Larkrigg Fell (6 page)

Meg had even taken them to their old home in Carreckwater and the twins had exclaimed in delight over the lake, and the tiny park where they’d used to play, which were exactly as they remembered. The shop was still there, though now a gift shop rather than the children’s clothes their mother had sold in it.

Sally Ann was making clover wine when the twins called at Ashlea the following afternoon.

‘Now then, what can I do for you two?’ Her hands were deftly chopping and she didn’t look up.

They watched as she put flowers, water and sugar into a large pan, then added lemon and orange rinds, cut into strips with the pith removed, followed by a sprinkling of ginger. The small kitchen was at once filled with the most heavenly scents. Even the cat leapt softly from the rocking chair and began to rub itself ecstatically against the back of Beth’s legs.

‘Soft old lump. Only got one eye, hence the name, Nelson. Meg’s a dog person. Usually has two or three about her. I still remember old Rust. Now there was a dog. Never had one like it since.’

Beth was anxious to get to the point so did nothing to encourage these reminiscences. ‘We want to ask you about Larkrigg Hall.’

‘Larkrigg? Eeh, your mother hated that place. Didn’t hit it off with her grandmother one bit. Old Rosemary Ellis blamed her for being born the wrong side o’ the blanket, d’you see?’

The twins knew all of this and had no wish to dwell on the past today. It was the future which concerned them.

‘Do you know anything about it? The hall I mean,’ Beth pressed. She couldn’t quite decide how to broach the subject of Meg’s reluctance to part with the key, not without seeming rude and ungrateful. But desperation was making her brave. And reckless.

‘What sort of thing?’

She half glanced at Sarah. ‘We don’t know. Whatever there is to tell.’

Sally Ann was stirring gently, staring into the pan as it came to the boil. ‘Curious, are you?’

‘It’s our inheritance.’ Sarah said.

‘Is the land any good?’ Beth put in.

‘Does the house have dry rot?

The questions poured out and Sally Ann put back her head and laughed. It made her plump chin wobble delightfully. ‘Eeh, I don’t know. All I know is that it’s never been a happy house. Built by Rosemary Ellis’s great grandfather beginning of last century. Charles Barnabas Ellis. Fancy me remembering his name. Right old tartar he was, apparently. He passed it on to his son, and his son after that. My dad worked for the family, at the quarry, till he had his accident. Told me all about the Ellises my dad did. Rosemary was definitely a chip off the old block.’ She set the pan to simmer then eased herself into the chair by the fire. The cat at once jumped onto her lap and she stroked it idly with her plump fingers, giving a rich chortle of laughter, always content to chat and recall days past. ‘Old Charles Barnabas was the one who moved the stones, of course.’

‘Stones?’

‘Aye, them what stands by the gate. The Gemini Stones.’

Both girls glanced at each other, then curled up at her feet, all attention.

‘Tell us, Sally Ann, about the stones.’

‘Apparently the old chap had a load of stones shifted that he shouldn’t. Standing stones, cairns, that sort of thing. Been there for centuries they had. Upset the locals no end. Then no sooner was the house completed than there was a terrible storm and one huge stone which stood by the entrance to the drive and had been too big to move was struck by lightning and split in two. So it stands to this day. Well, of course everyone said it was a bad omen and no two people of the same blood would ever be able to live in harmony within Larkrigg’s four walls, not ever again.’

The twins stared at her in astonished silence.

‘Do you believe all of that nonsense?’ Beth asked at last, her voice soft, hoping she would pooh pooh it.

Sarah only said, ‘What absolute tosh.’

‘Not for me to say.’ Sally Ann shook her head. ‘What would I know about such things? Trouble is, the prophecy would seem to be holding up. The Ellis family has never done aught but bicker and fall out ever since. As your own mother, and her mother in turn, would testify.’

‘They probably let the superstition bother them,’ Beth jauntily remarked, wanting to sound scornful but not quite succeeding.
 

‘Aye, happen.’

‘Anyway,’ Sarah continued. ‘Beth and I are sisters, so naturally have never got on. Sisters don’t, do they? So how could an old house make us any worse? And we do so want to see inside.’

Beth dropped her voice, trying to disguise the enthusiasm that pulsated through her. ‘We’ve almost decided, you see, to stay, for a little while longer, and do it up. But we worry about Meg’s reaction. She won’t even lend us the key to take a proper look inside.’

‘Adventurous types, are you?’

Sarah said, ‘We’d sell it and make a vast profit.’ There, said the fierce glance she shot in Beth’s direction, that should set the record straight. Beth went bright red.

‘She mebbe has her reasons,’ Sally Ann quietly remarked. ‘Upsetting time she had there once. But she’d enjoy having you two close by, I know that. I’ll happen have a word with her.’

‘Oh, would you?’

Sally Ann stood up, brushing the cat from her lap. ‘Now then, are you going to help me strain this wine, or sit there like a pair of book ends?’

‘So why won’t you give them that key then?’ Sally Ann faced Meg with a wry smile on her homely face.

Meg glared down at her from the seat of the tractor, her own face darkly silhouetted against a cloud-flecked blue sky.

‘I’ve work to do, Sal. Several acres to cut before it rains. Can we discuss this some other time?’

Sally Ann chuckled. ‘I’ve fetched your dinner. You’ll be coming to eat that, I dare swear. It’s cold pork today.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Don’t talk so daft. You can’t work on an empty stomach. Anyroad, those lasses have every right to see Larkrigg, if they wants. It belongs to them, or so I’ve been told.’

Meg tightened her lips. ‘Rosemary Ellis hurt their mother beyond endurance.’

‘Rosemary Ellis is dead, Meg.’

‘She only left it to them to spite Lissa.’

‘But it is theirs, like it or not.’

‘It’s a miserable inheritance.’

‘That’s for them to decide, not you.’ For a second Meg’s grey eyes blazed, but Sally Ann continued, unperturbed. ‘Aye, you know in your heart that it is. You never took notice of what your own father said, so why should these two bairns listen to you? Let them be, Meg. It’s their life, not yours.’

‘I suppose you’ll grumble at me for ever if I don’t agree.’

‘Aye, I suppose I will.’

Beth and Sarah turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. It creaked so loudly that they both jumped, then clutched at each other in a fit of the giggles. They’d almost given up hope when Sally Ann brought them the key, her soft face shining with triumph. ‘Don’t expect too much, that’s all, Meg says.’

‘We won’t.’ But Beth did. She expected everything. Certainly the answer to her dreams.

‘It’s like something out of a movie,’ Sarah said. ‘I hope Frankenstein isn’t lurking inside.’

Beth peered through the gloom. ‘Oh my God, what’s that?’

Sarah flashed her torch at the opposite wall and caught the glint of amber. ‘A stag’s head with glass eyes. Handsome fellow, wasn’t he?’

‘How cruel.’

‘How English.’

‘We should have left it till the morning. We can’t see a thing in this gloom.’

Sarah stepped over a pile of rags, screwing up her nose in distaste and led the way down a long, dark passage, its walls covered with peeling red flock wallpaper, damp with mildew.

‘It smells dreadful. Of damp and old wood fires and something even less pleasant.’

Beth said, ‘At least we’re inside at last, in Larkrigg Hall.’ There was deep satisfaction in her tone.

Their boots echoed mournfully on the bare wooden floors. Austere, dark and empty, it seemed anything but welcoming.

Somewhere in the distant depths of the house a door banged shut and both girls jumped.

‘Oh, lord. Let’s get out of here.’

‘It’s only a gust of wind we brought in with us,’ Beth said, laughing.

‘Nevertheless, we’ll come back tomorrow, in the daylight. OK?’ And when something scampered over her feet Beth felt bound to agree. All in all their first view of the house had been far from encouraging. But she wasn’t in the least bit discouraged. Oh, dear me, no.

Chapter Four

Larkrigg Fell was one of those tracts of land which went unnoticed. Hidden away from all the main tourist routes, its rough grass untrodden save for the foxes and sheep who knew it intimately. It had no dramatic crags or precipitous summits. The stony sheep trod which the twins followed the very next day climbed slowly and lazily, winding between juniper bushes and knuckles of rock that formed knolls and hollows.

The fell had been shaped at the dawn of time by ice overflowing from glaciers formed in the clefts of surrounding mountains, scooping out pockets and tumbling rocks into them as if with a careless hand. One such hollow, deeper than the rest, had filled with water and formed the tarn by which they lingered for a moment before hurrying on to the crest of the ridge where the house stood, a shelter of oak and yew clustered about the rectangular stone building.

But the beauty of this fell lay not in its own topography but in its setting and Beth found herself catching her breath as she let her gaze travel over the panorama of surrounding hills and mountains. Smooth, crisp and green, looking deceptively easy to climb in the foreground but with jagged blue-grey peaks in the far distance. Utter contentment flowed into her heart as if the land itself had opened its arms and embraced her. As if she had come home.

Once in the house at last, that sensation was reinforced.

As they walked from room to room, their footsteps echoing on bare boards, Beth found herself easily setting aside Sally Ann’s superstitions on how everyone insisted this was an unhappy house. Though it certainly looked unloved. There wasn’t a stick of furniture to be seen, and grubby walls showed lighter patches where pictures had once hung.

They stopped in what had obviously been the library, the oak panelled walls and shelving now empty of books but where, oddly enough, a seed box still sat, upturned, in the open fireplace. The windows were netted with cobwebs, the frames black with rotted wood and a piece of ceiling had fallen in one corner, revealing the floor above.

Sarah’s lips curled in disgust. ‘And you say we could do it up?’

Beth cast her sister an anxious glance. ‘Don’t you think it a good idea?’

Sarah examined her surroundings, taking time over her reply. ‘I can see it has potential and I’d have no objection to making pots of money out of it. If someone else did the actual work.’

‘Would you really want to sell it?’

‘Of course. We’d make a killing. Once it’s made weatherproof and tarted up a bit, we could sell it for a fat profit.’ Sarah rubbed her hands together, grinning. ‘You weren’t serious about wanting to live here, surely?’

Beth walked to the window and stared at the glorious view and once again her heart lifted. How could a house be unlucky? She flicked the faded velvet curtains that still hung there and a cloud of dust flew out, making her cough. ‘It seems so much in need of love and care. I feel as if it’s asking me to stay.’

‘You live in a fantasy world,’ Sarah said, rolling her eyes in mock despair while checking she hadn’t collected any dust on her perfectly manicured hands, or on her new boots. Dreams! OK, so we could get the roof fixed, stop the rain coming in, redecorate and stuff. But you wouldn’t get me living here. Not in a million years.’ She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans and gave a half shrug, wrinkling her nose at a pile of rags in one corner. ‘Do you think tramps have been in?’

‘How could they get in? We couldn’t.’

‘True.’

Beth returned to her argument. ‘You do so love to exaggerate, Sarah. You like it too, admit it.’ The more Beth thought about it, the more the nut of excitement grew inside her. She’d hardly been able to sleep last night, couldn’t wait to get back here. She’d become entirely gripped by the possibility of restoring Larkrigg Hall, as if by pouring all her energies into the house she could banish for ever her yearning for Jeremy.

And she wanted to do much of the work herself. To clean and scrub and paint, the rest she could learn as she went along. She wanted to live in these hills, be a part of this landscape.

Beth had other dreams too, only it was too soon to mention those yet. First came the task of convincing Sarah. It was vitally important that they didn’t quarrel over this.

Somewhere in a far corner of the house came a distant rustling. ‘Ugh, those mice again,’ said Sarah. ‘We’d be pestered to death with all sorts of weird creatures out here.’

‘We could get a cat.’

‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’

They came to the kitchen, the green-tiled walls and painted shelves empty of their collection of shining copperware which must once have resided there, the pride of some cook’s heart. A solid fuel range, rusty with neglect held one black pan, as if someone had set it down to make a milk drink and then forgotten to return for it. One wall comprised a long built-in dresser and most of the floor was filled with a huge, pine table, not clean and scrubbed as Broombank’s was but coated with filth and littered with dirty newspapers, left there probably because it was too large to remove. Everything else had gone.