‘There is a very unhappy spirit here.’
‘I think this is where she was almost raped,’ I said, whispering as if Hawise might overhear. ‘I think this is where it all began.’
‘Then this is where we will pray.’
I was half-embarrassed, half-apprehensive. All I knew about exorcism came from horror films, and however much I told myself that we weren’t dealing with evil here, I couldn’t help imagining myself gibbering at a crucifix, or howling in the corner of the room with Richard Makepeace and James Sanders standing sternly over me. What if Drew heard and came to find out what was going on? I thought I’d seen him go out earlier, but what if he came back and saw me bulging-eyed and foaming at the mouth?
My mind swooped nervously as I followed Richard and James around the house. They were extraordinarily matter-of-fact, sprinkling holy water in the four corners of every room, as well as the garden and even the dilapidated shed at the back. Richard sprinkled the holy water in the four corners.
‘In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, I command any spirit not at rest to depart from this place to your appointed place of rest, in God’s care and keeping, never to return,’ he said in each place. He had a marvellously sonorous voice, filled with such conviction that I was awed in spite of myself.
‘You must pray too,’ he said to me. ‘However small your faith, you must pray.’
‘I don’t know how,’ I said. ‘I only know the Lord’s Prayer.’
‘Then say that.’
So I stumbled through ‘Our Father, who art in heaven’ in every room, and each time I felt Hawise’s influence shrinking. It was like having a thorn pulled slowly out of my brain. My embarrassment and agitation faded. No gibbering, no howling. Maybe it was just psychological, but Richard’s calmness settled around me until I was still and steady.
When we had been round the whole house, it was my turn.
‘We now pray for you,’ he said, making the sign of the cross over my bent head, ‘that you may be graciously set free from any disturbing influences in this place, and that you and your whole being may be filled with the peace of Christ.’
I was astounded to find tears stinging my eyes, and when I got to my feet I did feel peaceful in a way I had never felt before.
And the smell of apples had gone.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Drew was furious when he found out about the exorcism. He was letting himself into his house just as Richard Makepeace and James Sanders were leaving. I saw him register the dog collars and frown, and I wasn’t surprised when he came round later to find out what was going on.
‘I didn’t think you were into the Church,’ he said, half-accusingly.
‘I’m not.’ I told him then what had happened the previous Saturday, and about my visit to Richard Makepeace. I lifted my hands and let them fall. ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’
‘You could have told me.’
‘You weren’t here.’
‘There are such things as phones! I would have come back if you’d told me you needed me, but of course you’d never do that, would you? You’d never admit that you needed anybody!’
It wasn’t like Drew to lash out like that. He was usually so measured, so steady. Now he was pacing around Lucy’s sitting room, while I sat curled up in a chair. He was dragging his hands through his hair – what there was of it – and it was all standing up in different directions. It should have been funny, but I didn’t feel like laughing. I didn’t like it that he was upset. I didn’t like the fact that I’d hurt him.
‘I know how you feel about past lives,’ I said, feeling defensive. ‘Be honest, if I’d dragged you out of that conference to tell you that a ghost wouldn’t let me across the bridge to the station, you wouldn’t have believed me, would you?’
‘I would have believed you were frightened,’ said Drew. He stopped and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses in frustration. Taking a breath, he dropped his hands and looked at me. ‘Look, I don’t know what happened on Saturday,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how to explain it. All I know is that I love you, and you won’t let me close enough to help you.’
There it was, out at last. I stared at him, frozen in my chair, blindsided by how casually he had said it. I love you. The words were huge, crowding in on me, suffocating me.
‘Drew, I . . . ’
He let out a long sigh. ‘Don’t look like that, Grace,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to say anything. I know you don’t love me.’
‘It’s not that I don’t . . . ’ I stumbled into incoherent speech, only to lose my way as soon as I’d started. ‘I can’t,’ I said at last.
‘Can’t what?’ he said with a level look, and I pushed myself out of the chair.
‘Oh, I knew this would happen!’ I hugged my arms together furiously. ‘I meet someone and we get on well, but then it’s all about getting close and needing each other and talking about your feelings, and I don’t want to do it!’
Too late I heard the shrill tension in my voice and I stopped, horrified to find myself on the verge of tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said miserably.
Drew swore, came over and pulled me to him, holding me tight. I resisted at first, rigid as a board, but he didn’t let me go, and after a moment I let myself relax against him. He felt wonderful.
‘I’m the one who’s sorry,’ he said into my hair. ‘I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m just worried about you – and don’t bother telling me you’re fine, because I know you’re not.’
‘I wish I could let you in,’ I muttered, wrapping my arms around his waist, hanging onto him as if he were the only safe, certain thing in my world. ‘But I can’t. I just can’t.’
‘Just for the sake of argument, what’s the worst thing that could happen if you did tell me how you feel?’
‘I’m afraid I might hurt you,’ I said, muffled against him. ‘I’m afraid I might not be the person you think I am.’
It was out before I could stop it. Hearing my own words, I tensed and made to draw back, but Drew held me firmly in place.
‘Okay, so now we’re getting somewhere. What kind of person do you think I think you are?’
‘I don’t know. Snippy? Stubborn?’
‘You’re that,’ he agreed, ‘but you’re also quirky and funny, and you’re bright and you’re brave.’
‘I’m not brave!’ I wrenched myself out of his hold at that. ‘I’m not, Drew. That’s exactly what I mean. You think I’m one thing, but if you really got to know me, you’d find out that I’m not that at all. I’d let you down,’ I said wretchedly. ‘I can’t bear to do that.’
Drew’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who have you ever let down?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Come on, Grace, we’re not leaving this here.’ He pulled me over to the sofa and made me sit down beside him. ‘Tell me.’
I yanked my hands from his, all my bristles erect. ‘Look, Drew, I’ve had a busy day being exorcized and all. Could we leave this for now?’
‘No. No, we can’t.’ He didn’t try to take my hands back, but sat at the other end of the sofa, not touching me. ‘I want to know why you’re so afraid of being needed. So come on, tell me who you’ve failed.’
I turned my face away, defeated. All these years I had kept the great, black, wriggling mass locked away inside me, and now it was bumping at the lid, poking tendrils out, writhing its way free. Sarah had been right about that. I was afraid of it. I didn’t want to look at it. Just thinking about thinking about it had guilt setting its fingers around my throat and squeezing, so that my voice came out all thin.
‘Lucas. His name was Lucas.’
The name rolled right out of my mouth and lay in the middle of the room, taunting me.
‘Tell me about him,’ said Drew quietly.
‘He was just a little boy. I didn’t know him at all. I only know his name because his parents used to call him, and he’d ignore them. They were Swedish, I think. They used to sit on the beach
near us.’
‘The beach?’
‘At Khao Lak.’ Drew didn’t even know that I was talking about Thailand, I realized. ‘Matt and I went there for Christmas when we were working in Bangkok. I told you about that.’
‘You told me about the tsunami. You didn’t tell me about Lucas.’
I picked up a cushion, hugged it to me. ‘I think he may have had Asperger’s, something like that. He didn’t like to make eye contact, and he didn’t interact with other children. He was obsessed with this irrigation system that he was digging on the beach. It was really complex, and he liked his channels straight. He was a funny little kid,’ I remembered. ‘So determined and focused. I felt sorry for him, but I sort of liked him too. On Christmas Day he wanted to dig where Matt and I were sitting so that he could keep his channels all neat. I made Matt move his lardy arse, and we both got out of the way.’
A faint smile touched the corners of Drew’s mouth. ‘What did Matt think about that?’
‘Oh, he grumbled a bit, but he didn’t really mind. Matt’s easy-going, that way. Anyway,’ I told Drew, ‘Lucas let me help him dig his channels. It’s funny, but I was really fattered.’ I smiled, remembering. ‘We hardly said a word to each other, but I really enjoyed that afternoon.’
There was a pause. ‘What happened when you finished digging?’
‘Nothing. His parents took him away, and Matt and I went back to our room.’
‘So you didn’t let him down that day?’
‘No.’
I stopped. I really didn’t want to do this. My heart was slamming against my ribs. My fingers twisted in the chain of my pendant.
‘What happened the next day, Grace?’
‘I . . . well, I told you about the tsunami,’ I said with difficulty.
Drew nodded. ‘You said it seemed to come out of nowhere and swept you up.’
‘Because that’s what happened!’ I said, as if he had accused me of lying. ‘One minute I was walking along in the sunshine, and the next I was swallowed up by the water. It was just . . . roaring . . . and power . . . ’
‘You said you managed to grab onto some railings,’ Drew prompted when I trailed off.
‘Yes.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Something bumped into me.’
I stopped again. I could feel the words rising up from my stomach, jamming together into a knot that stuck in my throat like dread. I’d never spoken them to anyone, not even Matt. I willed Drew to break the silence, to ask something that would help me swallow them once more, but he didn’t, and in the end I couldn’t hold them back any more.
‘It was Lucas,’ I said. I couldn’t meet Drew’s eyes. I stared at the carpet. ‘It was a child. About his age. I don’t know for sure, but I think it was him. All I saw was a face. He was terrified, I could see that. He was screaming. It all happened so fast, but I’m sure it was him.’
I took a breath, tried to slow down, but the words were tumbling out now. ‘I managed to grab his hand. The wave was so loud and so strong, but I did catch hold. I had the railings in one hand and Lucas in the other. I know I did. I thought I was holding him tightly. I thought if I could just pull him closer we’d be okay – and then he was gone. I must have let him go. I don’t remember. He was there, and then he wasn’t. I let him go.’
I brought my hands up to cover my face.
‘God, I let him go. I should have felt his fingers slipping from mine. I should have held on tighter. He was so scared, and I let him go. I tried.’ Lowering my hands, I made myself look at Drew at last. ‘I did try. I did. I’m sure I did, but I just . . . I couldn’t save him.’
There was a long silence. Or it felt long. I imagined the truth hanging in the air like gobbets of phlegm. I waited for Drew to wipe them from his face with disgust.
‘You couldn’t have done anything about it,’ he said gently at last. ‘You know that, don’t you?’
‘I should have held him tighter,’ I said, my face averted. ‘I should have done something.’
‘You did what you could.’ Drew moved across the sofa and took my hand. His grasp was warm, firm. ‘It was a tsunami, Grace. A force of nature. You can’t fight against that.’
‘But I was the only one!’ I burst out. ‘He looked in my eyes and he knew me. I should have saved him, and I didn’t.’ My voice rose and I pressed my hands over my face to shut it out. ‘I didn’t! I looked for him afterwards, I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find him.’
‘Grace.’ Drew gathered me against him, ignoring my resistance and the hands I still had clamped over my face. ‘You didn’t cause the earthquake. You didn’t make the tsunami happen. You’re not responsible.’ His voice reverberated through me. ‘It was a terrible tragedy, and I’m so sorry about Lucas, but it wasn’t your fault.’
I shook my head against his shoulder. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand what he was saying, but I couldn’t accept that I wasn’t somehow responsible. My palms against my cheeks were damp with memory. I could feel Lucas’s fingers – if it had been Lucas – as if imprinted against my skin, there and then gone.
‘You didn’t let Lucas down,’ said Drew. ‘There’s no reason to think you’ll let anyone else down.’
Pulling myself away from him, I drew a shuddering breath and let my hands fall from my face as I got to my feet. I felt shaky and hollow, but Sarah had been right about one thing. I had told Drew everything and he hadn’t recoiled in disgust. He hadn’t demanded to know how I could have let a child die and yet lived myself. The world hadn’t fallen apart.
I bundled the guilt and the horror back in the box and squeezed the lid shut. I didn’t want to look at them again, but I’d done it, so I knew that I could. Maybe that was something.
‘Are you okay?’ Drew had got up too and was watching me in concern.
I made myself smile at him. ‘You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?’
‘You’re fine?’
‘That’s the one.’ But actually I was fine, and when he came over and folded his arms around me, I let myself lean against him and breathe in the familiar smell of his skin. ‘I’ve never talked about what happened before,’ I said. ‘I’m glad I did, and I’m glad it was with you, but it doesn’t change anything.’
‘Doesn’t it?’
‘I’m still leaving,’ I told him, my face hidden in his throat. ‘Now that there’s been a service of deliverance, I hope that’ll be the end of Hawise. There’s no reason for me not to go as soon as I’ve exchanged contracts on the house.’ I took a breath. ‘I’m going to hand in my notice, Drew. I’ll be in Mexico by Christmas. There’s no point in loving me.’
‘It’s too late to tell me that now,’ he said, and the grouchiness in his voice made me smile in spite of myself.
My mouth curved against his throat. ‘Then why don’t we make the most of the time we’ve got left?’ I suggested. ‘Why don’t we be lovers as well as friends?’
Drew let out a long sigh, but he didn’t let go of me. ‘You know it will just make it harder to say goodbye when you go, if we do?’
‘It will make the next two months harder if we don’t.’ I kissed the pulse beneath his ear the way I had thought about doing for so long.
The way Hawise used to kiss Ned.
I shoved the thought away.
‘There’s that.’ Drew slid his hands up my arms, over my shoulders, to tip my face up to his. ‘All right,’ he said, and maybe it was against his better judgement, but his touch was warm and sure and not at all reluctant. ‘Let’s worry about saying goodbye when the time comes.’
I refused to think about what saying goodbye would be like. I braced myself for Hawise to slip back into my head after the service of deliverance, but my mind stayed clear and, after a while, I let myself believe that Richard Makepeace had succeeded in putting her to rest.
I felt lighter, although whether that was due to the service or to telling Drew about Lucas, it was hard to tell. I refused to think about the future
and I refused to think about the past. I just thought about the ordinary day-to-dayness of going to work, of coming home to Drew and of the bone-melting pleasure of the nights we spent together.
I never stayed the whole night. I waited until Drew was asleep and then I slipped back to Lucy’s house. Drew grumbled, but he accepted it, and I told myself I was being sensible, as if not getting used to those last few hours together would really make it easier to go.
September drifted into October and I drifted with it, until one morning I woke up and it was autumn. I’d forgotten how suddenly the seasons could change. The air smelt different, of dark nights and dampness and winter lurking behind the north wind, and the light was fainter, fuzzier. It wasn’t really that much colder than it had been, but all at once people were wearing boots and jackets, and drawing their curtains against the night. The trees turned, and the gutters swirled with fallen leaves.
Still Hawise stayed away. I tried not to think about her, but every now and then I would catch a fragment of memory. Bess, hauling herself up against Hawise’s skirts, her triumphant expression as she managed a wobbly stand. Ned, turning his head, smiling his quiet smile. Sometimes Francis, slowly, lasciviously, running his tongue over his lips. I hated that, but it was like remembering a dream. I was there, and then I wasn’t, the way dreams are.
It hadn’t been a dream, I knew that, but it was all over. Sometimes, it’s true, I felt guilty for the service of deliverance. Richard Makepeace had assured me that Hawise was at rest, but how could she rest if she was still agonizing about her daughter? Then I would think about Hawise drowning in the Ouse, about Lucy drowning in the same place, and I would be glad that I had called in Richard when I had.
The sale of Lucy’s house was going through without any problems. John Burnand dealt with most of it, thank goodness, and all I had to do was go in and sign papers occasionally. Gradually the house emptied as I gave away as many of Lucy’s things as I could. Her friends took some of the smaller pictures and pieces, and the rest went to charity shops. I didn’t need any of it. I liked to travel light.
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