She bent down to pick it up, and as her fingers closed around it a small tremor seemed to go through the house. Nell glanced through the small window of the half landing, because it sounded as if a huge pantechnicon had driven past. Or perhaps a plane had flown overhead, a bit low.
She took the chess piece to the window and sat down on the window seat to examine it. It was beautifully fashioned. There was a satiny sheen to the black surface and it felt heavy enough to be ebony. Were the tiny glinting chips scattered over the king’s robes jet? Could they even be black diamonds?
But despite the sheen, the figure felt dry and rough against her skin and Nell found it rather repulsive. Still, a complete, undamaged chess set in ebony and jet would fetch a terrific figure. Ebony and black diamonds would send it into a much more rarefied category. And what would the white pieces be made from? A longing to know if the rest of the set was here seized her and she glanced at her watch. It was already after five. It would be mad to go up to the top floor – she would almost certainly have to grope around in the dark – but she looked back at the carved figure and thought: What if the whole set is up there? It would not take more than a few moments to go up these stairs and if none of the lights worked she really would call it a day. She dropped the figure into her shoulder bag. She would tell Nina what she had found and say she would like to get the piece examined by a specialist.
She went back up the stairs. As she reached the fourth stair the floorboards above her creaked loudly and Nell’s heart jumped, then she reminded herself that old stairs often had the way of creaking erratically.
The second-floor landing was bigger than she had expected, and although the bulb had blown here as well, a narrow window overlooked the side of the house and slivers of light came in from a street lamp. There were four more rooms; Nell, who was starting to feel distinctly uneasy, thought she would just glance into each one. She was annoyed to realize she was glancing over her shoulder every few minutes, but she was starting to have the feeling that someone had crept up the stairs after her, and was standing just out of sight.
The light switch did not work in the first room she opened, but it was possible to see several large packing cases stacked against the wall. She eyed them longingly, then put her bag down on the floor. If the lids came off she would take the briefest of looks at the contents, then she really would leave.
It was disappointing to discover the tops of all the cases were firmly nailed down although it was not really surprising. Next time she would bring pliers to prise out the nails. She was about to go back out to the landing when there was a movement at the other end of the room – blurred and indistinct but unmistakably a movement. It was almost as if something that had been standing in the shadows had stepped forward.
Nell stood very still and turned her head slowly. Standing at the far end of the room, half-hidden by the packing cases, was the outline of a dark figure. She gasped, one hand going to her mouth in the classic fear gesture, then saw with a rush of relief that the movement came from within a big oval mirror over a dressing table. All she had seen was her own reflection in the dusty glass. Stupid.
She bent down to pick up her bag, expecting to see the reflected figure move with her. But it did not. It remained motionless. Nell straightened up slowly, her eyes on the indistinct outline, her skin starting to prickle with fear. Most likely she had simply missed seeing the reflection move with her, but—
Slowly and deliberately, facing the mirror head-on, she lifted her right hand above her head. Please move with me, she said silently. Please be an ordinary reflection.
But the figure did not move. It’s not my reflection, thought Nell, her heart racing. But I won’t panic: perhaps there’s a long coat hanging from a hook somewhere, and that’s what I’m seeing. She looked about her, but the room was bare, save for the packing cases and the old dressing table. Was someone standing in direct line with the mirror? Where, though? Still moving slowly, she turned her head until she was looking at the half-open door. Through the narrow space she saw with cold terror a dark-clad man standing on the landing.
He’s been watching me, she thought. He doesn’t realize the mirror’s picking up his reflection – he doesn’t realize I know he’s there. And I’m on my own, and there’s no one within screaming distance . . . What do I do? Can I summon help? Police? What if there’s an innocent explanation, though? But surely an innocent person would have called out to make his presence known. Nell slid a hand into her bag, and her fingers closed reassuringly around the phone in its side pocket. As she did so, there was a soft creak from the landing and the door swung slowly inwards. Nell gasped and backed away to the wall, feeling for the nine on the phone’s keypad, but her hand was shaking so much it slipped from her grasp and when she groped in the bag, her fingers only encountered the chess piece.
The door opened all the way, and the figure stood on the threshold, the light from the lower landing and the street lamp behind it. Even so Nell recognized him. It was the man she had seen earlier – the man who had been bending over Benedict Doyle. The man with the vivid blue eyes.
He did not come into the room: he remained on the landing, three-quarters in the shadows. Nell tried to calculate whether she could get past him and down the stairs without getting too close. No. Then the best thing to do was act as if there was nothing wrong.
She said, ‘Thank goodness it’s you. You’re Declan, aren’t you? Benedict said so. I’m Nell West. I didn’t realize you were still here – I thought you had gone with Benedict in the ambulance.’ She thought she would have to get downstairs, even if she had to push him down two flights.
‘I’m about to leave,’ she said. ‘I haven’t managed to make any notes for the inventory, but I can come back another day. After New Year.’