by Lulu Taylor
They all laugh.
‘Sorry, Stevie,’ Francesca returns. ‘I admit, it’s ridiculous but the local hotel is very comfortable. And you all have to come back next year when this place is a bit more hospitable.’
Next year. Olivia is smiling but she looks down at her plate to hide a slight frown. I wonder if you’ll still be staying here then, Cheska. Then she mentally rebukes herself. It’s not been that long. Only two weeks. But it is beginning to drag a little and she’s wondering when Francesca plans to go home. Not only that, but it’s not entirely evident what she is actually doing here at all. The architect has made a few visits; Tom Howard returned – happy to see her, cheerful company – and he and Francesca disappeared on another tour of the house; a building contractor came to evaluate a job so he could submit a quote. Apart from that, Francesca has spent her days helping around the house, chatting and playing with the children, seemingly without very much else to do at all. Dan has been disappearing into his study from first thing in the morning until late at night, reappearing for meals, and she is missing him.
‘You’ve got Cheska,’ he said when she mentioned it as they lay in bed together reading, and she sensed, just for an instant, something closed off about him.
‘I know, and that’s nice. She’s good company and has helped me out such a lot. But it’s hardly the same,’ she replied. ‘I like it when it’s us – you, me and the twins.’
He sighed. ‘I know. Me too. When she’s gone, we can get back to normal. In the meantime, I can press on with the play, and get as much done as I can. At least it’s useful in that respect. You can share a bit of the childcare.’
‘Yes. She adores it,’ Olivia said, and gave a little half-laugh. ‘I mean, she honestly never seems to get bored of them. I know you’re supposed to pretend to like other people’s children as much as your own, but she actually looks like she does. I found her reading a story to Bea yesterday, and she had her on her knee with one arm round her, and she had her head rested against Bea’s, and the look on her face, it was like . . . like . . . she really loves her.’
Dan stared at her, his blue eyes impossible to read. His voice, when he spoke, was flattish, almost uninterested. ‘Everyone likes babies. Women do, anyway.’
Olivia was taken aback by this. It didn’t sound much like something Dan would say. But he turned back to the book he was reading, making it clear the conversation was at an end. There was nothing after that but sleep either. With Cheska at the end of the hall, they didn’t much feel like making love, even though it was unlikely she would hear anything.
And still Francesca stayed on, with no mention of a leaving date. Olivia arranged this evening half in the hope that it would mark some kind of turning point, almost a farewell, so that she could be on her way.
‘That was a marvellous meal, Olivia,’ Alyssa says, putting her cutlery down neatly. She is the last to finish, even though all the men have had seconds. ‘You must give me the recipe.’
‘Thank you, I’m really pleased you liked it.’ Olivia stands up to clear, and Alyssa and Katy go to help. ‘No – please sit and chat. I’m happy to do it. I’ll call for help when I need the pudding things put out.’ Olivia takes the stack of empty plates over to the dishwasher, while Dan refills glasses and reaches for another bottle.
‘So, Danny, how’s the writing life?’ asks Jimmy, leaning back and looking expansive. ‘Finished your masterpiece?’
Dan laughs. ‘It’s almost there.’
‘How long have you been writing it?’
‘Just over two years.’ There’s a tiny tone of defensiveness in Dan’s voice. Olivia is alert to it at once. Jimmy’s and Dan’s worlds have never collided before, but now Dan is writing, and that is Jimmy’s territory.
‘Two years? You’d better get a move on, mate. We get a book a year out of most of our authors – and I’m talking a hundred thousand words, not a fifty-page play.’ Jimmy is teasing but even loading plates into the dishwasher, Olivia can tell that it’s not going down that well.
‘It’s an entirely different discipline,’ Dan says stiffly.
‘Of course it is!’ cries Alyssa. ‘Don’t listen to him, Dan. It takes time to create a masterpiece. And as for working when you have small children, it’s almost impossible! Creativity needs quiet and concentration. I find that when I work on my designs. Silence and calm are vital.’
‘Jimmy, you know sod all about writing plays. Or books, come to that.’ Katy is being the sunny-natured peacemaker as usual. She leans over towards Dan. ‘Jimmy likes to pretend that because he works in publishing, he knows a literary masterpiece when he sees one. Actually, all he knows how to do is count the beans, and every now and then take an author out for lunch. I know that writing takes as long as it takes, and that’s all there is to it.’
Jimmy is more than a bit drunk. ‘Rubbish!’ he shouts. ‘You’re turning into a house husband, Dan. I bet the lovely Olivia is keeping you, isn’t she? She’s done quite well with those gardening books – I always said you should come and be published by us, Olivia – and no doubt the royalties are keeping you in cornflakes and nappies!’
‘I’m sure Dan’s play will be a success,’ Katy says placidly.
‘Oh wait, it’s really Cheska you should be thanking, Danny, isn’t it!’ roars Jimmy, laughing. ‘She’s provided you with this terrific place to live. In fact, between them, Olivia and Cheska are looking after you very nicely indeed, aren’t they? Lucky for you that your killer charm hasn’t quite worn off yet, eh? You can still reel ’em in when you need to. I remember how you used to keep Cheska sweet so that you could scam her essays off her!’
Olivia looks over at the table, which suddenly has the frozen quality of the tableau. Francesca has a strange, twisted half-smile on her face and is staring at the tabletop. Dan is hunched, his eyes set hard as they are whenever he’s angry. Alyssa is frowning at Jimmy, her mouth tight. Only Dave and Katy, the non-Cambridge people, seem unaffected. Stevie pushes himself to his feet a shade unsteadily, his chair scraping over the stone floor.
‘I’m going outside for a fag. Want to join me, Dan?’
Dan hasn’t smoked for years, as far as Olivia knows – not since before they started trying for a baby. ‘Yeah, why not?’ He gets up, slides his hands into his trouser pockets, and slouches out behind Stevie. A gust of cold air comes in as they pull the door to behind them.
Jimmy makes as if to follow but Katy puts a hand on his arm. ‘Leave them for a bit,’ she says.
‘What did I say? Dan knows I’m only joking.’ He looks over at Cheska, his head moving jerkily with the drink. ‘Cheska, you know I’m joking, don’t you?’
Francesca says nothing but takes a sip of her wine.
‘I think it’s best if we just move on and let it go.’ Katy pours water from the jug into Jimmy’s glass. ‘Drink that, darling, and give the wine a rest for a bit. Olivia . . .’ She turns, cheery and bright, always there to pour oil on troubled waters. ‘Are you sure we can’t help?’
Dan and Stevie come in ten minutes later, their clothes bringing in smoke-tinged cold, and Stevie has worked his magic. They are both laughing and the awkwardness is forgotten.
Relieved that the evening is back on track, Olivia serves up pudding of ginger and lemon cheesecake with a rhubarb syrup that gleams pale pink on the creamy top. They eat with relish, and drink a little more wine, and talk loudly about their lives, their children, the old days and jokes from long ago. Olivia has heard some of the stories so often she can almost believe she was actually there, and that makes her feel she belongs. Once Katy came along, she was no longer the new girl, and no longer one of the few non-Cambridge people allowed in. Now that her experience of the group predates Katy’s, she feels as though she’s taken another step into the very heart of it. Except that, every now and then, she senses that there are events and happenings that still have a resonance all these years later, and which she knows nothing of.
Perhaps it’s better not to know, she think
s, spooning the lush creaminess of the cheesecake into her mouth. I always knew that Dan had a past – and I’m sure he used his charm to great effect when he wanted to.
She looks over at him now. He is restored to the old Dan: smiling, joking, holding his own and being brilliantly amusing. He and Jimmy have a good double act, batting stories back and forth, setting up jokes for one another. She’s glad. He needed a good dose of his old life and his old self. Perhaps it might bring him out of the study a little bit more and remind him that there is a life beyond this place and the play.
Pudding is finished to satisfied sighs, and coffee and chocolates are brought out. Dan and Stevie go out for another cigarette and then, when they return, Dan fetches the Talisker and they all drink a measure – or several, in the case of Jimmy, Stevie and Dan. Francesca, too, is drinking. Her cheeks are flushed and a few beads of sweat shimmer on her nose. She’s become talkative and excitable.
‘So, how about you show us round the house, Cheska?’ asks Stevie, draining another measure.
‘It’s late!’ exclaims Francesca, shaking her head. ‘We should have gone earlier, when it was still light.’
‘Oh no,’ rejoins Stevie. ‘This is the best time. You’re not telling me the place isn’t haunted, are you? I bet you’ve got tons of ghosts out there – a house like this must be thick with them. What is it, sixteenth century? You’re gonna have some tragic cavaliers or a walled-up nun or something.’
‘I don’t have a clue,’ Francesca says. ‘I didn’t want to know about ghosts and I didn’t ask.’
‘That’s why you’ve got to give us the tour,’ Stevie says, with a grin. ‘A torchlight tour. It’ll be fantastically creepy.’
‘Brilliant idea,’ agrees Jimmy, all enthusiasm. ‘We’ll do it. Have you got a torch, Dan?’
‘I think we’ve got one, in case of power cuts,’ Dan replies. ‘I’m up for it if you are.’
Olivia can see the drama of the dark house by torchlight appeals to him. ‘And we can take a candle each, there are plenty of those.’
‘Excellent historical touch,’ agrees Jimmy.
Dan turns to Francesca. ‘Will you do the honours, Cheska?’
She looks touched to be asked. Olivia realises that Dan has hardly said a word to Francesca this evening, no doubt distracted by the presence of Jimmy and Stevie, his old muckers and partners in crime. In fact, now she thinks of it, he has said very little to Cheska in the last few weeks. He’s been unusually cool. Probably encouraging her to get on her way. But it’s not like him. Not at all.
‘Of course.’ Francesca stands up. ‘But put your coats on. It’s cold in there, and it might be too draughty for candles. We’ll see.’
As they get ready to go into the main house, Olivia pulls Dan to one side. He has a stack of candles in one hand and a box of matches.
‘I’ll stay here,’ she says. ‘You’ll probably all want some tea when you get back, and anyway, someone’s got to stay with the children.’
‘I’m sure they’d be fine,’ Dan says, ‘they’re fast asleep, and we’ll only be gone twenty minutes or so. You should come along, I bet it will be quite an experience.’
‘You go, Olivia,’ Katy says, hearing the end of their exchange as she comes out of the loo. ‘I’m an absolute chicken. Anything like the hint of a ghost and I’m a mess. I think it’s my Catholic upbringing. I utterly and totally believe and I don’t get any fun from it. I’ll stay here with a book and you go. I want to ring for our taxi as well – we should be on our way to the hotel before too long, and we’ll take Stevie with us.’
‘There, all decided,’ Dan says. Olivia feels it would be rude to turn down Katy’s offer. ‘Get your jacket and we’ll get going.’
They leave through the secret door in Dan and Olivia’s room, filing through one by one. Already, it’s skin-crawlingly creepy, as they find themselves high above the empty and silent great hall.
‘The minstrels’ gallery,’ announces Francesca, shining the torch beam about. ‘I expect there were some sights to be seen from up here – kings and queens and lords and ladies dancing and intriguing down there.’ The light falls on the cavernous space of the old fireplace.
Olivia looks down into the room below. A hand on her waist makes her jump and gasp.
‘Only me.’ Dan’s voice murmurs in her ear. ‘Are you okay?’
She nods. She hasn’t drunk all that much but enough to feel her imagination is a little more heightened than she would like.
‘Take a candle.’ Dan hands them around and lights them, each one casting a flickering golden light onto the face of the holder, giving them hollow, shadowed eyes. The little flames gutter in the invisible currents of cold air that swirl around them.
‘Let’s go downstairs,’ Francesca says, directing the torch beam towards the dark mouth of the staircase. ‘And have a look around.’
‘Please be careful, everyone. And once we get there, I think we should stay on the ground floor,’ Olivia says, suddenly aware that a party of drunken guests climbing staircases in the dark is not a good idea.
‘All right. Shame to miss the Queen’s bedroom, though.’ Francesca leads them to a narrow wooden staircase that winds down to the great hall below. They troop after her.
‘But this is stunning!’ says Alyssa when they emerge. The light of five candles is surprisingly strong when they all stand together, but as they separate to look around, it diminishes to little golden glows moving about the room. ‘Did they keep any of the old fabrics? Imagine what some of the tapestries and hangings must have been like!’
‘Nothing like that,’ Francesca says. Their voices echo around the huge empty chamber. ‘It all disappeared years ago, before it became a school. Goodness knows what happened to it. Some of it might be upstairs in the attics – there’s tons of rubbish up there. But it will probably have mouldered away by now.’
‘What a shame,’ says Alyssa.
‘How much did you say this place is worth, Francesca?’ enquires Dave.
They wander around the hall for a while, their shoes tapping on the hard stone, Jimmy’s voice booming around and Francesca answering questions as she illuminates bits of the room – the windows, black against the night, the chimney breast, the panelling around the walls.
Olivia wishes they could go back. She doesn’t like being away from the warmth and cosiness of the cottage, or too far from the twins, even though she knows that Katy is there listening out for them. But it seems the tour is going on for a while longer – the others are interested and keen to continue.
Francesca leads them out of the great hall and along a corridor that is so completely pitch-black it almost appears to suffocate their paltry lights, and then out into a series of rooms, with magnificent plaster ceilings and fine fireplaces. They walk along, more accustomed to the darkness now, gazing around in awe at whatever their candlelight reveals, their footsteps loud on the polished wooden floors while Francesca explains how much has been restored by Preserving England and what the place used to be like. Olivia is interested, despite herself. They must have walked the entire length of the front of the house, she thinks. They linger in another grand room that Francesca announces was once an eighteenth-century library, now lacking its books. Then they move on, Olivia last, her attention taken by the carved fruit and vines around the window panels. She wonders whether the candlelight is enhancing their intricacy as she hears footsteps move away, voices fading as they leave the room. Then she realises quite suddenly that she is completely alone. The others have vanished.
She walks quickly to the door they left by, and finds herself in another of the dark linking passageways. ‘Dan? Cheska? Where are you?’
Standing stock-still, her little candle flame flickering valiantly and illuminating the patch where she is, Olivia strains to hear voices but there’s nothing. A rush of fear climbs up inside her but she quickly controls it. They are playing a joke on her. She mustn’t panic; they’re watching and laughing from somewhere nearby. And they
can’t have gone far. They agreed to stay on the ground floor after all.
If I turn around and walk back the way we came, I’ll be at the great hall and that means I can easily find my way home.
Annoyance starts up inside her.
This is just like Dan when he gets together with Jimmy and Stevie. He would never do this to me if it weren’t for them. They’re such a bad influence on him.
‘All right,’ she says loudly, certain they are hiding somewhere close. ‘Very funny! You’re completely spooking me out, if that’s what you want! Could you come out, please? I don’t much like being on my own here in the dark.’
She waits, listening out for a stifled giggle or a whisper, but there’s nothing. A blanket of complete silence seems to have fallen over the house. She feels uneasy, pressed in by the dark. Where have they gone? Why can’t she hear so much as the tap of a shoe on stone, or the distant boom of Jimmy’s voice? They are definitely hiding.
‘I don’t think this is very friendly at all!’ she says, her voice trembling a little. ‘I’m feeling a bit picked on. Please come out.’
Again she waits and still there’s nothing. She is aware of the vastness of the house around her, empty room after empty room, and the cosy cottage with the sleeping children and the warm kitchen seems very far away. Her imagination supplies a sudden ghastly image: a ghoul, a demon, approaching her, its mouth stretched in a silent scream. It’s a ridiculous bit of fantasy, she knows that, but even so, she turns to hurry back the way she came, intending to run through the long stretch of rooms all the way back, when she hears a noise. Ahead of her, down the passageway, there’s a distinct thump and the sound of footsteps.
There they are!
Relief rushes through her and she sets off in pursuit, hurrying forward into the darkness, listening as hard as she can for more giveaway sounds of where the others are. When she reaches the end of the passageway, there’s another door that stands open and leads into another passageway, this one running across. She can turn left or right. ‘I’m coming!’ she calls. ‘Where are you?’
