House of Echoes (47 page)

The little song, masked by the wind and rain, echoed in the distance as they reached the stairs.

Natalie squeezed Joss’s arm. ‘Don’t take any notice. They’ll come if they want to.’ Leading her back into the bedroom she went over to the bedside table and turned on the lamp. In the sudden light she could see Joss’s face puffy with grief and tears.

Joss wrapped her arms around herself. ‘You said I was carrying his child,’ she whispered. ‘You said it was his daughter – ’

‘I was speaking metaphorically, Joss.’ Natalie kept her voice calm.

‘It’s Luke’s. I remembered. We made love in the bathroom. That’s when it must have happened – ’

‘Of course it did.’

‘It can’t be his,’ she gestured at the empty air near the bed where Edward had stood. ‘That’s not possible. It’s not. That’s obscene!’

‘Joss, I said metaphorically – ’

‘You are saying he made love to me in the cellar –’ Joss rushed on not heeding her interruption. ‘He put his arms round me and he kissed me and he held me. I think I must have fainted – I don’t remember what happened next.’

His eyes. She could remember his eyes, close to hers, full of love and compassion, the black velvet, then the touch of his hands, warm, commanding …

‘He could have done anything – ’

‘Joss, calm down. He couldn’t have done anything. He has no body; no real body.’

‘Supposing he did the same to my mother. Supposing he raped my mother!’ She was rushing on now, her thoughts out of control. ‘Supposing – ’

Forgive me, Jocelyn, but I can no longer fight your father’s wishes. I
have no strength left. I am leaving Belheddon, with all its blessings and
its curses, but he will only let me escape if I give in. He wants Belheddon
to be yours and I have to obey. If you read this letter then he will have
got his way
.

‘Supposing he’s my father!’ She stared at Natalie, numb with shock.

‘No, Joss. Don’t even think it – ’

‘The women of this house. Laura, Lydia, Mary Sarah – all of them! He made love to all of them!’ She sat down abruptly, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. ‘My mother knew. That’s why she tried to send me away. She tried to break the spell! To save me! But she couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her!’

‘The spell was very powerful, Joss. A real spell.’ Natalie knelt in front of her and took her cold hands in her own warm ones. Her voice was very gentle. ‘But we’re going to break it. It’s half done already. Then Belheddon will be a safe, happy, place again.’ She smiled. ‘I promise. We can do it. You can do it.’

‘The others couldn’t.’ It was a whisper. Her lips were cracked and dry.

‘The others didn’t know how to. We do. The time is right and you aren’t alone as your poor mother was. You can do it, Joss.’ Natalie’s large grey eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Joss’s. ‘You can.’

‘How?’

‘We have to call him back.’ Natalie was trying to will some of her own strength into the woman sitting in front of her. ‘We have to call him back and release him so he never wants to come back.’

Joss bit her lip. ‘He’s buried at Windsor. In St George’s Chapel. I looked it up,’ she said slowly.

‘His body may be,’ Natalie said firmly. ‘And when this is over you can go and see his tomb if you want to, but his spirit is at Belheddon Hall.’ She stood up and walked across to the window. Rain was slanting across the garden, pitting the lake, soaking the grass. It was almost dark. As she watched she saw a faint flicker on the horizon. ‘There’s a storm coming.’ She turned. ‘Joss, we have to summon Katherine.’

‘
Call him! In the name of Christ and the Virgin, bring him here!
’

Her mouth was too dry; the words she was screaming were barely
audible
.

‘
Let him see what he has done to me!
’

‘
Hush sweeting, save your strength!
’

The old woman who had been her own nurse wiped her face again
with the piece of linen wrung out in rose water, soothing the sweat-soaked
hair off her face with a gentle hand. She looked up at Margaret. ‘You
should send for him, my lady. Now
.’

The message conveyed in the direct gaze was clear. Send now or it will
be too late. Your daughter is dying
.

Margaret half closed her eyes and looked away. The spell was a
powerful one. It had worked well. It would not fail her now. The king
was in thrall; the daughter who would hold him long after the child’s
mother had lost her attraction, nearly born
.

She smiled and walked across to the side board. Pouring a cup of wine
she sipped a little herself, then turned back to the bed. ‘Here, child. Drink
this. It will give you strength.’ Raising Katherine’s head a little she held
the cup to her lips, then dabbed them gently with a fine linen napkin.
‘There. Rest now.’ She bent low, putting her lips to her daughter’s ear.
‘Remember your mother’s art. You have my strength and my power,
and through me, the power that lies sleeping in the ground beneath this
place. With it you can do anything
.’

The last word was a hiss of triumph as her daughter caught her hand
and, convulsed with new waves of pain, began to scream again
.

‘How do we call her?’ Joss was staring at the floor. She shook her head slightly, trying to rid it of the noises – the voices, echoing in her ears just beyond her hearing.

‘We could try her name.’

‘In here?’

‘Why not. I suspect this has always been the main bedroom. They could have made love here. Perhaps even in this very bed.’

They both stared at it in silence.

‘I don’t think I can go through with this.’ Joss rubbed her eyes wearily.

‘Yes, you can. I promise.’ Natalie came and knelt in front of her again. ‘Think of your two little boys. You can do it for them.’

Joss took a deep breath. She looked up as the lightning flickered at the window again. ‘Yes, I can do it for them.’

There was a veil of red across her eyes. Beneath her hips the red soaked
into sheets and mattresses and dripped into the thick-strewn herbs.
Behind the red there was darkness
.

Power
.

Summon the power
.

Remember the words she had heard her mother cry in the black
candleless undercroft of the hall, the cry that would summon the powers
of darkness from the very bowels of the earth
.

Shrinking back from the woman in the bed who only seconds before
had been her child, the old nurse stared into the shadows of the room.
The whole household was there, watching in terror
.

‘You,’ she caught the sleeve of the steward as he was slipping with
the other men from the room, ‘call the priest and then ride for the king.
Don’t stop for anything or he will be too late.’

‘But the Lady Margaret said –’ the man’s face was pasty with horror
at what he had heard and seen.

‘This is not the time to obey the Lady Margaret. Lady Katherine’s
wishes rule this house now.’

He nodded and with a final glance at the bed he slipped from the room
.

For a while she drifted in and out of consciousness, then, slowly, her
body began to tense, preparing for its last convulsive effort to rid itself of
the burden that was killing it
.

Her eyes flew open and she grabbed at the hands of the woman who
still dared to come near her
.

Behind them the priest, his hand outstretched to form the holy cross,
had begun to murmur the words designed to bring her peace
.

‘
Per istam sanctam unctionem indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid
deliquisti –
’

‘
Stop!’ she screamed. ‘If God cannot help me, the devil will. The devil
conjured by my mother to oversee my daughter’s birth.
’

She half sat up, galvanised by one last burst of energy
.

‘Go! Go priest! I don’t need you. If I die I will be buried in the devil’s
earth! Go!’ Her voice had risen to a shriek
.

‘Lie back, my lady, lie back. The little one is nearly here.’

The midwives had long gone, it was her own old nurse who pushed
her back on the pillows, who reached amid the bloodied sheets and who
at last held up the limp, half dead baby
.

‘It is a boy, my lady,’ she whispered. ‘A little boy.’

‘No!’ Margaret pushed her aside. ‘It can’t be a boy!’

‘It is, my lady, a sweeting boy.
’

The nurse busied herself with towels from the rail by the fire, rubbing
the small cold body back to life. Behind her Katherine lay inert, her own
life pouring from her
.

‘See, my love, see your baby.’ The nurse wrapped the child tightly in
a blanket and tried to push it into Katherine’s arms
.

She opened her eyes. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No! No –
’

The last word was a scream
.

‘I curse the man who got that child on me! I curse all men. I curse my
son. He took my life from me. I curse that baby – the devil’s child – and
I curse my mother for her sorcery.’

The hot tears trickled down her cheeks
.

‘I wanted to live!

‘I wanted to live. Forever!’

It was my Lad-y Kath-
er-
ine!

The childish treble sounded in the room suddenly.

It was my Lad-y Kath-
er-
ine!

‘Georgie!’ Joss stood up. She took a deep breath. ‘Georgie, I want to see you!’

He was a dark-haired boy, sturdy, with a scattering of small freckles over his nose. Standing near the door he seemed very small, an uncertain shadow amongst deeper shadows. He grinned at Joss and she found herself grinning back.

‘Do you and Sammy want to go to heaven, Georgie? To be with our mother?’ She found she could speak quite steadily now.

He didn’t seem to hear her. He was staring past her at the window. ‘It was my Lady Katherine!’ he sang again, his voice more husky this time.

‘Shall we call her, Georgie? Shall we call the Lady Katherine here?’ she asked, but he had gone.

A flicker of lightning showed at the window followed by a low rumble of thunder as the lights dimmed.

‘I’m afraid.’

‘So am I. So was Georgie. That song. He was trying to warn us.’

‘Of what? That we had got it wrong? Is it Katherine who is the killer?’ Joss was still standing by the bed. She stared down at the crewel work cover as though she could find the answer stitched into the faded wools.

‘I don’t think she’s buried in the church, Joss. I don’t think she can be buried in consecrated ground.’

‘Not here! You don’t mean she’s somewhere here?’

They stared at each other in silence. It was Joss who spoke at
last. ‘She’s under the cellar, isn’t she. Oh God, what are we going to do?’

‘We’re going to summon her.’

‘Down there? In the cellar?’ Joss took a deep breath. ‘Yes, that’s the best place. I don’t want her here. Oh God, Nattie, what are we going to do?’

‘Come on.’ Natalie took her hand. ‘Let’s get it over.’

‘Will Edward come down there? We need him. Katherine is the one who has killed. He never hurt anyone. He never hurt Tom or Ned, or not intentionally. He carried them. He hid them. He hid them from her.’ Joss’s face was white with strain.

‘You don’t know that, Joss. We must be careful. That’s all. Careful of everyone and everything.’

Her jaw set, Natalie led the way to the staircase. Lying on the top step was a white rose.

Joss stopped and picked it up. She stared round the shadowy landing.

‘Help us,’ she whispered. ‘Help us help her.’

It was my Lady Katherine!

It was my Lady Katherine!

The high voice was barely audible now, echoing down from somewhere in the attics.

She took a deep breath and, still holding the rose, she began to walk down the stairs.

‘W
e can’t wait here, David. We’ve got to go back.’ Luke was staring out of the window in Janet’s kitchen. Janet and Lyn were making sandwiches, spreading strawberry jam on thick slices of home-made bread. ‘What the hell do we know about that woman? For all we know she’s a complete fraud. Or worse.’

David didn’t bother to ask what he meant by worse. He was feeling very uncomfortable. Out there in the rain on the terrace at the Hall he had been carried away by Natalie’s calm. He had believed that this was something almost mystically female, something from which men were excluded, something mysterious and movable and watery, like moonlight on the lake, something born of thousands of years of female secrets, but now he wondered. If Margaret de Vere was a practised sorceress – not just a witch with her herbs and her healings and her wax dolls to help with her spells and curses – what if she were more powerful than that?

Janet put down her knife. ‘If Lyn is willing to look after the children, I’ll come with you.’

They all looked at Lyn who shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. I’d rather stay here anyway.’ She glanced at David and sighed. She had admired him so much when she first met him; he was such an attractive man, but now. At least Luke had had more sense than to believe all this. David had proved himself in the long run as neurotic as Joss!

She watched from the window as they all climbed into Janet’s car then she turned back to Tom who was cheerfully eating jam sandwiches sitting in the old oak carver at the end of the table, his legs stuck straight out in front of him.

He looked up at her and gave her a jammy grin. ‘The tin man is cross,’ he said conversationally.

‘Oh Tom, I wish we could forget about the tin man,’ she said
as she pulled her cup of tea, long cold, towards her. ‘Your mummy thinks he’s real, whereas we both know you made him up, don’t we. The tin man on the yellow brick road, looking for his heart.’

Behind them Ned let out a gurgle of delight. He abandoned the brightly coloured bunch of plastic keys he had been playing with on the hearthrug and reached for the white flower which had appeared on the floor in front of him. One by one he began to pull at the petals. Tom was watching. ‘Ned’s made a mess,’ he said to Lyn.

She glanced round and let out a cry of dismay. Falling on her knees she took the flower away from him and stared down at it. It was cold and wet, every petal perfect and unblemished. For a moment she stared down at it in her hands, then gathering up the scattered petals she threw it in the bin with a shudder. Behind her Ned began to cry.

The house was in darkness. Pushing open the back door they peered into the kitchen. Luke groped for the light switch, clicking it up and down. Nothing happened.

‘There must have been another power cut.’ He groped his way towards the dresser. ‘There’s a torch here somewhere.’ He couldn’t find it and as he scrabbled for matches and candles Janet went back outside for the Maglite she kept in the glove compartment of the Audi. On the doorstep she took a deep breath of the cold evening air. The atmosphere in the house had been poisonous.

None of them spoke as she handed the torch to David. Pushing open the kitchen door he peered out into the passage. He looked back at Luke and gave a faint grin. ‘Householder first?’

Luke nodded. He was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. ‘Fair enough. Give me the torch.’ He pushed past him and led the way into the great hall. They stood still as Luke shone the beam round the room, up into the empty gallery, towards the fireplace, across the table and on towards the door in the far wall.

‘Where are they?’ Janet’s voice was tremulous.

‘They must be upstairs.’ Luke headed in that direction, closely followed by the others. ‘Why are all the lights out?’ Janet whispered. ‘I don’t like it.’

‘Neither do I.’ David sounded very grim. He stopped, as Luke headed up the stairs, staring at the cellar door. The key was in
the lock. He frowned. ‘Luke,’ he called softly. His voice contained enough urgency for Luke to stop. He shone the torch back down the stairs.

‘The cellar.’ David pointed.

‘They’re down there?’ Luke could feel his stomach churning uncomfortably. ‘We’d better look.’ He stepped forward and put his hand on the key. It was unlocked. Pushing the door slowly open he peered down into the darkness. There was no sound at all.

Jimbo was parked near the main gate in his old Cortina when he saw Luke and David drive back into the house. He had been sitting there, smoking, for some time, his fingers drumming on the wheel, torn between fear and curiosity as he thought of his sister alone in the house with Joss. Tossing the stub of the cigarette out of the car window he leaned forward and watched the tail lights of the Audi disappear between the laurels. There had been three people in the car. It was Mrs Goodyear driving, he was fairly sure. So Lyn was alone with the kids over at the farm. He sat for a minute deep in thought, feeling the chill of the evening air on his face from the open car window. At last he came to a decision. Winding up the window he reached for the ignition key and gunned the engine into life. There was no harm in checking that Lyn was all right – her and the boys. If she was there on her own, maybe she could do with some company. She wasn’t that bad, Lyn, when he came to think about it. In fact, he grinned sheepishly to himself as he changed gear and pulled out into the lane, he could quite fancy her, if he thought about it.

On the road behind him his cigarette butt flared for a minute on the wet tarmac and then went out with a hiss.

Joss and Natalie were standing near the hole in the wall where they had found the wax figures when the lights went out.

Clinging together they stared round in the darkness their eyes and ears straining against a thick impenetrable blackness which seemed to wrap itself around them.

‘The torch,’ Natalie whispered. ‘Where’s the torch?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Matches?’

‘No.’

‘Shit!’ She put an experimental hand out in front of her, half
expecting to meet something or someone, but the darkness was empty.

‘Has she done it on purpose?’ Joss moved closer to her companion.

‘I don’t know. What we need to do is get out of here, mend the fuse, or get a torch and candles or a floodlight or something and then come back.’ She took a cautious step backwards, one hand linked to Joss’s, one held out in front as she slowly turned back to where she thought the arch through to the first cellar was.

Joss followed her. ‘It’s this way. It must be. We left the door open at the top of the stairs. There’ll be some sort of light.’

The movement of air behind them was so slight Joss thought she had imagined it. She stopped, her fingers digging into Natalie’s arm, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.

Natalie stopped too. Neither of them said anything; they were both listening hard.

Slowly Joss turned round. In the far corner of the cellar she could see something moving against the blackness. Her throat tightened; she could hardly breathe.

‘Be strong,’ Natalie murmured. ‘We have to win.’

Joss was very conscious of the huge old house above them empty, listening as they were to the silence. Panic swept over her, drenching her in cold sweat. For a moment she was sure that her legs were going to collapse under her, then she felt the steady pressure of Natalie’s hand on her arm. ‘Deep breaths. Arm yourself with the light – visualise it all round you, fill the cellar with it,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t let her see you’re afraid.’

Her?

She could see it too now: the faintest outline of a woman’s shape glowing like dim phosphorescence against the wall …

It was my Lady Kath-
er-
ine

The words echoed faintly in the back of her skull, a child’s song, the song of a little boy, lost in the shadows of time.

‘Katherine?’ She found her voice suddenly. ‘Katherine, you have to leave this house. You have done enough here. Enough people have paid for your pain. Don’t let it go on.’

She waited, half hoping for an answer in the silence.

‘You need to move on into the light, into happiness,’ she went on. Her voice had begun to shake.

‘We can help you, Katherine,’ Natalie put in. Her words were
clear and strong. ‘We’re not here to banish you to hell. We can help give you strength to move on. Please, let us help you.’ Her eyes were closed; inside her head she could see her clearly, not a mad witch but a girl, scarcely more than a child, crazed with pain and grief, cheated of life by the greed and ambition of the mother she hated, killed by the child she never wanted.

‘Don’t hurt any more children, Katherine. They are not to blame,’ she went on softly. ‘Their fear and agony can’t help you – it adds to your own. Please let us give you our blessings. Let our love and strength help you.’

She took a cautious step nearer the corner of the cellar, her eyes still closed. It was Joss who was watching. The glowing outline of the figure had grown stronger. It had a shape now, clearly a slim, not very tall girl.

‘Are you buried down here, Katherine? Is this where you lie?’ Natalie had dropped Joss’s hand and held her own out towards the spot where she sensed the girl was standing. ‘Shall we move you? Would you like to be buried outside in the garden somewhere? Or in the churchyard?’

They both felt the frisson, the cold shiver in the air.

‘In the garden here, then. Under the sun and in the moonlight,’ Natalie went on. ‘We can do that for you, Katherine. Just show us where they buried you.’

There was a long breathless silence. It is not going to work, thought Joss. She is not going to tell us. The atmosphere was stifling. There seemed to be no air in the cellar. It had been growing steadily colder but now she felt a wave of heat roll over her. She put her hand to the collar of her sweater and ran her finger round under it, feeling her perspiration like ice.

‘Where is it, Katherine?’ Natalie went on. ‘You must give us a sign. You must show us what you want.’

It was my Lady Kath-
er-
ine

Georgie’s voice reached Joss’s ears very faintly.

It was my Lady Kath-
er-
ine

Something dropped in the silence. It rattled on the ground like a pebble. The noise came again, then nothing more.

In the corner of the cellar the light slowly faded; in seconds it was gone.

Neither of them moved. Joss put her hand out to Natalie. ‘Has she gone?’ she whispered at last.

‘She’s gone.’

Natalie spun round; behind them they could suddenly hear the sound of voices. The squeak of the cellar door opening was followed by a flash of torch light.

‘Joss? Natalie?’ It was Luke’s voice.

With the help of a torch they found Katherine’s sign, unmistakable on the cellar floor. A scattering of small bricks and stones lay in the shape of an equal-armed cross on one of the old flagstones in the corner. They stood in a ring looking down at it.

‘What do we do?’ Luke was holding the big torch, focusing the beam steadily on it. His scepticism had dissolved.

‘We have to keep our promise. We have to dig her up and rebury her in the garden.’ Joss was very firm.

‘What about coroners and things?’

‘What about them?’ She put her hands on his shoulders. ‘Luke, this is Belheddon’s business. No one else’s. Katherine belongs here. She doesn’t want to be buried in the church or in the churchyard. She wants to be buried in the garden. Quietly. With our blessing and love.’

‘This is the woman who murdered your brothers, Joss.’

‘I know.’ Joss took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. ‘She’s so unhappy, Luke. She’s lost. I don’t believe she was really evil. She was in too much pain to know what she was doing. I think we can help her – and make Belheddon safe for children. Our children.’

He shrugged. ‘OK. Let’s go for it. I’ll get a pick.’

They mended the fuses first and it was in a cellar full of light that they met again, half an hour later with pick-axe and shovel.

‘You realise this whole thing could be a waste of time.’ Luke gazed round them. He was feeling stronger now that the cellar was lit. ‘We are digging on a flash of intuition and the word of a ghost, who might or might not be imaginary.’

Joss smiled tolerantly. ‘We’re never really going to convince you, are we. Just dig.’

‘OK.’ He shrugged. Lifting the pick he inserted the point under the edge of the flag and began to try to lever it up. Taking turns in the cramped space David and Luke managed to lift four flags, then stood back exhausted. Janet had at some point left the cellar where Joss and Natalie stood, eyes riveted to the floor, and reappeared
with a jug of Lyn’s home-made lemonade and some glasses.

‘Come on, rest for a moment,’ she said, setting the tray on the ground. They stood in a circle, looking down as they drank, staring at the sandy earth, aware of the acute silence around them.

It was Luke who put down his glass first. He had barely touched his drink. ‘Come on. Let’s get it over.’ He picked up the spade and drove it into the soil.

‘Gently, Luke. We don’t know if there’s a coffin.’ Joss put her hand on his shoulder. He straightened and looked at her for a moment, then he nodded.

‘Right. Gently does it.’

An hour later they had found nothing. A hole about three feet deep and as much across opened at their feet.

‘There’s nothing here.’ Luke put down the spade and reached for his glass.

‘There is. I’m sorry, Luke, but you have to go on.’

‘It could be six feet down, I suppose.’ David looked exhausted. There was a smear of earth across his face.

‘Perhaps you could ask her, Natalie?’ Janet was sitting on an old wine crate. ‘See if we’re on the right track.’

Natalie stepped forward. ‘Katherine?’ she called. ‘Katherine, you see. We’re trying to help you, but we must know, is this the right place?’

They all waited in silence. Joss was staring at the cavity in the wall where they had found the wax figures. Natalie’s eyes were fixed on the hole where the spade stood alone, shoved into the soil as Luke stood back to pick up his drink.