‘And if it is… why can’t we see the lights of Thornton Place? Isn’t it only a short way beyond?’
‘That’s what I understood.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘So, we should be able to see the lights, I suppose.’ The very same thought had earlier crossed his mind. ‘But you have to remember that it’s going on for ten p.m.… perhaps the present caretakers of Thornton Place are already in bed. They may be fairly old. Or –’ and he had been churning this possibility over in his mind ‘– they could even have moved out. Maybe they got fed up waiting for us. They might be bitter because they’ve been pensioned off and someone else has been appointed in their place.’
Ellie nodded. It made sense, she supposed. All the same, she was suddenly anxious. ‘What if that’s true… about them being bitter? Old folk can be very stubborn when they’ve a mind to.’ She had no grandparents now; her mother’s father had been the last, and he had died three years ago, but she recalled how cantankerous he had been. ‘Supposing they’ve barricaded themselves in? Supposing they won’t let us through the door?’ Her fears were running away with her. She began to understand why Johnny was so apprehensive.
‘Nonsense!’ Jack Armstrong got into the driving seat and switched the engine into life. ‘Stop being so dramatic, Ellie,’ he told her, softly laughing. ‘Barricaded themselves in… Won’t let us through the door.’ He shook his head. ‘For all we know, they might be sick to their back teeth of living in a big, draughty old house… places like that need a lot of work, I might tell you… constant attention. It’s no easy thing for a young couple… let alone an old man and his wife. No! They’ll probably welcome us with open arms.’
‘They won’t,’ Johnny’s voice whispered into the darkness. He knew they would all be sorry for coming to this place. There was something else too! That perfume… that sweet, sickly scent… the one his mother was wearing when he found her, then again, in the churchyard. They had not left it behind. It was there when he got out of the car just now. He could still smell it. Now it was here, right here. In the car. It terrified him. It comforted him. A great weariness took hold of his senses, lulling him, until he could hardly keep his eyes open.
A flood of relief surged through Ellie when she heard the man answer her father’s question. ‘That’s right, mate… this ’ere’s Redborough.’ He was a friendly fellow, stocky and bald, with kind eyes and a jovial countenance. Ellie smiled to herself. It occurred to her that his ‘jovial countenance’ might be due to the fact that the fellow had just emerged from what appeared to be a Working Men’s Club. No doubt he had been enjoying a pint or two of booze in pleasant company; that same ‘company’ now making its way home in the distance, and singing ‘Roll Out the Barrel’ at the top of its unmelodic voice.
‘Just a private party.’ The fellow chuckled when he saw Jack Armstrong glance in the direction of the noise. ‘Oh, but don’t you go thinking that Redborough’s a rough kinda place!’ he urged, his face becoming serious. ‘We’re a quiet law-abiding community, that we are.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ Jack Armstrong assured him, ‘and no doubt we’ll all get to know each other in time. Right now, though, we’ve travelled a long way and all we want is a meal, the chance to freshen up, and a warm, inviting bed. So, if you’ll kindly point us in the direction of Thornton Place… we’ll be on our way.’
At once the fellow was attentive. ‘Ah!… it’s “Thornton Place” you’re looking for, then? I did wonder. We don’t often get folk pulling in off the main road… more often than not they just drive right on by without a second thought for this place.’ He bent his back and peered into the rear of the car, looking first at the boy, and then at Ellie. He half smiled. Ellie smiled back. The boy stared him out.
‘Is it far… Thornton Place?’ Jack Armstrong was impatient to be on his way.
‘What?… Oh, no, it ain’t far.’ The fellow stretched out his arm, turning his head in the same direction, away from the main road. ‘Follow this road here… until you come to the very last house. You’ll see a block of garages close by. Just beyond there you’ll see a lane… well, more like a rough track it is… don’t get used much, that’s why. But, it’s been wide enough for a horse and cart in the past, or a carriage… or a hearse. So, I dare say you’ll manage to get this ’ere car along it. Go careful, mind… it’s uneven and winding – full of potholes. It’s not easy to negotiate in daylight, let alone in the dark.’ He glanced at the boy again. He was strangely relieved to see that the brown head was lolled to one side; as though in slumber.
‘How far is the house?’
‘Not more than two or three miles, I dare say. The track runs level for two thirds of the way, then it begins to climb. Thornton Place sits right atop a hill. You can’t miss it.’ He chuckled. ‘Or if you do… you’ll likely end up in the lake!’ He grew serious. ‘You wouldn’t be the first, though. No, you wouldn’t be the first.’ He peered into Jack Armstrong’s face. He thought it to be a strong face, good and honest. From the man’s stern expression, he also suspected a quickness of tongue when riled. ‘You’ll be the new caretaker, I expect… Is that right?’ He waited for confirmation before looking into the back of the car again, saying, ‘These your young ’uns are they?’ This time he did not wait for an answer. ‘No missus, eh? Well, I don’t mind telling you… you’ll have your work cut out with that crumbling old relic. And it’s no place for children, mate… no place for children, and that’s a fact!’
‘Goodnight to you. And thanks.’ Jack Armstrong slid the gear stick into position and the car went slowly away.
‘Aye, and goodnight to you,’ murmured the fellow as he watched the car draw out of sight. From the back window, the boy’s pale sleepy features glared back at him. In the light from the street lamp, the small eyes glittered like jewels. The fellow frowned and pursed his lips while he thought hard on the way the boy had stared him out. ‘Hostile!’ he muttered, ‘that’s what he is. Hostile. Just like the others. God forbid!’ Shaking his head, he went on his way.
‘I can’t see no “block of garages”, dammit!’ Jack Armstrong nosed the car out of the roundabout for the third time, his temper rising by the minute. ‘The fellow must have been drunk… there’s no sign of any “garages”!’ He stopped the car and looked about. The street was deserted. ‘It’s like bloody zombie land!’ he groaned.
Ellie didn’t like her father swearing in front of the boy. She glanced down at his small, bent form lying crumpled across the seat. He appeared to be fast asleep, thank goodness, but he was right when he said they would all be ‘sorry for coming to this place’. She was sorry already, and, from the sound of it, her father wasn’t exactly enjoying the experience. It was a long time since she had seen him in such a temper, although she knew from experience that he did have a temper. A vile one, at that.
Winding the window open, Ellie glanced up and down the street – a narrow, lamplined street exactly the same as the one before, flanked with square, unattractive red-brick houses. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Not a dog or a cat. Not even a light burning in any of the windows. Wait a minute, though. There was a figure, a man, leaning against the lamp-post not too far away. So close, in fact, that Ellie’s heart jumped with fear. He was looking right at them! Why hadn’t she seen him? Why hadn’t her father seen him? Strange, she thought. But then, the street lamp threw shadows all around, and the man was tall, slim, seeming to merge with the lamp itself. And he was so still; so uncannily still. He kept looking at them, but he made no move. Now, her father had seen him. ‘The man… against the lamp-post, Ellie. Ask him how we find the way to Thornton Place.’ Ellie hesitated. For some inexplicable reason, she did not want to leave the car. The thought of walking even the short distance up that half-lit, silent street gave her goose pimples. Or was it him? Was it the way he just went on staring, not moving? ‘Ellie!’ Her father’s voice snapped into her fears. ‘For God’s sake… go and ask him which way.’ Now, the boy’s eyes popped open, willing her to go.
As E
llie made her way along the pavement, her heart was in her mouth and her every step ready for flight. Still he made no move. Always, his eyes were on her. Now, as she stood before him, Ellie could see those searching eyes. Dark and intense they were – and incredibly beautiful, glowing in the soft light, like silken velvet. For a split second, when his gaze first mingled with hers, Ellie was mesmerised. Then she heard her father behind her, impatient.
The young man spoke. ‘Lost, are you?’ His voice was low, trembling, enticing. Ellie was fascinated.
‘My father’s the new caretaker at Thornton Place,’ she explained. ‘We were told to find the block of garages, and the track would be just beyond.’ She laughed softly, irritated by the effect he was having on her. ‘We’ve been up and down the estate half-a-dozen times… but well… yes… we are lost!’ For a moment she thought he had not heard, because he made no response. His gaze never left her face; his handsome features remained still, carved into that sensuous, inviting half-smile. She got the feeling that he was quietly taking stock of her. She also felt his strength. She was astonished to find herself drawn to him.
‘Thornton Place, eh?’ He nodded his head as though in approval, and his smile enveloped her. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Armstrong. My father is Jack Armstrong.’
‘Your name.’ It was like a command, but, loving.
‘Eleanor… Ellie.’
He gazed on her a moment longer, then, ‘Tell your father to drive straight on towards the big field… and the last lamp. He’ll see the garages to his left. Follow the track round the back of the garages and keep going straight on. There are no lights to show him the way, and the going is not easy. If he takes his time… keeps his headlamps full on and his eyes sharp, he’ll come to Thornton Place in about ten minutes.’
‘Thank you.’ Ellie smiled up at him.
For a long moment, he held her gaze fast; thinking how lovely she was, with those warm, honest eyes and that air of vulnerability. But not too vulnerable, he hoped, or she could get hurt. He wouldn’t want that. Not that. He watched her walk away. So young, so innocent. Already he had taken a liking to her. ‘Don’t stray from the track,’ he warned. ‘It’s dangerous.’
As she got in the car, Ellie glanced back. With a stab of astonishment she realised he was gone. She felt a little sad, wondering whether she would ever see him again. Then she inwardly chided herself. He was a stranger! What did she know of him? She didn’t even know his name. Quickly, Ellie repeated the young man’s directions to her father. As the car pulled away, she leaned forward in her seat, her eyes scouring the road ahead. The sooner they got to Thornton Place, the sooner they could be settled, and get on with their lives. She was angry with herself. She had been too friendly with that young man. Why! He must have thought she was a hussy… going weak inside when he turned his dark eyes on her, and giving him her name for the asking. All the same, the sensation he had created in her would not go away. His eyes were so magnificent. His voice so soft, so invasive.
‘What else did that man say to you, Ellie?’ The boy had come forward on his seat and was trying to see her face.
‘What do you mean… “what else”?’ Ellie was surprised and annoyed by his probing. ‘He told me what I wanted to know… the way to Thornton Place.’
‘You were a long time.’
‘I was not!’ His insistence infuriated her. And, even without looking at him, she knew he was staring at her. She resented that. She resented his impertinence.
‘You were a long time. He liked you, didn’t he?’
‘Your imagination will get you in trouble one of these days, my boy!’ Ellie retorted indignantly. All the same, she felt herself wondering whether that was true. Had he liked her? A sense of pleasure rose in her, flushing her face a warm shade of pink. She was thankful that it was dark and the boy could not see. Suddenly, she was thinking of Barny, and her mood was subdued.
Jack Armstrong heard the banter between the boy and Ellie and he had sensed Ellie’s embarrassment. More than that, he had suspected that the boy was right. He had seen for himself how the man had gazed down on Ellie’s upturned face, how close they had been, and how reluctant Ellie had seemed to draw herself away. It could come to nothing, he was certain. They were strangers, nothing more. Even so, he wondered – not for the first time – whether he had made a wrong decision in accepting this job and taking Ellie away from Barny. After all, it was obvious that Barny Tyler adored Ellie. Sure, he wasn’t perfect; but then, who was? No doubt Barny would have made a good husband and, before the tragedy, everything had been going the right way for Barny and Ellie. Now, well… like everything else, their relationship was in danger of falling apart at the seams.
‘Stay on the track, Dad!’ Ellie was thrown sideways as the car veered to the right.
‘Okay, don’t worry. We should be there any minute.’ He screwed his eyes up and searched ahead. ‘There!… look there!’ he yelled excitedly. ‘It must be Thornton Place. It has to be!’ At first, the huge shape was like a shadow in the distance. But as they drove nearer, it became a formidable thing, looming before them like some giant sentry standing astride the top of the hill, its four turrets reaching into the clouds like the fingers of a mighty hand; the whole awesome structure silhouetted against a silver sky and filling the horizon so that everything else seemed diminutive in comparison. Even the gaunt, sky-scraping poplar trees surrounding it appeared like tiny candles around a shrine.
‘It’s horrible!’ The boy shrank back in his seat.
‘You can’t really see what it’s like in the dark, Johnny,’ Ellie told him. Secretly, though, she had experienced the very same feelings. The place was huge, frightening. But then she reminded herself – it was dark and they were all very tired. No house, however lovely, looked at its best in the dark hours. It wasn’t fair to form an opinion without first seeing Thornton Place in daylight.
‘They haven’t gone to bed yet… there’s a light on in one of the downstairs rooms.’ Jack Armstrong manoeuvred the car onto a level area some way from the entrance to the house. The deep potholes and overgrown shrubs prevented him from coming closer. ‘Watch your step, you two,’ he warned, ‘there’s only the light from the window… and the path is a mess of overhanging thorns and loose paving beneath.’ He swore aloud when his foot came down on a jutting stone that viciously jabbed his ankle. ‘First thing I’ll do is make sure there’s a clear access to the house!’ he snapped. ‘No wonder they’ve been given their marching orders!’ He stamped his feet down, squashing the undergrowth beneath.
Ellie followed, the boy’s hand tight in hers. The short distance from the car to the front entrance was slow and painstaking. More than once she felt the sharp thorns of protruding branches tearing at her skin. She felt the blood spurt up and begin to trickle. Her father was yelling now, angry, frustrated. ‘You in the house!… open up for Christ’s sake!’ He cursed at the ensuing silence, pushing his body forward, breaking the way until now they were at the foot of the steps, broad stone steps that were already crumbling and pitted with small, deep craters. Running up either side of the steps was a thick, ornate railing of black, barley-twisted design. In the half-light it was plain to see that the iron railings were badly eaten by rust and lolling sideways in a dangerous way. ‘Don’t lean on the railings… you’ll likely break your neck,’ Jack Armstrong told the two bedraggled figures behind him. ‘Jesus! How could they let the place get into such a sorry state?’ He started up the steps, shouting once more, ‘You in the house… it’s Jack Armstrong… the new caretaker. Open up!’
‘Perhaps they’re not in… perhaps they always leave a light on when they go out,’ Ellie suggested. She was apprehensive. And she suspected her father felt the same, else why was he yelling like that?
The front door was magnificent, with huge panels carved deep into the oak and a crescent of stained glass over the top. There was an old iron knocker in the shape of a floral bouquet and a wide, impressive border etched around the door f
rame. Long coloured glass insets flanked the door, and above these were two delightful cherub faces, each riddled with decay.
‘You have a point there, Ellie,’ her father reluctantly conceded. ‘We should have been here hours ago… it is possible they thought we weren’t coming. Yes. They could have gone out.’ He kicked out angrily, stubbing the toe of his shoe against the wooden rail that skirted the door frame. He was worn out, tired from the long journey. For years now there had been talk of a six-lane dual carriageway that would carry traffic between London and the Midlands, a motorway they said, the first of many. Talk. Just talk!
‘They haven’t gone out!’ The boy stared at the lighted window. At the face there. When Ellie and her father glanced up, they saw only the drawn curtains. But the boy had seen. And now he remained silent.
Ellie visibly cringed when her father began furiously rattling the knocker. It made enough noise to wake the dead. But there was no response from inside the house; no movement. ‘To hell with it!’ Jack Armstrong slammed the knocker against its base, startling the night creatures who could be heard scampering through the undergrowth.
Ellie shivered as the night breeze gained momentum, sighing and whistling in the tree tops like a soul in torment. Curious, she glanced away from the house and into the distance. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured, ‘look, Johnny… there’s a lake.’ In the light of the rising moon could be seen a vast stretch of land, dipping away into a valley, interspersed here and there with small spinneys and irregular mounds of what looked like boulders. Nestling at the foot of the valley was a shifting carpet of black and silver water, shimmering like diamonds in the soft moon glow.
The boy gazed at the landscape. He made no comment. He had not wanted to come to this place, and he did not want to stay.
No Mercy Page 3
