The high voice was barely audible now, echoing down from somewhere in the attics.
She took a deep breath and, still holding the rose, she began to walk down the stairs.
44
‘We can’t wait here, David. We’ve got to go back.’ Luke was staring out of the window in Janet’s kitchen. Janet and Lyn were making sandwiches, spreading strawberry jam on thick slices of home-made bread. ‘What the hell do we know about that woman? For all we know she’s a complete fraud. Or worse.’
David didn’t bother to ask what he meant by worse. He was feeling very uncomfortable. Out there in the rain on the terrace at the Hall he had been carried away by Natalie’s calm. He had believed that this was something almost mystically female, something from which men were excluded, something mysterious and movable and watery, like moonlight on the lake, something born of thousands of years of female secrets, but now he wondered. If Margaret de Vere was a practised sorceress – not just a witch with her herbs and her healings and her wax dolls to help with her spells and curses – what if she were more powerful than that?
Janet put down her knife. ‘If Lyn is willing to look after the children, I’ll come with you.’
They all looked at Lyn who shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. I’d rather stay here anyway.’ She glanced at David and sighed. She had admired him so much when she first met him; he was such an attractive man, but now. At least Luke had had more sense than to believe all this. David had proved himself in the long run as neurotic as Joss!
She watched from the window as they all climbed into Janet’s car then she turned back to Tom who was cheerfully eating jam sandwiches sitting in the old oak carver at the end of the table, his legs stuck straight out in front of him.
He looked up at her and gave her a jammy grin. ‘The tin man is cross,’ he said conversationally.
‘Oh Tom, I wish we could forget about the tin man,’ she said as she pulled her cup of tea, long cold, towards her. ‘Your mummy thinks he’s real, whereas we both know you made him up, don’t we. The tin man on the yellow brick road, looking for his heart.’
Behind them Ned let out a gurgle of delight. He abandoned the brightly coloured bunch of plastic keys he had been playing with on the hearthrug and reached for the white flower which had appeared on the floor in front of him. One by one he began to pull at the petals. Tom was watching. ‘Ned’s made a mess,’ he said to Lyn.
She glanced round and let out a cry of dismay. Falling on her knees she took the flower away from him and stared down at it. It was cold and wet, every petal perfect and unblemished. For a moment she stared down at it in her hands, then gathering up the scattered petals she threw it in the bin with a shudder. Behind her Ned began to cry.
The house was in darkness. Pushing open the back door they peered into the kitchen. Luke groped for the light switch, clicking it up and down. Nothing happened.
‘There must have been another power cut.’ He groped his way towards the dresser. ‘There’s a torch here somewhere.’ He couldn’t find it and as he scrabbled for matches and candles Janet went back outside for the Maglite she kept in the glove compartment of the Audi. On the doorstep she took a deep breath of the cold evening air. The atmosphere in the house had been poisonous.
None of them spoke as she handed the torch to David. Pushing open the kitchen door he peered out into the passage. He looked back at Luke and gave a faint grin. ‘Householder first?’
Luke nodded. He was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. ‘Fair enough. Give me the torch.’ He pushed past him and led the way into the great hall. They stood still as Luke shone the beam round the room, up into the empty gallery, towards the fireplace, across the table and on towards the door in the far wall.
‘Where are they?’ Janet’s voice was tremulous.
‘They must be upstairs.’ Luke headed in that direction, closely followed by the others. ‘Why are all the lights out?’ Janet whispered. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘Neither do I.’ David sounded very grim. He stopped, as Luke headed up the stairs, staring at the cellar door. The key was in the lock. He frowned. ‘Luke,’ he called softly. His voice contained enough urgency for Luke to stop. He shone the torch back down the stairs.
‘The cellar.’ David pointed.
‘They’re down there?’ Luke could feel his stomach churning uncomfortably. ‘We’d better look.’ He stepped forward and put his hand on the key. It was unlocked. Pushing the door slowly open he peered down into the darkness. There was no sound at all.
Jimbo was parked near the main gate in his old Cortina when he saw Luke and David drive back into the house. He had been sitting there, smoking, for some time, his fingers drumming on the wheel, torn between fear and curiosity as he thought of his sister alone in the house with Joss. Tossing the stub of the cigarette out of the car window he leaned forward and watched the tail lights of the Audi disappear between the laurels. There had been three people in the car. It was Mrs Goodyear driving, he was fairly sure. So Lyn was alone with the kids over at the farm. He sat for a minute deep in thought, feeling the chill of the evening air on his face from the open car window. At last he came to a decision. Winding up the window he reached for the ignition key and gunned the engine into life. There was no harm in checking that Lyn was all right – her and the boys. If she was there on her own, maybe she could do with some company. She wasn’t that bad, Lyn, when he came to think about it. In fact, he grinned sheepishly to himself as he changed gear and pulled out into the lane, he could quite fancy her, if he thought about it.
On the road behind him his cigarette butt flared for a minute on the wet tarmac and then went out with a hiss.