by N. J. Mercer
“Around the time of her separation from Steven, Louise’s maternal grandfather, Joseph McFadden, a very old man who had lived here in Hilvern his whole life, passed away, leaving her and Rachel his bungalow. Louise had fond memories of the short time she lived in the country, and even after moving to the city, her parents had made trips back there to meet Joseph. Oh yes! Very fond memories she had of visits to the old bungalow in Hilvern. Given the estrangement from her husband and her dislike of the city, inheriting a little home in the country was a new start for her, one she pursued without any thought of looking back. So she moved to Hilvern with Rachel … that was about eight years ago.
“Unlike her ex-husband, Louise was a hard worker and set about finding odd jobs in the village to make ends meet. She did all sorts, like working as a barmaid one day or a nanny another. Busy though it was, she actually quite enjoyed her new life and plugged away at it, making a fair few friends in the process, including me. I got to know Louise when she started working for me in the shop. With my arthritis and my granddaughter Serena in full-time education, I needed a hand with cleaning and stocktaking, and Louise was the person I hired. She worked with me for years, I say work, but I was a bad influence on her most of the time, making her just sit and natter over tea and biscuits with me … you can see I haven’t changed.” Mrs McGuiness managed a small smile as she said this.
“I helped Louise raise Rachel; I was like another grandmother to the girl. In fact, she even called me grandma. Her real grandmother, or ‘nana’, was stuck in the nursing home with dementia setting in rapidly – poor woman has passed away now. Mother and daughter were both like family to me, very precious. Louise was an intelligent girl, capable of much more than just sweeping and working behind bars. Given the right start in life I bet she could have been a doctor or a lawyer or something like that. She was always looking for ways of improving her lot, especially as Rachel was getting older. So she took it upon herself to find yet another job in addition to what she was doing already. Housekeeping was what she had in mind, and I let her put a card up in my window to advertise her services. She knew that there were a few wealthy farm owners and landlords who came to my shop and believed they would be interested in having someone to clean up their massive properties.
“A lady called Elizabeth Devilliers came to the shop one day, she was only after some bread and eggs; the supermarket was too far away. I knew her; she had been coming here for years. When she first moved up to Hilvern Valley she was the talk of the town. Her husband Edward was quite an important person, well known but hardly seen, someone from an old line of Scottish lords. He owned most of the land beyond the mountains behind the farm. She was a very attractive woman from down south, your part of the world I believe, and in Edward Devilliers she had herself a fine catch.
“Well, anyway, as Elizabeth was leaving, the card advertising Louise’s housekeeping services caught her eye, whether it was an accident or if she was actively looking for somebody to help with housework I don’t know. ‘Oh, Mrs McGuiness! Who put this card here? Do you know her? Is she any good?’ asked Elizabeth. Of course I wanted to put in a good word, and I told her that I myself hired Louise and that she was an excellent worker. Elizabeth scribbled down the number. ‘I’m really struggling in our big old place,’ she said, walking out of the shop. I was happy for Louise at the time; Elizabeth Devilliers was a very nice lady. There was a rumour that Elizabeth couldn’t have children, it was known by many in the community that she and her husband had adopted three girls; they had plucked these orphans from nothing and turned their lives around. It was because of their wealth that they could do this. Oh yes, they were considered good people.”
Mrs McGuiness paused to nibble a biscuit and sip some more tea; she looked carefully at Johnny and Sascha who sat quietly, waiting for the story to continue, a captive audience. She started to speak again.
“There were a few others besides Elizabeth who hired Louise. With her housekeeping job, helping in my shop and serving at the bar, she was working full time. Rachel took to this new life surprisingly well. When Louise worked, Rachel would often be here at the shop with me, and friends of hers from school would visit. They would do things together, like long walks in the fields – oh yes, Rachel enjoyed those walks.
“A pretty thing like Louise could not go for too long without attracting male attention. Martin, Elizabeth’s younger brother, was staying in the big Devilliers house when Louise came along to do some cleaning one day, her usual chores. He took quite a fancy to her; she didn’t realise it at the time. I think things would have been left at that, except he was out in the village one day exploring the area and went to the pub for a drink and Louise was behind the bar. He spent the evening chatting to her and was determined not to leave without her telephone number. Martin was handsome, and he was also a kind man; I think Louise could see that so she was happy to meet with him again. When I eventually became acquainted with Martin, I learned of his difficult childhood and his homeless days, so it’s a wonder that he turned out as good as he did.
“After a few dates they got to know, and really like, each other; their tough backgrounds had moulded them into similar characters with lots of common ground. They were a good match. Martin got to know Rachel too and in time loved her as if she was his own daughter, and she loved him back; he was a more than adequate replacement for her estranged father.
“Sometimes, Martin would tell us about Edward Devilliers, the man who was his brother-in-law and also his boss. He had a great deal of respect for him, and whenever he spoke of Edward he did so with a noticeable reverence. There was good reason for this. It was Edward who had arranged for him to work in one of his companies at his wife Elizabeth’s request. When Martin spoke of Elizabeth, it was different; you could sense a genuine brotherly affection from him which one suspected did not extend to Edward. Either way, he owed them both a lot and rightfully gave them credit for saving him from the bad life his unfortunate childhood could easily have lead to.
“As somebody who was a relative and an employee of the Devilliers, Martin was occasionally invited to their business dinners. He talked very little about these events. Louise would tell me all that went on in them because, as his partner, she would sometimes also be invited. Grand affairs they were, the Devilliers were very well-connected people. Councillors, MPs, police chiefs, they were all there. Our little Louise in the company of the great and the good, we all thought things had surely turned around for her. Rachel too was enjoying her new life away from the city; she had got to know the three Devilliers girls and was having a great time in their company. All four had become great friends. Finally, Louise, Rachel and Martin had some stability and happiness in their lives; they were good times … then things happened. Sometimes you can’t help thinking that happiness is not meant for some people.
“A few years ago, there were two tragic events that closely followed each other. Chloe, the youngest of the Devilliers girls, died in a terrible accident. She was out on her bike and was hit by a lorry. It was a sad time. Rachel took it particularly badly; she was very fond of Chloe. It was a few months after that when Louise died in the park. They said some animal attacked her. I believe it was the devil himself. Witnesses said something about seeing a man in black with the beast; police searched high and low for him and made extensive enquiries – they found nothing.
“Needless to say, Rachel was devastated. Neither Martin nor I could leave her for a second; she was scarred by what happened and really withdrew into herself. Who could blame the poor girl? First her friend died then her mother, all in the space of a few months – she must have been wondering who would be next all that time. Martin and I would spend ages with her, talking to her, keeping her calm, reassuring her that everything would be just fine. It took a year of counselling and support to draw her out of her grief and come to terms with the terrible events. I wouldn’t say she got over it because a loss like that is something nobody gets over; you just learn to carry on somehow. She�
��s a tough kid, you know. At her age, I think it would have broken me.
“Following the death of her mother, there was always the question of adoption: who would look after Rachel? Her father, Steven, had all sorts of problems, Martin was a young single man who never had children, and I was a frail widow; it was deemed that none of us was suitable for the responsibility. Social workers were to make the final decision, and after the Devilliers expressed an interest in taking care of Rachel it was a very straightforward one. Here was a family who knew Rachel and had adopted before; they had daughters who were her closest friends, a devoted mother and a father who was a respectable businessman and pillar of the community. The Devilliers had mine and Martin’s full support, and when it was confirmed that they were to be her fosters, it was a great weight off our minds. Their big house was a little out of the way, not too far though, which meant we could visit Rachel quite readily – it was the perfect solution. Martin continued to keep an eye on Rachel’s well-being. In fact, we would sometimes joke that Martin, being Elizabeth’s brother, was now Rachel’s uncle.
“All of us who knew little Chloe and Louise were never really the same again. The passing of two young people, such a terrible loss, brought home the reality of how fragile life is. We all hurt very deeply. We tried to keep our spirits up by remembering all the good they had brought into our lives; both of them had such bright energetic personalities.
“A few months after the adoption, Martin and I worked with solicitors to take care of Louise’s estate. Her bungalow was to be sold and the money put into a trust fund for Rachel. Together, we sorted through Louise’s personal belongings. We had asked Rachel if she wanted to be there; she told us she couldn’t face it. Her therapist had actually recommended that we shouldn’t expose her so soon to such intimate reminders of her mother; we thought it was only right to ask her first.
“Owning the farm meant I had ample storage space so we left all of Louise’s stuff locked in wardrobes in one of the spare rooms of the cottage until such a time as Rachel was ready to receive them. We gave away a few things to charity and anything personal or of value we put in safekeeping.
“One of the items we packed away was a box with a collection of diaries in it. We all knew that Louise kept personal journals. I had never seen them until that time; of course, we didn’t read any, it just seemed so disrespectful – that decision was for Rachel to make.
“Rachel eventually settled in with the Devilliers. It was difficult at first; in the end, she managed to do it. Emotionally, she was recovering more quickly and completely than any of us had expected – even her therapist was surprised at her progress. She put it down to living within a solid family environment and I agreed; being with the Devilliers and having their support had made a big difference.
“Martin continued to work for Edward while I struggled on with the shop. We were both in regular contact with Rachel. It carried on like this for almost two years until Martin called at my farm one night. He came in looking very agitated; there was thick, dark stubble on his chin and his face looked so pale. I guessed he hadn’t slept for a while, the sight of him that night was frightening. Even though it was so late, he asked for the key to the wardrobe where we stored Louise’s old belongings. I hadn’t thought about all that stuff for ages and asked him if everything was okay, and when he gave me his reply I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He told me he had some suspicions about Louise’s death and that Rachel might be in danger. He told me he needed to see Louise’s diaries. I knew Martin, and I knew how much he cared for Rachel and Louise so I didn’t hesitate to fetch the key for him. I was so worried about my poor Rachel that I was almost at the point of tears and dithering. I asked if there was anything I could do to help and he simply requested that I bring him a strong coffee; the poor man looked exhausted so I didn’t waste any time in making him the drink.
“When I got back up from the kitchen, I saw him from the corridor, sitting in the spare room, one of the diaries open in his hands. I don’t think he heard me returning. I caught a glimpse of him tearing some pages out of the journal before I entered with his coffee. He turned around quickly and snapped the diary shut. His eyes were red and there was the hint of tears; he put on a smile as I entered, I gave him the coffee and sat next to him. We had this tense exchange, it went something like this: ‘Martin, what’s wrong?’ I asked. He told me not to worry and that everything will be fine. He would sort things out. There was obviously a problem, he was being quite elusive. ‘What is it, Martin?’ I asked again, and I also asked him what was in the diary. He had gulped down half his coffee already.
“‘Something that confirms Rachel is in trouble. I will sort it out though,’ I think he said.
“It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, and I could barely keep myself from sounding hysterical. ‘What trouble, Martin? What’s going on?’ I insisted. He stood up to leave the room. ‘Rachel will be fine, Mrs McGuiness,’ he said, the tears in his eyes had dried up, although they still looked so red and sad. With that, he walked out of the room with the diary, leaving his coffee behind. He looked so tired; I tried to get him to stay. He had this … this determined look on his face.
“‘Don’t worry about me and don’t worry about Rachel,’ he told me. He was at the front door by then.
“‘Martin, wait,’ I said, and he turned around. I was so worried and I had so many questions that I was dithering and stuttering, it’s what happens when an old woman like me gets upset, you know. ‘What’s in the diary?’ I asked again. ‘When are you coming back?’ He just leaned over, kissed my hair and then gave me a hug.
“‘I’ll be back soon,’ he said and left the cottage, taking the diary with him. I followed. He was moving quickly and was already in the car by the time I got to the door. I watched him drive away. It was the last I saw of him and that was over a month ago.
“I have been worrying ever since about Martin and Rachel and what was in the diary. When you turned up saying you were friends of Martin’s I must admit it was a relief. I thought it might be a chance to find out what was going on; I was also suspicious of you because of what Martin had said about Rachel being in trouble – it was the reason why I was so uncooperative at first.
“Louise and Rachel came into my life about five years ago. My husband died a long time before that, and my sons and daughters had moved away while he was still alive leaving only my granddaughter Serena to live with me. Louise, Rachel, Serena and I were each other’s family. Martin came along a couple of years later. I loved having him here. He was always keen to lend a hand with anything; I had forgotten how useful it was to have a man around! My arthritis always made work difficult. With Louise and Martin I could keep the shop running no problem; it was a bigger, busier place back then. I’m alone again now, except for when it’s the university holidays and Serena visits.”
Mrs McGuiness paused and sniffed before drying her tears delicately with the corner of a folded handkerchief. “Please tell me Martin and Rachel are okay, they’re like my family,” she said. “They are my family.”
Johnny saw Sascha looking at him uncomfortably and knew what his friend was thinking. He was torn between reassuring the old lady and telling the truth, just like he was.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Mrs McGuiness. We don’t know whether Martin is okay or not, that’s partly why we are here,” said Johnny.
Despite fearing the worst, Mrs McGuiness nodded appreciatively at his honesty.
Johnny needed an update on Rachel’s current circumstances; it occurred to him that Mrs McGuiness should still be in contact with her. “I’m guessing it hasn’t been long since you last spoke to Rachel?” he ventured.
“Oh, yes,” replied the old woman. “I spoke to her a few days ago, she seemed fine to me. I speak to Rachel every week, and I also see her from time to time. She seems happy enough. Although she complains about her foster parents being ‘weird’, she does get on with them, and her stepsisters are all still her best friends. It appears
to me that she is leading a reasonable life. That doesn’t change the facts. There was something going on that was worrying Martin. He is a sensible man, and whatever concerns he had – I believe he thought they were quite genuine. I didn’t mention anything to Rachel; I didn’t want to alarm her. I kept asking her if she was all right, looking for any hint of distress in her answers; there was none. I can only assume that she has been doing fine.”
There were no more tears from Mrs McGuiness; she and her guests sat there sipping tea quietly. “I have nothing more to tell you; I’m an old woman, confused about everything that’s been happening. I still don’t really know who you both are. I hope you can help.”
Before they left, Sascha retrieved a map from the motorhome and spread it out over the little kitchen table so Mrs McGuiness could show him and Johnny the location of the big old house where Rachel had been living for the past two years. It was the same place they suspected was the lair of the Disciples and the source of the anomalous psychic energy. It was in a valley about twenty miles from the farm shop.
Johnny thanked Mrs McGuiness for her help and the tea. As he walked out of the shop, he promised her he would come back with Rachel and Martin or, at the very least, some news about them.
