The Forgotten Cottage (3 page)

Henry turned from watching the nurses who were just finishing their shift walking down the path to the main gates and the guard house. He caught his reflection in the mirror and for a second he didn’t recognise himself. His dark hair had been burnt off in the fire and his scalp badly scarred. The skin was pink, shiny and puckered, the scars running down one side of his face. He had never been a vain person, not particularly thinking he was handsome, yet he still didn’t like the face that stared back at him. Of course a hat and some dark sunglasses would cover the worst of it, should he ever be allowed back out into the real world, which he doubted would ever be possible; he was too much of a risk towards women the judge had said at his trial, and Henry couldn’t argue with him. There had been a lot of anger towards women, which was how he’d ended up in this predicament.

The nurses never looked at him, not directly, except for Megan, with the pink streak in her hair and the tattoos running up one arm. She was young enough to be his daughter and she would often sit on the end of his bed, talking to him about the weather or asking him how he was feeling. She would tell him her latest boyfriend troubles, which Henry wasn’t the least bit interested in, but if he’d thought he lived a lonely life before he came here then it had got a whole lot worse now he was locked up and treated like a freak. He knew that Megan was morbidly fascinated by him; she was probably dying to know why he’d done what he did, but she would never ask. She was forbidden from talking to him about his crimes. That was saved for Dr Grace Marshall, who had been there to see the drama unfold and watch him get caught so he did have a sneaking respect for her because she’d almost seen him in action. He didn’t think he would ever kill her because she was far too valuable and he did enjoy their little chats, even if everything he told her was a distorted version of the truth. Henry wasn’t stupid and he only told her what he thought she should know.

He had a bit of a soft spot for Nurse Megan, though; he wouldn’t call it a crush because that was ridiculous, but he did like the attention she paid to him and he was working on her: feeding her snippets of his life before it had come to this in exchange for information about how the hospital worked, what she did on a typical day, how many guards were in the guard house and patrolling the grounds. Because Henry had no intention of staying locked up in this place for the rest of his life. Once he was well enough he had a couple of old acquaintances that he needed to visit and a plan he wanted to put in place. When he had first been admitted and the pain had been excruciating and his days were nothing more than a morphine-induced haze it had been the thought of meeting Annie Graham and Will Ashworth once again which had kept him going. It had given him the will to survive, against all odds.

The bolts on the door slid back and, bang on time, Megan entered with his lunch. He was supposed to eat with the other men on this wing but they were violent towards him, which was both a laugh and an insult. His crimes were no worse than any of the ones they had committed but for some reason they didn’t like him, so he stayed in his room until he was collected by the nurses and guards each day and taken for his solitary walk around the grounds in what he called the giant bird cage. He enjoyed his hour of exercise and fresh air; the feeling of the sun, wind and rain on his face was one he would never take for granted ever again. Even in the torrential rain he would go out and walk, never missing a day. His guards hated him even more in the bad weather and would shelter against the wall of the building or in one of the many doorways. Henry always promised them that he would behave and he did because he didn’t want to jeopardise anything until the time was right for him to leave and not come back. It would be a bad day when Henry left; the weather would be terrible so as to hinder any searches that were made for him and his scent would be washed away by torrential rain. Unless, of course, he could get Megan to help him and he thought that he might be able to do just that. It would be a shame to kill her but needs must and she reminded him a lot of a girl he’d known briefly a couple of years ago. He would never forget Jenna White—she had been his first kill.

Chapter Three

Annie was glad to finish work; she’d been stuck all afternoon directing traffic in the glaring sun for the Windermere air show. It had gone fast but it was too hot to work, especially in the direct sun with frustrated motorists driving at you from every direction and not one of them understanding what a stop sign meant. A woman with a car full of grey-haired friends had almost taken her out and she had to stop herself from calling her a ‘fucking idiot’. This would not have gone down very well with the public and probably would have resulted in a complaint to her sergeant, even though it was deserved.

The small station was empty when she got back; everyone was out enjoying the show, even Inspector Cathy Hayes, who always managed to worm her way out of as many public gatherings as she could. Annie was relieved because it meant she had time for a quick shower and could get changed in peace then drive to the car ferry to meet Will on the opposite side of Lake Windermere at the Queen’s Head in Hawkshead village. He had promised to buy her tea and a cold glass of wine and the thought of it had kept her going all afternoon.

She dried herself and got dressed in a pair of grey linen trousers, which were much cooler than her thick black combat pants, and a pale green blouse. She clipped her hair up and did a five-minute make-up job. Her nose was sunburnt so she covered it as best she could and left the station.

A door banged along the corridor. Annie paused; she knew the station was empty – it must be the resident ghost. She smiled to herself; although she hadn’t seen this one because it was very shy and kept itself to itself, it did like to bang doors and let her know it was around. She wasn’t threatened by it or afraid because she knew it meant no harm; it was just going about its daily business and wasn’t interested in her. Sometimes it was like that; not all ghosts were hanging around because they were stuck in this life or didn’t know how to move on. Some stayed because they wanted to.

She knew all of this because after sustaining a serious head injury two years ago that had been given to her by her now dead husband, she had started to see ghosts. Which had totally freaked her out at first but after a while she had come to realise that it was a special gift and one which had helped her to overcome a serial killer by helping a lovely ghost called Alice. She thought about poor little nine-year-old Sophie, who had desperately needed Annie’s help to be set free from the Shadow Man who had taken her away from her family and kept her in the shadows for twenty years. She had come to Annie for help and fighting the Shadow Man had been the scariest thing Annie had done up to now. Her friend Father John had tried to send him back to hell but had almost failed and it had been Annie who had stood her ground in sending him back, setting Sophie free in the process and reuniting her with her dead mum. Annie was lucky she wasn’t plagued by dead people all the time but if they needed her help they would come to her. Will had been scared by it at first but he and Jake, her best friend, had come to accept that Annie was now psychic and not mentally unstable and it was just a part of her life.

She walked to the door and shouted down the corridor, ‘Bye, you’re on your own now but someone will be in later and I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.’ Another door banged in answer and Annie smiled to herself. She would like to actually meet whoever it was when they plucked up the courage to show themselves.

She got into her convertible red Mini and put the roof down. It was stuffy inside and she wanted to freshen up and besides she only got to do this about six times a year with all the rain there usually was. The roads were still busy and it took her much longer to get to the car ferry than normal. There was a queue but she managed to squeeze into the last spot on the boat which had just loaded. She paid her £4.50 and looked out across the water at the view. It was beautiful; there were lots of boats out sailing on the calm blue lake. The trees, houses and hills which surrounded the lake blended in seamlessly. The ferry was full of families and the sound of laughter as excited children were led from their cars by parents to take in the views.

Annie closed her eyes. She didn’t think there was anything nicer than the sound of children’s laughter and wondered to herself if she and Will would ever have any kids. Will was forty-five so he wasn’t too old to be a dad and she was only thirty-four but it wasn’t something they’d ever discussed. She had always thought she didn’t want kids, especially with Mike. It wouldn’t have been fair to subject them to his violent outbursts. It was a relief that she had managed to escape from him when she had. Lately, every time she saw a woman pushing a pram or a man carrying a toddler through the busy streets of Bowness she would picture Will with a cute kid in his arms and her heart would ache just a tiny bit. Maybe once they were married and settled down she would broach the subject with him and see how he felt. Of course if he didn’t want kids that was fine as well but she thought that he would make such an amazing dad it would be a shame not to give him the opportunity.

The ferry docked on the opposite side of the lake with a loud groan and a squeal of metal against stone and then it stopped suddenly. The barriers lifted and she turned the Mini’s engine back on—last on, last off. There was a long line of cars waiting to board the ferry and go back to the other side. She drove off and waved at the ticket collector. Then she drove the short distance towards Hawkshead and the man of her dreams, who had texted her to say he was waiting for her at the pub and had managed to get a table out the front. She parked in the car park, emptying her purse of ten pence pieces, feeding them into the machine. She got a ticket and then hurried to go and meet Will.

The early evening sun was still warm and the village was full of people wandering around. Annie walked towards the pub and felt her heart fill with joy at the sight of Will and the ice-cold glass of wine on the table in front of him. He looked up from the menu and grinned at her, his blue eyes crinkled full of mischief. He looked so like his dad. Annie squeezed past a loud American couple who were blocking the way and bent down to kiss him on the cheek. He turned and kissed her on the lips and it was her turn to grin.

‘Phew, am I glad to see you—what a day.’

She sat on the wooden bench next to him and picked up the glass, taking a large gulp. ‘It’s amazing.’

‘What is—me or the wine?’

‘You, of course, and the wine.’

He nudged her softly in the side. ‘You liar—you meant the wine. I don’t know about you but I’m starving and I’m having the biggest steak and chips they can drag out of the fridge.’

Annie looked at the menu and nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll have steak and a jacket potato, please.’

Will stood up and made his way to the bar to order. Annie sipped her wine as she people-watched. She could spend all evening people-watching. The American couple sat next to an older couple on the bench opposite and had struck up a conversation about how beautiful the village was and Annie agreed with them, it truly was. She could see the church, which was on a steep hill above the village square and she thought about Father John. She hadn’t seen him for a while; she should really go and pay him a visit. Now that he’d taken over the church in Bowness permanently she wanted to ask him about the wedding. When she’d saved his life last year he’d told her he owed her one and would marry her and Will on the house. She wasn’t after a cheap wedding but she would very much like him to marry them both.

Will reappeared and sat back down. ‘I’ve got a surprise to show you after, but it will have to wait until we’ve finished eating.’

‘You know I don’t like surprises—can’t you just tell me what it is now?’

‘No, sorry, I can’t. For once you will have to be patient and anyway I will have to take you to it.’

Annie scrunched up her face. No idea what he was talking about but she didn’t care; she could manage to wait an hour. They talked about Tom, Lily, the wedding, anything and everything, until the food arrived and Annie’s stomach let out a groan at the size of the plate. Then they ate in complete silence, until the American woman leant over and asked her what she was eating because it looked divine. When they were both finished they left the pub and walked hand in hand back towards the car park.

‘What do you want to do—follow me or leave your car here and I’ll bring you up to get it tomorrow?’

‘I’ll come with you and you don’t need to bring me back up. Cathy is working in Barrow until dinner time; I’ll ask her to pick me up on her way back up to Windermere and she can drop me off here.’

‘Sounds like a plan. Come on, you’re going to love this – I hope.’

They climbed into his car and he drove the opposite way that they would normally come down the small road which led through the village until they passed a big farmhouse and lots of barns. He carried on driving for a couple of minutes and then turned off at an old broken gate onto an overgrown gravel drive. It was bumpy and the hedges were so overgrown it was impossible to see where they were going. Will drove slowly until the drive opened onto a large house which was unloved and in desperate need of repair, but it was love at first sight for Annie.

‘Oh, my, what an amazing house. Whose is it?’

Will stopped the car under a huge drooping lilac tree and picked up her hand. ‘Well, that depends on how much you like it because if you do like it then we could.’

She looked at him. ‘How?’

‘Well, you said you’d like to live in this area and it belongs to my dad’s friend who owns the farm we passed. He wants to sell it and was going to put it up for auction but he said if we like it then we can have first refusal; it will save him the hassle of trying to sell it.’

Tears glistened in her eyes and for the first time in months she felt speechless. ‘But how could we afford it?’

Will began to laugh. ‘This is cheeky, I know, but your house sale should complete soon, so that would be almost enough to pay for it. We can sell mine and then use that money to renovate it. But, to be truthful, you really don’t need to worry if we can afford it; all I care about is if you love it enough to want to spend the time renovating it and then living in it. The rest will work itself out.’