House of Echoes (11 page)

‘Luke –’ Joss’s protest was interrupted by a sudden indignant wail from the baby alarm.

‘I’ll go.’ Luke was already on his feet. ‘You two put away that Bible and start to think about supper.’

Joss stood up and closed the heavy book, frowning at the echoing crescendo of sobs. ‘I should go – ’

‘Luke can deal with it.’ David put his hand on her arm. He left it there just a moment too long and moved it hastily. ‘Joss. Don’t push Luke out with all this, will you. The family. The history. The house. It’s a lot for him to take on board.’

‘It’s a lot for me to take on board!’ She thumped the heavy book down on the dresser as over the intercom they heard the sound of a door opening, and then Luke’s voice, sharp with fear. ‘Tom! What have you done?’

Joss glanced at David, then she turned and ran for the door. When she arrived in the nursery, with David close on her heels, Tom was in Luke’s arms. The cot was over by the window.

‘It’s OK. He’s all right.’ He surrendered the screaming child. ‘He must have rocked the cot across the floor. It is a bit sloping up here. Then he woke up in a different place and had a bit of a fright, didn’t you old son?’

He ruffled the little boy’s hair.

Joss clutched Tom close, feeling the small body trembling violently against her own. ‘Silly sausage. What happened? Did you rock the cot so much it moved?’

Tom snuffled. Already his eyes were closing. ‘It might have been a dream,’ Luke whispered. ‘For all that noise, he’s barely awake, you know.’

Joss nodded. She waited while he pushed the cot back into the corner and turned back the coverings. ‘Tom Tom go back to bed now,’ she murmured gently. The little boy said nothing, the long honey blond eyelashes already heavy against his cheeks.

‘Clever invention, that alarm,’ David commented when they were once more back in the kitchen. ‘Does he often do that?’

Joss shook her head. ‘Not very. Moving has unsettled him a bit, that’s all. And he’s excited about Christmas. Alice and Joe and Lyn will soon be back. Lyn has agreed to come and help me look after him as a part-time nanny. And on top of all that Luke has promised him we will do the tree tomorrow.’ She was laying the table, her careless movements quick and imprecise. David leaned across and neatened the knives and forks, meticulously uncrossing two knife blades with a shake of his head. ‘The devil apart, do you think this house is haunted?’ he asked suddenly, squaring the cutlery with neat precision.

‘Why?’ Luke turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand and stared at him. ‘Have you seen something?’

‘Seen, no.’ David sat down slowly.

‘Heard then?’ Joss met his eye. The voices. The little boys’ voices. Had he too heard them?

David shrugged. ‘No. Nothing precise. Just a feeling.’

The feeling had been in Tom’s bedroom, but he was not going to say so. It was strange. A coldness which was not physical cold – the Dimplex had seen to that. More a cold of – he caught himself with something like a suppressed laugh. He was going to describe it to himself as a cold of the soul.

‘P
resents, food, blankets, hot-water bottles. I’m like a Red Cross relief van!’ Lyn had driven into the courtyard next morning, her old blue Mini groaning under the weight of luggage and parcels. ‘Mum and Dad are coming back on Wednesday, but I thought I’d give you a hand.’ She smiled shyly at David. ‘I’m going to be Tom’s nanny so Joss can write world- shaking best sellers!’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ David grinned. He had only met Joss’s younger sister on a couple of occasions, and had thought her hard and, he had to admit, a little boring. For sisters the two had had little in common. Now, of course, he knew why. They weren’t sisters at all.

It was eleven before he managed to cajole Joss away from the house on the pretext of hunting up some of the names from the Bible in the church. They started in front of Sarah Percival. ‘I noticed her because the memorial was so ornate. There must be older ones,’ she whispered. She wandered away from him down the aisle. ‘Here we are, Mary Sarah Bennet died in 1920. It just says of Belheddon Hall. No mention of her disappearing husband.’

‘Perhaps she didn’t want him buried with her.’ David was staring absently up into the shadows near the north door. ‘There’s a lovely little brass here. To the memory of Katherine –’ he screwed up his eyes, ‘it’s been polished so often I can’t make out the second name. We need more light.’ He stepped closer, reaching up the wall to trace the letters with his finger. ‘She died in 14-something.’

Katherine

In the silence of the old church Joss flinched as though she had been hit. She was standing on the chancel steps, staring at a small plaque on the wall behind the lectern. At David’s words she turned, to see him stroking his fingers lightly over the small,
highly polished brass. ‘Don’t touch it, David – ‘she cried out before she had time to think.

He stepped back guiltily. ‘Why on earth not? It’s not like walking on them – ’

‘Did you hear?’ She pressed her fingers against her temples.

‘Hear what?’ He stepped away from the pulpit and came to stand next to her. ‘Joss? What is it?’

‘Katherine,’ she whispered.

‘That was me, Joss. I read out her name. Look. Up there on the wall. A little brass. There are some dead flowers on the shelf in front of it.’

In the cut glass bowl the water was green and slimy. Joss stared down at it. ‘We must renew the flowers. Poor things, they’ve been dead so long. Nobody cares – ’

‘There aren’t any flowers at this time of year unless you go to a shop,’ David commented. He wandered away towards the choir stalls once more. ‘Did you bring a notebook? Let’s copy some of these names down.’

Joss had picked up the vase. She stared at it vacantly. ‘There are always flowers in the country, if you know where to look,’ she said slowly. ‘I’ll bring some over later.’

He glanced at her over his shoulder. She seemed strangely preoccupied. ‘Shouldn’t you leave it to the flower ladies?’ he said after a moment.

She shrugged. ‘They don’t seem to have bothered. No one has noticed. The vase was hidden there, in the shadows. Poor Katherine – ’

‘David!’

The pounding in Joss’s skull was like the thud of a horse’s hooves, on and on and on, one two three, one two three, over the hard, unrelenting ground. Everything was spinning …

‘Joss?’ As she collapsed onto the narrow oak pew David was beside her. ‘Joss? What is it?’ He took her hand and rubbed it. It was ice cold. ‘Joss, you’re white as a sheet! Can you stand? Come on, let’s take you home.’

In the silent bedroom Joss lay on the bed. Sitting beside her was their new doctor, Simon Fraser, summoned by Luke. His hand was cool and firm as he held her wrist, his eyes on his watch. At last he put her hand down. He had already listened to her chest and pressed her stomach experimentally. ‘Mrs Grant,’ he looked up at last, his eyes a pale clear blue beneath his gold-rimmed glasses. ‘When did you last have a period?’

Joss sat up, relieved to find her head had stopped spinning. She opened her mouth to answer and then hesitated. ‘What with the move and everything, I’ve sort of lost track –’ Her smile faded. ‘You don’t mean – ’

He nodded. ‘My guess is you are about three months pregnant.’ He tucked his stethoscope into his case and clicked the locks shut. ‘Let’s get you down to the hospital for a scan and we’ll find out just how far along you are.’ He stood up and smiled down at her. ‘Was it planned?’

Katherine

It was there again, the sound in her head. She strained to hear the words, but they were too far away.

Katherine: my love; wait for me
…

‘Mrs Grant? Joss?’ Simon Fraser was staring at her intently. ‘Are you all right?’

Joss focused on him, frowning.

‘I asked if the baby was planned,’ he repeated patiently.

She shrugged. ‘No. Yes. I suppose so. We wanted another to keep Tom company. Perhaps not quite so soon. There’s so much to do –’ It had gone. The voice had faded.

‘Well, you are not going to be the one doing it.’ He lifted his case. ‘I’m going to be stern, Mrs Grant. That turn you had this morning is probably quite normal – hormones leaping about and rearranging themselves – but I’ve seen too many women wear themselves out in the early months of pregnancy and then regret it later. Just take it easy. The house, the boxes, the unpacking – none of it will go away by itself, but at the same time, none of it is so urgent you need to risk yourself or your baby. Understood?’ He grinned, a sudden boyish smile which lit his face. ‘I’ve always wanted to come and see this house – it’s so beautiful – but I don’t want to be coming up here at all hours because the new lady squire is overtaxing herself. Right?’

Joss sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. ‘It sounds to me as though you’ve been got at. Luke must have talked to you before you came up here, doctor.’

He laughed. ‘Maybe. Maybe not, but I’m a fairly good judge of human nature.’

Luke’s hug, in the kitchen later, swept her off her feet. ‘Clever, clever darling! Let’s have some champagne! David, are you prepared to brave the cellar? There is some there.’

‘Luke –’ Protesting, Joss subsided into a chair. ‘I shouldn’t have champagne. Besides, shouldn’t we wait until I’ve had the proper tests?’ She still felt a little odd – disorientated, as though she had woken too suddenly from a dream.

‘No chance.’ Luke was glowing with excitement. ‘We’ll have another bottle then. Besides there’s no doubt is there? He said he could feel it! I’m sure, and you are too, aren’t you –’ he paused for a moment on his way to collect four glasses and looked at her shrewdly. ‘A woman always knows.’

Raising her fingers to her forehead Joss pressed distractedly against her brow. ‘I don’t know. I suppose there have been signs.’ Queasiness in the mornings for one. In the rush to get Tom up
and dressed she hadn’t taken much notice. Her tiredness she had put down to the fact that she was doing much too much. ‘So nanny –’ she looked at Lyn, ‘you’ll have another charge soon, it seems.’

Lyn’s eyes were sparkling. ‘You’ll have to pay me more to look after two.’

‘Oh great. Thanks!’

‘At least writing your book will keep you sitting still. You’ve got no excuse not to start, now,’ Luke said firmly. He put the glasses down on the table and then dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I’ll go and help David find a bottle.’

David was standing in the cellar in front of the wine racks as Luke walked slowly down the steps. ‘It’s bloody cold down here. This is all vintage, you know. And some of it is still in really good nick.’ He glanced at Luke and lowered his voice. ‘If you need money you could do worse than sell some of this. There are some very valuable wines here. Look at this! Haut-Brion ’49 – and look Chateau d’Yquem!’

‘What sort of money are we talking about?’ Luke reached for a bottle and extracted it carefully from the rack. ‘This is –’ he squinted ‘ – 1948.’

‘Don’t shake it whatever you do! That’s about 350 quids’ worth you’ve got in your hand. You are looking at thousands, Luke. Ten. Twenty. Maybe more.’

‘You know, I did wonder. That’s why I wanted you to have a look at them.’

David nodded. ‘I can give you the name of someone at the wine auction house at Sotheby’s who would come and value it and catalogue it. It would be a tragedy in a way to get rid of it, but I know you’re strapped for cash, and with another kid on the way, you could do worse than raise some like this. Besides, you’re just as happy with plonk, aren’t you, you ignoramus!’ He chuckled.

‘I think I’d better put this back –’ Luke glanced at the bottle in his hand.

‘You’d better! Come on. Let’s find some champagne for the baby.’ David selected a bottle from the rack and studied the label, ‘Pommery Brut 1945. Not bad!’

‘Just twenty or thirty quid a bottle, I suppose?’ Luke groaned.

‘More like fifty! It’s a strange life you lead here, isn’t it.’ David
shook his head slowly. ‘All the trappings of grandeur, yet a bit short of cash.’

‘A bit!’ Luke grinned. He was not going to let himself think about Barry and H & G’s money. ‘We were planning to live off the land here. Literally. The money I can make from doing up cars is peanuts. It’s a mug’s game – so slow – but at least it will bring in enough hopefully for electricity bills and community charge, that sort of thing. Joss would never hear of selling anything out of the house – she is so obsessed with the history of it all, but wine is not quite the same, is it? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind about that. It could make the difference between hell and a hard place for us, David.’ He cradled the bottle in his arms. ‘Tell me something. Do you think Joss really could make any money out of writing?’

David grimaced. ‘She can write. She has a wonderful imagination. I’ve told her that I’ve taken the liberty of showing some of her stuff to a publisher friend of mine. He particularly liked one of her short stories. He’s keen to see more, and he wouldn’t say that unless he meant it. But beyond that it’s in the lap of the gods.’ He gave a sudden shiver. ‘Come on, old chap. Let’s get out of here. It’s so bloody cold. A hot meal is what we all need, I think!’

It wasn’t until quite a bit later that Joss managed to go back to the church alone. She had in her hand a small bunch of holly mixed with red dead nettle, and winter jasmine and shiny green sprigs of ivy covered in flowers.

The church was almost dark when she found the key in its hiding place and pushed open the heavy door to make her way up the dim nave. The vase was clean and full of fresh water as she stood it gently on the shelf in front of the little brass. ‘There you are, Katherine,’ she whispered. ‘New flowers for Christmas. Katherine?’ She paused, almost expecting there to be a response, a repeat of the strange reverberation in her head, but there was none. The church was silent. With a wry smile she turned away.

The kitchen was empty. For a moment she stood in front of the stove, warming her hands. The others were all out, all occupied. She should be unpacking boxes or packing presents; there was no time to stand and do nothing. On the other hand now would be the perfect time, alone and undisturbed, to turn once more to the box of letters in her mother’s study. And the doctor did tell her to rest …

The great hall was already taking on the look of Christmas. Luke and David had brought in the seven foot tree they had cut in the copse behind the lake that morning and the whole room smelled of the fresh spicy boughs. It was standing near the window, firmly wedged into a huge urn filled with earth. Lyn had found the boxes of decorations, and they stood on the floor near the tree. They had promised Tom that he could help decorate the tree after his supper and before he went to bed. She smiled. The little boy’s face as the tree was dragged in had been a sight to behold.

She had filled a huge silver bowl with holly and ivy and yellow jasmine and it stood in the centre of the table, a blaze of colour in the dark of the room.

Katherine

Joss frowned. There was a strange electric tingle in the air, a crackle of static as though a storm were about to break. It was there again: the echo at the back of her head – the voice she could not quite hear.

Puzzled, Joss shook her head. She was staring hard at the bowl of flowers. The silver, still dull where her quick rub with a duster had failed to remove the years of tarnish gleamed softly in the dull light from the lamp near the table. As she watched a yellow petal from the jasmine fell onto the gleaming black oak.

The smell of resin from the newly cut fir tree was overpowering. Joss could feel the pain tightening in a band around her forehead.

‘Joss!’ The cry echoed through the open doorway. ‘Joss, where are you?’