“That sucks,” Liza Jane said. “You done any exploring yet?”
“Not yet,” Taryn admitted. “I kind of feel like I am in trouble and have been sent to my room without supper. I’m afraid to leave.”
Liza laughed. “You mean you haven’t eaten or anything?”
“Haven’t had a real meal since the airplane. Good thing I stocked my carry-on with junk food along the way.”
In fact, Taryn had pulled the little writing table over to the bed and emptied out her duffle bag for supper. She’d lined up her packages of cookies, two stale pastries, a bag of chips (“crisps” here), and a Coke. Thank God Wales had Cokes. That had been supper.
“I’m thirstier than anything,” Taryn told Liza. “I bought this thing, like a two liter, from the train stati0n in Cardiff. I’m not sure what it is, but it looks like fruit juice. It’s my last resort.”
“What’s it called?”
Taryn picked the bottle up not and studied the label. “Squash? It’s orange flavored, so it should be okay.”
“Is the owner meant to be around anytime soon?” Liza asked. “I mean, if the caretaker isn’t going to communicate, how are you supposed to know, like, the rules or anything?”
“Tomorrow,” Taryn answered. “I mean, er, later today. I don’t know. I am kind of jet-lagged.”
It was two o’clock in the morning in Lampeter, but Taryn was too wound up to sleep. She’d thought after the long trip that she would dive into the bed covers in exhaustion, but once she’d cleaned up, organized her food stash, and gone through all the drawers and closets in her room (just, you know, in case) she found herself with a burst of renewed energy.
“Hey!” Taryn cried suddenly. “I have to tell you about this bathroom…”
Hopping off the bed, Taryn marched across the floor to the door that would lead her into her ensuite. It was a step down into the bathroom, and she nearly lost her balance, trying to talk and walk at the same time.
“I know you can’t see this, but it’s really crazy,” she said.
“What is it?”
Taryn studied the room as she talked. “Okay, so the bathroom is almost the size of the bedroom. I mean it; you could fit an entire bedroom set in here. The toilet is situated up against the wall in the corner of the room. No privacy screen around it or anything. The sink is on the other wall.”
Taryn began walking from the sink to the toilet now, counting her steps. “Fifteen feet from each other, to be exact.”
“That’s random.”
“But that’s not all,” Taryn added. “There’s a claw foot bathtub in the middle of the floor. Just kind of hanging out, you know, right there in the middle of the action. I could seriously do cartwheels around it. And the room’s carpeted. I don’t know how there isn’t mold in this room because you know this carpet stays wet from the shower nozzle.”
“That is totally weird,” Liza agreed. “You think they just needed a bathroom, so they took an empty room and threw a tub and toilet in it?”
“Yes,” Taryn replied. “Yes, I do.”
“Well, if you decide to go exploring later tonight, give me another call and let me know how it goes. I’m bookkeeping so I’ll be up for a few more hours.”
Liza Jane ran a massage parlor and holistic health center in the small Kentucky town where she lived. She was also Kudzu Valley’s resident witch. Liza could give you a facial, sell you a candle, and offer you a good luck spell in one easy visit.
***
Taryn had spent half an hour snooping around her new living quarters. Along with the bedroom and abnormal bathroom, she also had two closets and one much smaller closet that she assumed went into a crawl space or something. The door was only two feet tall. Several large pieces of furniture were crammed into the bedroom, including a bureau, chest of drawers, high boy, and entertainment center. All were from various time periods but the multitude of drawers had provided some entertainment as she dug through each one, trying to find something interesting.
She’d read the Nora Roberts novel she’d brought with her on the plane. Her other books were, of course, in her suitcase. The television either wasn’t working or everything in Wales went off the air after midnight; all she got was snow. She was itching for something to read or watch and would have settled for a Bible at that point, but apparently the Gideons didn’t travel to Lampeter.
Finally, tucked in the back of the nightstand next to the bed, she found a thin paperback, probably left behind by some guest in a hurry.
When Taryn fished it out and flipped it over, she had to laugh. “Of course,” she grinned. Haunted by James Herbert.
It was only fitting that her sole piece of reading material was a ghost story. Taryn took that as a sign.
Now, with daylight breaking soon, she snuggled into her fluffy pillow and tried to sleep. The lamp in the corner offered some peace. The room had just been too dark without it and she’d bounded across the floor in a panic when the shadows had started closing in on her. She’d never actually outgrown her fear of the dark; Taryn had even slept in her grandmother’s bed as a teenager at times.
“A new day tomorrow,” she whispered to herself. A new adventure.
The house was unnaturally quiet. Once he’d closed the door behind him, she hadn’t heard Paul again. There were no other guests at the Ceredigion House. She might as well have been there alone, and very well still could be for all she knew. Paul might have a caretaker’s cottage someplace else on the property.
Taryn decided not to entertain that thought. She didn’t mind working alone during the day, in fact preferred it, but sleeping in a house by herself at night was going too far. Especially a place like Ceredigion House.
***
The vastness of the land made her feel free. She stood on the hard earth, reveling in the feel of the soil and land under her feet. The sky above was deep blue, the color of the sea when the sun was shining.
Behind her, someone called her name. She turned and saw his face, a handsome face that she had come to love, and she laughed. The sound of her laughter filled the air.
Rather than wait for him, she began to run. Her feet seemed to fly over the rocky ground, barely touching the scraggly grass that grew below. In the distance a white pony saw her and began running parallel, sensing a game.
When he at least grabbed hold of her cloak she spun around and laughed again, tugging it free. He stepped back, the wind and sun on his face, and admired her.
Feeling as free as a bird, she began to spin. Around and around she turned, feeling the weight of the world lift from her shoulders. Feeling the power of the sun stream through her, coursing through her fingertips and through her arms and down into her heart.
As the thin rays of dawn began snaking through the musty drapes, she finally closed her eyes and let herself drift. The muffled, weary sigh that came from the smaller of the closets didn’t even register.
Chapter Six
THE DAY WAS COLORLESS. Taryn had seen her fill of gray skies and fog, but the actual lack of color all around her was disconcerting.
She stood on the small porch of the great Georgian-style country house and shivered inside her wool coat. The vista before her was a charming one, with its gently sloping hills, patches of leafy trees, and the flat valet further out before her. With neither landscaping nor any apparent maintenance, the property had a wild look to it–as though it were abandoned. There wasn’t another house for as far as she could see.
With the leaden sky and hazy fog still kissing the ground, there was a distinct lack of color and it was difficult to even tell what time it was by looking outside. By her watch, it was 9:00 am Wales’ time. Only about 4:00 am or so Nashville time. Taryn felt thrown off balance.
Ceredigion House had seventy rooms. She’d only seen three of them so far. She wanted to be inside, exploring, but her tummy was growling. First things first.
Taryn’s boots were soft on the ground as she began her walk. She might not have been there at all, if not for the clouds
of white breath that she exhaled. With her hands in her pockets and her red hair swinging from side to side in its high ponytail, she headed towards a group of stone buildings by the garden. She’d hoped to see Paul that morning. It was in her contract that he’d provide her breakfast. She wasn’t really expecting him to cook, and at this point kind of wished he wouldn’t go out of his way, but she was hungry. Taryn didn’t feel right just raiding the kitchen on her own but she didn’t know which way to head into town for the grocery store, either.
The stone buildings were low setting and grouped close together. Taryn’s familiarity with Welsh architecture was limited. Back in the states she might have picked the long, narrow structure as one for small livestock, like hogs. Perhaps the stouter of the two as a shed for fertilizer and pesticides. As it was, she had no idea as to what she was looking at.
She did, however know that the buildings surrounding the slate-paved and partially cobbled courtyard at one time would’ve serviced the house. Somewhere on the property, and perhaps even what she was looking at now, were shed for logs and coal. These would’ve supplied Ceredigion House with heat. A creamery would’ve given them butter and cheese. She knew from her letter from the owners that there was also a bakery, brewery, and battery store.
Now, as she continued her walk, she sang this to herself in a staccato rhythm that matched her steps. “Bakery, brewery, battery store. Bakery, brewery, battery store. Bakery, brewery, battery store.”
She generally enjoyed her own company-it was often all she had.
Feeling very much like an intruder on someone else’s property, she all but tiptoed down the road, making mental notes as she went. The house was massive; she’d been walking for a good five minutes and had yet to reach the back. It seemed to protrude into the woods behind it, blending in with the stark foliage until it, too, became a part of the little forest. To the right, however, there was a glorious stone arch atop a set of columns that took her breath away.
The columns were chipped and cracked and the arch was missing a chunk, but it looked like something out of a movie. Two Greek-looking buildings flanked the arch and a good expanse of lawn extended behind the structures. It was full of bits and pieces of rusted machinery. At the very back she could see a stable that had probably once been grand but was now caving in.
Taryn looked past the neglect. To her, the stables were alive with horses, the yard full of the sounds of men working. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see it.
Miss Dixie hung around Taryn’s neck and she turned her on now and began snapping pictures. Before she began her paintings, she always started her jobs with photography. The pictures were for her, with Miss Dixie frequently acting as her second pair of eyes. Her camera, who she thought of as a friend, often caught things that she didn’t see on her own. And not just the past, either. Taryn used her pictures to get close-ups on the details and intricacies that made a building distinctive. She wasn’t always sure what she’d walk away with but every structure spoke to her in a different way. Her pictures told her a story and her paintings brought that tale to life.
“It’s a stable block.”
The rough, accented voice had Taryn jumping. When she turned, Paul was standing only a few feet behind her. She hadn’t heard him come up the road.
“I’m sorry,” Taryn tried smiling. “A stable block?”
“That,” he replied, jerking his thumb at the structure. “Stable block. Needs a bit of work now, I reckon.”
It was somewhat of an understatement. Not only did the stones need fixing, but a general cleanup of the stray pieces of metal on the ground wouldn’t have hurt.
Taryn nodded her encouragement, making a mental note to Google that stable thing when she got back to her room.
“So the original house was built in the 1600s, right?” she asked. She’d done her research on it, of course, but it was always better to get a feel for the place from the people who knew it best.
Paul wasn’t a very large man, perhaps only 5’6” or so. He was stocky with watery gray eyes, thick black hair, and ruddy skin. She would put him in his late forties, although he had one of those faces that didn’t line so he could’ve been much older or younger. His black pants, black hair, and black wool pea coat were stark in the colorless day. It was almost as though she were watching a scene in a black and white film.
Taryn thought he was a good-looking man, especially with the accent, but at the moment he was surveying her with scorn that altered what might have been a more handsome face. He looked as though he’d have rather been anywhere but standing there in the gray morning, talking to her.
“Original house was,” he answered at last. He spat on the ground, about an inch from her boot, then glared back up at her. “This one here was put up in the 1740s. Not as old as all that.”
Taryn tried a friendly laugh. “Back home we think a house is old if it’s mid-century.”
Paul did not appear amused.
“America,” he spat again. “No respect for history. No real history at all.”
Taryn could feel her hackle rise. Although she was prone to agree with him on the respect part, she hated to see an old house torn down, as the sole American standing around she was somewhat of an ambassador for her country. She wouldn’t have considered herself patriotic in a fanatical sense, but she had pride.
But she also didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with him. After all, they’d more or less be living together for awhile.
“I like the rainwater heads,” she tried again, pointing up at the elaborate mouldings near the roof. They were simple yet beautiful with their floral carvings, their tops opening up like an elaborate rose.
“I like the rainwater hay-uds,” Paul said, repeating her words.
It took her a beat to realize that he was mimicking her, putting an emphases on the “I” in “like” and drawing out “heads” in a way that she didn’t think she did.
“I’m from the south,” Taryn said stiffly, straightening her back. What was with this guy?
“It shows.”
Well, that was it. She would just have to ignore him for the duration of her stay. That was all. She didn’t have time to kill him.
“I was going into town to find something to eat,” Taryn said. “I’m getting hungry and thought I would stock up on some snacks. Can you point me in the direction of the grocery store?”
“There’s a Spar in town,” he shrugged, “or a Co-op. The square has a deli and bakery.”
When he didn’t offer to direct her to any of those places, she inwardly sighed. It was clear that he wasn’t going to be more helpful.
“Okay, well, thanks,” Taryn replied.
She turned on her heel and began walking back down the quiet road. It was inconvenient, but she could find her way around a place with food. It wasn’t like Lampeter was a big city. From the map in her backpack, it only had a handful of streets. If she had to walk around all day, she’d find things.
Halfway down the driveway she considered renting a car for her stay. “Just get an automatic and think left,” Matt had told her. “It’s not that hard.”
But when she got out to the main road and saw the cars zooming down a road that looked no larger than the driveway, and then take the roundabout at breakneck speed, she quickly changed her mind.
“Then again, walking’s good for the heart,” she sang.
She could use the exercise.
Chapter Seven
LAMPETER DIDN’T HAVE A TOWN SQUARE, it was more of a town circle. When standing in it, however, Taryn could see most of the small village. To her right, she looked up a small hill and saw a row of dress shops, bakeries, secondhand stores (oh boy!), and pubs. To her right, she could additional storefronts and restaurants down the slight incline. She hadn’t seen it yet, but she knew that the small branch of the University of Wales was behind her.
The sun was starting to burn off the mist, giving the hills that surrounded the village an iridescent glow.
&
nbsp; Her plan had been to find the grocery store and pack back what she could in her backpack. However, it had taken almost twenty minutes to walk to town, and what looked like a small incline from where she stood now had felt like a mountain when she was climbing it. Now she was famished.
“Food,” Taryn mumbled as her eyes scanned the storefronts, searching for a place to eat. “Must have food…”
Taryn had never been to a “real” pub before. Although she was tickled at the idea, she wasn’t sure how they worked. Did they serve food all day? Was it real food, like burgers, or just snacky kind of stuff? Being a female in a part of the country that tourist books touted as being “traditional”, would it be acceptable for her to go in one alone?
Taryn knew these were all silly questions but that didn’t make her feel any more confident. She began walking up the hill, keeping her eyes peeled. When she came across something marked Royal Oak Restaurant, she felt her heart race. “Restaurant.” She could deal with that.
A handful of tables were crammed into a warm and inviting room. Only one of them was occupied and Taryn nodded her head and smiled at the elderly man and woman who nibbled on something brown. Not knowing whether she was meant to seat herself or wait for a hostess, Taryn lingered awkwardly by the door, her hand still resting on the knob. At last, a blonde-haired, rosy-cheeked woman came out from behind a partition at the front of the room and welcomed her.
“Just sit where you’d like,” she sang, gesturing to the room. “I’ll be along in a bit!” She disappeared again behind the partition before Taryn could reply.
She chose a table by the picture window so that she could watch the street and get a feel for where she was. By the time Taryn had unwound her camera and scarf and shrugged out from her backpack and coat, the server had returned.
“Anything else besides the roast?” she asked with a pleasant smile.
Bloody Moor: A Ghost Story (Taryn's Camera Book 8) Page 3
