‘I need to know what it was he was trying to do, Robin. He came here for a purpose. To destroy the picture. I’ve found out much more about the family in the last few days.’ Lucy walked towards the door and pushed it open. The studio was neat and tidy and, like the kitchen, full of sunlight. She walked over to the skylight and pushed it open further. ‘Apparently Tony Anderson died. It was so sad. He was killed in Scotland. Evie seems to have married Eddie Marston on the rebound shortly afterwards. The picture shows her happy with Tony, so maybe someone wants that happy time forgotten.’
‘Eddie?’
She nodded thoughtfully. ‘I am beginning to wonder if it might be him.’
‘When did he die?’
‘That’s easy. In 1989.’
‘So he lived until relatively recently.’
She nodded. ‘Could he be our bad guy? From my research he is beginning to come over as a bit of a bully. Quite unpleasant, in fact. I think he was born in about 1912. So he was seventy-seven when he died. I don’t think there is an age limit on being a ghost, is there?’ She grimaced. ‘How strange that we have two ghosts. Ralph, who was only twenty-one and possibly Eddie, in his seventies.’
‘So, what unfinished business did Eddie leave? Isn’t that what your ghostbuster friends say is the reason for somebody haunting? He was obviously angry about something. Very angry. Angry enough to rage about it even though he’s dead.’
‘It’s Tony. It must be. He’s the catalyst. It all fits. We found the picture of him and I’ve begun to dig into the past. Either he just hated Tony so much he wants him forgotten forever, or there is something else he wants hidden.’ In the cold light of day she had discounted her theory that the portrait of Tony resembled Mike. She had taken her photo out into the daylight and scrutinised it carefully. Whatever passing resemblance she had seen in the lamplight the night before had gone.
‘And Ralph?’
‘I think Ralph wants us to know about it.’
‘A cosmic battle.’ Robin shook his head sceptically. ‘It sounds far-fetched.’
‘The whole ghost thing sounds far-fetched,’ Lucy said crossly. ‘But listen. This has not just happened to us. Ralph haunted Johnny Marston. Juliette, his widow, told me. Literally, as a ghost and in nightmares.’
‘So why can’t your mates Maggie and Huw interview these two guys and find out what they are on about and tell them to shake hands. It is all in the past.’
Lucy nodded glumly. ‘I suppose it is. Or is it that it is still going on?’ She felt herself grow suddenly cold. ‘My interference has summoned them back. I’ve stirred it up again.’
That evening she went back to the leather folder and found amongst a load of other stuff a letter folded very small and tucked into the back flap. Once again it was dated 1941, shortly after Johnny was born.
Ambleside, June 1941
Dear Evie,
I was so excited to hear you had had a little boy. What wonderful news. You and Eddie must be so thrilled. Thank you for the photos. What a darling! I suppose all small babies have fair hair? What a joy it must be for you and your parents. I was so pleased you have called him after Ralph. Your brother would have been so proud of his nephew. And I am so proud to have been asked to be his godmother. Thank you. Tell me as soon as you have a date for the christening and I will be there to hold John Ralph over the font. Don’t forget to make lots of sketches of him and save one for me. Now you are so famous it will be very exciting to have a genuine Evelyn Lucas on the wall! (I’m not jealous – honestly!)
Make sure you give me time to get back to Sussex. It’s an awful long way and I will have to find a way round poor old London. I’m so looking forward to seeing you, and my godson.
With all my love,
Sarah
With a gasp of excitement Lucy read the letter again and reached for her list of Dramatis Personae. Sarah Besant was one of Evie’s friends from the Royal College of Art, which had been evacuated from South Kensington to Cumbria in December 1940 to try and escape the London Blitz. And there was a date at the top of the letter. She glanced from her list of characters in Evie’s life to her sketched timeline, and back at her photo of the portrait. So, Evie had had an eight-month baby. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. Why had Sarah Besant made the point about the baby having fair hair? Was that just a chance remark from an artist who presumably had an eye for such details, or was that a hint that she knew Johnny was Tony Anderson’s child? Poor Tony Anderson, who appeared to have been killed soon after he was posted with his squadron back to Scotland in December 1940.
That might explain a lot.
The next account she read jumped the story forward by three years.
October 10th 1944
‘Where have you been?’ Evie greeted Eddie at the door of the kitchen. She was feeling sick and exhausted, and Johnny had been running round all day out of control. Her parents had gone into Chichester and she was well aware that her last painting was weeks overdue for an exhibition which was being planned for the autumn. ‘Have you been out with that woman?’
Eddie stared at her blankly. ‘What woman?’ He took off his greatcoat and, pushing past Johnny, who was playing with a small wooden horse, hung it from the peg on the back of the kitchen door. ‘Don’t be so stupid, Evie. When have I time to see any women?’
Did he still not realise that she had gone to see Lavinia Gresham before Johnny was born? She had been so sure that Lavinia would tell him, but the expected explosion of fury had never come. There were plenty of other things which set him off, above all her protective adoration of her son, but on the whole he kept away from the farmhouse. The conception of the new baby was the result of an evening after the whole family had been sampling some homemade ale at a dance in the village hall. Evie had become quite giggly and flirtatious – not with him, it had to be said, but with a young soldier on leave with his parents in the next village – and Eddie’s anger had exploded in the privacy of their bedroom later that night. What had occurred was undeniably rape; the next day Evie had told him that she never wanted to share a bed with him again, and although he had ignored that angry tearful plea he had slept resolutely with his back to her ever since.
‘Lavinia!’ She glared at him. ‘Did you think I didn’t know about her? I’ve known for years!’
Eddie looked astonished for a moment. Then his face darkened. ‘So, you’ve been prying into my affairs?’
‘Prying?’ she said furiously. ‘You carry her photo with you everywhere. It is hardly tactful!’
He laughed. ‘Well, my married life at home is not exactly rewarding, Evie, darling,’ he said. ‘Of course I go elsewhere. I’ve known Lavinia since we were teenagers. She is warm and loving and doesn’t argue every time she opens her mouth.’ He walked past her and went out into the hall. She heard him run up the stairs and, suddenly too angry to care, she went up after him leaving Johnny crying bitterly behind her.
‘So, you don’t deny it?’ she cried, following him into their bedroom.
‘No, of course I don’t deny it.’
‘Why don’t we get divorced then?’ she screamed. ‘That would suit me fine and leave you to marry her, if she’s so warm and loving!’
‘I will never divorce you, Evie.’ He froze suddenly, looking at her. ‘So don’t mention such a thing again. Do you hear me?’
Behind them the door opened and Johnny peered in. ‘Mummy?’ The little voice sounded scared. Neither adult paid him any attention.
‘Are you threatening me?’ Evie asked coldly. Suddenly she was in total control of her temper.
‘I do believe I am.’ Eddie held her gaze, his expression full of contempt.
‘Mummy?’ The little boy was clinging to her skirt now.
‘I think it might be a good thing if you left this house,’ Evie said calmly. She stooped and swung Johnny off his feet.
‘Put that child down.’ Eddie stepped towards her.
‘And if I don’t?’
‘Then I might hit him by m
istake.’
She stared at him in horror. ‘Get out!’
Eddie lunged at her, pulling Johnny from her arms and throwing him none too gently onto the bed. The child let out a piercing scream as Eddie raised his hand and slapped Evie across the face, hard. Off balance, she lost her footing and crashed against the corner of the chest of drawers. She let out a cry of agony as she collapsed onto the floor, clutching her stomach. With a look of total disgust Eddie turned and walked out of the room as Johnny climbed off the bed and ran to his mother, sobbing bitterly.
‘Eddie!’ Evie’s voice rose in panic. ‘Eddie, come back. I’m bleeding.’
All she heard was the thump of his footsteps as he ran down the stairs.
Monday 9th September
Mike put his key into the lock at Rosebank and pushed open the door. There was someone in the kitchen and he felt his spirits rise in anticipation. ‘Lucy?’
‘It’s me, Mr Mike,’ Dolly called back. Of course, Lucy’s car would have been in the lane if it was her. He walked in and stared round. ‘Good heavens, what is going on?’ The kitchen table was stacked high with dusty boxes and cases.
Dolly sat down heavily on one of the kitchen stools and let out a sigh. ‘I’m going through everything of Evie’s, like you told me. There is much more than I thought. I got young Bob Parsons from the pub to come and go up into the attic for me and out in the mower shed.’
Mike sat down opposite her. ‘Has Lucy seen all this?’
Dolly shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen her for several days.’ She gave him a stern look. ‘Did you and she have a quarrel?’
‘No.’ He gave her a fond smile. ‘Far from it. It’s just I’ve been busy, and so, I guess has she. Shall we ring her and tell her you’ve found all this?’
Dolly looked doubtful. ‘I’m going through it first. I’ll put the stuff I think she should have on one side. She doesn’t want to be doing with Evie’s old clothes and things.’
‘Still no sketchbooks?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘But Mr Christopher rang me last night at home. He wanted to know where Lucy was.’
‘What did you say?’ Mike felt an undercurrent of worry wash through him.
‘I told him I hadn’t seen her for a while and had no reason to think there was anything left here for her to interest herself in.’
‘Good for you.’ Mike gave her a conspiratorial grin. ‘And is there?’ He indicated the piles of things on the table.
‘There is quite a lot of personal stuff there, Mr Mike. I’m just not sure how much she wants to know about the family.’
‘Everything. I thought we had agreed on that.’
Dolly frowned. ‘You might not want her to see everything here.’
‘Really?’ Mike reached forward and pulled a shoebox towards him. ‘What sort of things?’ He took the lid off and looked inside. The box was full of bits of lace and feathers.
Dolly laughed. ‘Trimmings for hats. I reckon Evie must have made her own. After the war when she started having exhibitions in London she would have worn hats.’
Mike picked out a cockade of black feathers. ‘These are lovely.’
‘Funereal.’ Dolly’s mouth turned down.
She pushed back the stool and stood up with a groan. ‘Last time I saw Lucy she gave me a copy of what she calls her time line, with the family tree. Did she give you one?’
Mike sighed, hiding another twinge of hurt that yet again she had shown how little she trusted him. ‘She probably thought I knew it all.’
‘Maybe. Well, take a look and see if you can improve on it. That’s what she told me to do. She said I was to write on it and cross it out, anything I wanted, as we made our way towards the truth.’ She held his gaze. ‘That’s what she wants. The truth.’
Mike frowned. ‘And don’t we want the same?’
‘Perhaps.’ She pushed a transparent folder towards him. He opened it and scrutinised the photocopy with its small neat writing, some appearing to have been inked, some pencilled. He recognised Dolly’s carefully inscribed rounded hand in some of the amendments and Lucy’s own scribbles where she had changed her mind.
‘My goodness. She’s made a list of Evie’s exhibitions as well.’
Dolly nodded.
‘It’s really coming together, isn’t it?’ He gave Dolly another cautious glance. ‘So what is bothering you?’
‘She’s getting too close.’
‘To what?’
Dolly walked across to the window and stared out into the garden. ‘I don’t know. That is what Mr Christopher said. She is getting too close and she has to be stopped.’
October 10th 1944
Evie awoke, lying in a haze of pain and fear. How long she had been like that she didn’t know. As she drifted back to consciousness she realised that Johnny was lying with her, wrapped in her arms. The little boy was crying quietly.
‘Johnny,’ she whispered.
He snuggled closer.
‘Johnny, darling, I want you to go downstairs and fetch Granny. Can you do that for me?’
She felt him shake his head.
‘Please, Johnny.’ She tried to keep her voice steady. ‘I need to see Granny. Will you be a very big grown-up boy and see if she is in the kitchen?’ She prayed quietly that her mother had come home. Moving slightly she became aware of a wet stickiness beneath her and realised she was lying in a pool of blood. She closed her eyes with a sob. She didn’t need to be told she was losing the baby.
Carefully she pushed Johnny away from her. ‘Stand up, darling. Be a good boy. Is Granny downstairs?’
He nodded.
‘Did you hear her come in? Can you call her for me? Tell her Mummy isn’t very well.’ She was trying to speak calmly.
He still clung to her for a few more moments and then he seemed to understand finally what she wanted. He ran towards the door and pulled at the handle. For one terrible moment she thought Eddie had locked her in, but the door opened and Johnny disappeared. She heard him talking to himself as he went downstairs. ‘Call Granny. Call Granny. Come see Mummy.’
For a long time she heard nothing then at last she heard her mother’s anxious steps on the stairs. ‘Evie? What’s happened?’
After that there was a blur of activity. Somehow Rachel managed to help Evie onto the bed; Johnny was dispatched downstairs to Dudley’s care, the doctor was called, then Eddie.
Evie said nothing. She had fallen, she said, that was all.
Monday 9th September
Ollie did not like his sister coming into his bedroom but she had arrived before he could lock the door. She looked round with an expression of disgust.
‘Don’t you ever get this room cleaned?’ She didn’t wait for his reply. ‘What is going on with Dad?’
He took off his headphones with reluctance and laid them on the desk. ‘Him and Mum, you mean?’
She shook her head. ’That’s nothing new. Mum has to learn to stick up for herself. She’s a complete nerd when it comes to understanding men.’
Ollie snorted. ‘And you’re the expert, I suppose.’
She nodded without a trace of humour. ‘I’ve got him here, like this.’ She waggled her little finger.
Ollie sneered. ‘So, what do you mean, then?’
‘When you went to London with him to Grandfather’s house. Something happened there.’
‘Well, duh, yes.’ He loaded the words with sarcasm. ‘We brought all the loot back.’
‘And stashed it in the attic?’
He nodded, getting bored.
‘Well, it’s gone.’
Ollie’s eyes flew open. ‘Gone?’
She nodded. ‘I went up there just now. The place is as empty as it was before. Just junk. There are no pictures there now.’
Ollie gave a silent whistle. ‘I wonder where he’s put them. Dad saw something up there. He was freaked by it.’ Ollie frowned. ‘There is something really weird going on. Not just Dad being a dickhead as usual, something sinister. Do you reckon E
vie’s pictures are worth millions?’
Hannah nodded. ‘I think they must be. You know what he’s like about money. I heard him talking to Mum about Mike at Rosebank Cottage. He thinks there is more stuff there which he missed when he went there to collect everything. You would think he’s got enough, but he obviously wants to get his hands on it.’ Hannah sat down on the floor and drew her legs up under her. ‘I don’t think our father is an awfully nice man,’ she said thoughtfully.
Ollie was startled. ‘I thought you worshipped him.’
Hannah gave an angelic smile. ‘His wallet, maybe.’
Ollie laughed. ‘I’m surprised you’ve even seen it.’ He sat down and leaned towards her. ‘Mum is really frightened of him. I think she ought to leave him.’
Hannah looked thoughtful, then she nodded. ‘Where would she go?’
‘Back to Granny and Grandpa in Scotland. She would be safe there. Grandpa wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He adores her. Men always adore their daughters.’ He looked resigned. ‘That’s why you can get away with being such a cow sometimes.’
Hannah giggled. ‘He didn’t let me see the pictures though. He wouldn’t go back up there and by the time I got the chance they had gone. He came in to see me when he had just come down the stairs. He was white and kind of shaky. He asked me if I believe in ghosts.’
‘What did you say?’ Ollie was curious in spite of himself.
‘I’m not sure I answered. I’m not sure if I do. He said it was a young man in RAF uniform and we thought it was Uncle Ralph. But why would he be frightened of Uncle Ralph?’
‘I would have thought that was obvious. Because he was a ghost!’
‘And why is he haunting us suddenly?’ she said thoughtfully.
‘Not us. We haven’t seen him. He’s haunting Father.’
‘So, has Father stolen those pictures?’ Hannah was picking her nails. She asked the question casually without looking up at him.
The Darkest Hour Page 42