Haunted Summer

by Joanna Mansell

  Hay ward—if a friend was what he needed. That was all, though. And she was definitely going to lock her door at night! She might feel sorry for him; there might be times when she almost liked him; but there was something in those slate-grey eyes of his that warned her not to trust him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MRS ROGERS looked rather shocked when Rose told her that she was moving into Lyncombe Manor.

  'But Mr Hayward lives there all on his own, doesn't he?' she said.

  'Yes, he does,' agreed Rose. 'But the rooms I'll be using are completely self-contained. And you did tell me that he was a nice man,' she added with a small grin. '

  Mrs Rogers' eyebrows drew together disapprovingly. 'Even the nicest of men can sometimes behave very badly. You can't really trust any of them. Men have urges that they can't always control,' she finished in a warning tone.

  Rose had to fight hard to suppress her laughter. 'I'll be very careful,' she promised gravely.

  Mrs Rogers sighed. 'Well, I suppose I can't stop you going. If you're only moving out because you're a little short of money, though, I want you to know that there's no need. You're welcome to stay on here, and pay me when you can.'

  Rose was genuinely touched by her kind offer. 'Thanks, but I really think I'll be all right at Lyncombe Manor. If things don't work out, though, at least I'll know there's somewhere I can go.'

  It didn't take her long to pack—she was travelling light—and half an hour later she was throwing her couple of bags into the back of the car. She supposed the car was a luxury that she couldn't really afford, but she had hired it until the end of the month, and she very much doubted if she would get any refund if she returned it early. Anyway, she felt that she needed a car right now. Lyncombe Manor was right off the beaten track. No buses ran past the door, and the car would be her only means of escape if she ever had to leave in a hurry.

  Not that the situation would arise, she assured herself firmly. She would work in the gardens during the day, and stay in her own rooms at night. She probably wouldn't see very much of Nathan Hayward at all.

  She drove straight to Lyncombe Manor and, as she began to unload her bags from the car, she had the strange feeling that she was coming home. This house felt very familiar to her, as if she had already lived here for a long time instead of just spending a couple of nights here—and one of those had been spent locked in the cellar!

  There was no sign of Nathan, but the front door was unlocked, so she picked up her bags and trudged inside.

  The house felt deliciously cool after the blazing heat of the sun outside. She dumped her bags in the hall, and then stood there indecisively for a few moments. She didn't know where her rooms were, so she wasn't sure where to go from here.

  'You'd better find Nathan,' she instructed herself. Where was he likely to be, though? It would take ages to search the entire house and grounds. She wandered into the great hall, her soft-soled shoes making no sound on the stone-flagged floor. Then she stood quite still. There was no need to look for Nathan. He was here, slumped in the chair by the huge hearth, and very soundly asleep.

  A lot of people looked more vulnerable when they were asleep, but Nathan Hayward merely looked relaxed. That in itself was something of a novelty, though. When he was awake, his lean body always seemed full of restless tension.

  Rose moved a couple of steps nearer and studied him more closely. The line of his mouth wasn't so taut, and the creases between his dark brows had disappeared. It made him look surprisingly different— even younger. How old was he? she wondered. It was very difficult to tell. Late twenties, early thirties, she supposed. She could probably find out, if she really wanted to. There had to be lots of newspaper clippings and features on him. It wouldn't be too hard to dig them out. They would give her some more background information on him, as well. So far, she knew extremely little. Mrs Rogers had told her a few basic facts, and Nathan himself had revealed next to nothing.

  Did she want to know more? With a small start of surprise, Rose realised that she did. Not a good idea, she warned herself. Don't get too interested in this man. Although she couldn't have explained why, she instinctively knew that it would be dangerous.

  At that moment, Nathan stirred, and then opened his eyes. For a brief instant, they looked blank and unfocused. Then, as they fixed on her face, a fleeting look of disappointment swept over them. 'Oh, it's you,' he muttered. Rose had the distinct impression that he had wanted to see someone very different. That he hadn't expected to see this other person, but still hadn't quite given up hope that they would walk back into his life.

  'Yes, it's me,' she agreed a little flatly.

  'I suppose you want to see your rooms?' He levered himself stiffly to his feet. 'I'll take you up there.'

  'How are the bruises?' she asked, as she followed him out of the great hall.

  'Painful,' he replied briefly.

  He didn't say anything else, and Rose got the message. He wasn't in a talkative mood. He led her up a narrow, winding flight of stairs at the far end of the house, and then opened the door at the top.

  'This is the top floor of the east wing. It's got a bedroom, a bathroom, and another room at the end of the passage that you can use as a sitting-room, if you want to. No kitchen—you'll have to use the kitchen in the main wing of the house. That's the only room that we'll actually have to share, though.'

  Then he seemed to relax, and amusement briefly glimmered in his slate-grey eyes. 'The door to this wing has got quite a hefty lock on it. Just turn the key when you go to bed, and you should feel quite safe.'

  'I already feel perfectly safe, thank you,' Rose replied, although not in the least truthfully. 'I'll unpack now, and start work after lunch.'

  The amusement in his eyes grew more pronounced. 'You can wait until tomorrow, if you like. I'm not a particularly hard taskmaster.'

  'I'd prefer to begin today,' she told him. 'I want to start earning my keep as soon as possible.'

  Nathan shrugged. 'Do whatever you like. And feel free to use the kitchen facilities whenever you want to.'

  'Perhaps you could tell me when you usually use them. Then we could draw up some kind of rota system, so that we're not always bumping into each other.'

  His gaze rested on her speculatively. 'Are you trying to tell me that you want to avoid me as much as possible?'

  'Of course not,' she said at once. 'But I thought that it was you who didn't want me around. I'm just trying not to get under your feet.'

  'I'll tell you when I get tired of having you around,' he replied a little obliquely. 'And it's no use trying to draw up a rota. I eat—and sleep—at odd hours. I've never followed a set routine.'

  'I suppose that's because you're a creative sort of person,' she said with a touch of humour. 'Do you get up in the middle of the night and write songs?'

  Nathan's face changed. 'I don't write songs any more,' he said abruptly. And, before Rose had a chance to make any sort of reply, he swung round and strode out of the east wing.

  Rose stared after him for a few moments. Then she gave a small grimace.

  'Obviously the wrong thing to say,' she told herself wryly. 'Definitely a topic to be avoided in the future!'

  She inspected the rooms that were to be her home for the foreseeable future, and found them to be more than adequate. The bedroom had another four-poster bed—they didn't seem to have any ordinary beds in Lyncombe Manor!—but this one was Victorian, with a lot of draperies and a hand-sewn patchwork quilt. A bow-fronted chest of drawers, a cavernous wardrobe and a couple of chairs completed the furnishing of the room.

  The fittings in the bathroom looked fairly ancient, and the bath itself was free-standing with huge claw feet. When Rose turned on the taps, though, hot water instantly gushed out. She was relieved at that. She had the feeling that after a hard day's work in the overgrown gardens of Lyncombe Manor she was going to need a long soak in a hot bath to ease her tired muscles!

  The last room was the sitting-room, which had a
couple of elderly armchairs which were beginning to lose their stuffing, a fairly large table, bookcases which held rows of very serious-looking tomes, tall lamps with tasselled shades, and a small portable television which sat on top of an old bureau. The best thing about the room was the view from the window. It looked out over the main gardens at the back of the house. Rose stood there for quite some while, imagining how the gardens would look after she had licked them into shape.

  Eventually, she dragged herself away from the window and went to unpack. By the time she had finished, it was well past lunchtime, and she was starving.

  She thought that Nathan would probably have eaten by now, so she went down to the kitchen with some confidence, certain that she would have it to herself. When she opened the door, though, she found him sitting at the table, and she gave a silent groan. He looked up as she came in, but didn't say anything.

  'You seem to spend most of your time in this room,' she commented.

  'It is my house,' he pointed out reasonably. 'I believe that entitles me to spend as much time as I like in whichever room I choose.'

  She supposed he had a point there. 'I'll come back later and get something to eat, if that's more convenient,' she said, backing towards the door. The beginnings of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. 'Are you running away from me again?'

  'Of course not,' she said, a little crossly. 'It's just that I still haven't figured out what the rules are around here. I mean, am I meant to stay out of your way as much as possible? Or do you not mind my being around?'

  'I've already told you, there aren't any rules in this house. Come and go as you please. Stay out of my way, if that's what you want, or hang around all the time. I don't care very much, either way.'

  Rose decided that it wasn't much of a compliment, being told that he didn't care if she was there or not! On the other hand, she didn't really expect compliments from this man. And, on the whole, she thought she would probably feel happier—and a lot more relaxed—if she didn't spend too much time with him.

  She still wanted something to eat, though. And she didn't think she could wait until Nathan decided to leave the kitchen and amble off to another part of the house. That could take all day! 'I'll make myself a couple of sandwiches,' she told him. 'If that's all right with you.'

  He gave an impatient shrug of his shoulders. 'Stop asking me if things are all right! Just get on and do whatever you want to do. Have a sandwich, if you want one, or cook a whole damned dinner. The cupboards are full of food. Simply take what you want.'

  Rose rummaged round, and quickly found what she needed. She shoved lettuce, tomatoes and ham between some slices of bread; then she grabbed a glass of fresh juice, and headed for the door.

  'I think I'll eat this outside, in the sunshine,' she muttered. Then she hastily escaped from the kitchen.

  Once she was out in the courtyard, she felt less edgy. As she sat in the sunshine, eating her lunch, she told herself that it was hardly surprising he was feeling rather moody at the moment. He was still stiff and bruised from his fall, which was bound to make his temper rather uncertain. On the other hand, Rose thought that he probably wasn't very even-tempered, even at the best of times!

  When she had finished her lunch, she spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the garden, making an increasingly long list of everything that needed to be done. She had found some paper and a pencil in the house, and she began to make a rough sketch of the grounds, noting down the positions of the flower-beds that she could see hidden under the grass and weeds, and discovering new features as she pushed her way through the overgrown wilderness. A fountain that didn't work, possibly because it was clogged up with water-weed; statues poking weathered heads out from behind shrubs that needed pruning; stone troughs full of small alpines that were nearly smothered by weeds.

  By the end of her reconnaissance, she gave a long, deep sigh. There could be weeks of work here. Had she taken on more than she could handle? No, she told herself with new firmness. She would start first thing in the morning, and she would work steadily on until she had licked this garden into shape. And although it would be hard work, she would enjoy it, because this house and its grounds somehow felt very special to her. She ate dinner alone that evening—for once, there was no sign of Nathan anywhere near the kitchen— and then went up to her own rooms. For a while, she watched television. Then she sat at the window and watched dusk closing in over the gardens. She stayed there until it was too dark to see anything except the white roses gleaming with almost eerie paleness in the moonlight; then she went to bed in the big Victorian four-poster. She lay there for a while, listening to the sound of an owl hooting mournfully in the distance. Finally, she closed her eyes and slept soundly until the morning. For the next few days, Rose worked harder than she had ever done in her life before. She discovered an old shed out at the back that housed an amazing variety of garden equipment, and she began by hauling out the largest of the three lawnmowers stored there. It was a huge old rotary mower, which took a lot of arm-wrenching yanks on the starter before it finally roared into life. It cut through the long swathes of grass like butter, though, and by the end of the day the main area of lawn had been cut and raked clear. Rose felt as if she had sweated off several pounds in the hot sunshine, and every muscle in her body ached, but she also felt a sense of triumph. A long soak in the claw-footed bath eased some of the soreness, and she fell asleep as soon as she tumbled into bed.

  At the end of the first week, as she stood at her window breathing in the cool, sweet air of evening, she could see the considerable progress she had made. The outlines of the flower-beds were visible, all the grass was down to a reasonable length, and the largest of the weeds had been pulled up, giving the flowers some light and air. The following morning, she was going to tackle the fountain and the ornamental pond that surrounded it. It was choked with water-weed, which had to be cleared out if the water-lilies and other plants were to have a chance of survival.

  After a while, she dragged herself away from the view and clambered into the bath. She soaked there for over half an hour until her overworked muscles felt more eased. Then she dried herself, and pulled on a thin cotton nightie. Instead of going directly to bed, she returned to the sitting-room for one more look at the garden in the moonlight.

  It never failed to fascinate her, the way it changed under different lights. During the day, it was a warm and friendly place. At night, it became much more mysterious. She could almost imagine that she could see the ghosts of the people who had lived at Lyncombe Manor over the centuries, taking a stroll around the grounds under the safe cover of darkness. When she did see something white move below, she almost jumped out of her skin. For a few moments, her pulse thumped wildly. Then she gave a shaky laugh of relief as she realised it was only Nathan, wearing a white sweatshirt.

  She had seen very little of him during the past week. Sometimes, she had felt as if she were living at Lyncombe Manor on her own! It had never made her feel nervous, though, the sensation of being alone in this big old house. She felt so very comfortable and at home here. In fact, it was slightly alarming, the way she was beginning to love this place. What would happen when it was finally time for her to leave?

  Rose decided that she didn't want to think about that. But she did want to see Nathan. There were a couple of things she needed to ask him. In fact, she had looked for him several times during the day, but hadn't been able to find him. Perhaps this would be a good time, before he disappeared again!

  She slipped out of her nightdress, and pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. Then she hurried down the stairs that led out of the east wing, and made her way towards one of the doors that opened on to the courtyard.

  As she headed through the gardens, towards the spot where she had seen Nathan, she began to wonder what he did with himself during the day—how he passed his time. He certainly didn't spend it watching her, to make sure she was doing her job properly. He had only put in an appearance a couple of times whi
le she was working, to enquire briefly if she had everything she needed. In fact, the whole arrangement had worked out far better than she had ever expected. No hassles, no conflict, just two people living harmoniously in a house that was big enough to accommodate both of them more than comfortably.

  She could see Nathan now. He was standing on the far side of the garden, by the large pond. The ducks which paddled round so energetically during the day had settled down for the night, and the water was very still and very bright, reflecting the pale light of the big moon overhead. He didn't seem to hear her approaching, even though she wasn't making any particular effort to walk quietly. And when she touched him on the shoulder, he jumped visibly. As he swung round, there was enough moonlight for her to see that his eyes were glittering brightly.

  'What the hell are you doing here?' he demanded, obviously not in the least pleased to see her.

  'I wanted to talk to you.'

  'Now? At this time of night?'

  'It's barely eleven o'clock,' Rose pointed out reasonably. 'And you don't strike me as the sort of person who goes to bed very early.'

  'There's not much point in going to bed when you don't sleep,' he muttered, the anger already fading from his voice.

  'Well, I can't do much about your insomnia,' Rose said practically. 'But since you're still up, it gives me the chance to ask you a couple of things.'

  Nathan didn't look as if he was at all interested in answering any of her questions, but Rose had learned to ignore his withdrawn moods by now. Instead, she just plunged on, certain that she would eventually get some kind of response out of him if she was persistent enough.

  'I've finished most of the rough work in the garden,' she continued. 'I've got the grass down to a reasonable length and cleared most of the larger weeds. What I really want to know now is what kind of garden you actually want.'