by Cat Knight
The gravel crunched beneath the tyres as they headed down the driveway. Elizabeth turned in her seat and Daniel sighed: she knew what he was going to say before he said it.
“The car has an alarm, Lizzie. It’ll beep if his seatbelt isn’t fastened.”
But she was watching her son and didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the house. “Bye,” he whispered, his lips barely moving. And then he turned back to the front. “Can we put the radio on?”
That night they ate supper in the dining room, a chicken casserole that Elizabeth had put in the slow cooker before they left, reminding herself to reduce the quantity now it was just the two of them.
She took a sip of wine. They only drank in the evening on a Friday or Saturday; Daniel had to go back to London for the week on Sunday nights and they were both scrupulous about not driving with alcohol in their system.
Tonight, was Saturday and Daniel had reached for the bottle with a smile as she’d dished up. “I think we could both do with a glass, don’t you?”
Now, he said, “He’ll be alright, you know. He’s always been good at making friends.”
She nodded. It was true – Josh was like Daniel in that respect, open and charming, never lost for something to say.
“And you’ll love it too when you get used to it.” He smiled at her encouragingly. “Just think of all that writing you’ll be able to get done without Josh calling every five minutes to say he’s forgotten his football kit or to ask you to pick him up from his mate’s.”
She tried to smile. In truth, it had been a long time since Josh had done either of those things.
Since passing his driving test, his main request these days was to borrow the car. But she knew Daniel was trying to reassure her and she nodded again, not wanting him to see how she dreaded being alone in the house.
The house… she had always thought of it that way, but it was Their Home, she reminded herself.
Seaview Crag had been Daniel’s choice. She’d been happy enough to leave London, and the idea of a house near the coast – somewhere, perhaps, where she could look out onto the ocean as she wrote – had attracted her as much as it did him; but Elizabeth had pictured a cosy cottage in a village, somewhere with neighbours, a pub and a corner shop in walking distance. A community.
When they’d first driven up the winding road to the Victorian manor house perched alone on top of the cliff, she’d been intimidated by its size. As they’d stood in the hallway, Daniel enthusing about the floor tiles and the height of the ceilings, and Josh running upstairs two at a time, already picking out his bedroom, Elizabeth had felt something.
It settled on her like a sadness that she couldn’t shake. She’d tried to ignore it, seeing that Daniel had already fallen in love, asking only whether it wasn’t too big for them, particularly with Daniel back in London all week and Josh off to university in a few years’ time.
“But that’s why I love it!” he’d said, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head.
“We’ve been cooped up in the city for so long; and I’ll be stuck in that little flat all week… We need somewhere we can breathe!”
It was a done deal after that; for Daniel, nowhere else they saw measured up to Seaview Crag. He’d negotiated hard and been ecstatic at securing it for what even Elizabeth had to agree was a bargain. It was the view of the ocean, of course, that garnered the price.
The house had largely fallen to disrepair, having stood empty for many years, the last owners never selling, simply handing the house on through inheritance according to their realtor. It had been used for holidays now and again, but why no one ever lived in it was a mystery to all.
Elizabeth supposed they kept hanging on because it was prime real-estate after-all. Eventually it came up for sale after its last elderly owner passed on and no one in the family cared to take on the renovations.
But Daniel had wanted to bring the old Victorian beauty back to her prime, and Elizabeth had to admit, it was a lovely home. Anyone would be delighted to own it. After they’d moved in, she had thrown herself into the refurbishment. How many days had she spent sanding floorboards and stripping back layers of paint to reveal the detail of the plasterwork on the ceilings?
She’d scoured local antiques shops for furniture in keeping with the period features, and the day she found a beautiful writing desk that she knew would look wonderful in the drawing room, overlooking the sea, she had been ecstatic with her find.
But the desk had never made it the vista. Josh had begged and pleaded to let him keep his computer where it was. He always worked better with company around him he said… so the best view in the house had remained his workspace.
But now he was growing up, moving out and Elizabeth would be rattling around this large house most of week by herself. The airy, flag-stoned kitchen, the book-lined snug, the elegant dining room, and the drawing room with its tall windows looking out to sea… It was high time she moved her desk out here…
Daniel’s fingertips brushed against her wrist, startling her from her reverie. He took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “He’ll be back before you know it, Lizzie.”
“I know,” she said, laughing at her own foolishness. “I know.” They lifted the heavy desk and moved it out of Elizabeth’s office, and to the drawing room, under the window, together.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Nathaniel reached for Caitlyn, a mysterious smile shadowing his features. “Crossing his features? Lighting up his features? Smiling mysteriously?” Elizabeth sounded out the options, but nothing sounded right. She sighed staring at the computer screen. It had been three hours since she had settled herself at her writing desk, but progress on the romance she was working on had been slow. Mostly because she couldn’t concentrate.
Her eyes kept wandering over to the doorway and windows, nervously, half expectantly. The view here in this room wasn’t as impressive as that from the drawing room – but somehow, she’d found when they’d moved the desk by that window, that it just hadn’t felt right. That’s what she’d told Daniel anyway as they picked up the desk to move it from where it had so recently been placed, it’s ‘would be’ perfect spot.
“Are you sure?” Daniel had asked. He was bemused that she’d insisted she move in to a what was a small cramped space.
“But you wanted that desk here! You bought it for this very spot. Liz? You said you wanted the view!” She wasn’t listening, her mind on something else.
And of course, she had wanted it, right up until that ‘thing’ had happened. She rubbed at her nose and pressed her lips tight. David capitulated “Well why not just move it back in your office then?”
“No… I don’t want to go back into the office. Really Daniel, this space here is fine.
She knew she was being silly, the shadow that she had seen by the window had been a trick of the light. A convincing trick, and that’s all it could have been. It had half scared her to death to see it. The gasp that came out of her mouth had even managed to get Daniels attention. But she couldn’t tell him about it. Not when it disappeared as inexplicably as it had arrived.
So, even though he’d complained, they had carried the heavy old desk to the short, narrow space sandwiched between the drawing room and the kitchen. She would be hugged by walls on all sides. It was silly, but it made her feel safe. Even so she had found herself gazing out toward the drawing room.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Turning her neck from side to side, she listened to the tiny cracks as her tension released. Giving a loud sigh of frustration, she put the phantom shadow deliberately from her mind. But it wouldn’t stay away.
The problem was the scent of lavender that seemed to be all about her and she couldn’t fathom where it had come from.
She placed her arms around her own shoulders and rubbed. What’s Josh doing now? It was much more practical to wonder what he was doing and if he was settling in, than to scare herself with her lively writer’s imagination. She’d give Josh a ring later
on, check there was nothing he needed.
Turning her attention back to her task she picked up the silver fountain pen Daniel had given her for her birthday, savouring its weight. She typed her manuscripts on the computer, of course, but still there was something about paper and ink she enjoyed, and all her notes were handwritten. Now she scribbled an asterisk on a notepad and next to it wrote “p.71 – Nathaniel’s smile. What’s…”
The pen paused mid-sentence: she had heard something. A knock or a thud. Had Daniel come home? Maybe he’d been worried about her, decided to take a few days off. She was almost on her feet, ready to call his name when she realised – it couldn’t be Daniel. She’d have heard the car.
There it was again – a thud, soft but distinct, coming from the next room. The drawing room.
The breath caught in her throat as she listened. Another thud, then another, then another. A pause, a creak of wood – a floorboard. Then the thudding began again and she knew what it was. Footsteps.
Chapter Two
“Yes mum, everything’s fine. Look, I’ve got to go, Lucius’ band are playing at the student union tonight…” Elizabeth breathed a long silent sigh. A weight lifted off her. Inexplicably she had not been able to shake the trepidation that something was terribly wrong. Now, her voice perked up.
“Lucius?” Good grief, what kind of name was that? She giggled a bit, biting back ‘I told you so.’ Exeter would be full of Home Counties types who’d failed to get into Oxbridge, but oh no… Josh had been so sure it was where he wanted to go.
“Yeah, he’s second year geography. Lives on the floor above me.”
“Right. So, you’re off out…”
“Yeah, gotta go mum. Love you.”
And with that he was gone, leaving Elizabeth staring at the receiver in her hand. At least he’s OK!
“AHHH! She gave a contented sigh as she stretched her arms out wide and pushed back, relieving again, the nagging ache around her shoulders.
She’d been rattled by being at home alone, that was all.
Imagining things, or perhaps just noticing noises she’d normally be too busy to pay attention to when she’d been preoccupied with other duties.
That was a mother’s lot – hanging out the washing while planning dinner, working out the plot twist for her latest novel and making sure everything was ready for the next morning.
Now instead of fretting over every little noise and shadow she should be feeling glad of her freedom, after-all she had only herself to worry about until Daniel returned on Friday night. Her mind was inventing things to fill in the spaces. You Silly Woman, she told herself.
Yes, it had sounded like footsteps in the drawing room, but it had just been the creak and groan of the floorboards as the afternoon sun warmed the timbers of the house. Everyone knew that old houses made noises. It was nothing to be alarmed about. She’d got herself worked up over nothing.
How foolish she must have looked, standing there with her hand nervously on the doorknob, then bursting into the drawing room, twisting her head from side to side as if at any moment she was going to be set upon by some masked intruder!
An intruder without a car, come on foot to ransack the house, ready to carry his sack of swag half a mile back down the driveway to the quiet, country road, fifteen miles from the nearest town. Thank God Daniel hadn’t been there to see it; he’d never have let her live it down.
But I heard it! Elizabeth shook her head, as if the voice in her mind had spoken aloud.
No, the shadow by the window had been a trick of the light, gone as soon as she’d looked at it. And that scent of lavender – there was lavender in the garden.
One of the plants must be holding on to its flowers later than usual, that was all, and a breeze had carried its fragrance into the room. She went to the kitchen sink and poured herself a glass of water. The window here looked out onto the back of the house, where a stand of ancient oak trees sheltered it from the north. A gentle wind played among the leaves and on the grass, below a squirrel ran back and forth on some unknown errand.
She pushed open the window and breathed in the fresh sea air, so different from the fume-laden streets of London. She was lucky to live here, she reminded herself. She was a lucky woman.
And if it wasn’t the footsteps, or the shadow near the window, or the scent of lavender that had shaken her; if there would be something else to come after those things… well, that was no more real than the rest of it.
She was a grown woman, mother to a son who was himself almost fully grown. It was time she got a grip.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The shrill ring of the telephone cut across the television and Elizabeth leapt up, jabbing at the remote control as she grabbed the receiver from its cradle.
“Josh?”
“Elizabeth! I take it you’re expecting that handsome son of yours?”
The voice was warm and throaty, with just a hint of a French accent. Elizabeth felt the smile spread over her face. “Sophia! How lovely to hear from you!”
She listened as Sophia brought her up to speed on the latest crisis in her love life. Why she’d ever married Thomas was a mystery – well, setting aside his Latin good looks, obviously – but in Elizabeth’s opinion it would have taken more than aesthetics to make up for his treatment of her friend.
Sophia had barely paused for breath. “He takes his phone with him everywhere. He never leaves it on a table or the arm of the chair – never. It is suspicious, no?”
If it had been anyone else, Elizabeth would have told her not to jump to conclusions; but this was Sophia, and Thomas had form. “Perhaps you should just ask him straight out?”
“Pah!” She could almost see Sophia’s Gallic shrug. “He will lie. He always lies.”
“Maybe you should get away for a few days? Give you both a bit of space? You could always stay here.”
The suggestion was out before she’d thought about it, but it made sense. Sophia had visited Seaview Crag only once before, not long after they’d moved in, and it would be fun to show her the changes they’d made. And perhaps if Thomas were left to fend for himself for a few days…
“He will realise what he is missing, no? It is an excellent idea, Elizabeth!”
Sophia was one of the few friends who never shortened Elizabeth’s name.
The two of them had hit it off immediately when they met at Further Ed, but when Elizabeth had suggested she call her Liz, Sophia had shaken her head firmly.
“You share your name with queens,” she had said. “You should treat it with respect.”
By the time they hung up they’d agreed Sophia would visit in a fortnight, and Elizabeth’s mood was lighter than it had been for days. She curled back up on the sofa to watch the end of the romantic comedy she’d seen three times already. After that she would have an early night. With Sophia planning to stay for a week, she’d lose valuable writing time; she’d have to be up bright and early to make up for it.
When the film ended, she switched off the television and the lights, checked that the doors were locked, and headed up the stairs.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The next day Elizabeth was up before her alarm, showered and dressed and sitting at her desk while the sun still hung low in the sky. She worked solidly until lunchtime, the radio playing in the background. For once, the words flowed easily, and after a brief pause for a sandwich, she set to work again, wanting to make the most of the presence of her unreliable muse. She finished a chapter and struck with an idea, turned to make a note on the pad next to her keyboard.
Reaching out with her right hand, she searched for her pen, normally right there within fingers grip.
Turning to see where she’d placed it, a small crinkle formed in her brow. It was right here… Where is it?
She lifted the notepad and put it down again, then tipped the screen of the laptop forward to check behind it. There were drawers at either side of the desk and she pulled them out, feeling around the edges to make sure she didn’t
miss anything. There was no sign of the pen.
Something stirred uneasily in the pit of her stomach.
She got up and searched the floor, moving her chair and getting down on all fours to check every corner of the room. Nothing.
It had been here yesterday. There was the note on the pad, the half sentence that had been interrupted when she’d heard… when she thought she’d heard something in the drawing room. Had she taken it with her when she’d gone to investigate? She couldn’t remember. She got up and took a few steps towards the door; but then turned and went back to her chair. There were other pens in her desk. There was no need to interrupt her writing to go searching for that one. No need to go into the drawing room. She fixed her eyes on the screen and typed.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sweat broke out on her brow.
“No, no…” She woke abruptly, her heart racing. The dream was half remembered… thrashing in the sea. Clambering out of bed, she made her way to the bathroom and washed her face and took a long drink of water.
The dream had left her wide awake, she’d been searching for Josh, he’d gone missing and she couldn’t find him no matter where she looked.
It had been the same for the past two nights. After a while she climbed back into bed and dozed on and off until grey morning light broke the darkness.
By day, she tried to write, keeping the radio always on to mask the quiet of the house. But the feeling of loss wouldn’t leave her, no matter what she tried; at times Elizabeth doubted her sanity. Twice she thought she heard footsteps in the next room; so, she turned up the volume and told herself her sleep-deprived brain was playing tricks on her. Everything she once took joy in, was fading, and she barely noticed if she ate.
Try as she might, she couldn’t forget the shadow by the window in the drawing room, and day she had heard the footsteps, and how the scent of lavender seemed to come and go in the house, when no windows were open. None of it made sense.
But then – the worst part – the feeling of desolation that seemed to sink into her very bones, the cold terror at the certainty that there was danger lurking somewhere for her son.
