Survivor

by Roberta Kray

  She peered into the bushes and up the gentle slope. Had she heard a sound too, like the snapping of twigs? It was just an animal perhaps, a fox or a… Well, she didn’t know what other animals there were in the country apart from cows and sheep and pigs. She stamped her feet on the ground in the hope that whatever it was would go away, but still the feeling persisted, like it had when she’d been in the empty flat at Haslow House.

  Lolly scratched her neck, trying to scrape off the sensation. She didn’t like the feeling; there was something bad about it, something threatening. A ripple of fear ran through her. She hunched her shoulders and shuddered. Here, in this quiet place, anything could happen and no one would be any the wiser. You could scream and scream and nobody would hear.

  It was this thought that finally propelled her into action. She turned tail and fled, running as fast as her legs would carry her… and didn’t slow down until the house was in sight again.

  30

  By the time Lolly reached the rear door, she was windswept and breathless, her cheeks red from running and her long brown hair hanging in tangles round her face. As she hurried through the house she caught sight of her reflection in one of the mirrors and grimaced. Waiting in the hall was a teenage girl, maybe seventeen or eighteen, leaning against the banisters and examining her nails. Lolly only had time for a few fleeting impressions – a ponytail, pale skin and freckles – before the visitor looked up and smiled.

  ‘Are you Lolly?’

  Lolly nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s me.’

  ‘Hi, I’m Theresa.’

  Although Lolly wasn’t late – it was only five to ten – Mrs Gough emerged from one of the reception rooms glancing at her watch in a pointed fashion. ‘Ah, you’re here. I was wondering where you’d got to.’

  ‘I was in the garden,’ Lolly said.

  ‘I can see.’ Mrs Gough stared hard at the floor where Lolly had walked in a trail of mud. ‘Perhaps you could think about wiping your feet next time.’

  Lolly looked down. ‘Oh, sorry.’

  ‘Sorry doesn’t keep the floors clean and polished. Just be more careful in future.’

  Theresa caught Lolly’s eye and grinned.

  Mrs Gough turned on the girl, frowning. ‘And what are you smirking at? It’s no laughing matter, I can tell you.’

  ‘I was just being friendly, Mrs Gough. No harm in that, is there? Now, have you got that shopping list only I have to be home by one.’

  Lolly was surprised and impressed by the way Theresa talked to the housekeeper. She didn’t seem to be intimidated by her at all.

  Mrs Gough walked over to the hall table, muttering under her breath, and returned with a white envelope which she handed over to Theresa. ‘There’s a list in here, and money. I’ll need a receipt so make sure you don’t lose it.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘And use some common sense. We don’t want the child looking like a hippy.’

  Theresa, who was wearing flared jeans, boots and an Afghan coat, laughed as she put the envelope in her suede bag. ‘Leave it to me, Mrs Gough. I’ll make sure she gets everything she needs.’ She looked over at Lolly. ‘Come on, then. Let’s get a shuffle on.’

  The two girls left the house together and started walking down the drive. Theresa gave her a nudge with her elbow. ‘You all right, love? You shouldn’t let her boss you about. She’s no better than anyone else. Just the hired help, that’s all – although to listen to her sometimes you’d think she owned the bleedin’ house.’

  Lolly gave the older girl a sideways glance. ‘I only got here yesterday,’ she said, hoping this might pass as a reasonable excuse.

  ‘Well, don’t let her walk all over you. You’ve got to stand up to people like that or they’ll just push you around.’

  Lolly, who viewed being pushed around as a natural state of affairs, raised her eyebrows a fraction. Her usual survival tactic was to try and stay under the radar, to be as invisible as possible. ‘I don’t think she likes me.’

  Theresa gave a snort. ‘I wouldn’t worry about that. Mrs G. doesn’t like anyone apart from Esther Fury.’ She gave Lolly a curious look. ‘So, are you related or what? To the Furys, I mean.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So how come you’re living here now?’

  Lolly wished she had the answer to the question. Despite Stanley’s attempts at explaining, she was still pretty much in the dark on that score. ‘Just ’cause my mum died,’ she said eventually. ‘I had nowhere else to go so…’

  Theresa, who appeared no have no inhibitions whatsoever, asked, ‘What happened to her, then?’

  ‘It was an accident.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  Theresa didn’t say she was sorry or press for any further information, for which Lolly was grateful. It made her sad to talk about her mum. It produced a dreadful yearning in her chest as though her heart was being crushed.

  The drive seemed shorter than it had last night and they soon reached the end of it. Theresa went through a small gate, set to one side of the big double ones. ‘It’s not far to the village from here. Only a few minutes. We’ll go to Moffat’s. It’s a bit dull but I’m sure we’ll find something that suits you. Where are you from? London, is it?’

  Lolly nodded. ‘Kellston.’

  ‘I go to London sometimes. There’s a station in the village. You can get straight through to Victoria. The shops in the West End are brilliant; that’s where I got my coat.’

  ‘It’s nice.’

  Theresa smiled and ran her fingers down the fur at the front, clearly proud of her purchase. ‘Yeah, it’s cool, isn’t it?’

  They turned right onto a narrow hedge-lined lane and walked for a few minutes before reaching a wider, busier street that had cars and people and which led eventually to the centre of the village. West Henby was larger than Lolly thought it would be. When people talked about villages, she always imagined a few country cottages and not much else, but this had shops and cafés, a pub and a restaurant. It was a busy, bustling place far removed from the quiet of the house.

  Moffat’s was opposite the pub, a double-fronted store with a selection of clothes in the windows. They pushed open the door and went inside. Theresa took the list out of the envelope and scanned the contents. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Shall we start with the coat? What colour would you like?’

  Lolly shrugged. She wasn’t used to choices, to having to make decisions for herself. ‘Blue?’ she suggested. ‘Red? I don’t know. I don’t really mind.’

  Theresa looked at her as though she was mad. ‘You’re the one who’s got to wear it. You may as well get something you like. Come on, we’ll go and see what they’ve got.’

  For the next hour, Lolly was in and out of the changing room, trying on coats, trousers, shirts, skirts and jumpers. It was all new to her but the novelty soon wore off. She was happiest in a pair of comfy jeans and a T-shirt, and quickly grew bored of all the endless changes she had to make. ‘Are we done yet?’

  ‘Blimey,’ Theresa said. ‘Hark at you! I wish someone would buy me a whole new wardrobe. I wouldn’t be complaining.’

  Lolly, who didn’t want to appear ungrateful, quickly replied, ‘No, no, it’s not that. I’m just —’

  ‘That’s okay. I was only kidding. I was the same at your age: I couldn’t wait to get out of the shops – it was all so boring – and now I can’t wait to get in them.’ Theresa laughed. ‘I bet in a couple of years you’ll be exactly the same.’

  Finally, all the shopping was done, including new shoes and underwear. While they waited by the till for the items to be folded and packed and totted up, Lolly’s gaze alighted on a small trinket box sitting at the side of the counter. It was made of wood, covered in tiny seashells and varnished. She picked it up and lifted the lid. The inside was lined with red velvet.

  ‘Do you like that?’ Theresa asked.

  ‘It’s pretty.’

  ‘Do you want it?’

  Lolly did, but she hesitated. ‘It’s not on the list.
What about Mrs Gough?’

  ‘Oh, blow Mrs Gough. Everyone needs a box to put their bits ’n’ bobs in.’ Theresa took it out of her hand and handed it to the sales assistant. ‘We’ll have this too.’

  Of all the purchases that were being made, this was the item Lolly was most excited about. Her mum had owned a box – one that had mysteriously disappeared – and now she had one too. It was the nicest thing she’d ever owned in her life. ‘Ta.’

  Theresa produced one of her grins. ‘No need to thank me, love. I’m not paying for it.’

  When the bill had been settled and the receipt handed over, Theresa took the two heaviest bags and gave the other one to Lolly. They left the shop and set off back along the street, retracing their steps from an hour earlier.

  ‘I suppose the lovely Mrs Fury will be home soon.’

  Lolly glanced at her, hearing an edge to the girl’s voice. ‘At the weekend,’ she replied. Not that she was looking forward to it. Mal’s response to Stanley, a comment she wasn’t supposed to hear, didn’t exactly inspire her with confidence. She’ll get used to the idea. It had sounded as if there was trouble ahead – and Lolly was sick of trouble. ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Haven’t you met her?’

  Lolly shook her head. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘How strange.’

  ‘She’s in Cornwall,’ Lolly said.

  ‘But you’ve never met, not even once?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Theresa swung the bags by her side and laughed. ‘Oh, you’d remember if you had. No one forgets Esther Fury in a hurry.’

  Lolly had the feeling this wasn’t meant as a compliment. ‘So what’s she like?’ she asked again.

  ‘She’s…’ Theresa paused as if searching for the right words. ‘She’s definitely what you’d call a princess. Blonde and beautiful and disgustingly rich.’

  ‘Like Grace Kelly?’

  ‘Sure, just like Grace Kelly. And Esther always gets exactly what she wants. Apparently she wasn’t so bad before… well, you know… but now it’s different. There used to be big parties at the house, massive, with music and dancing and fireworks. All the stars came, all the great actors and actresses, and they’d stay until the early hours. My dad used to park their cars for them. Alfred Hitchcock came once. Have you heard of him?’

  ‘Of course,’ Lolly said.

  ‘And Elizabeth Taylor.’

  ‘Did you go?’

  ‘No, I was too young. Not that I’d have got an invite anyway. This is years ago, after Mal and Esther got married but before… It all changed then. She stopped making films and they never had another party.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Theresa pulled a face. ‘Hasn’t anyone told you?’

  Lolly shook her head. ‘Told me what?’

  ‘If I tell, you’ve got to promise you’ll never say it was me. I mean, you’re going to hear about it anyway, you’re bound to, but —’

  ‘I won’t. I swear. Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  Theresa gave her a long searching look. ‘Okay then.’ She lowered her voice even though they’d now reached the quiet lane and there was no one else around. ‘It was a terrible thing. Mal and Esther had a baby about thirteen years ago. She was called Kay. But when she was a few months old, she was taken. You know, stolen or kidnapped or whatever. Someone pounced on the nanny when she was taking Kay for her morning walk, snatched the poor baby and she was never seen again.’

  Lolly stared at her, horrified. ‘What, never?’

  ‘Never. The pram ended up in the water and the police drained the lake, but she wasn’t there. They thought she might have fallen out and drowned, you see.’ Theresa’s eyes grew bright as she elaborated on the story. ‘My mum says she was the prettiest baby ever. Like an angel. And the kidnapper never made contact. There wasn’t any ransom note, not a word, but that was probably because it had all gone wrong. He couldn’t risk asking for money after what he did to the nanny. She must have fought back, tried to stop him, but she couldn’t.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  Theresa ran her tongue over her lips, relishing the gory details. ‘She drowned, didn’t she? And not by accident. The police reckoned she was held underwater. Mr Fury found her floating there, but it was too late to do anything by then. She was called Cathy, Cathy Kershaw, and she wasn’t much older than I am now.’

  Lolly, recalling what Mrs Docherty had warned her about earlier, gave Theresa a sceptical look. ‘Is this all true or are you making it up?’

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die,’ Theresa said, echoing Lolly’s earlier pledge. ‘It was in the papers and everything. That’s when the parties stopped. Well, you wouldn’t fancy it, would you? Not after that. And everyone felt sorry for them, naturally, because it was just the worst possible thing in the world. But then Esther fired everyone who worked at the house and there was a lot of bad feeling about it in the village. I mean, some of them had worked there donkey’s years, way back from when Mr Fury’s father had the place. She couldn’t trust them, you see, thought they might have been involved, but no one from round here would ever do a thing like that.’

  ‘I was at the lake this morning,’ Lolly said.

  ‘You should be careful.’

  ‘It’s all right. I can swim. I learned at school.’

  ‘Cathy Kershaw could probably swim, but it didn’t do her much good. Anyway, they say the lake is haunted, that on some days you can hear a baby crying.’

  Lolly felt a chill run through her, remembering the strange feeling she’d had when she was down by the water. ‘Do you believe in ghosts, Theresa?’

  ‘Not really. But better to be safe than sorry, eh? I wouldn’t hang around there on my own if I was you.’

  Lolly, who had no one else to hang around with, gave a shrug. She didn’t want to come across as a scaredy cat. ‘I’m not bothered.’

  ‘Yeah, well, perhaps you should be. That place is definitely creepy. There’s something weird about it. Don’t you think?’

  ‘Maybe. I’ve only been there once.’

  ‘It feels… I don’t know, bad. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I only have to see the water and…’ Theresa gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘But it might just be me. It gives me the heebies thinking about what went on there.’

  They reached the gate and passed through it. Lolly glanced up at the darkening sky, at the great rolling clouds gathering overhead. ‘What do you think happened to Kay?’

  ‘Who knows? Some people reckon she’s dead and others that she’s still out there somewhere. Mr Fury has never stopped searching. He’s hired private detectives and everything.’ Theresa gave her a sideways look. ‘In fact, when we heard there was a girl coming to the house we wondered if it was Kay. You’re about the right age. We thought he might have finally found her.’

  Lolly shook her head. ‘It’s not me. I’m not her.’

  ‘Oh, I know that now. I can tell just by looking at you. You haven’t got the Fury cheekbones or the fair hair or… Still, I suppose it’ll be nice for them having a kid around. Might cheer the place up a bit.’

  Lolly, who didn’t have much confidence in her cheering abilities, thought she was likely to be a disappointment on that score. And what would happen then? The carrier bag swung against her leg as she walked. Perhaps they would send her away. She peered through the trees at the grey sheen of the lake, trying not to think about Cathy Kershaw and her watery grave. But suddenly that was all she could think about…