by Clare Revell
“Boss, it’s me.” Ralph’s voice vibrated and ended on a high note. “Did you ask for extra water to be diverted to the dam? Because we’re getting an influx from somewhere and it’s compounding the problem.”
Evan hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I’d forgotten about that. I did that last week, when the dam levels fell. Cancel it. The numbers are in the blue folder I left with you. Call them now.”
“Sure thing. I’m increasing the overflow to compensate.”
“Thanks.” He slumped at the desk and rubbed the back of his neck. “Keep me informed. Oh, and I’m ignoring the evac orders and staying put in the manor.”
“I hate to disagree with you, but this Sparrow bloke may have a point.”
“And as I explained to the military blokes that came, he has a good reason to want the area empty as well. No one is getting into the manor to get their hands on the documents here.”
“No offence, boss, but we need you alive. Take the documents and get out of there.”
Evan shook his head. “No can do. Can’t explain over the phone, but I have a good reason for staying.”
~*~
Lou lay awake most of the night, tossing and turning. Lights flickered and rotated in the corner of her left eye, but the sleep that would avert the coming migraine eluded her. Around three she rose, showered, and dressed. She downed headache meds and then settled on the bed to read over all her notes.
When her alarm went off at five, she grabbed the notebook from the box, along with her camera and headed carefully downstairs to the kitchen to make some tea.
Evan glanced up as she came in. “Morning. You’re up early.” He moved over to her and kissed her gently. “I’ve just made a pot of coffee if you want some.”
She shook her head. “I prefer tea. I only drink coffee to be sociable; despite living in the States for several years, I don’t really like the stuff.”
“One pot of tea coming up.” He moved to the side and switched on the kettle. “About last night…”
She leaned next to him. “Don’t worry about it. Dad takes his role very seriously.” She giggled. “He’s even worse with Emily. She brought a boy over once, and Dad gave him the third degree over the tea table.”
“How old was this kid?”
“Nine or ten I think. I would love to be a fly on the wall when her prom date comes to pick her up in a few years.” She threw her head back and laughed. “Dad’ll probably stand there, gun in his hand, and demand Emily be home before ten.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Evan made the tea. “But I’d like to think I’d be protective of any daughters I may have in the future.” He flicked her nose and then tucked her hair behind her ears. “You look dreadful. Did you sleep any?”
“No, my mind is too active. I also have a headache, which doesn’t help any.”
He grazed his knuckles against her cheek and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry.”
Lou leaned into his touch, allowing the comfort and pleasure to mix. “It isn’t your fault. It happens some nights, especially this time of year. September 30 was the day I lost my leg. It’s also the date of Mum’s and Dad’s wedding anniversary, which is why he has to be home by then.”
Evan laid the tray with cups and pastries and picked it up. “Let’s take this into the den. I’ve lit a fire in there.”
She followed him, passing Zach in the hallway.
“September 30 is also the day the village flooded. And the date of the fire in the west wing.” He set the tray down and paused. “It’s almost as if everything is conjoining and centring around the same date.”
She smirked. “This isn’t a disaster movie, you know. The world won’t end on September 30.”
“It might.” He plated the pastries and handed one to her.
“Thank you, and I hope not. But it is a little weird how all the dates are the same.”
“Tell you something else that happens on September 30: my birthday.”
“Fancy that. And how old will you be this year?”
He grinned. “The same age as my tongue and a little older than my teeth.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “A lady should never ask.”
She struggled to keep a straight face. “I’m no lady. I’m an archaeologist, and strangely attracted to old things.”
Evan’s eyes widened in shock. “Old?”
She waved a hand, clicking her fingers. “Yes, I went there. You walked straight into that one, mister.”
Evan wrapped his arms around her and laughed, the tension between them falling away. “I’ll have you know, miss, I’m not that old. I’ll be thirty-four.”
“Still older than me.” She leaned against him, one hand holding her side. “I have a stitch from laughing too much.”
“That will teach you to pick on older men.” He kissed her forehead. “Does that make me a cradle snatcher?” he whispered.
Lou raised her face to his. “Not that much younger than you.” She kissed him gently. “Are those pastries to be eaten or for looking at?”
He chuckled. “We can eat them.” He let her go and moved to the tray. He poured the tea. “Did you bring the notebook?”
She nodded. “I figured we could read it aloud and record it. I have photos of each page, but it’d be good to have an audio recording as well.”
“Sounds good but we should eat first.”
Lou curled up on the couch and took the mug from him. “Thanks.”
Evan said grace and began eating.
“Dad rubbed off on you.” Her lips curved into a wry smile.
He shrugged. “An old habit I’d gotten out of. I was thinking maybe I should pick it up again.”
“It’s a good one to have. I’ve been thinking the same thing. Maybe once all this is over…” She wiped a crumb from her lips and licked her fingers. “Are we still checking out those caves you mentioned?”
“They’re probably still sealed,” he said in between bites.
“They might not be. Chances are the rocks moved during the land movement caused by the explosions. Or there may be a way in despite the rock fall.”
He swigged his coffee quickly and topped up the cup. “I’ll need to check in at the dam first so probably won’t be until the afternoon.” He paused. “I’ll tell Zach to stay in the hallway, even though we’ve shut the door. I don’t want any of this overheard.”
They finished the meal in silence. Evan piled up the plates on the tray and refilled their cups. He rose and spoke quietly to Zach, before shutting the door. Then he settled on the couch next to her. “OK. Are you ready to do this?”
“Yup.” Lou picked up the book. “There’s a note at the start of the book, which states this is a private journal. I’m guessing the other one we found was the public one kept in the house. I’m also hoping this one will fill in the gaps caused by missing pages and faded ink in that other one. This one is in two sets of handwriting which, from what I’ve gathered, are his and hers. Fancy a bit of role play?”
His hand ran over her arm, before entwining in her fingers. “Why not? I’ll be my great-grandfather and you can be my great-grandmother.”
40
June 16
My name is Mabel Close. I used to be scullery maid at the manor ’til I fell in love with the third son, David. Our dalliance was forbidden by class status, society, and every other rule known to man. We hid our love for a time, playing with fire. We’d meet on my half day, several towns over, where he’d help me with my spelling and letters. Sweet, stolen moments in the orchard, the attics, or the caves.
We were seen by Michael, one of the servants. He’s a sly man, always sneaking about trying to get people in trouble. He’s valet to Mr. Close, David’s father, and must have told him. Mr. Close forbade us to see each other. He threatened to give me notice without reference, said I’d never work around here again.
David stood up to him. He told him we were getting married. That only made things worse. His father threatened to disinherit
him if we married. He sent David away to medical school, hoping the five-year separation would cure him of his infatuation with a servant.
It didn’t. He wrote to me and spent time with me when he came home for holidays. Our love grew greater. He graduated and had plans to work in a big hospital in London.
We were going to leave together, marry, and set up home miles away from here. But both older brothers died leaving only his sisters, who could not inherit, David had no choice but to return home.
David kept seeing me. Things went too far, and when I found myself expecting, we had no choice but to marry. His father was furious and threw him out. Said he’d inherit over his dead body, and he never wanted to see him again. Then he sacked me.
We eloped, married over the anvil in Gretna Green. I’m not sure why, but we ended up back here in Abernay. David rented a small cottage opposite the church. He doctors from the back room. It’s not ideal, but it will do for now.
June 17
Mabel makes my father sound like an ogre. He is just not as forward thinking as some of us. He still does not agree with women having the vote. He insists the classes shouldn’t integrate, but I disagree. Mabel is all I want in a wife and always will be.
The villagers are beginning to attend my clinics and surgeries. I fear that half of them come through simple curiosity and to find out if the rumours are true.
This journal is running concurrent to the one in the main part of the house, with extra details where necessary. I don’t want this one found. Neither do I agree with the decision to flood the villages. I may have come out publicly to agree, but having met privately with Tully Belton, my eyes have been opened to what is really happening here.
No one wants to leave. And why should they? They are being forced to sell their homes, having been told they will lose their employment if they do not. As most of the villagers are employed either by my father or by CS or at the mill owned by James Chapman, there can be no doubt in my mind who is behind this, as those three men will gain most from the dam and new power station being built there.
Lou picked up her cup. “This journal starts before the one you had in the safe. There must be another one somewhere.”
“That one is pretty old and in a much worse condition than this one. The pages might have been lost or damaged over the years. Or removed for one reason or another,” Evan glanced down. “The next bit is yours.”
June 24
There is a protest meeting tonight. David is insisting he attends. I don’t want him to go. What if things get violent and he gets hurt? What will become of me then? His parents are still not speaking to us, and it’s been four months now. Despite the fact David is the village doctor, we are essentially outcasts.
The position in London is looking like a good option. He has telephoned the hospital there and they are going to get back to him once the board has convened next week.
The babe within me is uneasy tonight. I don’t want to stay here. There have been too many accidents on the construction site. It won’t be long before someone is killed up there. The work progresses in the dark and the fog, as well as during the day.
The fog. A strange, unearthly mist that covers the dam each night. Never seen fog in June before.
June 25
Last night’s meeting went well. Frank Philips chaired the meeting with Tully Belton as his second. Despite Mabel’s misgivings, we remained more or less as gentlemen, although tempers were high and voices raised.
A picket has been planned for the dam each day with placards. A petition will be raised to my father, though I have advised I cannot sign it. At least not yet.
June 30
Another meeting and, again, David insisted on attending. This time, I can hear the shouts from the hall across the street. The situation is becoming untenable here.
Mrs Teague, a widow of some sixty years, has sold her home and moved to be with her daughter in Dorset. She received only a fraction of what the house is worth. Those in the tithe cottages have no choice but to leave.
July 3
David was been called to the dam despite the late hour and the fog. Another accident. This time a young lad of nineteen, John Perkins, crush injuries they said. David was almost in tears when he came back. He could do nothing to save him.
July 8
I am attending the rally in London. Mabel is refusing to come. I am unhappy at the prospect of leaving her here alone, but this is something I have to do.
July 9
David is away in London. The fog is thick tonight, so unlike July. The sounds are muffled, yet up at the dam, work continues. I have signed the petition against the dam and flooding on behalf of us both. One day all this land will belong to David. It is only right that history knows he wanted nothing to do with it; they should know his stance was firm against.
He wants no part of this dam or the flooding. No part of the destruction and loss that will accompany it. People will lose their homes, their livelihoods. We lose everything so a few men can profit.
July 10
The Prime Minister said he can do nothing. He didn’t even come to the door, only sent an assistant to take the box containing the petition from us. We are betrayed by those meant to protect us.
Frank Philips is dead. Murdered. Again the police will do nothing. They are paid by my father to do what he wants.
That would change under my tenure, but once the village is gone, so will the position of squire. I will not inherit the title, for which my father is probably pleased. The land will belong to us but nothing more.
Tully Belton, Forest Phillips (Frank’s son), Jonathan Keene, and I will meet in the church just before midnight. We will not let the village fall without a fight. We must come up with a plan and soon.
July 23
Our child, a daughter, came too early, barely six months. She did not survive. Mabel is doing as well as can be expected. I am…also. We named the baby Elizabeth, after Mabel’s mother. She was born on July 12. We buried her in the church yard under the cover of the fog. Under the law, she would not receive a funeral as she was not deemed to be alive. There was another funeral the following day; we merely used the same grave. I am sure that God will not mind.
41
Lou wiped her sleeve over her eyes, trying not to sob aloud. “That’s awful. Not even being allowed to bury your own child.”
Evan pressed a tissue into her hand. “I had no idea. I guess back then the subject was as taboo as it is now.”
Lou wiped her eyes. “It shouldn’t be, but I guess just like we wouldn’t know what to say, the parents wouldn’t either.” She stared back at the book, shivering. She glanced over her shoulder at the door. It was ajar and she could see Zach in the hallway. Snuggling against Evan again, she turned back to the book. “Me, again.”
August 10
There is sickness in the village. David tells me its influenza, and we should boil water before drinking it and avoid contact with other people as much as possible. I cannot do that. I need to be out doing normal things. Otherwise, my mind goes back to Elizabeth, and I grieve all over again. I’ve cried enough. David needs a strong woman at his side, especially now.
While he is at work, I run errands and take food to those who are sick. As his wife, they are my people, too, even though I am still one of them.
But it is strange. The symptoms, though not unlike influenza, do not make sense to me, but then I am not a doctor like David. It begins with a headache, fever, nausea, and weakness of the limbs. It then turns into what appears to be pneumonia. My brother died of that when he was twelve, so I know that well.
But then chest pains and a cough begin. The sick cough up blood. I have seen it myself and looking through David’s textbooks, that does not happen with influenza.
August 12
Mabel is right. I fear plague has come to Abernay. Finlay is similarly affected. Soldiers surrounded the villages late last night, erecting barricades. The cottage hospital is full. If more cases develop, as I
suspect they will, I will either need a larger building or have to confine them to their homes. I will be remaining with the sick in order to prevent me giving this to Mabel. It is only those who protested in London and their families who are sick.
Though that may well change in the coming days. It seems too much of a coincidence, and I will be running tests to determine what manner of plague this is.
I am leaving out of the journal kept in the main house certain details of the plague and will do so for as long as I can. I do not wish to start a panic.
August 13
I have barely seen David. He came home long enough to pack a bag saying it would be best if he stayed away to keep me free of the disease. He wouldn’t even kiss me before he left. The first time ever he has refused me his touch, and I cannot help but think it is a bad omen.
August 15
I have to go to the barrier each day to collect food. Armed soldiers shoot anyone who attempts to leave. I saw young Daniel Masters shot. All he did was kick his ball over the barricade and try to get it back. What kind of sickness is this, that the outside world fears a small boy running after a ball?
August 18
I continue to help where I can. Mrs Jones is sick, as is her husband. I am caring for their six children. The baby is poorly.
There is still no news about this sickness on the wireless. No outside help apart from the soldiers who deliver the food and guard what is now our border. Jimmy and Peter Thornton from Finlay tried crossing the barricade this morning. They were shot and killed.
August 21
David is sick. I am helping nurse him and the others now. Some of the servants from the manor are also sick. It is spreading. We lost another ten people today. Nurse Mount thinks the death toll will rise swiftly. It is a horrid way to die. She says so far none of the infected have lived.
I cannot lose David as well as Elizabeth. I pray every day that he will recover.
September 1
No time to write the past few days. David was near death several times, but praise God, he is now recovered, although very weak.
I am tired, but so far untouched by the sickness.