo why later.”
With this ominous remark, Zoe had to be satisfied.
The library door opened at six o’clock and Theo stepped in from the entrance hall. The library was a warm, inviting room, furnished with a large, round table and a group of armchairs, and lined with well-filled bookshelves.
Theo closed the door behind him, went straight to Zoe where she stood beside the lamp which she’d just switched on, took her face in both hands, and kissed her. Then, letting go of her, he brushed his fair hair off his forehead whilst holding her in a tender gaze.
“What’s up, Zoe? You look flushed.”
Zoe caught a glimpse of their reflection in the oak-framed mirror to the left of the door: a loving couple, who appeared in the glowing lamplight to be surrounded by a golden aura.
“Yes, a bit jumpy,” she admitted, “with all that’s happened today.”
He squeezed her hand. The door opened again.
“Alice,” Theo said. “Come and join us.”
“Thanks.”
He drew out a chair for her from the round oak table and they all seated themselves.
“Ok, Alice,” began Theo. “You’ve come back in again today, because you wanted to tell us something. Go ahead.”
“Call me supersensitive if you wish,” said Alice, “but I knew I couldn’t keep this to myself any longer, when Zoe first told me about the dream she had last night: running with a child through a wood, both in fear for their lives. Then when she saw a little girl near the barn this morning who asked for her daddy, then disappeared; I knew this was serious.”
“We’re intrigued,” said Theo. “Tell us more.”
“Before Zoe’s dream, I’d decided to keep quiet about this. But that’s changed now. You see, I’ve had three weird experiences in the past few weeks; all to do with a young child.”
Zoe’s mouth went dry. She sat forward with her elbows on the table.
“Three weird experiences?” she said.
“Yes. And even now I still wonder whether I should tell you. They’re quite unsettling. Might even make things worse.” She reached for her bag, almost as if planning to leave.
Theo put a hand on her arm. “Stay. We want to hear your stories.”
“Are you sure? They’re about ghosts,” said Alice.
CHAPTER TWO
Zoe gave a start. Both she and Theo refocused on Alice. “Do you believe in ghosts?” asked Alice.
“Yes, I do, as it happens,” said Theo. “I’ve seen them myself.”
Zoe glanced at the door. She’d felt a cold draught.
She saw the door was ajar. She got up straightaway and went over, first checking out in the entrance hall to see if the front door was open. It was closed. She walked back into the library and shut the door behind her. She’d sooner they had this conversation with nobody else overhearing.
“And you, Zoe?” enquired Alice.
“Yes, I believe too,” said Zoe. “But Theo – you’ve seen them? When? Where?”
“My story will wait,” replied Theo. “It concerns ghostly monks. Let’s hear Alice’s story right now.”
Zoe wriggled into a more comfortable position on her chair.
“Go on, Alice,” she said.
“OK. I babysit now and again for families on holiday in the area. I sat for a family not far from here, one Saturday, six weeks ago.
“The house is built down the side of a steep slope, with three levels. The front door leads to a hallway on the ground floor. Downstairs on the mid-level, are the bedrooms. The sitting room’s on the lowest level.
“On this Saturday evening, we chatted for a few minutes. The parents had put the children to bed before I arrived and said they should be asleep very soon. Then they left, locking the front door behind them and taking the key. They’d given me a key which I could use to open the door, should there be any need.
“I began to walk downstairs to the bedrooms. As I did so, the temperature dropped.
“I couldn’t work it out. After all, it was August. I went down to the sitting room to watch TV. After ten minutes, the cold sensation passed.
“A few hours later, I turned the TV off and began to read a book.
“A thud hit the ceiling above my head. Footsteps crossed the ceiling. The top-level front door opened, and slammed shut. I jumped up at once, to go and check on the children. As I ran upstairs, I glanced at my watch. It was twenty-past midnight. I thought the parents must be back though I wasn’t expecting them until about one o’clock.
“As I got to the bedroom door there was complete silence. I’d heard no sound of gravel crunching outside the front door or of footsteps on the stairs to the mid-level.
“Poppy, aged four, sat up in bed, and seemed uneasy. Her older brother, Tom, lay curled up. But he too was awake. There was no sign of the parents.
“‘Anything wrong?’ I asked.
“‘No,’ said Poppy.
“‘Did you get out of bed?’
“‘No,’ the little girl replied.
“Neither child could explain further, but Poppy seemed a bit scared by my questions. I comforted her then went upstairs to the entrance, and tried the front door. It was locked. I went back downstairs. Nothing else happened and the parents came back at one thirty. I said nothi
ng about it to them. I said goodbye and drove home. During the next week, I came here every morning and worked as usual, and as you know, didn’t mention the incident. However, the couple asked me to babysit again the following Saturday.
“Remembering the incident, I was a bit unnerved. Then I tried to convince myself it had just been my imagination.
“After the parents had left, I made myself a cup of coffee, and sat and watched TV.
“At twenty-past midnight, the same thing happened.
“I froze, as the footsteps crossed the ceiling: heavy, deliberate footsteps; not those of a child. I leapt to my feet and ran upstairs and into the children’s bedroom. As I did so, the front door banged. This time the children clung together, staring at their bedroom door. They looked surprised and scared. I went to check on the front door, which was locked. Then I took them both downstairs for a drink, and half an hour later settled them back in bed.
“When the parents returned, I told them the story. Neither could make sense of it. They’d locked the front door when they left. They’d had to unlock it to get in again. They couldn’t explain why the front door might have opened and banged closed, on two occasions. But the next day they packed up, and went back home to London.
“On the Monday,” said Alice, “I told an actor friend, who I know is open to the paranormal. He asked about the house. Turned out, he knew it. ‘People tell funny stories about the house. Doors and windows open or close, with no wind’.”
Theo had interlaced his fingers as he listened to Alice. Now a line appeared on his forehead.
Alice moistened her lips. “I learned the previous owner’s husband died twelve months ago.”
Theo and Zoe looked at each other.
“It must have been him,” said Zoe.
Theo turned back to Alice. “A very spooky tale,” he said, “but it doesn’t seem in any way related to Zoe’s dream, or the little girl she met near the barn.”
“Then you need to know what happened next,” said Alice.
“Go on,” said Zoe.
“It was the Friday of the following week,” said Alice. “I was driving south, heading for the A417 to Cirencester. It was ten-to-six in the evening. As it happens, I was two minutes up the lane from our main gateway. A very small girl broke out from the edge of the road. She ran in front of my car. I had no time to brake or swerve. But she stopped and looked at me. There was no expression on her face. Then I hit her and she went under the car.”
A Passionate Spirit Page 2