“Um, not exactly.”
“Mum sent me off to school as soon as one would take me. She had many brilliant qualities, but mothering wasn’t one of them. While I was growing up, Banbury was my ‘home’ but I was only ever here for school holidays.”
“So you don’t remember Mrs. Spencer?”
“Hmm. It’s somewhat familiar. Although ‘Spencers,’ ya know.”
“She ran naked through town?” Annie tried next. “And lived at the Grange?”
“The Grange?” Nicola made a face. “Oh God, that horrific bodge? What a place. I wish whoever owns it would do something with the property instead of letting it go to rot.”
“So you do know the place?”
“You bet. My best girlfriend lives next door. She loves to josh about ‘accidentally’ setting the home on fire. Pat’s just the type to do it, too, if she could avoid incinerating her own home in the process.”
Nicola handed the book back.
“I have some recollection of the woman who lived there,” she went on. “I was a wee thing when she was alive, and mostly away at school. But I do recall that the local schoolboys would sneak onto the property, carrying back enough ghost stories to fill a book. It’s funny, now that I think about it, I always had the sense she was more legend than woman.”
“I don’t think you’re alone in that.”
“So, what’s your interest?”
“Oh. Well.” Annie paused. “She’s a captivating figure. Obviously. Given she was the subject of ghost stories and folklore. And I’m an English major so reading about the writers she consorted with is pretty juicy. On top of that I’m, uh, working on a little research project…”
“A research project?” Nicola balked. “Your mum said you were unemployed. Out of university and with nothing to do vocationally.”
“Did she now?”
In what manner did “Mum” drop that piece of knowledge? Was it said as a complaint? A matter of some unavoidable fact?
“Oh, golly, Annie, I didn’t aim to upset you.”
“Don’t apologize, please. It’s true. It’s no vacation for me.”
“She was perfectly lovely when she said so!” Nicola insisted. “Not bitter a’tall! Listen here, young lady. Whatever feelings a mum has toward her children are rooted in the feelings she has about herself.”
“Gotcha,” Annie said with a sharp nod. She was suddenly very anxious to get outside.
“No judgment here, m’dear. You’re young. Faff about however you please. It’s a young woman’s privilege and there’s plenty of time ahead for the serious bits. Your mum is a little overemployed if you ask me. Lord Almighty.” Nicola shook her head, the curls moving in concert. “We’re all so bloody damaged, aren’t we?”
Annie nodded, mystified. Here was a woman with infinitely more depth than the innkeeper who greeted them, the one stewing in floral patterns for fifteen minutes straight. They were all so bloody damaged, indeed.
“Tell me about this project,” Nicola said. “What do you plan to use for your research? Other than a ratty old book?”
“You said your friend lives next door to the Grange?”
“Patricia. That’s her.”
“I’d love to see the property,” Annie said. “Learn a few ghost stories for myself. Do you have the address?”
“Sure. It’s…” The woman thought about this. “Four Banbury Road. It’s privately owned, by what purveyor of bad taste and poor neighborly manners I cannot guess, but privately held it is. It may be abandoned but you can’t trample through willy-nilly. I don’t s’pect you wish to be jailed for trespassing in a foreign country.”
“No! I don’t!” Annie barked out a laugh. “I only plan to check it out from the road.”
Already Annie knew she’d try to get inside. As long as she didn’t disturb anything, or take anything, the arresting authorities couldn’t get too perturbed. If caught, she’d chalk it up to being a clumsy tourist, affect a foreign accent or feign a loose grasp on English if necessary. Annie knew a little Spanish, and some French.
“Well, if you stop past, pop by Patricia’s afterward. She’d be chuffed to host you!”
“Will do. Thanks, Nicola.”
“Care for a bike? You can walk but biking is always more fun! There are biking tourist groups these days, did ya know? Personally I don’t fancy all that spandex, but they bring the business.”
“Fantastic idea,” Annie said. “I’d love to borrow one. Maybe I’ll take a ride through the Cotswolds afterward. No spandex though, promise.”
“A ride shouldn’t be so bloody lonely, though.” Nicola frowned.
“You’re sweet to worry, but I’m an only child. Being alone is my gig and this is temporary. My mom isn’t usually like this. She’s retired, actually.”
“Ha!” Nicola huffed. “Retired? Coulda fooled me. Anyhoo. Annie, I’m pleased to lend you a bike. Come with me, I’ll show you where we keep them.”
Thirteen
THE GRANGE
CHACOMBE-AT-BANBURY, OXFORDSHIRE, ENGLAND
NOVEMBER 2001