‘Yes. I remember.’
It had been three years earlier, during a particularly unpleasant winter. Julia and Alain had returned to Blackwater for the burial. I’d stayed in Paris with Viviane.
Julia sighed. ‘I never thought, not for a single moment, that I would end up living back in Blackwater.’
‘This is only temporary.’
‘I hope so.’ Julia watched as I cut off the end of the wire. She worked at a scratch in the fibre of the wood of the kitchen table-top with her thumbnail. ‘Have you fixed it?’
‘I think so.’ I stood and slotted the fuse back in the box.
‘Ready?’ I asked. Julia nodded. I lifted the main switch and the kitchen light flickered and then began to glow more brightly.
‘Well done,’ Julia said, but she did not smile. She reached across the table, took hold of my hand, raised it to her lips and kissed it. Then she said: ‘I have such a headache, dear, I think I’ll go upstairs and lie down for a while. Would you be an angel and bring me up a cup of tea and an aspirin?’
‘Of course,’ I said.
I helped her to her feet, and Julia leaned on me as we made our way up the stairs. When we reached the landing, I glanced towards the empty bedroom. The door was open a few inches. There seemed to be an unfathomable loneliness behind it.
CHAPTER TEN
THE NEXT DAY, the temperature dropped suddenly. A cold wind whipped around the cottage, leaves blew along the path and gathered in the corners. The loose gutter above the empty bedroom banged repeatedly, like somebody trying to get in. Down in the valley the surface of the lake was unhappy, roughed up. A mist of spray was forming over the dam where the water was throwing itself against the wall with a violence I had not seen before. It was deeply unsettling.
I went to the shops, and by the time I returned, my hands were red and raw. I filled the scuttle and spent an age kneeling at the front living-room grate, lighting rolled-up sheets of newspaper, burning my fingers on match after match as I tried to make the fire take. Julia sat behind me on the couch. She was playing with her glasses, turning them over between her fingers.
‘While you were out,’ she said, ‘I spoke to Mrs Croucher.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘She says there’s a lovely new school in the next village along. It’s called Hailswood, and by coincidence I used to go to school with the headmaster, Eric Leeson, when he was a boy. Mrs Croucher says she’s certain he’d take Vivi and withhold the fees for a few months, until I can afford to pay. She’s going to ask the doctor to make the arrangements.’
‘That sounds ideal.’
‘It does, doesn’t it? They’re apparently very keen on encouraging the arts, music and sports at Hailswood; they even have their own choir. And it’s a small school, so it won’t be too overwhelming for Vivi.’
I poked at the damp coal. ‘It’ll be good for her to make some real friends,’ I said.
Julia reached across the armchair and put her hand on my shoulder. ‘As opposed to pretend ones, you mean?’
‘Well, yes.’ I glanced at Julia. ‘She’s told you about her new imaginary friend?’
Julia nodded. ‘Caroline.’
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit odd? The name, I mean?’
‘It can’t be coincidence. It must have been the name on the plaque on the bedroom door that inspired Vivi.’
‘That’s what I thought too.’ I was trying to gauge if Julia minded this appropriation of her sister’s name. Julia was looking down at her glasses, rubbing at a scratch on one of the lenses with the pad of her thumb.
‘Vivi does seem to be spending a great deal of time with Caroline at present,’ she said. ‘We thought she’d grown out of the whole imaginary friend phase. We hadn’t heard anything of Emily for months. Alain used to tease her about it and she was embarrassed. She used to say: “I’m too big for such nonsense now.”’
I took hold of Julia’s hands. ‘I have to tell you, Julia, I’ve asked Vivi about it and she told me that imaginary Caroline and your sister Caroline are one and the same. The two have become confused in her mind.’
‘Oh!’ said Julia.
Behind my back, the flames flickered in the grate. I could hear the moisture hissing in the coal, the smoke being sucked up the chimney. And outside, the wind rattled the drainpipes and howled mournfully in the eaves. The loose gutter banged on the wall. I could feel Julia’s tension, the tremble of anxiety in her cold hands.
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ she said. ‘No, I don’t like the sound of that at all. It’s one thing having an active imagination, but talking to somebody who you know is dead is something else altogether.’
I tried to keep my voice relaxed when I spoke. ‘It’s important that we don’t make this into more than it is. We must be gentle with Vivi. She’s hurting. She needs time to recover from the shock of losing her father – and talking to Caroline, no matter who she thinks Caroline is, is obviously her way of dealing with her grief. If it’s helping her, then I can’t see how it can be such a terrible thing.’
‘But Amy, this can’t be normal – it can’t be healthy! Don’t you think it’s an awfully morbid thing for Vivi to be doing? At her age, she should be playing with her skipping rope and reading storybooks, not communing with the dead. She shouldn’t even be thinking about such things. This is awful!’
‘Julia, please … if you overreact or come down too heavily on Vivi, you’ll only frighten her or make her feel that she’s done something wrong. She might start hiding it from us, or telling lies. As long as we keep an eye on it, and make sure it doesn’t evolve into anything more … well, sinister … then it will be fine. I’m sure this phase will pass soon enough, just as all the other phases have passed.’
‘Oh, I hope you’re right.’ Julia let go of my hand and reached for her tumbler. Ice clinked against the glass. She took a drink, swallowed, swirled the gin around the ice cubes then suddenly burst out: ‘No. No, it’s not all right. The thing is, Amy, it’s more complicated than you realize. My sister, Caroline, well … she was a troubled girl who led a short, difficult life. She was the kind of person who made other people unhappy.’ Julia drained her glass. ‘I know this is an unkind thing to say about my own sister, but if Caroline were still alive, I wouldn’t want my daughter going anywhere near her.’
I was shocked by this, although I did not show it. Instead I said, with all the conviction I could muster: ‘But Vivi’s not really talking to Caroline. She’s merely fitting your sister’s existence on to her imaginary friend, as if she were fitting clothes on to a paper doll. Don’t you see, it’s better that she does this than suppress her grief and hide it away. That merely saves up the pain for the future.’
‘How can you be sure that this is what Vivi’s doing?’
‘I can’t be absolutely sure but I read a great deal about child psychology during my training and this sounds exactly like the kind of thing that might happen in these circumstances.’
Julia was unconvinced. ‘Well, perhaps you’re right,’ she said. ‘I still don’t like it one bit.’
I squeezed her hand. ‘If all goes to plan, Vivi will be starting at her new school soon. There’ll be lots of distractions. Why don’t we wait and see what happens then?’
‘It’s about all we can do. I have no other ideas and not a great many options.’ Julia smiled ruefully. ‘Would you be a darling and go and top up my drink, Amy? My hip’s killing me. You might want to fetch some more kindling too. It doesn’t look as if that fire’s taking.’
She was right. The pyramid I’d made of newspaper and sticks had collapsed and now the coals were merely steaming in the grate.
I poked at the coal. ‘The chimney doesn’t seem to be drawing properly,’ I said.
‘That fire’s always been awkward, ever since Father bricked up the fireplace in Caroline’s room,’ Julia said.
‘Why did he brick it up?’
‘Oh … After Caroline died, my mother was convinced she could still
hear her voice in the bedroom. Father said it was the wind in the chimney. Dr Croucher helped him seal the opening. We’ve had problems lighting fires in this room ever since.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MRS CROUCHER WAS as good as her word and did exactly what she’d promised Julia she would do. She went to the nursing home, Sunnyvale, and spoke to her husband, who telephoned the headmaster of Hailswood School and the relevant arrangements were soon made. Viviane was to start the following week. There was little time to prepare but I took her into Bristol on the bus to buy her uniform.
It was an adventure and a joy to be away from the cottage and amongst crowds of people, to have the distraction of shops with brightly lit windows full of Christmas decorations, and kiosks on the streets selling roast chestnuts and hot potatoes, and jolly carollers singing on the podium in the middle of the shopping centre. Viviane enjoyed it too. Her eyes were bright and there was colour in her cheeks. We walked the cold pavements, weaving in and out of the shoppers, dodging the crammed buses. Vivi walked close beside me, so close that nobody could come between us. She slipped her hand into mine, and I held her tightly.
We went into the shoe shop first. Viviane’s feet were measured, and we bought some brown lace-up school shoes. Vivi complained they were ugly and she had a point, they were clumpy things, but they were practical and they met Hailswood’s specifications. After that we bought the green tunic, grey cardigan, a pair of white blouses and a tie. The regulation coat was terribly expensive, so instead we bought a woven badge and then found a cheaper grey coat in British Home Stores that the badge could be sewed on to; it would do. We also purchased a games bag, a pair of shorts, an aertex shirt and a school hat.
When we returned to Blackwater and were walking along the lane, we saw a man in the front garden of Mrs Croucher’s cottage. He was chopping wood and stacking the logs to one side of the porch. He had taken off his jumper and tied it around his waist by the sleeves. He must have felt my eyes on him because he turned and I recognized him at once as the son of the ill-tempered man who’d been in the jeep in the field. He stood up, took off his gauntlet, and wiped his forehead with his wrist.
‘Hello,’ I said.
‘Hello.’
‘Go on inside,’ I told Viviane. ‘Show Mummy what we’ve bought.’
Vivi gave me a look that indicated she’d rather stay outside and see what happened next but I gave her a little push and she complied. I walked across to the wall at the front of Mrs Croucher’s cottage.
‘I’m Amy,’ I said.
‘Daniel.’ He smiled. I smiled back. I tucked my hair behind my ear. He held out his hand and I looked at it stupidly for a moment before I realized what he meant by it; I then took it, and shook it, feeling his fingers around mine. We held hands for a moment longer than was necessary. Then I stepped back, self-conscious and lost for words.
‘We met before, down in the field,’ I said eventually.
‘Yes, I remember. My father wasn’t in the best of moods.’
‘No, he certainly wasn’t.’
‘I’m sorry about that. It was nothing to do with you, not exactly. There’s no love lost between the Aldridges and the Cummings family.’
‘Really? How terribly melodramatic. Why?’
‘Julia hasn’t told you?’
‘No.’
Daniel looked away. He hesitated for a moment and then he said: ‘It’s traditional. There’s not much to do out here in the country. We have to make our own entertainment.’
‘Oh. I see.’
‘Anyway,’ he went on, changing the subject, ‘how do you like Blackwater? It’s not too quiet for you?’
‘I’m growing used to it.’
‘You’re not seeing it at its best. In springtime it’s beautiful.’
‘Yes, I’m sure it is.’
‘You should see the birds on the lake.’
‘I’d love to.’
‘Will you still be here in the springtime?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘If you are, then you’ll see what I mean.’
‘Yes.’
We smiled at one another and then there was one of those silences that happen when two people don’t want to stop talking to one another, but neither can think of anything to say. Then I remembered something.
‘Am I allowed to ask you for help?’ I asked. ‘Is it permitted under the terms of the family feud?’
‘I daresay we could come to some arrangement.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘In that case, some animal or other is getting into one of the upstairs bedrooms in the cottage. It disturbs us and Julia’s nerves aren’t good. I don’t know what to do about it.’
Daniel gave me an uncertain smile. He looked up at the cottage.
‘It’s probably squirrels,’ he said. ‘They build their nests for winter round about this time of year.’
‘I hope that’s all it is,’ I said, and then I felt foolish, because of course it would be squirrels. What else could it possibly be? ‘Would you take a look for us?’
He hesitated again, and then seemed to come to some resolution in his mind. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I’ll have a look in the loft. Chances are that’s where they’re coming in. I’ll finish off here and then I’ll be over.’
‘Thank you.’
I nodded, and then I turned on my heel and went into the cottage. Vivi was in the back room with Julia, describing the dresses she had seen in the department store in Bristol. Neither of them noticed me. I ran upstairs into my room and wished the light bulb was brighter as I hastily drew on eyeliner and dabbed on a little lipstick. I nipped into Julia’s room to puff Memoire Cherie on to my wrists and throat. Then I smoothed my hair with my hands and trotted downstairs again. I popped my head round the door to the back room.
‘Daniel Aldridge is doing some work next door. He’s going to check the roof for holes,’ I said.
Julia looked up. ‘Daniel Aldridge?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s coming in here?’
‘Yes. It’s OK, you don’t have to do anything. He’s just going to look into the loft.’
Julia put her fingers to her forehead. ‘Amy, I wish you wouldn’t do things like that without asking me. We don’t need anybody to look in our loft.’
‘He’ll only be a few minutes. I’ll shut the door if you like. You don’t have to talk to him.’
‘All right,’ she said. ‘You do that.’ She closed her eyes and rubbed her brow with her fingers. ‘I don’t want to see him.’
She then turned her attention back to Vivi. I closed the door before I left the room.
When Daniel came, I showed him upstairs. There was a drop-down ladder tucked into the hatch on the landing and I held the torch and watched as his legs and feet disappeared through the hole into the darkness. I passed the torch up to him and heard him moving around.
‘The only living things up here are spiders,’ he called down. ‘I can’t see any daylight at all. There’s nowhere obvious that anything is getting in.’
I did not know if I should be relieved or disappointed by this news. I waited until Daniel dropped down again through the hatch. His hair was garlanded with cobwebs. He handed me an old leather satchel. It felt icy cold. ‘I found this hidden away behind the chimney stack,’ he said. He shook his head and dust drifted around him and floated in the air. ‘As far as I can tell, nobody’s been up there for years. I’ll have a look outside, see if there are any holes in the brickwork. Where are you hearing the noises?’
‘In there.’ I indicated the empty bedroom. Daniel went as far as the door, reached out his hand to open it, and then paused. I couldn’t be sure if he had sensed something strange, as I had, or if it was reading the name on the plaque that had stopped him.
‘I don’t need to go in,’ he said and his voice was slightly different, slightly cold.
‘Is something wrong?’ I asked.
‘No, no.’
He turned around and went back downstairs. I
followed him outside, holding the satchel close, and stood at the foot of the ladder propped against the wall while he climbed up to look for holes in the brickwork, pulling away fingers of ivy and poking at wood that hadn’t been painted for years.
‘It seems pretty solid,’ he said. ‘I can’t see how anything could be getting in.’
‘Well, thanks for looking.’
He came down and stood beside me in the front garden, making a fuss of Bess.
‘Maybe whatever it was has been and gone,’ he said, ‘but if you have any more problems, you can always give me a call.’ He passed me a card and our fingers touched. The gesture was so innocent that any intimacy I felt must have been imagined. Still I felt myself blush. ‘That’s my number and the one above is my father’s,’ said Daniel. ‘If you can’t reach me, leave a message with him, and I’ll get back to you.’
‘OK.’
‘Only if you do that, it’s probably best if you don’t say who you are. Say you’re calling about the squirrels and I’ll know it’s you.’
‘All right.’
We walked together to the jeep. He opened the door and climbed inside. ‘It was nice to meet you properly,’ he said.
‘You too.’
‘I daresay I’ll see you about the village.’
‘I expect you will.’
I watched as he leaned forward over the steering wheel, pulled out the throttle, started the engine.
Oh please, I thought, say something else. Don’t just drive away – make it so that there is something more between us.
Daniel put the vehicle into reverse and turned it carefully. I stood and watched, holding Bess’s collar. When the jeep was pointing in the correct direction, he wound down the window and leaned out. ‘Amy?’
‘Yes?’
‘Perhaps we could go for a drink one evening.’
‘Yes, that’s a good idea.’
‘OK. Will you call me?’
‘Yes.’
I watched as he drove away down the lane, relieved and happy that he had reached out to me, that there was potential for us ahead. But as the vehicle disappeared I felt a rush of loneliness so cold it was as if the temperature of the very air had dropped a couple of degrees. With a heavy heart, I turned back to the cottage. There was the lake beyond, fading to black in response to the gloaming sky, shadows creeping over its surface and God knows what beneath, weaving through weed that drifted like hair, coiling through the coming darkness.
The Secret by the Lake Page 5
