Running Scarred (5 page)

She took one last long look into the forest, staring hard into its impenetrable depths, hoping to catch another glimpse of his tall figure, and then she gave it up. She had an appointment to keep. She’d catch up with the man some other time and if she didn’t, she’d leave his coat by the Chateau door. It seemed the obvious place. It would be a shame if she couldn’t see him again. She wanted to find out if the strange electrical tingling that she had felt every time she thought about him was just a figment of her imagination. She flushed at the wild thoughts that came far too easily once again and pressed her hand to her belly to stop the mad flipping sensation deep in her stomach,

She lifted the bag holding his coat to her face and breathed the lush smell in deeply. Her stomach leapt again and her heart pounded furiously beneath her ribs. Oh God! She thought and closed her eyes. Why was she feeling like this when she was just sniffing at his old coat? Maybe it was just as well that she didn’t meet him again. She didn’t think her body could take it.

He had turned sharply away as soon as he realized who was in the giant car and that she had seen him. He had hurriedly stepped back deeper into the woods, and stood with his back pressed to the trunk of a wide pine tree, momentarily annoyed that he was going to have to delay his trip to the local market.

And then he took a quick glance to see if she was following him. His breath caught in his throat and he gazed at her
, mesmerized, silent in his new hiding place. It hadn’t been any trick of the moonlight. She was completely stunning. Her rich, chestnut hair was tumbling over her shoulders, sweeping across her beautiful face in the gentle breeze. Her eyes were the darkest brown, wide and framed by impossibly thick eyelashes. Her lips were full and tinged the softest pink. He groaned as he looked lower at her curving frame, fuller in exactly the right places and accentuated by a close fitting jumper and skin hugging jeans.

His stomach rumbled and clenched in tightly, but he didn’t think it was because he was hungry. He waited quietly, hoping she would go away quickly, so that he could forget those wonderful curves and that beyond beautiful face. He needed to be practical and get to the market before it closed.

He had only just started plucking up the courage to limp along the stalls, buying meat and fish and delicious home grown vegetables. It had taken a week or two for him to notice that people didn’t stare at him here. They didn’t seem to mind his odd voice as he practiced his rasping, schoolboy French, ordering oddly named cheeses and strange cuts of meat. He had only found out later that they thought he was a leftover of an older era.

When he had bought his cottage in the woods, all he had wanted was somewhere to live completely alone, where nobody could bother him ever again. He hadn’t taken any notice of the fact that the tiny building stood in the grounds of the huge
, derelict Chateau. He seemed to remember the agent telling him that the cottage had originally been the gardener’s house, and that although it had no official garden itself, in an attempt to get someone to buy the place, it was being sold with access rights to the whole of the estate.

Estate was a very grand term for his overgrown surroundings. It might have once been a fabulous garden with acres of grounds, but now everything had been
taken back by nature. The imposing driveway and avenue of trees were completely hidden already. There were remnants of the formal gardens, now being covered by the rampant rhododendrons and even though some of the remaining flowering shrubs looked good in the spring, they were fast being smothered by ivy and brambles.

The huge Chateau and stable block wi
th riding school were also being suffocated by the relentless creeping growth. He kind of liked the abandoned look of the place. The empty windows, some with jagged broken glass still in their rotting frames, looked a little sad on a winter’s day, but in the summer, they just begged to be peered through and investigated. The beautiful pale stone shone in the sunshine and the slipping slates on the roof gleamed dark purple in the moonlight.

When he had first moved into his cottage he was only glad that he had found somewhere perfect to live. Somewhere completely private, surrounded by dark woods that went perfectly with his black moods, but within a couple of weeks, he had been overcome with curiosity.

He had climbed through one of the broken windows and taken a look around the interior of the ruined Chateau. He had been surprised to find the huge cellar full of horribly familiar, old metal bed frames and stinking ruined mattresses. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that the place had been used as some kind of hostel, almost like a hospital but not quite. Curiosity piqued, he had returned to the estate agent to enquire and had discovered that the original eighteenth century Chateau had been taken over during the Second World War by the invading German army, and then, when they had at last left, it had been used as a hospital and lastly a home for the mentally disturbed. That had closed in the late nineteen eighties and the place had been abandoned ever since.

A nut house!
He had thought, not in the least bit alarmed. He was living in the grounds of the local mental asylum and the local residents had obviously assumed he was a relatively harmless madman.

He had laughed out loud at the discovery. No wonder his home had been so cheap. He was going to be surrounded by a load of lost nutters trying to find somewhere to sleep. He didn’t mind. Sometimes he thought he was going to go completely mad himself. He thought he would fit right in.

But to his surprise, he hadn’t been plagued by any unfortunate French madmen. Once or twice a few teenagers had come to have a bit of a rave in the ruined building. They lit small campfires and drank bottles of cheap French cider but they soon became bored of it all and they hadn’t been back.

The estate agent had told him that the place would fall into complete ruin soon. It was too new to become a Historic Monument and therefore wouldn’t attract government grants and it was going to be far too expensive to put the Chateau right unless someone wanted to make some sort of millionaire’s playground type hotel out of it. It didn’t seem likely. The north coast of Brittany had never really been on the millionaire’s playground list and the original residents had all been taken very good care of elsewhere in the locality.

He’d been left alone, away from all the prying eyes, to wander around the place as much as he desired.

He pulled his leg over a fallen tree and
thought of the beautiful young woman he’d just seen again. He had seen her fold the “For Sale” notice into her jacket the night before. It wouldn’t be long before she turned up again. Hopefully she’d take one look at the place during daylight and scurry off back to the posh hotel from which she’d come. He hoped she’d remembered to put his coat in her enormous car and he hoped she would leave it for him. He certainly didn’t want to have to ask for its return.

He had lain
awake most of the night, strange and long forgotten stirrings, deep in his body denying him sleep. And now after he had glimpsed her a second time and heard her calling urgently, he knew he didn’t want to see her again. He couldn’t see her again. She was just too beautiful. It hurt his heart to see her, perfect and whole and deliciously fragrant.

He bit back the passions she had disturbed in him, and then laughed grimly at himself. There was no way it would ever come to anything. She had the super handsome boyfriend, he had noticed in the hotel, waiting for her. There was no way she would ever look at someone like himself. It was pathetic to even consider it. He shook the errant thoughts away as he raised his hand to his cheek and felt the hideous scars. He couldn’t bear the thought of the look on her face if she ever saw him clearly. It would be more than he could stand to see her go screaming off into the distance when she saw him in the harsh light of day.

He flopped his long black hair back from his face and scanned back towards the road. The big car was gone. Thank God.

He limped out of the forest path and turned toward the town. His stomach rumbled loudly. This time it was definitely from hunger. He’d have to hurry before the market was all packed away for lunch, but the thought of fresh bread and all the delicious cheeses encouraged him to stride out, forcing him to swing his stiff leg forwards, ignoring the pain in his upper thigh as he half jumped, half staggered, across the ditch and into the road.

Chapter Four

Ellen parked the big car at the end of the market square. It was later than she had thought. The final argument with Justin and then stopping by the forest had held her up longer than she had expected. Stallholders were beginning to pack away their goods, but she could see the estate agency was still open across the square.

Anton Le Cam, the
agency owner, had laughed when she had first telephoned that morning and mentioned the ruined Chateau. He had only stopped laughing when he realized there was a stony silence at the other end of the line. He tried to make excuses.

“…But it is a near ruin. It will cost you a fortune and never make a return. Why don’t I show you some of the properties available at Plestin en Greve or at Loquirec? I’m sure they will be far more suitable. Your fiancé telephoned me yesterday and gave me all ‘
is requirements. I ‘ave selected several places for you to view on the coast.” There was more stony silence and then a voice so severe he could hardly believe it was the same person speaking.

Ellen could barely keep her irritation with Justin under control.

“Monsieur Le Cam, please understand that I am no longer associated with my ex-fiancé.” She emphasized the ex. “I would be happier if you did not mention him again. I apologise if he misled you in any way, but my requirements are quite different from those previously explained to you. If you are not prepared to take me to the Chateau, I will have to go to the Maire, find out who owns the property and then go to them direct. They may be quite unhappy at the way you are not marketing their place to its best advantage.”

There was a strangled grunt in reply and then she heard him let out a deep sigh.

“Non, actually they probably wouldn’t care that much. It belongs to the commune, but as you seem very determined to visit, I will take you there. I will ‘ave to make arrangements with the caretaker and then I’ll ‘ave to find you a ‘ard ‘at. I ‘ave one ‘ere somewhere but I loaned the other to Monsieur Reeves, but no matter, perhaps I can ask him to leave it for us. Why don’t you come to my office in an ‘our. I should ‘ave made the arrangements by then. Oh, and I advise you to wear walking boots. I do not think I can get a car up the drive.” He put the phone down sharply.

She couldn’t really blame him for sounding so reticent. He was probably thinking the whole thing was a complete waste of his time.

She sat and played with her diamond clip as she watched the agent through the window of his office. She could see the man flapping his arms around wildly at a woman at another desk. She was pulling things out of a cupboard and suddenly turned around triumphantly as she pulled out a yellow hard hat. Le Cam stopped flapping and picked up his telephone again. She could see him start to flap again as he held a rapid conversation. His face began to turn red and then his shoulders slumped in defeat. He put the phone down slowly.

She could see him take a few calming breaths and then he picked up the telephone again. Her mobile rang on the seat beside her. His voice was a little hesitant.

She climbed out of his car as he began to speak to her.

“It is all arranged. We can go as soon as you arrive at my office, but I warn you, the caretaker is a little…‘
ow do you say?…Shy perhaps. ‘e says ‘e’ll leave the ‘ard ‘at and the key by the door.

She was already halfway across the square as she replied.

“Shy? How is a caretaker shy? I would really like to see him and have his opinion on the place. I’d like as much information as possible.” She dodged between the last of the market stalls being packed away.

Le Cam was apologetic.

“I will try again when we get there, but he is a strange man. Very quiet. ‘e won’t like it if ‘e thinks you are going to turn ‘is Chateau into some sort of fancy ‘otel.” Anton Le Cam looked up as the phone clicked off. She pushed through the door of the agency and spoke directly to him returning her phone to her pocket.

“No, well I’m afraid that’s his problem, but you can assure him I am not thinking of turning this into some sort of boutique hotel for the rich and famous. Peace and quiet is all that is required for my venture. Can you try to persuade him? I really would like his take on the place.” She was running her fingers through her windswept hair,
then she pulled the mass of dark curls over her shoulder, plaited it quickly and fastened it with her diamond clip.

Le Cam stared at her, his eyes wide, his mouth open in surprise. She was so young, but her demeanour was full of confidence. He came around her side of the desk, his arm outstretched in welcome. She was the most stunning woman he had ever seen. Everything about her, even her slightly muddy jeans and boots, gave an air of grace and beauty.

“Mademoiselle, please call me Anton. I ‘ad no idea you were so nearby. Please come and sit while I find the papers for you to sign…a formality in case you go ahead with the purchase. But I am sure that you know all this.” His accent was soft and warm.

She had a slim
, old-fashioned fountain pen ready in her hand.

A few minutes later they were getting settled in his car. He apologized quickly as he swept paperwork and an old sandwich wrapper from the passenger seat, but she just smiled at him and told
him not to worry.

They headed out of town along a narrow road. It twisted and turned taking them through the countryside before narrowing even further as the forest closed in, dark beside them. A few hundred meters on, they turned at a tight junction and then at the next corner a high wall separated them from the forest.

“This isn’t the outer limit of the grounds.” Anton nodded towards the wall. “The wall used to extend all the way to the ravine, but it ‘as fallen in many places further along. This is the only part still standing. Take a look at the plans, there are tracks through the forest that take you across the river. You can see the estate includes that section of the river and all the fishing rights. There is also a small beach with mooring points further along.”

He indicated over her shoulder and she reached back to pick up a folder. She opened it quickly and stared at the first picture. The whole estate was laid out on a Plan Cadastral. It was a vast area. She smiled as her eyes swept over the Plan. She looked carefully at the boundaries that almost bordered the town and the tracks that passed through it. She could see the one route crossing the river. It came out at Plestin, right on the edge of town.  She turned over the page. There was an old black and white photograph, nearly sepia in colour now. It was of the front of the then majestic Chateau. Neatly dressed men and women wearing gleaming white
aprons, stood self-consciously along the wide stone steps leading up to the front door.

Le Cam glanced at the picture.

“That was taken before the war. Just after the turn of the last century I believe, when the Chateau was still privately owned. All the old staff I think. Of course the place doesn’t look like that now so please don’t get too excited. I’m afraid you will be very disappointed.” He stopped the car and pulled up onto the verge. She looked up from the photograph to see two huge stone pillars, draped in ivy and a mass of foliage between them. Le Cam looked at them ominously. “Maybe I should ‘ave brought a machete.

Ellen laughed at him.

“Come on Anton, where’s your sense of adventure? But are you sure this place has a caretaker? It doesn’t look as if he does much caring.”

He answered immediately
almost defensive at her tone.

“ ‘e’s not really a caretaker. ‘e bought the old gardener’s cottage on the other side of the estate. Did you see it marked on the plan?” He waited while she leafed through the pages of the file again. She pointed to what were the stable blocks at the rear of the Chateau, but he swished her finger out of the way and tapped a much smaller rectangular image, more than half a kilometre away from the main house. “There! It is a little way from the main residence. Quite private. I sold the ‘ouse to him. It ‘ad been lived in more recently than the Chateau, but ‘e has still ‘ad to make a lot of renovations. Actually ’e is British like you. Ex-army man from what I see. ‘e has been ‘ere eighteen months or two years now, maybe and you should bear in mind that he ‘as full access rights to all of the grounds including the river and beach. The Maire could not sell the place otherwise. You cannot change that agreement and that may not fit in with what you ‘ave planned.” He opened the car door and was about to step out when she laid her hand on his arm.

“You don’t mean he is the man with the scars?” She waited for Anton to nod. “I have his coat.” She patted the bag on her lap.

Anton raised his eyebrows, concern flitting across his face.

“ ‘is
coat? ‘ow? Did you find it? Was it abandoned? I thought ‘e sounded odd this morning. Is Patrick OK?”

She smiled at Anton’s obvious disquiet and reassured him quickly.

“He seemed fine last night. No, it wasn’t abandoned. He let me borrow it. I went for an unscheduled stroll on my way back from town last night. I had been viewing some properties with another agent, but they proved unsuitable. I wanted to get back to the hotel as quickly as possible and I thought the footpath would be a short cut, but I was very lost in the end. I discovered the Chateau and would have had to stay there the night if he hadn’t come and rescued me. All this forest is very disorientating.” She opened the car door and swung her slim legs out. Le Cam leapt from his side and rushed around to hold the door for her, but she was already closing it gently.

He stood for a moment and eyed her curiously.

“I wouldn’t ‘ave wanted to stay there all night.” He shuddered theatrically and turned to search for their best way through the bushes.

“Why ever not?
It wasn’t a bit scary. I felt quite safe there actually.” She peered through some ivy and spotted grey gravel a metre or two further ahead. “Here, I think. I can see what’s left of the drive.” She pushed through the undergrowth and found herself between an avenue of huge trees, overgrown but passable.

Le Cam joined her quickly.

“This place ‘as too much ‘istory. There are too many ghosts ‘ere for me.” He shuddered again. “Okay, now we ‘ave found it, I think there is about ‘alf a kilometre trek” He started off along the gravel.

She caught up with him quickly, suddenly more interested.

“Ghosts? Of whom? What do you mean Anton?”

He shrugged carelessly.

“There are stories of strange things ‘ere. I don’t know much about the goings on before 1940, but during the war the Germans were ‘ere. They took over the Chateau, as they did with many of the great ‘ouses in France. I don’t know that this place was any worse than the others were, but it was a dark time for us, several young men from the town went missing. Screams were heard in the darkness and their bodies were never recovered.” His voice was only just above a whisper. Then he cleared his throat. “And then afterwards it was used as an ‘ospital of sorts. Many men came here with terrible wounds, either to recover or die.” He looked over at her, but her expression was unreadable. “After that the…the unfortunate? I don’t know the words. Well they came.”

“Unfortunate? What do you mean?” She had stopped walking and was staring wide eyed at him now.

The estate agent turned to look directly at her.

“I don’t know ‘
ow you say it…You know, odd.” He twirled his finger at the side of his head.

“You mean mentally impaired?” Ellen was shocked.

Le Cam nodded vigorously.

“Yes! Yes, mental. That is the right word. Not particularly dangerous, you understand, just, well just mad or misunderstood perhaps.
Of course, when the Chateau fell into bad disrepair, their ‘ealth suffered and those that remained were moved out. It was too much for the commune to afford the repairs and the Maire made the decision to close it down. The last few patients are cared for in the villages now, but before then, all was not as good as it appeared.”

Ellen pulled her jacket closely around her.

“Oh! Well I can understand that. Now-a-days we think of things like that slightly differently, thank goodness. But I haven’t seen many people like that around here. Are you sure that you are talking of recently.” She carried on walking smartly. It was Anton’s turn to catch up.

“Well, not that recently, but then, by the time it closed, there weren’t that many of them left.” He whispered mysteriously.

Ellen stopped again and scrutinised his face carefully. She pressed her hands to her hips and shook her head as she caught sight of his mouth twitching at the corner.

“Anton!” She laughed. “You’re trying to put me off! Why? You could gain an excellent fee.”

He flushed at being found out so easily.

“Okay, I admit it. I don’t know if there are ghosts, but the disappearances and other things are true. It’s just that I like Patrick.
We ‘ave become good friends and ‘e is a brave man. ‘e has been dealt an unlucky ‘and in life and I don’t want to make it worse for ‘im. When I sold ‘im the gardeners cottage, I assured ‘im that the Chateau was virtually worthless and would probably never be sold. I told ‘im ‘is ‘ouse would be completely private. ‘e is a very quiet soul and, I cannot lie to you, ‘e doesn’t want anybody else ‘ere. I feel as though I am breaking my promise to ‘im if you buy the place less than two years later.” He shoved his way through the rhododendrons and they found themselves in the clearing in front of the Chateau.