by Jenny Kane
‘This is ridiculous. You are not in a good place to have a relationship with anyone, let alone Shaun. Especially not with John milling around.’
Switching on the bedside lamp, she looked at the clock. It was one o’clock in the morning. Flicking the room into darkness, Thea plumped up her pillows and tried to get comfortable.
‘The walls and floors are so thick in this place, the chance of him hearing anything from below are slim anyway.’
She should have told Shaun she was staying here too. Now the fact she hadn’t said anything, felt like a lie, rather than an attempt to prevent gossip before it started.
Squeezing her eyes closed, she forced her mind away from acrobatics with the resident celebrity archaeologist, to consider the manor instead.
‘That’s supposed to be your passion right now. Not a bloke who’s helping to restore it.’
There was no doubt that the restoration was beginning to come together. Sam and Tina had formed a good working relationship. Thea was convinced they liked each other more than either of them showed, but she knew she had no basis for that hunch. It was just a feeling.
‘Wishful thinking. You just want your friend to get a good guy rather than a rich guy who’s bad for her self-esteem.’
Tina hadn’t mentioned Leon since their aborted dinner date. Come to think about it, she hadn’t mentioned dating at all. Once the idea of building a chicken coop and preparing for the arrival of their feathery friends had been mooted, Tina had hardly left the manor at all.
Mabel was also performing wonders. By making sure everyone else was working to their strengths, she’d streamlined their days. She had even taken to wandering down to Sybil’s Tea Room every other day to collect trays of cakes. Cakes which, Thea had discovered, Sybil was giving to Mill Grange for free as a gesture of goodwill towards the restoration. Thea vowed to go back into Upwich the following week for the cream tea she’d promised herself. ‘Maybe I’ll ask Shaun to come.’
Idiot. That will blow his cover. Why hide him here if you’re just going to stroll around the village together!
Turning over, wincing as the springs squealed in protest, Thea froze. Her ears strained to hear if Shaun made a corresponding noise below.
Nothing.
The garden. Think about the gardens.
The main garden was looking good. Although a fair bit of clearance and general tidying up needed attending to, Derek and his team had made considerable headway. Two days ago, Sam had revealed the full extent of the Victorian walkway which divided the garden and the woods. And today, they’d finished laying fresh gravel along its entire circuit, ready for a new generation of strollers to embed it into the earth beneath the soles of their walking boots.
The greenhouse remained a problem. Thea hadn’t been able to bring herself to call in a demolition firm to remove it, but nor had she worked out a way to save it. It couldn’t stay as it was though. Health and safety would never allow it.
At least the chickens were coming tomorrow. She was surprised by how much she was looking forward to their arrival.
Thea was finally drifting into a pleasant dream about winning the lottery and saving the greenhouse and the mill, as well as the manor, when a splintering crash echoed through the room, making her sit bolt upright.
‘What the hell…?’ She clutched the blankets to her thermal-covered chest.
It hadn’t sounded like it was coming from outside. Was Shaun up and moving around?
The sound came again. Less a crash this time, more like the sound of something metallic being scraped across the floor.
‘The house is not haunted. It isn’t. No one has ever said it is. It isn’t!’ Thea spoke quickly, gripping the blankets tighter; images of ghostly figures dragging chains unhelpfully adding to her rush of fear.
She could hear Shaun now. At least, she hoped it was him who was running down the wooden staircase with a clatter of boots on wood. He wasn’t bothering to be quiet because he didn’t know there was anyone else in the house to disturb. At least anyone who was allowed to be there.
Frozen to the spot, Thea didn’t know what to do.
She was in charge. Anything that happened in the manor was her responsibility. But no one knew she was living here.
The fact that Shaun was there suddenly felt like a gift from Minerva. She wasn’t going to have to face whatever had happened alone. Okay, so she’d have some explaining to do when he saw her, but she had to get up and find what was happening. She couldn’t leave it to him. Then she remembered Sam.
What if Sam’s wandered in to use the bathroom and dropped something?
Even as she had the thought, she dismissed it. Sam wouldn’t come that far inside, nor would he have any reason to be carrying anything metallic.
Wrapping herself in her outdoor coat and stuffing her feet into her walking boots, Thea grabbed the poker from the fireside set that sat pointlessly next to the dead fireplace. Mentally adding call chimney sweep to her list of things to arrange, Thea peered out of her bedroom door.
She listened hard; the noise had stopped, but she could hear movement below. Walking on her tiptoes to keep sound to a minimum, wondering how she was going to arrive without making Shaun jump out of his skin, Thea kept going, her heart racing in her chest.
What if he’s walking into trouble? What if it’s burglars?
There was another noise. It was similar to the first one but fainter. The metal sound definitely had a scraping sensation to it. But it wasn’t metal against metal… more like metal against wood.
Another crash sent Thea’s blood to ice. This time the unmistakable sound of smashing china accelerated her footsteps. Her fears about scaring Shaun dissolved as she hurtled towards the noise, poker outstretched before her, images of Shaun being attacked circling her mind. She recoiled away from the thought that she might have to hit someone with her ironmongery, while admitting she felt safer for having its reassuring weight in her palm.
At the foot of the servants’ stairs, Thea paused. There was a light coming from the drawing room. The slim door which connected it to the servants’ corridor was more widely open than it had been when she’d come to bed. As she took a step away from the safety of the bottom step Thea saw a shadow crossing the room beyond.
Her pulse was thudding so hard in her ears, she felt deaf to everything except the voice at the back of her head telling her she couldn’t use her phone to call for help. Even if it had been working for emergency calls, she’d got used to not carrying it around with her. Consequently, it was safely tucked up in her bedroom.
By the time she’d crept to the doorway, Thea could see the cause of the second crash. Shards of porcelain were sprayed out across the carpet in an arc of destruction. A three-foot antique Imari porcelain vase had stood between the internal connecting doors of the drawing room and living room yesterday. Not only had it been beautiful, it had been worth over three thousand pounds and was irreplaceable.
‘Come here, you bastard!’
Shaun’s hissed whisper obliterated her fears for the trustees’ reaction to the loss of a valuable artefact. Images of who this bastard might be had sent her hands to ice. She had to help him, but her feet wouldn’t move.
I’m responsible. Me.
Calling out ‘Shaun?’ as she moved, Thea held the poker aloft and sidled into the drawing room.
‘Thea? What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Later. What’s happening?’ Her eyes darted around the room, which appeared to be singularly free of masked men with swag bags. ‘Who did this?’
‘Put that bloody poker down, woman, you’re going to take my eye out.’
‘Oh, sorry.’ Thea quickly lowered her weapon. She hadn’t registered it had been within an inch of Shaun’s face she’d been waving it around so much. ‘So…’
‘Look!’
Following the line of Shaun’s finger, Thea’s eyes rested in the far corner of the room. ‘What am I looking for?’
‘Right at the back. Und
er the table.’
Taking a silent step forward, Thea twisted her neck so she could she into the shadows below the occasional table that stood beneath the large bay window. ‘A bird?’
‘A nightjar if I’m not mistaken.’
‘A what?’
‘They’re nocturnal.’
‘I got that, thanks. How the hell did it get in here?’
‘Shall we work out how to set it free before we worry about that?’ Shaun tiptoed forward and picked two cushions off the nearest sofa, whispering, ‘Can you go around the other way and open the window behind it?’
Nodding, Thea kept an eye on the small tatty grey bird that had frightened the life out of her. Sidling around the back of the square of sofas, hoping she didn’t alarm it, Thea watched Shaun hold the cushions out like soft shields. By the time she’d edged close enough to the window to open it, praying the runners would work and wouldn’t make any noise and alarm the creature further, Shaun had thrust the cushions forward, so the nightjar was trapped between them and the window. Now the only way for the bird to go was up and – hopefully – out.
Taking a deep breath, gripping the bottom of the window pane, Thea felt the fear of the bird as it fluttered faster, clearly panicked to find itself in such an environment.
Please open. Please open…
The squeal of wood as the window lifted an inch was painful to the ears, and the nightjar flew upwards so fast Thea feared it would knock itself out on the underside of the tabletop.
‘Come on, Thea… a bit more.’
‘I can’t. It’s stuck.’
‘You can. You have to…’ Shaun winced as the sound of the bird’s wings going into overdrive resounded through the room. ‘He’s going to break a wing.’
Pushing her fists firmer between the sill and the inch gap she’d made before the pulleys had caught, Thea banished the concept of the ropes snapping and the window falling out and landing on her, and heaved.
As the pane crunched open, Shaun dropped one cushion and tilted the top of the table towards himself, opening a clear path for the nightjar to dart upwards, and into the pitch black world outside.
Slamming the window shut again was mercifully much easier now the long-disused pulleys had been dislodged. Thea sank back against the shut glass with relief and turned to face Shaun. ‘Thank God you were here.’
‘Forget that, what the hell are you doing here?’
Twenty-Four
April 18th
‘How did it get in?’
‘I asked you a question.’ Shaun replaced the cushions on the sofa and sat down, patting the space next to him.
Thea hesitated, very aware that she was only wearing an old coat and a pair of pyjamas, albeit a super thick, fleece-lined set of pyjamas, cut in a style which cut for comfort rather than flattering the figure.
‘Come on, I won’t bite.’
Reluctantly sitting, keeping a good foot of space between herself and the archaeologist, Thea noticed he was still fully dressed. ‘Hadn’t you gone to bed yet?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re not in pyjamas.’
Shaun grinned. ‘I didn’t fancy confronting an art thief in the buff.’
‘In the… oh.’ Thea could feel her face reddening. ‘Weren’t you cold? I mean, it’s not exactly tropical in this house.’
Shaun laughed. ‘I was fine, thank you, but should you wish to pop by and warm me up, then please do.’
Knowing she’d been thinking about doing exactly that, Thea looked towards the bay window she’d so recently yanked open and pulled her coat tighter over her nightclothes. ‘I’m living here too.’
‘I worked that one out. How long for?’
‘Since I started working here. I didn’t intend to. It was going to be a one or two-night thing, before I found a room to rent, but…’
‘But everywhere around here costs a king’s ransom, or is so far away that you’d be driving constantly. And let’s face it, you can get so much more done being here 24/7. Yes?’
‘Yes.’ Thea sighed. ‘I was going to tell you yesterday, but somehow time ran out, and then it felt like I was lying to you… which I wasn’t, but at the same time I was. Then I thought, if the others knew we were both staying here, they’d put two and two together and make five. Then there was the danger that everyone would want to start paying rent to stay here, and I’d be running a guest house on top of everything else.’
‘And if John had got wind of the situation he’d either insist on moving in too, or go to the papers and tell them we are shacked up together.’
‘Exactly.’ Thea nodded. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t warn you I was here, but I’m damn glad you are. I’d never have coped with that bird on my own. I was only brave enough to get up because you were in the manor too.’
‘I’m sure a strong independent woman like you could have coped.’
Shaun didn’t sound as if he was teasing her, but she wasn’t quite sure. ‘Independent I might be, and strong to an extent – otherwise I’d never have shifted that window – but you can be as emancipated as anything, and still be shit scared of an intruder in the middle of the night!’
This time he did laugh. ‘Damn right. My heart was thudding, I can tell you.’
‘Was it?’
‘Of course it was. I was under the impression I was alone in the house with an axe murderer or something.’
Thea looked across to the ruin of the fallen vase. ‘That’s a problem I could do without.’
Shaun coughed uneasily. ‘I’m afraid that’s not the half of it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The nightjar didn’t get in here, it got in down there. He pointed to the partially opened double doors that divided the drawing and living rooms. ‘The far window to the right has slipped open in there. I’ve only had the chance for a brief glance, but I’m guessing the rope pulley on one side has snapped, leaving the top of the window open a fraction.’
‘Oh God.’ Thea stared towards the darkened space on the other side of the fallen china.
‘We’ll need to check for stray bats in the morning.’
‘That’s not very likely is it?’
‘They like attics, why not a warm house with high ceilings?’
Thea groaned. ‘I heard a metallic-like crash. Was that the window falling in its setting?’
‘No. At least, I don’t think so.’
‘Then what on earth was it?’
‘I think you should come and see.’ Shaun got to his feet and held out a hand.
Thea stayed where she was. ‘I have a feeling you’re going to show me something even worse than the fallen vase. Is it childish to want to stay here and hope it all goes away?’
‘Yes.’ Shaun reached forward and pulled Thea to her feet. ‘But it’s very human and I don’t blame you one bit for putting off the evil hour. But it’s two o’clock in the morning and we need to get some sleep at some point, plus you have to “arrive” for work in time to be told of what’s happened in the night as if you’ve never been here.’
Thea didn’t see the damage at first. She was too concerned with locating the offending open window and seeing where the bird had come in. She was half expecting to see a squadron of airborne insects and birds soaring in through the gap.
It took a gentle tug on her arm for Thea to register that, not only was she still holding Shaun’s hand, but that there was a metre-long scratch across the far end of the previously unblemished dining room table.
‘But how…?’ Thea’s fingers started to tingle and she tried to pull out of Shaun’s grip, but he held her firm.
‘You can shout at me for being sexist later if you feel the need, but right now you need to hold onto something so you don’t fall over. It might as well be my hand.’
Thea didn’t respond. He was right anyway. It didn’t matter that holding his hand was a pleasant experience. It could have been John’s hand and it would still have been unwise to let go at that particular moment. H
er knees were close to buckling, but she’d be damned if she’d let them.
Eventually she gathered her powers of speech. ‘This table came all the way from Lancaster in 1880.’
Shaun groaned. ‘You’re not telling me this is an original Gillows, are you?’
‘It is.’
‘I was hoping it was just a really good replica.’
‘Nope. An original Victorian mahogany table. Seats twenty-four people when fully extended. And, until tonight, it had one tiny blemish on the far left leg where, presumably, something once got dropped on it, chipping the outside edge. A French polisher had made the mark all but invisible. I only know it’s there because there is a note of the work in the old accounts.’
‘Oh.’
‘I had thought…’ Thea heard her voice become unnaturally light as she kept talking. If she stopped, there was a danger that panic or hysteria would take hold. ‘I had thought of seeing if people could work out which leg was damaged, and giving a prize to children on school trips if they could guess what might have caused it.’
Shaun ran a finger along the fresh scratch. ‘It’s a surface scratch. A French polisher could fix this.’
‘For free? Within the time we have?’ Thea grimaced. ‘How did a bird do this, for God’s sake? Come to think of it, I don’t even know what a nightjar is. Until tonight I’d never heard of one.’
‘I suspect it was caused by a talon. They’re only small birds, but have claws not unlike a kestrel’s.’ Letting go of Thea, Shaun knelt to examine the underside of the table. ‘Could this leaf of the table be dropped?’
‘I don’t know.’ Her free hand felt cold, so she buried it into a pocket as she stared at the semi dropped window.
‘Damn, no, it’s static.’ Shaun examined the scratch more closely. ‘Do any of the volunteers do polishing?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’ As Thea studied the fallen window, a blast of cold night air brought her back to her senses. ‘I’m going to fetch some black bags from the kitchen and my staple gun.’