by Anna Jacobs
She stayed awake to eat most of the food Cameron had brought up, then felt tired again. She thought she’d thanked him for his help, hoped she had.
Just a short nap . . .
Stephanie came back from Chawton with several bags of groceries and another book for Amy, who had just got up after a rest.
‘This fell into my shopping bag,’ she said with a smile.
Amy flung her arms round her grandmother. ‘Thank you. I do like having you here.’
Stephanie turned to Cameron. ‘How’s Ella?’
‘She ate brunch, then fell asleep again. She’s looking a little pinker, at least. Anything else to fetch in from the car?’
‘Yes, there are a couple more bags. Thanks.’
The day passed quietly, the only interruption being a phone call about the heritage listing. The local officer was excited after Julian’s assurance that the place was genuinely medieval in parts and had started processing the listing.
‘Thank goodness for that,’ Cameron told Stephanie. ‘But I think we should keep it to ourselves. Would you mind not telling your son?’
She grimaced. ‘When do I ever see Miles unless he wants something?’
Mid-afternoon a car drew up and a man got out. Cameron frowned. The newcomer looked vaguely familiar. He turned to Stephanie, ‘I think I know that guy and I’d rather avoid meeting him till later. All right if I hide in the family sitting room?’
‘Fine by me.’
Amy looked up at him sharply so he put one finger to his lips, winked and slipped out of the room, staying behind the door to listen.
‘I have a booking,’ the man said. ‘Name’s Smith.’
‘Yes. Let me show you to your chalet. And you wanted an evening meal. We usually serve meals about seven o’clock. Is that all right?’
‘Fine by me. Lovely place.’ He stared round. ‘It looks older than I’d expected. I mean, really old.’
‘It is.’
‘I’d love a tour.’
‘Sorry. The owner is ill. I’m only filling in for the moment.’
‘All right if I wander round the outsides of the buildings?’
‘If you wish. Please don’t go inside them, though.’
When she came back, she went to find Cameron. ‘I don’t like him. The way he looks round is . . . predatory. I wonder if Smith is his real name?’
‘I doubt it. But I don’t know what he’s called, only that I’ve seen him somewhere.’ He didn’t explain about the DevRaCom link. Not yet. He wanted to tell Ella first. But he was determined to keep an eye on that fellow, so went upstairs and found a bedroom whose window looked in the direction of the chalets, standing hidden by the curtain to watch.
Within ten minutes Smith had left his chalet, carrying what looked like a camera. He walked up to the outbuildings, appearing and disappearing between them, then vanishing from sight – but not before Cameron had seen him taking photos.
Ella’s bell rang and he went along to her room to find her dressed.
‘I’m not staying in bed all the time,’ she said, in the tone of one prepared to argue till she won her point.
‘Come down to the sitting room, then. But we’ll quarrel if you try to do anything more than sit quietly there.’
She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood up, clutching the top of a chest of drawers with a look of surprise on her face. ‘I don’t think I could do much. I feel as if my bones have turned to rubber.’
‘You’ve got to give your body time to rest. Everyone needs that.’
She shook her head as if annoyed at herself, but didn’t move. ‘Did I hear a car arrive a short time ago?’
He hesitated, then nodded. ‘Yes, the man who booked in earlier. Only I didn’t like the looks of him, so I watched out of the bedroom window. He’s not wasted any time going exploring and has started taking photos. I’ll help you down the stairs, then I want to go out and keep an eye on him.’
She was instantly more alert. ‘I should be doing that. And I don’t need help to walk down a few stairs.’
But he still chose to keep his arm round her waist. ‘Don’t worry, Ella. I’ll check up on him as carefully as you would. And if you’re feeling well enough later, maybe we can have that talk we keep postponing? I’ve got something important to tell you.’
She nodded and let her head fall back against the sofa.
Amy came to join them, looking at her mother in a worried way. Cameron spared the time to say gently, ‘Your mother will be fine. She just needs to rest for a few days.’
‘I can tell her that myself,’ Ella said. But the words were without her usual fire.
The girl nodded and sat on a stool near the sofa, her hand creeping up to hold her mother’s in a way that showed this had been done many times before.
His heart was touched by the sight of them, both of them under the weather, both bravely facing a world where the odds were against them.
‘I’ll report back when I can,’ he said gently and left them alone.
Cameron strolled round the back of the outbuildings to find their new guest trying to get a shutter undone. ‘Problem?’ he asked.
Smith swung round, looking first surprised then relaxing when he saw who it was. ‘O’Neal. Don’t know why you’re still here.’
‘You have the advantage of me. I know your face, but not your name.’
‘Smith.’ He grinned. ‘It really is.’
‘The owner doesn’t want people going into this barn.’
‘I’m not intending to hurt anything, just take a few photos. Why don’t you help me? If the place is genuinely old, it’s better for Mr Deare to know it.’
‘It is genuinely old. But I’m not the owner. It’s up to Ms Turner whether people are allowed into her property or not.’
The man’s expression turned ugly. ‘Mr Deare isn’t going to like it if you stop me doing my job.’
‘As I no longer work for him, that’s irrelevant.’
‘You won’t think so if you cross him. He can make life very difficult for people and he has a long reach. Anyway, from what I heard, he’s been very helpful to you in the past. I’d say you owed him a little in return now.’
‘Why is he so fixated on buying this place? I can’t quite work that out.’
‘It’s ideal for his purpose, not too expensive, and minimum landscaping needed to provide a decent lake.’ He jerked his head towards the farm. ‘Of course the house would be below the new water line, but that adds to the romance of the place, don’t you think?’
Cameron stood very still as this sank in, then he turned to look at the small lake and the configuration of the landscape. Yes, it’d be relatively easy to move the earth and extend the lake. ‘Trouble is, she’s not going to sell.’
‘Oh, she will. There’s always a way. And I hear she owes money, more than she can pay back. She may not get a choice.’
Cameron bit back angry words. ‘Whether she does or not, you still have no right to break into her property.’
‘You’re a fool.’
Smith strode off.
Cameron turned to stare at the small lake and try to imagine it covering this whole area. It’d look great as a lake. But it’d destroy Willowbrook.
He wasn’t going to allow them to do that to Ella.
Fifteen
They had six guests for dinner that night, because another lone traveller turned up, a taciturn man called Brown who gave them no information beyond his name and who replied to attempts to chat with monosyllables.
By that time Ella had abandoned the battle to stay up and retired to bed, but her two helpers agreed that she looked a bit pinker and not as exhausted.
When they’d cleared up, Stephanie said thoughtfully, ‘I don’t like those two men. Birds of a feather, I should say. And I’m sure they know one another.’
Cameron frowned. ‘You think so? They made no attempt to sit together, didn’t exchange a word that I saw.’
‘No, but they exchanged glances a couple of times.
If Porgy weren’t so old, I’d leave him outside to keep watch.’
‘I was thinking of camping out in the barn.’
‘That’s a bit risky, isn’t it?’
‘I doubt they’d attack me. I was thinking more of acting as a deterrent, making a noise.’ But not till after he’d seen what they wanted.
‘I’ll get you a bed.’
‘I think not. We don’t want anyone noticing that I’m sleeping there. Just get me a sleeping bag or quilt, preferably an old, dark one.’
She winced. ‘You’ll be uncomfortable.’
He grinned. ‘The object is not to sleep, is it?’
‘You’ll be tired tomorrow.’
‘I can cope with that.’
Oliver wandered into town, waiting for Rose to finish work. A big silver car purred to a halt beside him and the window was wound down.
‘Dr Paige.’
‘Mr Harding.’
‘A word in private, if you please.’
Harding reached across, opening the other front door of the vehicle with some difficulty. He was carrying a lot of extra weight since Oliver had seen him, and his colour wasn’t healthy.
‘We’ll just drive round to the park, if you don’t mind.’
Oliver looked at his watch. ‘I have to be back in quarter of an hour.’
‘To see that hippy female,’ Harding said sourly. ‘I don’t know why you bother with her.’
‘She’s called Rose and she’s not a hippy, she’s an artist. And a damned good one, too.’
Harding squinted sideways at him. ‘You’re making a big claim there.’
‘I’ve seen her work. I’ve also visited art galleries all over the world. I’m sure of what I said. If you’d seen her special project, you’d be blown away.’
‘Might pay to buy one or two of her paintings, then, for an investment?’
‘Definitely. Now, what did you want to see me about?’
‘My boy. He isn’t getting any better. Been sneaking out at night. Thinks I don’t know. I don’t want to upset his mother any more than she is now, but I have to do something.’
‘Could be he’s an alcoholic, out of control. If he was my patient I could advise him.’
‘Advise me instead.’
‘These are only general suggestions about alcoholics. I can’t be more definite about your son without seeing him. You could take him to another doctor if he won’t see me.’ Oliver rapidly outlined several avenues of action that might help anyone slipping into alcoholism.
‘Brett won’t agree to let himself be locked away in rehab.’
‘I’m sure you can persuade him, Mr Harding, if you feel it’s in his best interest. He should definitely consult a doctor before you do anything, however.’
‘If I have to, I’ll persuade him, and I’ll take him to see a specialist myself. Get some names to me, will you? Just one other thing. About the mix-up at the surgery with that parcel. It was a joke. My Brett’s no terrorist. You don’t need to press charges, surely?’
‘Not if you’re certain he’ll not go near Rose again.’ Oliver had a thought. ‘Once he goes in for rehab, we’ll see about getting the charges withdrawn.’
Harding nodded. ‘Fair enough. It’ll give me a bit more push. I’ll make certain he doesn’t go near her while we’re fixing up some rehab. I’ll drive you back now.’ When they drew up outside the pub, he said grudgingly, ‘You seem to have a steady head on your shoulders.’
And that left Oliver wondering exactly what Mr Harding was going to do to persuade his son to let himself be locked away.
He’d stay on his guard till that happened. He wanted Rose to be safe and he didn’t want to be looking over his shoulder as he courted her. This time he was going to persuade her to marry him, would not take no for an answer. Would do whatever it took.
Bright moonlight guided Cameron across the yard with the ragged sleeping bag Stephanie had found. As he pushed the door shut, darkness surrounded him like a heavy cloak, so he stood still and let his eyes grow accustomed to the dimness.
It wasn’t totally dark. There were a couple of skylights. But the interior seemed eerie in this light and he didn’t move for a while, feeling safer with his back pressed against the heavy wooden door. Which reminded him. He used the spare door key Ella had given him to lock up again. If those men found it locked and opened it, then they were definitely trespassing, if not breaking and entering.
He still felt jittery, which surprised him. He wasn’t usually afraid of much, certainly not of shadows.
Even as he watched, light seemed to gather in one corner, shimmering slightly. His heart began to pound and his hair prickled with apprehension. He made no attempt to go and investigate the patch of light. Well, how did you investigate what might be Ella’s ghost? It didn’t look like a lady, well, only vaguely, just a patch of light that couldn’t be explained by anything else.
He cleared his throat, shivering as the sound echoed round the barn, and gave in to a sudden urge to explain his presence. ‘I’m here to protect the farm.’
The light went brighter for a moment, then faded and dimmed.
When nothing happened for a few minutes, he let out his breath, realizing he’d been breathing very shallowly. Not like him to be spooked by something. But then, he’d never encountered a ghost before. He’d never believed in such things, but how did you explain Amy’s firm belief in ‘the lady’ and Ella’s smiling certainty that there were ghosts here? Not to mention this patch of light that came from nowhere.
He forced himself to walk round the big space, ending up at the place where the secret panel was. He studied it, head on one side. Could he remember how to open it? Not that he was going to need it, but still, he’d found it fascinating.
What had Ella done? He raised his hand and pressed the spot she’d touched, feeling something, a bounciness at the edge of the wood. But nothing happened. Oh yes, she’d pressed in two places, somewhere lower down as well. He ran his hand across the rough dark wood and pressed lower down. Nothing happened. Had he got the right spot? It was hard to tell. He tried again, with the same lack of result.
A shimmer of light played briefly where two walls met at right angles, lower than his hand and slightly to the right. He froze. Was he being guided? No, it was just a stray moonbeam – wasn’t it?
But as he pressed where the light had glowed, the panel swung open with only the faintest grating sound. He let out another long, low breath of air. This was . . . hard to accept. And though he was no coward, his heart was pounding.
The hidey hole was much darker than the main barn, so he stayed in the doorway, looking in, then took a step back and pushed the door closed. It moved quietly, as if well oiled. He didn’t know why he’d wanted to open it.
He continued to prowl round the barn, but found nothing else of interest because most of it was empty.
He went to sit on the sleeping bag in one of the low-walled storage areas, leaning against the wall, arms clasped around his knees. It was going to be a long night.
The two men met just after midnight, by which time lights in every building at Willowbrook had long been extinguished.
‘Y’know, I think this place really is old,’ Smith muttered.
‘He won’t like that.’
‘He’ll want to know the truth, though what he’ll do with it is anyone’s guess. He’s a fast worker when he’s got his sights on a new development.’
‘Well, let’s get started.’
They walked along the grass by the edge of the path, stopping with muffled curses when they found only the soft earth of a flowerbed to walk in.
‘We’ll need to get rid of our footprints from that afterwards,’ Smith whispered.
‘Ah, they won’t know we’ve been here. It’ll be a jobbing gardener in a place like this and he won’t look at them footprints twice.’
‘I’m not taking any risks.’
Brown grinned, teeth showing white in the moonlight. ‘There are no risks. Trust me, I c
an get us into the house and barn without anyone being the wiser.’
‘Careful here. There’s more of that damned gravel. Better go round it where we can. It makes a crunching noise.’
They made their way slowly across to the barn doors.
‘Spooky old place, isn’t it?’ Smith said.
‘Yes. Now, the old man wants a quick survey and plenty of photos.’ Brown bent to fiddle with the lock, snickering at how easy it was to pick these old locks.
The door made a noise as they started to open it and Brown pulled out a small oil bottle, dripping some on the hinges. But the door still squeaked. ‘Funny sort of noise, that. Should be all right now.’ But the door squeaked even more loudly and they both glanced nervously at the house.
Brown opened it the minimum amount to slip inside. ‘Leave it like that! No one will be awake at this hour, let alone looking out at it.’
‘They might if they’ve heard that noise,’ Smith objected.
‘Trust me. I’ve done dozens of these jobs and not been caught. It’s more likely to wake them up if we make more noise by closing it. Leave it. We won’t be long.’
Muttering Smith followed his much larger companion inside, nervousness showing in every twitch of his body.
The big man pulled out a torch and flashed it quickly round the inside of the barn, letting the light linger on the old beams. ‘They don’t build things that solidly these days. Shame this place has to go.’
The door hinges squeaked again.
‘It didn’t move,’ Smith said. ‘I was watching and the door didn’t move. Why should the damned hinges squeak?’
‘Wood settling. Old places always creak. You’re making more noise than it is with your complaints.’
Crouched behind one of the partitions, Cameron listened to their muttered conversation, praying they’d not find him. He didn’t think they’d linger long.
Smith brought out an infra-red camera and began to take pictures while the other played his torch here and there.
Cameron moved back further, crouching and ready to run as the men came to stand nearby and the torch flashed in his direction. They were taking a very comprehensive series of photos. The wood he was pressing against creaked slightly.
