Laura Possessed

by Anthea Fraser

  LAURA POSSESSED

  LAURA POSSESSED

  Anthea Fraser

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data available

  This eBook published by AudioGO Ltd, Bath, 2012.

  Published by arrangement with the Author.

  Epub ISBN 9781445824574

  Copyright © 1974 by Anthea Fraser

  All rights reserved

  Jacket illustration © iStockphoto.com

  CONTENTS

  Part 1 LAURA,

  Part 2 CAROLINE,

  Part 3 LEWIS,

  Part 4 NOEL,

  Epilogue LAURA,

  Part 1

  Laura

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was ironic that it should have been the ordinariness of the village that first struck her—ironic in view of the fact that she was later to consider it a landscape of the damned.

  Edward had collected her from Richard’s flat soon after lunch and this was the first afternoon since leaving hospital that she had not retired to bed. ‘Rest, rest, and more rest,’ Dr. Banstead had emphasized when at last he relinquished his charge of her. ‘The headaches will go in time, but don’t despair if it takes longer than you’d hoped. Remember your nervous system is having to recover not only from your own injuries in the crash but from the shock of your mother’s death as well. When you get to your brother’s, see the local doctor and give him this note, which will put him in the picture.’ Fleetingly, Laura wondered what he had written.

  Neither Richard nor his current girlfriend had been at the flat to hand her formally into Edward’s care, and though Laura herself had perfectly understood the reasons for their absence, Edward was distinctly annoyed.

  ‘If this is the way they’ve been looking after you for the last two weeks, it’s just as well you’re coming back with me now,’ he remarked tightly as he helped her into the car.

  ‘They did explain, Edward,’ she murmured in their defence. ‘It’s just that this is a particularly important rehearsal—the producer wants to change the wording in one scene and Richard is determined not to let him get away with it. He has to be there, and Gillian, of course, is playing the lead.’

  ‘It’s high time he settled down and married,’ retorted Edward, unmollified. ‘He’s thirty-three now but he still persists in living the same Bohemian existence he embarked on at University. Young Toby has far more sense of responsibility.’

  ‘Well, after all, he’s married.’

  ‘Precisely, and so should Richard be. Honestly, Laura, if it weren’t for his string of girls, I’d begin to have serious doubts about him!’

  She gave a little spurt of laughter. ‘I’m quite sure you needn’t! And there’s no need to worry on my behalf either—they’ve been perfectly sweet to me, even though that flat puts rather a strain on a ménage à trois.’

  Edward didn’t reply and she snuggled down into the collar of her coat. Truth to tell, she would much rather have stayed on with Richard and Gillian in their London flat than set off for this remote Kent village to make her home with Edward and Caroline, kind though they had been to insist on it. At least, Edward had insisted. Laura doubted if Caroline was too pleased. There had always been a certain restraint between her and her sister-in-law.

  They drove in silence for some time, threading their way through the depressing outskirts of London into the first, tentative greenness of Kent. Laura found her eyelids drooping, and as her consciousness released its hold, her mind fluttered feebly back over the last horrifying months—the trauma of the crash itself and its attendant bereavement, the desolate days spent lying in the hospital bed.

  Beside her, Edward cleared his throat and her eyes flickered open. Despite his long silence, he had apparently continued to brood on his brother’s shortcomings.

  ‘Ideally, of course, you should have come to us straight from hospital, but to start with, the doctors thought a long car journey at that stage would tire you, and then, with its being the school holidays at the time, Four Winds would hardly have been restful for you anyway.’

  ‘“Four Winds,”’ Laura repeated slowly, and shivered a little. ‘It sounds a lonely, desolate kind of place!’

  He laughed. ‘Neither lonely nor desolate, I assure you. Merely a comfortable house standing at the crossroads above the village. Strange to think you’ve never seen it.’

  ‘How long is it since you moved in?’

  ‘Almost three months now. We’re quite at home.’

  ‘You’ve never regretted moving so far out of town?’ Laura enquired, remembering her own and her mother’s surprise at Edward and Caroline’s plumping for village life.

  ‘Not in the slightest. After all, I don’t have to come to London often and Brocklehurst is very convenient for the paper—I can be at my desk twenty minutes after leaving home.’

  ‘I could never understand why you left the Ledbrook house, though. You could have been at your desk in ten minutes from there!’

  ‘Well, Caroline never cared for it all that much, and when they started some new development just opposite, she couldn’t wait to get away.’ He smiled a little. ‘I think, bless her heart, she rather fancies herself as lady of the manor up at Four Winds.’

  ‘I should have thought she’d be bored in the country. After all, Ledbrook is a busy little market town with plenty going on, her precious bridge club, the cinema—’

  ‘Not to mention a thriving newspaper!’ put in Edward.

  ‘As you say! But from what I hear, Brocklehurst sounds at the back of beyond.’

  ‘Well, Caroline seems to find plenty to do. She’s hardly ever at home. But I am a little worried that you might be bored, at least until you’re well enough to find yourself another job. You’ll obviously have to spend a fair portion of your time resting for the next month or two, and if you could find some absorbing hobby to bury yourself in, so much the better. In fact, it’s the perfect chance for you to take up writing again.’

  Laura smiled. ‘“The Literary Hardys.” I have rather fallen by the wayside in that respect, haven’t I? But the rest of you are keeping the flag flying—you as editor of the Ledbrook Courier, Richard with his avant-garde television plays, and Toby as art critic churning out his volumes of poetry on the side.’

  ‘That’s as may be, but you’re still the only one to have followed in Father’s footsteps with a novel. How old were you when it came out—seventeen? We were all set to have a literary genius on our hands, but you’ve never attempted anything since, have you?’

  ‘No, it was probably just a flash in the pan, to prove to myself that I could do it.’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s about time for another flash?’

  ‘It’s a thought, certainly, while I’m stuck in the house, but I don’t know that I could do it again. My powers of concentration are a bit erratic at the moment, and, anyway, Royalists and Roundheads don’t inspire me any more.’

  ‘It needn’t be historical this time. You could try your hand at something entirely new. Anyway, think about it. And here we are now on the outskirts of Brocklehurst.’

  Laura sat up eagerly and was immediately aware of a sense of disappointment. She had hoped at least for her exile to be spent in a picturesque village, with perhaps the occasional oasthouse to add a touch of interest to the skyline. But from what she could see, Brocklehurst certainly couldn’t be considered pretty or even interesting. In fact, its unimaginative houses were reminiscent of a child’s drawing, each set squarely in a postage stamp garden so that they lined the road solidly like a row of dumpy, middle-aged matrons.

  Admittedly there was the usual village green, where doubtless local cricket matches were played on summer weekends, but at the moment its very greenness, dull and unrelieved, merely intensified the drabn
ess. All in all, it was so uninspired, so conventional, that it bored her at the first glance and she moved restlessly with the impatience of the invalid.

  Edward glanced sideways at her. ‘Tired? We’re nearly home now.’

  They drove down the long winding street past a squat, uninteresting church. Once beyond the cluster of shops the road began to climb, and minutes later, Edward turned left between some high, wrought-iron gates. They had arrived.

  Laura looked up at the house in front of them and pulled her coat more tightly about her, reluctant now to leave the secluded warmth of the car and go out into her new life, but Edward had already slammed his door and come round to help her out.

  ‘A cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss, would it?’ he said rallyingly, taking her arm and leading her up the three shallow steps. ‘Then I think it would be an idea for you to have a rest until dinner.’ He leant forward and opened the front door. ‘Caroline! We’re here!’

  Ahead of them lay a large, pleasant hall, bright and welcoming, but without warning a sudden, choking feeling of terror rushed over her and she pulled violently back against the pressure of Edward’s arm. In that instant she was overpoweringly aware of an almost tangible wave of despair emanating from the house, making her gasp as its cold desolation flooded over her.

  Frantically she tried to fight off Edward’s tightening grip, with some half-formed panic idea of turning and running, running anywhere, just as long as she need never take that fateful step over the threshold.

  ‘Laura! For God’s sake, what’s the matter? It’s all right—we’re home now!’

  Her brief spurt of energy, born of desperation, subsided as abruptly as it had come and she went limp, falling against Edward as he half-carried her into the hall. He lowered her gently onto a carved monk’s bench which stood against the wall and stood staring down at her.

  ‘What the hell was all that about? You’re as white as a sheet!’

  It was already too late. She had entered the house, albeit against her will, and now the inescapable consequences would follow. It had been foolish to think she could resist them.

  ‘Laura!’

  Dazedly she looked up, her eyes focussing on Edward’s anxious face, and she gave herself a little shake. Her tongue, stiff and awkward, moved over her parched lips. ‘I’m sorry, Edward, it was just—just the change of temperature, I suppose.’ She shivered violently and added, almost inaudibly, ‘It’s so cold!’

  ‘Cold? Good Lord, girl, Caroline keeps this place like a hothouse!’ His voice softened. ‘It’s because you’re weak and tired that you feel chilly. Knowing Caro, there’ll be a fire in the sitting-room anyway, even though the central heating boiler’s going full belt. Come on, I’ll help you in there.’ He raised his voice. ‘Caroline! Where are you?’

  A voice from upstairs called back, ‘Coming!’ and a moment later, as Edward helped Laura into a comfortable chair by the sitting-room fire, Caroline hurried into the room.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t hear you arrive. Welcome to Four Winds, Laura!’ She broke off, glancing apprehensively at the beads of perspiration on her sister-in-law’s white face. ‘Is she all right?’ she asked doubtfully.

  Edward straightened. ‘I don’t know. I had the devil of a job to get her through the front door.’

  ‘Through—?’

  ‘I’m all right, Caroline,’ Laura put in quietly. ‘I’m just—cold—that’s all.’

  ‘You’ll soon warm up in here. Mrs. Baines is bringing in some tea and there’s hot buttered toast too.’

  There was a pause while they both stood looking down at her and, feeling something was required of her, Laura said dutifully, ‘This is a pretty room.’

  Her everyday comment had the desired effect and they both relaxed, Edward to remove his overcoat and Caroline to bend to the cigarette box on the coffee table.

  ‘Yes, we’re rather pleased with the effect. In fact, we’re delighted with the whole house. When you’ve had a rest, I’ll show you over it.’ She smiled. ‘It’s abnormally tidy at the moment, now that Robert and Helen have gone back to school, but Peter will soon put an end to that. He makes more mess than the other two put together!’

  ‘Where’s Peter now?’ Laura felt as though she were memorizing a script, hoping that the right words would follow on the right cues, but Caroline seemed unaware of her stiffness.

  ‘He doesn’t get back from school till almost six. We have a rota, three other mothers and I. It’s my turn next week to do the car-run. Ah, here’s tea. Mrs. Baines, this is my sister-in-law, Miss Hardy.’

  Laura nodded at the pleasant-looking women who set the silver tray down carefully on the low table. The teapot and hot water jug glinted like molten copper in the firelight.

  Caroline handed her a fragile cup and saucer and lifted the lid off the toast dish. ‘Take two—they’re minute.’

  Obediently Laura lifted the tiny, butter impregnated triangles of glistening toast.

  ‘And how’s brother Richard? Still surrounded by a host of adoring women?’

  ‘Only one at a time,’ Laura answered quietly. She always felt this need with both her married brothers and their disapproving wives to defend charming, unconventional Richard.

  Caroline gave a short laugh. ‘I suppose that’s something! What’s the current one like?’

  ‘Perfectly sweet—you’ve probably seen her on TV—Gillian Marlowe. She was in the Herries series.’

  ‘The redhead? Yes, I know the one. And what about Toby and Janet? Any news of them?’

  ‘They came to see me in hospital, of course, but they couldn’t stay long because of the baby. Haven’t you seen them for a while?’

  ‘No, but no doubt I shall now, and Richard too. You’ll draw them like bees to a honeypot.’ Her voice, despite its lightness, had a slight edge to it. Laura was well aware that a lot of Caroline’s resentment of her stemmed from the obvious devotion of her three elder brothers. ‘Never mind, one advantage—if it can be called that—of a house this size is that there’s enough room to accommodate all one’s relations when they suddenly decide that they can’t possibly manage a week longer without spending a couple of days with you. Which is what will happen, mark my words!’

  Laura said deprecatingly, ‘They really kept in touch with me because of Mother.’ Her voice trembled and Caroline, instantly ashamed, bent forward and took her hand.

  ‘Try not to think about it if you can.’

  ‘But I saw her, Caroline,’ Laura said unsteadily. ‘I saw her die. How can I forget that?’

  ‘Of course you can’t forget it, but if you try to close your mind to it, it will gradually get easier. At the moment the most important thing is to get you completely well again.’

  Edward, who had rather pointedly taken his cup of tea across to the window away from the heat of the fire, spoke for the first time.

  ‘I was suggesting Laura might try her hand at writing again. It would help to pass the time until she can get out and about.’

  ‘That’s a wonderful idea! We’ve a good little mobile library which comes twice a week if you need reference books, or I could always get them for you in Ledbrook.’

  Laura laughed protestingly. ‘Don’t rush me. I haven’t really thought about it yet, but in any case it wouldn’t be historical this time, I think. In fact—’ She paused, a slight frown creasing her brow.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It just occurred to me that if I did attempt something, I’d rather like to write about—about violence in the world today.’ She stopped abruptly and gave an uncertain laugh. ‘Heaven knows why; it just suddenly came into my head!’

  ‘Sounds rather sinister!’ Caroline said with a delicate shiver.

  ‘Yes, but fascinating. What’s the reason for it all? Why, suddenly, do we have these outbursts of assassinations, hijackings, kidnappings—’

  ‘Because,’ put in Edward drily, ‘we haven’t had a war for thirty years and man is naturally an aggressive animal.’

  ‘Spoken like a
n Englishman, darling!’ Caroline remarked. ‘What do you imagine has been going on in Korea, Vietnam, Palestine—even Ireland, over the last twenty years? No war, indeed!’

  ‘No major war, I meant. Only limited numbers were involved and the rest of us have to suppress our aggression as best we can. In some cases that causes trouble. Remember me speaking of Clive Sandilands, Laura? You should have a word with him. He’s engaged in writing a book on America in the sixties to be called, I believe, The Violent Decade. He could well be of some help to you.’

  ‘I don’t know that I’d dare to approach anyone as eminent as Clive Sandilands,’ Laura murmured, ‘even if he is a friend of yours.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, you’ll have the chance to meet him on Sunday. Tom Howard, the managing director of our newspaper group, is giving a cocktail party. We’re all invited and I know for a fact that Clive will be there. He’s only over here for a couple of weeks—virtually lives in the States now. If you’re really interested in violence, he’s the one to fill you in.’

  ‘I very much doubt whether I’ll be up to a cocktail party,’ Laura said dubiously. At last the heat from the fire was beginning to soothe away the deep chill that had enveloped her, and her eyelids felt heavy again.

  Caroline reached forward and took her empty cup. ‘I thought you’d be tired and when I heard Edward call, I slipped into your room and switched on the electric blanket. It will be nice and warm for you now.’

  ‘That sounds very tempting.’

  ‘Edward, have you brought the cases in from the car? Perhaps you could get them while I take Laura up.’

  Laura allowed herself to be helped to her feet, dismayed at her extreme lassitude. Her footsteps faltered as they reached the hall and she glanced almost fearfully towards the front door. It looked perfectly ordinary—a solid, handsome oak door with nothing about it to account for those few moments of paralyzing terror. Yet even as she reassured herself, she was aware of a movement just beyond her vision and turned quickly, expecting that someone else had come into the hall. There was no one there, but the remembered sense of creeping cold stole back towards her.