The Hiding Places

by Catherine Robertson

  Sunny hesitated, choosing her words. ‘He admired him. He hated disappointing him. He could be just like him at times — high-handed. But while Lewis Potts had no fear of speaking his mind, James was harder to read, harder to fully know. In that respect, he took after his mother. He looked like her, too. There—’ she indicated another photo on the sideboard, ‘—that’s James. At fifteen.’

  The boy in the photo was dressed in old-fashioned white running gear and holding a trophy, a silver cup with deco-style wings. He was slim, fair-haired and handsome, and smiling with triumph, though April could detect a hint of arrogance there, too, of entitlement. James Potts did not look as if he liked, or expected, to lose.

  ‘When you met him at the party,’ said April, ‘did you like him straight away?’

  ‘I see you suspect I did not,’ said Sunny. ‘And you’re quite correct. To be fair, the day had rather gone to his head. How could it not have — all that fanfare, all those people, all for him? When you’ve only just turned six, that kind of attention would make you feel like a tiny emperor. When I caught sight of him, he was leading a pack of children around like dogs. Literally — he had made them tie streamers around their necks and walk on all fours behind him. Like a tyrannical Simon Says, he would stop every minute or so and order them to do doggy tricks — roll over, play dead, scratch their ears with their back feet. Each time, he’d reward them with a cake pulled out of a top hat he’d demanded from one of the conjurors.’

  ‘Why were they letting him?’ said April. ‘Why didn’t they tell him to sod off?’

  ‘He was the birthday boy. And he was rich, and the other children far from it. The cakes had come up from London, from a French patisserie. They were an unheard-of treat, and the children were gorging on them.’

  ‘I can’t imagine you were willing to play along?’ said Edward.

  ‘I was very keen on the cakes,’ said Sunny. ‘But I would not be ordered around by anyone, not even for a mille-feuilles with hazelnut mousseline, so I hung back and looked on. A little further off, I saw Rowan Holly doing the same. I knew Rowan by sight. He lived with his grandfather, Old Ted Holly, the Potts’s gamekeeper.’

  ‘What happened to Rowan’s parents?’ said April.

  ‘His mother died giving birth to him. And his father was unknown. Everyone always suspected he’d been a travelling Gypsy, Rowan being so dark, but no one ever dared ask Ted. He was a cantankerous old sod. Hated everyone.’

  ‘Is that why Mr Potts hired him? Another way to go against the grain?’

  ‘Most probably. That and Ted’s skill with a gun. Old Ted had been gamekeeper for the previous estate owner. In the mid-1800s that family had been one of the area’s wealthiest, but every succeeding generation was more idle and profligate than the last. It was strongly rumoured that Lewis Potts did not even pay for the land but won it gambling. In any case, he was happy to retain Old Ted. Lewis Potts was a great admirer of men who were skilled with weaponry. Old Ted was a crack shot, and, even at five, Rowan showed the same promise, which was no surprise to anyone who knew them. Old Ted drilled Rowan like a soldier and used him like a slave; often beat him, never showed him the least bit of affection. Most believed that was because Rowan reminded him of his dead daughter. In my opinion, that was no excuse for the appalling way he treated poor dear Rowan. The only good thing that came of it was that Rowan grew up to be a master woodsman and a brilliant marksman. He never caused a bird or animal a moment’s unnecessary suffering. One clean shot, and that was it. Every time.’

  ‘Rowan was probably wishing he had a gun at that moment,’ said Edward. ‘To pepper James’s backside.’

  ‘Rowan would never pick a fight,’ said Sunny. ‘But I could see he did not like the game. I assumed he was most worried about Lily Blythe. Her father was the Potts’s tenant farmer, and the Blythe house was a bit of a refuge for Rowan. I knew Lily a little. She was very pretty, but placid and compliant as a dairy cow. If any child would let herself be led around like a dog, it was Lily.’

  Sunny’s face showed exasperation but also a hint of shame. Her feelings for Lily Blythe were mixed, April guessed.

  ‘As it turned out,’ Sunny continued, ‘it was I who lost my temper first. James’s next trick was to place the cakes in front of the children, and order them to eat them off the ground. I found the smirk on his face unbearable. I rushed up, shouting, “Stop! Stop!” and began beating on him with my fists. James fought back, too startled to register that I was a girl. It was only when Rowan grabbed us and pulled us apart that James realised. He was already red in the face, and now he went scarlet. I shouted at him some more. “How could you be so cruel?”

  ‘His whole face simply crumpled with shock. “Cruel?” he said. “What do you mean, cruel?” I pointed at the children, who’d finally clambered off their knees and were getting free of the streamers. “You made them do awful things!” I said. He stared at me, eyes huge. “But it was only a game,” he said. I could see he was genuinely distraught. “Why did they do it if they didn’t really want to?” He saw Rowan helping Lily brush grass from her dress, and went over to her. He was about to say he was sorry — and then it happened. The sun vanished.’

  ‘Vanished?’ said Edward. ‘Was it a conjuring trick? Done with mirrors?’

  ‘There was an eclipse.’ Sunny was pleased with her dramatic effect. ‘The first total eclipse of the sun in Britain for over two hundred years.’

  ‘I thought eclipses happened slowly.’ said April.

  ‘It did, but we children had been too busy to notice. We hadn’t even seen that the sky had changed colour — from bright summer blue to an eerie greyish-brown. But when the shadow of the moon covered the sun completely, everything hushed. No one spoke, the band laid down their instruments. Even more uncannily, every sheep on the farm stopped bleating, and every single bird stopped twittering. For several minutes, there was absolutely no sound at all.’

  ‘Eerie,’ said Edward.

  ‘Especially to a small child,’ said Sunny. ‘I was entranced, but then I caught a glimpse of James’s face. He was horrified, absolutely aghast. “Did I do that?” he whispered to me, and suddenly, I felt sorry for him. “Don’t be silly!” I said, and took his hand. Rowan was on my other side, so I grabbed his hand, too, and he took Lily’s. And we stood there, the four of us, hand in hand, until the birds started singing again and Mr Potts’s voice rang out across the lawn, telling everyone they’d just seen a wonder, his tone implying that the credit for it should be his.’

  ‘And that was the beginning of your friendship,’ said Edward.

  ‘Actually, no. That took quite a few more weeks to form. James was scared of me and I found him irritating. But then my mother became fast friends with Cora Potts, and James and I had to learn to get along because my mother and I spent so much time at Empyrean that in effect it became my second home.’

  ‘Where does that name come from?’ said April.

  ‘Dante,’ said Edward. ‘The Empyrean is the ultimate stage in his journey through Paradise.’

  ‘I thought Dante went to Hell?’

  ‘“Inferno” is only part one of the Divine Comedy,’ said Edward.

  ‘Who knew?’ April shrugged. ‘Certainly not ignorant me.’

  ‘Don’t believe that Mr Potts was any less ignorant,’ said Sunny. ‘He had a first edition of the Longfellow translation, the one with the Doré illustrations. He was quite taken by those, but I guarantee he read not a word of the text. He bought the book for his wife. The name was her idea. He agreed because it made the house sound grand.’

  ‘Grand it is no more,’ said Edward ‘And is unlikely to ever be again.’

  April’s neck prickled a warning.

  ‘Don’t start,’ she said.

  ‘But why sell?’ said Sunny, undeterred. ‘Are you desperate for the money?’

  ‘No! Not at all!’

  ‘Then stay! Live in the cottage! What is preventing you?’

  Edward must have let Sunny in on
her situation, thought April. Sunny knew she was childless and alone.

  ‘I have a flat,’ said April. ‘And a job. I teach English to foreign students.’

  ‘You have a place to live here that’s rent-free,’ said Sunny. ‘And I’m sure you could find similar work if you felt compelled to.’

  This is getting me nowhere, thought April. Time to put an end to it.

  ‘My decision is none of your business. I will sell the estate and that’s final.’

  It was as if she’d tossed a match. The woman may have been nearly ninety but she blazed up like a bonfire. The whole room felt hot and dangerous.

  ‘Pish! Of course it’s my business! You’re a Potts! You’re James’s cousin! You’re a living connection which I thought I’d lost all those years back! I thought I had nothing left of him!’

  April had learned that the best way to win an argument was simply not to argue. If you turned away long enough, your opponent usually gave up and went home. So she kept quiet, stared out the window. The sky was darkening, though it was only mid-afternoon. Outside Sunny’s house it was winter. Cold and grey, the colour of her life.

  Inside, Sunny and Edward were waiting, and only Edward was doing so calmly. Sunny’s impatience and irritation buzzed like bees banging again and again against the windows that kept them trapped. Inwardly, April sighed. Most people, no matter how hurt or angry, preferred to avoid conflict. Sunny was not most people, that was clear. Sunny was Attila the Hun, in linen palazzo pants.

  ‘I have to live my life a certain way,’ April said to her. ‘It’s important to me.’

  Sunny’s voice was gentle now. ‘Why? Are you doing penance? For what, my dear? What sin did you commit?’

  Was carelessness a sin?

  ‘I see it more as reparation.’

  ‘But for what?’ Sunny was insistent.

  April shook her head. She heard the older woman sigh.

  ‘I can’t pretend to understand. Of course, I have regrets, who does not? But in my view, it does no one any good to dwell too long in those dark places. They can make you forget how to see beauty. They can make you forget how to love.’

  Exactly my aim, April almost said.

  ‘Does it matter where you carry out this sentence?’ said Edward. ‘Apologies for the choice of word, but it seems to me that’s what it is.’

  ‘Yes, it does matter,’ said April. ‘It can’t be anywhere nice. Anywhere comfortable. It can’t be anywhere I’d like to be.’

  ‘Oh, my dear.’ Sunny reached out and grasped April’s shoulder. Her fingers were warm, her grip remarkably firm. ‘You poor, poor girl.’

  The heat was inside April now, rising up, burning as it went.

  ‘You know, I was fudging when I said my family were on their uppers,’ said Sunny. ‘We were, in fact, desperately poor. All we had of value was our family name and we could not eat that. We lived in a house that was so cold and full of rot and mould and vermin, I’ve no idea how I survived my infancy. When we finally left that house, I vowed I would never again live without warmth and good food, and beauty and generosity and love. No one deserves to be without those things. No one.’

  April’s hands covered her face, palms stopping her mouth, fingers pressing her eyes shut so hard that she saw red bars of light.

  ‘Stay here.’ Sunny squeezed April’s shoulder. ‘Be kind to yourself.’

  ‘I can’t,’ April whispered through the gap between her hands. Her breath felt hot against her skin. ‘I can’t let that happen.’

  ‘Oh, my dear.’ Sunny’s grip went limp and released. ‘If that’s the case, then I don’t know how to help you.’

  April let her hands slide down to her lap. ‘It’s my choice,’ she said, her voice as steady as she could make it. ‘No one’s forced me to make it.’

  ‘Oh, my dear.’

  In that moment, Sunny did look ninety, April observed. Folded over, all the fiery air let right out of her. Then the older woman sat up straight again, blue eyes sparking once more.

  ‘Edward, what are you going to do about Empyrean?’ She spoke as if April were not there. ‘Surely there must be some way to save it? And don’t you dare shrug at me!’

  ‘It’s not mine to save!’ Edward protested. ‘I have been given my instructions and I am obliged to carry them out. All we can hope for is that the new owner has an affection for turrets and decides against demolition.’

  ‘Which is hardly likely given the state it’s in,’ said Sunny. ‘Could some work not be done on it, to make it more presentable? If we could hint at its potential, then surely we’d have at least some show of attracting a buyer who was not already on the phone to the wreckers.’

  ‘Well …’ Edward’s shoulders began to rise in a helpless shrug, but he resisted.

  ‘I realise the plumbing and electrics are probably a step too far,’ Sunny pressed on. ‘But how hard would it be it to give the place a good scrub and a lick of paint?’

  ‘Even a lick of paint costs money,’ said Edward. ‘A year or so back, I could have told you exactly how much to the penny. There is a bit of money left in the estate, but again, it’s not mine to spend.’

  ‘Oran would do it for a very reasonable rate,’ said Sunny.

  ‘Oh, is he out of jail?’

  ‘Two days ago. He came for dinner last night. He needs the work, Edward. The poor boy looks like the remains of a guy after it’s been on the bonfire.’

  ‘I do my best for him!’ said Edward. ‘He’s his own worst enemy.’

  ‘I know you believe I shouldn’t try to rescue Oran,’ Sunny accused, ‘just as I shouldn’t make a fuss about Empyrean. You’ve always decried my devotion to causes you believe are hopeless. There’s quite a cold streak in you, are you aware? It’s not an attractive quality.’

  Edward mouthed silently, robbed for words by indignation. ‘I have never even hinted at any such—’

  April took a deep breath and held up her hands.

  ‘Stop!’ she ordered.

  They did.

  ‘I want the place sold,’ said April. ‘But if it helps, I don’t care if you sell it painted or unpainted. The money isn’t important; I may well ask you to donate all the sale proceeds to charity. If you want to pay this Oran person, then pay him.’

  ‘That’s settled then,’ said Sunny, and added quickly. ‘However, in that case it would be sensible to wait until the work is done before putting the house on the market. Wouldn’t it, Edward?’

  He hesitated. ‘I predict that I will be dropped right in it no matter how I answer.’

  ‘Coward.’

  ‘Then I’ll answer,’ said April. ‘Put it on the market now. As you said, it might take weeks to get any bites. Your friend Oran should have enough work to keep the wolf from the door for a while at least.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Edward. ‘That is most generous of you. Which is why I hate to turn lawyer on you and request that what we’ve just agreed is documented. Will that be acceptable?’

  ‘Of course,’ said April. ‘I’ll sign whatever you need.’

  There was a moment’s silence. Fatso stretched and yawned, showing teeth as pointy as his claws. He plumped down from his chair and swaggered off towards the hall doorway.

  ‘Well,’ said Sunny, heavily. ‘I suppose that’s the best result I could have hoped for, unsatisfactory though it is.’

  Edward stood up. ‘I’ll take you back to the cottage,’ he said to April. ‘We’ve kept you here against your will long enough.’

  April rose, too, and was dismayed to find that her legs were wobbly. The floor seemed somehow to be on a lean. She’d been proud of how she’d regained her cool for the last and most testing part of the conversation, but clearly that effort had come at a cost. She steadied herself with one hand on the pretty table, before addressing her host.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said to Sunny. ‘For the tea and for — bothering. I’m sorry things can’t be different.’

  ‘Oh, well.’ Sunny waved a hand. ‘I can’t al
ways have everything my own way.’

  ‘The documents will be ready tomorrow,’ Edward said to April. ‘You can come by and sign them after lunch, if that’s convenient?’

  ‘And that will be all I need to do?’ April wanted to make quite sure.

  ‘That’s all. You could go home a few days earlier. No need now to stay.’

  As Edward pulled out in the Alvis, April concentrated on the road ahead. She did not glance back to see if Sunny was still at the door.

  She’d won. She’d passed the test. She should feel entirely satisfied.

  But inside, she felt like cracks were starting to open, and through cracks might come the most dangerous thing of all — the light.

  CHAPTER 7

  late February

  April made a second cup of tea and checked her watch. Five past ten in the morning.

  Yesterday, at Edward’s office, she’d signed the various documents, and Edward had placed them in the manila folder labelled ‘Potts’.

  ‘I assume you don’t want the tour of the house after all,’ he said.

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Well then, this is goodbye,’ he said, and shook her hand. ‘When is your flight home? You’ll be glad to get back to a New Zealand summer, I imagine.’

  ‘I fly out at the end of the week,’ she told him. ‘It would have cost me more money to change my ticket than I paid for it in the first place.’

  ‘There’s plenty of countryside to explore, which is quite beautiful, even in the depths of winter.’ He did not offer to explore it with her.

  The moment April stepped out onto the high street, it had begun to pelt down. She’d dashed to the rental car and driven back to the cottage, headlights and wipers on full, which had improved her visibility by a measure of zero. Inside, soaked through, she’d made a fire and stood in front of it, wrapped in one of Kit’s towels, being gently steamed by the wet clothes she’d hung on the back of the kitchen chair. The countryside would not be explored today. She might have an excellent sense of direction, but in this kind of weather even the best navigators could get lost. April did not want to end up a second time in Uxbridge.