Beneath the Shadows (11 page)

‘So,' Annabel said a few hours later, looking around the living room, ‘shall we loll here getting drunk, or shall we get stuck in to a few of these boxes?'

‘How about both?' Grace suggested, surprised and grateful for the offer, going over to the kitchen area and returning with a bottle of red wine.

‘Great idea!' Annabel grabbed a glass and held it out. Once it had been filled, she knelt by the boxes. ‘So, how do you want to go about it?'

‘Well, I've been tipping them out one at a time and sorting everything into three piles: keep, throw away, and give to charity.'

‘Right-o,' Annabel said, grabbing the box closest to her and dumping its contents onto the carpet before Grace could object. ‘Lots of clothes here.'

‘Thanks, Annabel,' Grace said dryly. ‘I've actually been through that one already.'

‘Oh my god, what is this?' Annabel cried, ignoring her and holding up a long dress printed with large purple, green and orange daisies. ‘Flower power or what! Hang on, I have to try this on!' She wriggled out of her jumper and jeans and pulled the dress over her head.

‘How do I look?' she asked, and at Grace's giggles she rushed out of the room and up the stairs, undoubtedly heading for the bedroom, where there was a full-length mirror. Grace heard the excited exclamations from where she sat, and winced, half-expecting Millie to wake up and counter them with a shriller reply of her own. Annabel's footsteps came rushing down the stairs again, but there was no other sound to be heard, and Grace silently offered a prayer of thanks.

‘Hilarious!' Annabel pronounced. ‘Right, you have to put something on from this lot – let's see, what about this –' She pulled out a cream blouse with outlandish ruffles, and then delved back into the box until she produced a pair of bright purple corduroy flares. ‘Come on, get them on!'

They weren't going to get much done, but Annabel's enthusiasm was infectious. Grace sprang up and put her wine down. Soon she was wearing her own ensemble, and Annabel had found the closest thing to seventies music she could in Grace's collection – a new-fangled version of ‘Lady Marmalade'. They began trying to remember as many of John Travolta's
Saturday Night Fever
moves as they possibly could, and Grace was bent double laughing, when they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

‘I'll get it,' Annabel sang, and boogied her way out of the room. ‘Meredith! Claire!' Grace heard her cry, and she felt her lightheartedness vanish.

‘You two look like you're having fun,' Meredith said, coming into the lounge. Annabel was behind her, swinging her hips and clicking her fingers, pulling an amused face at Grace. Claire followed at the back of the group, smiling, yet from Meredith's expression, Grace felt like a child caught out doing something she shouldn't. She went over and switched the music off. ‘It's lovely to see you both. Would you like a drink?'

‘No thanks,' Meredith replied. ‘We won't stop if you're busy.'

‘We came to let you both know about the ball at Freeborough Hall on Christmas Eve,' Claire explained. ‘It's a bit of a local event and we thought you might enjoy it.'

‘Sounds great,' Annabel replied, going across to a countertop to replenish her wine glass, and returning with the bottle in her other hand. She poured more into Grace's glass as she added, ‘We'd love to.'

‘I don't think we can actually,' Grace demurred. ‘Because of Millie …'

‘Didn't Emma volunteer to babysit for you?' Annabel demanded.

‘Yes, but …'

‘But nothing, Grace. You need a break now and again. Let's ask her, and if she's free then we'd love to come.'

‘Okay then.' Meredith took hold of Claire's arm and made to leave. ‘We won't keep you. Just let us know if you want tickets – I'm on the committee so it won't be a problem.' She
stopped in the doorway. ‘They look like Rachel's clothes, you know,' she said, staring hard at Grace before she left the room. Claire raised her hand affably, then followed her mother.

Annabel saw them to the door, then returned and looked perplexedly at Grace. ‘Well,' she said, ‘there's a woman who knows how to kill a mood. And who the hell is Rachel?'

‘Adam's mum.' Grace threw herself into one of the armchairs. Now she felt awful about prancing around in a dead woman's clothes, as though she were dancing on her grave. Maybe she did need Meredith to help her sort through these things.

‘Oh, I see.' Annabel went across to the sofa and sat down. ‘Well, don't feel bad. I'm sure Rachel would rather we were dancing in her clothes than they lay festering and moth-bitten in a dusty old attic.'

Grace smiled at her sister and tried to rouse her spirits. She went to put her pyjamas on, and when she returned, Annabel had changed the CD and was back in her own clothes. Together they emptied another box onto the floor.

‘So tell me about Ben,' Annabel said a little while later, as she sorted through a pile of linen.

Grace kept her eyes down as she replied. ‘I'm not sure I can. I don't know much about him other than the fact he knows how to knock a wall down. You got more out of him today than I've managed to in a week.'

‘He lives alone in the house at the top of the hill?'

‘Yes, I think so.' However, as she spoke, Grace remembered the woman she'd seen leaving early one morning. She opened her mouth to tell Annabel about the red-head, then
closed it again, deciding not to. ‘He's house-sitting, and he said he's an architect, but other than that he keeps himself to himself.' In fact, she thought, he was particularly good at answering her questions without actually telling her anything.

‘Don't worry, I'll find out all about him when he takes me out,' Annabel said confidently.

‘Well, good luck. He's painfully difficult to talk to.'

Annabel laughed. ‘God, I'm used to that in my line of work.' She put the last of the linen into another charity box. ‘Can we call it a night now?'

‘Let's just do this one,' Grace suggested, and moved to a small box in the corner, pulling out what looked like a photo album. She opened it, and her breath caught painfully in her throat.

It was Grace and Adam's wedding day. She had looked at their official photos many times, but she'd never seen these before. They were simple snapshots. Adam waiting outside the church. Adam with his arms around his grandparents. Then Adam and Grace at the church after they'd been married. She turned the pages – to see Adam and Grace with his grandparents; Adam and Grace with her parents; with Annabel; with her extended family; with their friends.
Adam and Grace …

She had to summon all her willpower to swallow the emotion that began to rise in her throat. She searched their faces for some clue that their love story was destined to end abruptly, that they weren't as happy as she had imagined – but all she could see was joyful smiles and laughter. That night, as they had gone to sleep in a four-poster bed,
Adam had whispered his love in her ear, telling her he'd had the greatest day of his life. And when he'd first held Millie in his arms he'd promised he would do everything possible to protect his family. He'd said it with such gravitas. Too much gravitas? How would she ever know? Could she really live the rest of her life with all this doubt? But what choice had he left her?

She had forgotten about Annabel until she moved closer. Grace leaned her head on her sister's shoulder and Annabel wrapped an arm around her. ‘I don't get it …?' Grace's voice began to break. ‘Why would he just go …? He couldn't. It isn't right, Bel … But I don't know … What if he –'

‘Enough,' Annabel insisted, taking the album from her and putting it back in the box, then closing the lid. ‘You're drunk and emotional, Grace. Here …' She took Grace's glass and poured them both another wine.

‘Remind me, how will this help?' Grace asked, before she put the full glass to her lips.

‘Medicinal purposes,' Annabel replied assuredly, and took a great gulp of her own drink.

By the time they went to bed they had both drunk far too much. For Grace this normally meant that she would sleep solidly until morning, but tonight her rest was fitful, with blurry visions running into one another: strange shadows on hilltops; indistinct figures walking towards and then away from her; Adam's face close to her own; an empty bed; a stone bridge; a stream; then finding herself standing alone in a glade of trees, a voice calling her name. Chasing it, only to hear it echoing behind her. Twisting and turning trying to find its source, but never catching up. She woke with a start
numerous times, settling down when she heard Annabel's soothing snores beside her, but each time she fell asleep again her dreams only tormented her more. In the morning she woke up groggy and disorientated, and when she moved to the window, she saw that overnight the landscape had been transformed by a pure white covering of snow.

‘I've got a surprise for you!' Annabel said. She had disappeared briefly mid-morning, but Grace had been too busy with Millie to notice where she'd gone.

‘And what would that be?' Grace asked, helping Millie with her drink.

‘I've just seen Emma next door, and she says she'll be happy to babysit on Christmas Eve – so we can go to the ball Meredith was on about!'

Grace swung to face Annabel, hand on hip. ‘I can't believe you did that without asking me first.'

Annabel glared at her. ‘Oh lighten up, Grace. They live NEXT DOOR! Emma's the most convenient babysitter you'll ever find. She's even coming round here so you can put Millie down in her own bed. The most she might do is use a tea bag or eat a packet of crisps. Could you please live with that, and stop being such a wuss?'

But Grace wasn't going to be talked down. ‘No, Annabel, that's not the point. Where Millie's concerned, I make the decisions. I'm going round to apologise, right now.'

She picked up Millie and went outside, stomping down the garden path before heading up next door's. She rapped hard on the door and waited.

Moments later, a teenage boy answered. His face was so white that if Grace hadn't heard Emma and Carl mention a son, she would have suspected that this was the resident ghost of next-door's cottage. His blue eyes and ruby mouth looked strangely artificial against the rest of his flesh, like they had been coloured in – and she was sure his eyes were rimmed with black eyeliner.

‘Is your mum in?' she asked politely.

He left the door open and skulked off, his shoulders hunched.

Emma came to the door a moment later, tea towel in hand. ‘Grace! Come in!' she said cheerily. ‘Don't worry about Jake – he's going through his Goth phase! And hello little lass.' She reached out and took Millie from Grace. ‘Now, you,' she said to Millie, ‘are just in time to sample some of Auntie Emma's cupcakes – they're still warm!' And she carried Millie down the hallway.

Grace followed her through to the kitchen and launched straight into her apology. ‘I gather Annabel asked you about babysitting Millie – I'm sorry, she got a bit ahead of herself, and I hope it didn't look rude. She spoke to you before consulting me. You'll surely have other plans on Christmas Eve.'

‘Oh, don't be daft,' Emma said. ‘I'm happy to, I told you at the pub. We're staying home this year so I'll get everything
sorted in the afternoon. Then Carl can stay in with our bairn and I'll come round a little early so you can tell me where everything is. I'll be glad to leave this place for a while; truth be told, it's all moody silences from the lad and bursts of irritation from Carl at the moment. If it's just me and the baby it's like a little holiday, so I won't know what to do with a few hours to myself! I'm quite excited about it!' She stroked Millie's hair, and as Millie put her fingers towards Emma's mouth, she pretended to bite them. Millie let out a joyous squeal, making both women laugh.

Emma went across to a tray of cakes, then looked back at Grace. ‘Is she allowed?'

‘Yes, that's fine.'

Millie took one eagerly, then Emma turned the kettle on and came and sat down with the little girl on her lap. Millie looked at her treat happily, before biting into it with satisfaction.

‘So, what time do you want me then?' Emma asked.

Grace recalled Annabel's excitement, and considered how contented Millie appeared to be with Emma. She reminded herself how long it had been since she'd had a night out, and made her decision. ‘About seven, if you're sure.'

‘Grace – relax, it's absolutely fine,' Emma insisted. ‘Now, you must stay for a cup of tea and tell me what you've been up to since I last saw you. I gather you've been busy, what with all the banging this week?'

‘Oh no, I hope the noise hasn't been bothering you …' Grace said contritely. ‘I've had the wall knocked down between the kitchen and the lounge – I'm trying to make it a bit less poky downstairs.'

‘Don't worry about the noise, it hasn't been bad,' Emma reassured her. ‘I'm looking forward to seeing what you've done. I'm sorry I haven't invited you round sooner – I've been so busy with the kids and getting ready for Christmas. I hope you haven't been lonely?'

Grace shook her head. ‘I'm fine. Annabel's staying till after Christmas now, and I've had a couple of meals at Meredith's.'

‘Really?' Emma looked intrigued as she handed Millie back to Grace and went to pour the tea. ‘How did that come about?'

‘She invited me.'

‘Well, I'm amazed. We've lived here for five years and we've never been invited over once, let alone twice. What did you do to deserve Meredith Blakeney's hospitality?'

‘I think it might have been because she's interested in renting the cottage,' Grace admitted.

‘Is that right?' Emma put two mugs on the table, along with a carton of milk and a pot of sugar. ‘What would Meredith want with your little cottage when she fancies herself the lady of the manor in that big old house up there?'

Grace didn't know how to reply, since she was asking herself the same question.

Emma mulled it over, then she sat back. ‘Don't be bullied by that family, Grace.'

‘Why do you say that?' Grace asked uneasily as she poured milk into her tea.

‘Oh, I've heard a few rumours … they sound like a mixed-up lot.'

‘Really? What have you heard?'

Emma shook her head. ‘Perhaps that's a bit unfair of me. They've been through a hard time lately, what with Ted passing away like he did …'

But Grace was too curious to let it go. ‘Still, is there anything I should be aware of?'

Emma took a sip of her tea. ‘Oh, I don't have that much to tell. I only know Meredith in passing, but I've caught a bit of gossip about her – usually people saying that she interferes with her daughters' lives too much. She's caused some mighty spats between her children, so I'm told, and one of her son-in-laws, Dan, seems to dislike her intensely – often bad-mouths her if you come across him in any of the local pubs. Mind you, he's not exactly a saint – he used to be a policeman but there was a big scandal last year, something to do with him turning a blind eye to a mate dealing drugs. He got kicked out of the force, and apparently it was Meredith who found him another job in Leeds, something to do with security. Just as well since his wife's expecting a little'un shortly. From what I gather, if Meredith's daughters have a problem they run straight to their mother and she sorts it out for them. You know that one of them is staying there right now …'

‘Yes,' Grace said. ‘I've met her. Claire – she seems really nice. Says it's just a stopgap.'

Emma looked surprised, then chuckled. ‘Grace, you probably know more about them than I do. Now, tell me what you've got planned for the rest of your cottage …'

Grace began to fill Emma in on the renovations. After a while, Emma noticed that Grace's mug was empty. ‘Another cuppa?'

Grace checked her watch. ‘I'd better not. I should be getting back. Annabel will be waiting for us.'

Grace began to get up, and Emma went across to the kitchen top, returning with a tupperware box full of cupcakes. ‘Here, take these. I always make far too many.'

Millie snatched the box gleefully before Grace could say anything, and they laughed.

‘Thank you,' Grace said, following Emma along the hallway. ‘Now … are you sure …'

‘Grace! Go and have some fun. Millie will be fine with me.'

‘Well, I owe you one.' As Grace started down the path, she glanced to her right, to see next door's chimney puffing away. Emma stood on the step behind her and followed her gaze.

‘Have you met Jack yet?'

Grace shook her head.

‘You'll be lucky if you do. We hardly ever see him. His chimney goes almost twenty-four hours but he never switches his lights on. You only come across him when he's feeding his birds.'

Something clicked in Grace's mind. ‘Oh – is that where the noise is coming from? I've heard a few screeches, it's pretty unnerving at night.'

‘Thought the spirits were out, did you? No, it's just the owls next door. Jack's obsessed with them – people round here call him Feathery Jack. I think he's got two at the moment, though he's had up to half a dozen. Not just owls either, he takes everything from kestrels to crows. We only know this because sometimes the birds are out in the
front garden when you go past. Carl says he's meant to have licences for them, but it looks like he's tending injured ones back to health, so no one's going to report him.'

‘I haven't seen him or the birds.' Grace surveyed the cottage with its smoking chimney. In London her neighbours had included two accountants and an aspiring model. How times had changed.

‘Don't worry, he's harmless enough,' Emma reassured her.

Grace turned and smiled. ‘Thanks again, Emma. I'll see you soon.' Then she headed home. So the screeches were from owls that lived two doors away. There had been no need for all the anxiety about unknown noises. She had to stop worrying about everything and loosen up a bit. It was nearly Christmas. She was making progress. There was no reason to feel as apprehensive as she did.