Exmoor was proving every bit as bleak and dramatic as Joely had expected, flowing and stretching its uncompromising landscape to each horizon with the sea crashing onto the cliffs to one side and stark acres of bracken and gorse giving way to cultivated fields and feeding livestock on the other. The road they were traveling was a long, winding ribbon of gray threading through mile after mile of steep inclines, twisting bends, dense forests and seeming for a while to have no end.
Andee slowed as they passed a handful of red deer grazing a nearby bank, every one of them appearing oblivious to the moving vehicle only feet away. Joely relished being this close to wildlife, taking in the stags’ antlers curling imperiously from slender handsome heads, and the females’ sleek bodies, smooth and lush and lithe.
Minutes later they stopped for an Exmoor pony to amble across the road to join the rest of the herd, and around the next bend there were sheep with horns coiling out of their heads like fancy hairdos.
They passed signs to places with quaintly intriguing names such as Dunkery Beacon, and Lorna Doone Farm Shop. They glimpsed old villages, drove through fast-gushing fords and all the time Joely drank in the austerity of the wintry landscape as chill as the empty sky, as forlorn as the abandoned picnic tables and lookout spots.
“It’s eerie,” she decided, “but beautiful and compelling and kind of otherworldly.” She considered this a moment and added, “I don’t have to ask if it’s haunted, I can already feel it.”
Andee smiled.
Joely turned to her. “What am I going to do if Freda Donahoe’s place is full of friends from the other side? Who might not actually be friends?”
Andee had to laugh.
“You might think it’s funny,” Joely retorted, “but me and ghosts, we’re in the same place as me and Martha the man stealer. I don’t want them anywhere near me, and any attempt to speak to me . . . Well, it won’t end well, I can tell you that.”
Andee laughed again. “Given your occupation, I’d have thought you’d have an affinity with them.”
Joely threw her a look. “Ha, ha,” she responded, smiling in spite of herself.
“Well, if Dimmett House does turn out to be haunted,” Andee said, steering around a sweeping bend that ended with a breathtaking view of the Bristol channel, “and I’m sure it won’t, you can always say you want to stay in a hotel. There are several places in both Lynton and Lynmouth.”
“Which might be haunted too,” Joely mumbled, absorbing the magnificent vista ahead where bold cascades of sunlight were streaming through dark, dense cloud into the sea. “It must be wonderful here in summer,” she stated, although this was pretty spectacular too.
“It is,” Andee assured her, “and if you’re still around by then, who knows, it might be because you’ve met your very own John Ridd.”
Joely wrinkled her nose. “Who? Oh, you mean from Lorna Doone. I’m not sure I can remember the story, and I missed the TV series. Does it have a happy end?”
“Eventually.”
Joely’s heart tightened as the flippant talk of romance pulled her back to the very place she was trying to escape. Cal had texted this morning to have another go at being friendly in much the way Martha had last night: Don’t forget to let us know about your assignment, and wherever you are, take care of yourself. She had no idea whether the “us” referred to him and Martha, or him and Holly, perhaps it was all three. What she did know was that it had cut deeply into the sadness she was feeling, and ludicrously, she’d felt she really didn’t want to take care of herself at all.
Childish and attention-seeking, she’d scolded herself, and knowing she could do better she’d composed a message back to them both saying, Leave Me Alone.
And she’d sent it!
It had felt good at the time, but it didn’t feel all that great now.
What felt better was the message she’d received from Holly shortly after midnight saying, Good luck tomorrow.
She’d stared at the words for a long time, pretending to herself that Callum hadn’t talked their daughter into sending them.
She wondered if it might be easier if he was being mean to her, or carrying on as if she’d stopped existing.
“Distraction,” she announced, as they began the descent from the moor. “That’s another very good reason for taking this job. I can throw myself into work for the next few weeks and by the time I look up again who knows where we might be?”
A few minutes later as both Lynton and Lynmouth came into view, seeming almost too much too soon, Joely said, “OK, you need to slow down, because this is seriously lovely.”
With a smile Andee did as she was told, giving them as long as she could for their northerly approach from the moor to take in the small sprawl of a town at the top of the cliff, and the seaside village at the bottom. For the moment Joely was fixed on Lynmouth where the tide was lapping over two rocky beaches that fanned out like skate wings from the river at their center making its way through to the sea. There was a small scoop of a harbor, with gray stone sea walls surrounding it, a Rhenish tower, and a handful of single-mast boats moored in the mud. A long, thatched terrace of white cottages, a pub, a café, and shops slanted up an incline alongside the harbor, and the rest of the shore village curved around the seafront like a protective arm.
After crossing the West Lyn river, Andee steered the car to the left to begin a steep and winding drive up over the cliff, home to hotels, B&Bs, and guest houses, to the high-perched town of Lynton. Joely felt herself smiling as they meandered along the main street taking in the olde worlde charm and narrow streets that tumbled away to one side as if pulled in by the moor, while on the other more hotels and guest houses towered over the village and sea below.
“We’re going to need further directions soon,” Andee said as they drove out the other side of town where green fields jostled for space in the rough and undulating moorland.
Calling up Sully’s email on her phone, Joely looked around again as the GPS instructed them to keep going straight and her eyes grew round as they entered what could only be the Valley of Rocks. “Wow,” she murmured as they moved slowly through a lunar-like landscape where vast tors of jagged stone patched with grass and lichen soared skyward on one side, and dry, bristled slopes of flinty terrain rose majestically on the other.
“The largest rock there,” Andee said, pointing to the right, “is known as Castle Rock, and the one over there, to the left, is Devil’s Cheese Rock. Legend has it, if you walk around it a certain number of times, probably under a full moon, Satan will appear.”
Deciding she probably wouldn’t be giving that a whirl anytime soon, Joely returned to Sully’s directions. “OK, we need to follow the road all the way through the Valley of Rocks to . . . Oh my God, are they goats? Yes, they’re goats. They’re so sweet.”
“They live here,” Andee told her, steering around a handful of the small, feral beasts that had broken off from the main gang.
After taking in more of the scenery, Joely continued with the directions. “OK, there’s a small track at the end of the valley that eventually leads to a spiritual retreat. We’re to take that, but about twenty meters in we’ll see another track to the left that we should follow all the way along the ridge to the next vale.”
Soon after passing the spiritual retreat in its haven of natural beauty they began a gentle descent from the next hilltop into an enclave of clifftop moor where black-faced sheep were grazing the sloping fields on one side and immense tors clustered like giants to block the sea on the other. Between the opposing swells of nature was a sprawling green meadow rich with tall grass that appeared at the farthest point to dip down to a cove.
As they drove slowly on they finally realized that down to their right, tucked securely against the protective wall of rocks was a house where it seemed no house should be.
“Wow,” Joely murmured again, taking in the pale-colored limestone exterior with three stories of tall shuttered windows facing out over the meadow, and a bold, square tower at the far end with a gray slate conical roof. In spring the entire facade would be covered in wisteria; now there was only the climbing ramble of naked branches not at all ready to flower. On the ground level of the tower was a patio with large stone pillars holding up another gray slate roof, and all along the front of the property were clusters of rich green foliage belonging to rhododendrons and camellias.
“OK, this is awesome,” Joely stated as the road curved around allowing them a fuller front view of the house.
“It certainly is,” Andee responded, and pressing gently on the accelerator she made a 180-degree turn into the drive that ran parallel to the meadow’s edge. They came to a stop in a large space next to the house where an old red Jeep was parked in front of a row of garages.
As Joely looked at the black front door at the side of the house she felt a flutter of nervous anticipation come to life inside her. “How far are we from town?” she asked, as Andee began turning the car around to face back down the drive.
“Not much more than a mile,” Andee replied, stopping when they, like all the windows at the front of the house, were gazing out toward the dramatic rise and fall of the cliffs that stretched along the coast beyond the meadow. The sea was enchantingly visible thanks to a large V in the rugged landscape, while the tors protecting the house from fierce southwesterly winds hugged up closely behind it and into the far side of the tower.
“So it’s walkable,” Joely stated. “That’s good.” She was looking now at the random arrangement of garden beds framed by small rocks and filled with succulents, heather, faded hydrangeas, daffs, snowdrops, hellebores, and even palm trees.
“You have to wonder what it’s like inside,” Andee commented. “If it’s as well tended as the exterior.”
Joely turned to her. “I wish I could invite you in . . .”
“It’s OK, I understand that she doesn’t want visitors.”
Joely glanced over to the front door again surprised that no one had come out to meet them. Or maybe her host was waiting for the uninvited guest to leave before welcoming the one she was expecting. “I’ll take photos if I can,” she said, “and maybe when I’ve gotten to know her I’ll be able to invite you for tea.”
Andee smiled. “Do you want me to help you carry your things to the door?”
“It’s OK, I can manage,” Joely assured her, mindful of a meeting Andee had to get back for.
After taking her bags from the trunk she hugged Andee warmly and walked back to the driver’s side with her. “Thanks for bringing me.” She smiled. “And for all the moral support.”
“It’s always yours,” Andee assured her. “Stay in touch, won’t you?”
“Are you kidding? Of course. If you’re free, let’s make a tentative arrangement to have lunch next Saturday. We can call or email to confirm when I’ve got a clearer picture of what my schedule’s going to be.”
“It’s a deal!” Hugging her again, Andee slid into the car and started back down the drive.
As Joely watched her turn at the end to start along the track toward the Valley of Rocks she gave her a wave and only then realized it might have been a good idea to establish that someone was actually at home before she’d let Andee go.
To her astonishment there wasn’t.
She could hardly believe it, but the white envelope in plastic wrapping that she found attached to the panel of the doorbell with her name handwritten on the front, told her it was true.
My dear Joely,
Please forgive me for not being here to greet you, but I’ve been called away unexpectedly and I was unable to get hold of you on the phone. I expect you were crossing the moor where there’s little if any mobile reception.
Don’t worry, I shall be back tomorrow—
Tomorrow!
—and I’ve left a key under the pot to your right so you can let yourself in. Please make yourself at home. You’ll find more helpful instructions in the kitchen, which is at the far end of the house on the ground floor of the tower. You simply follow the corridor from the entrance hall all the way through to the last door which is facing you. There is plenty to eat courtesy of my housekeeper Brenda Bambridge, who you’ll meet in due course.
I am very much looking forward to working with you.
Freda M. Donahoe
Not at all sure how she felt about this, apart from distinctly weird, Joely glanced at her mobile, saw no service in the top corner, and having to fight down a surge of annoyance at being cut off in a strange place she accepted there was little else she could do right now but retrieve the key.
It was the smell of the place that greeted her first, kind of musty with drifts of wax and wood smoke and something sweet and flowery. She looked around the spacious entry hall with its wide ornate wooden staircase rising from the center up to a half landing where it divided and disappeared from view. The floor was laid with an intricate mosaic of earth-colored tiles, and the cream-colored paint on the walls was flaking in places and darker in others where smaller paintings had taken the place of larger ones. The magnificent windows that occupied the front wall were like masterpieces in their own right with such stunning views in their frames.
She glanced at the double doors in front of her, wondering what might be on the other side, but felt uncomfortable about snooping (in case she ran into someone or was even being watched). So she followed instructions and walked the long corridor at the back of the house through to the kitchen. It was high-ceilinged and bright thanks to a set of large French doors that led out to the vine-covered patio. The floor was laid with pale flagstones, the many cupboards and units were in honey-colored oak, and there was a long refectory table at the center of the room, and an enormous inglenook fireplace built into the far wall with an armchair on either side of it. There were other doors, presumably leading into a pantry, a utility room, and maybe one of them led to the base of the tor outside. Above the one she’d entered through was a quaint row of four brass servants’ bells and since they were labeled den, front door, music room, library, and bed, she suspected they might work, and was already praying hard that none of them rang while she was here alone.
Maybe she’d go to a hotel and come back in the morning?
Easier said than done with no reception on her phone.
It’s not that the place is spooky, she told her mother in her head, because it isn’t, but like any empty house it has the potential to be and given how remote it is I’d really rather not be here alone.
Silencing her misgivings—or at least storing them until she got to speak to her mother—she picked up a neatly written page from the table containing further instructions.
Dear Joely,
If you’re reading this then you’re in, so please let me welcome you to Dimmett House and I apologize again for not being here to greet you in person. Brenda has prepared the blue bedroom for you, which you’ll find at the top of the main staircase, first door you come to. There is a bathroom en suite and the French windows open onto a balcony that’s over the front porch (probably for warmer days).
The library and my writing room are in the tower, I will introduce you to them on my return.
For many years I have been vegetarian so Brenda has prepared a jackfruit, mushroom, and cheese bake which we hope you will enjoy. There is enough for six, so we’ll probably be eating it until Friday. Ha ha! You will find plenty of fresh veg to accompany it and Brenda has whisked up a delicious tiramisu for dessert, one of her specialties.
I hope you’ll be warm enough, but do light the fire if you’d like to. You’ll see a generous supply of logs beside the hearth, with lots of kindling and old newspapers in the cupboard to the right. On the chair closest to the logs I have left a large envelope containing a couple of chapters that I have compiled in readiness for your arrival. I thought it might help to start our discussions. I will explain more about my plans for the memoir when I get back.
Lastly, and I know this will be important, I have put the WiFi code at the bottom of this sheet. Unfortunately, it’s more miss than hit out here, but if you don’t get a connection right away please be patient because one will come along.
I hope to be back before eleven tomorrow.
Yours truly,
Freda M. Donahoe
Joely looked up from the note and took in her surroundings again. Through the French windows she spotted a rabbit bounding through the long grass and a wooden bench turned toward the sea. It looked bitterly cold out there and dismal in the sleeting rain that had begun to fall. Any thoughts of trudging back to town for the night were fading fast, for if the wind picked up, and she could see from the slant of the trees that it was already starting to, it would slice the skin off her bones before she got to the Valley of Rocks, and no way did she want to walk through there in the dark.
Spotting an electric kettle beside the Aga with an array of brightly colored mugs hanging from the base of the cabinet above, she decided to make herself a cup of tea.
While she waited for the water to boil she entered the WiFi code into her phone and within seconds she was receiving texts. Five came through straightaway: the first two from Sully explaining that Mrs. Donahoe wasn’t going to be at home to meet her. The third was from her mother wishing her luck and telling her to call as soon as she could. The fourth was from Callum claiming to understand how badly he was handling things, but could she please be in touch. The fifth warmed her. It was from Holly, saying, I know you think Dad told me to send the text last night and you’re right, he did. Joke! I did it myself because I feel bad about leaving you, but I had my reasons. If you think that’s a bit cryptic you should try living with you. Oh you do, I forgot ☺ Anyway if you think I’m missing you you’re wrong but I reckon I will if you stay away long enough. H xxx
The clumsy attempt to ease the tension between them, while warning her not to make too much of it, caused Joely to feel a deep longing for her daughter and the closeness they used to share. It was without doubt the nicest message she’d received from her since Callum had gone, and while she wondered what had really prompted it she knew better than to ask. The wiser course would be to wait a few hours before texting back to say something like Have I been away long enough yet? It would make Holly smile in spite of herself, and if Joely could achieve that then there was a good chance they’d start to find their way out of this thorny patch they were trying to get through.
After making some tea she sat down at the table to call her mother.
“Hi, darling, how are you? Where are you?”
“I’m at the house,” Joely replied. “Mrs. Donahoe has been called away and won’t be back until tomorrow.”
“Really? So who was there to let you in?”
“She left a key. I’m here alone.”
The connection failed so Joely moved about the kitchen and eventually her mother was back again. “Sorry, I lost you,” she said. “Did you get that I’m here alone?”
“Yes, and I said I’m not sure what to make of it. It seems an odd way to greet someone. Are you all right?”
“I think so. There are lots of instructions on how to make myself at home, food in the fridge, a log fire to light. It’s a fabulous place, actually, or what I’ve seen of it is.”
When her mother didn’t respond she realized she’d been talking to herself for a while.
“Are there neighbors?” her mother suddenly asked.
“Not unless you count the wildlife. Actually, there’s a deer in the meadow outside even as we speak, but the town, which is very small, is about a mile away.”
“Has she kept her promise about a car?”
“There’s a Jeep outside, but she hasn’t mentioned it in her note so I wouldn’t want to use it, even if I knew where the keys were, which I don’t. Anyway, tell me, how things are with you?”
Sighing, her mother said, “Busy, but not in a good way.” She disappeared again and came back saying, “ . . . so there’s no way I’ll meet my target this month.”
Joely said, “I don’t know why you put yourself through the stress of it when you don’t actually need to work. Dad left you pretty well off . . .”
“I’d drive myself crazy if I didn’t have something to do and you know it. Did you remember to send my love to Andee, by the way?”
“Of course, and she sends hers. Have you been in touch with Holly?”
“Yes, she texted me this morning to ask if she could come and stay for a while.”
Joely’s heart missed a beat. “So things aren’t going so well in her loft?” she said hopefully.
“I don’t know if it’s that. Apparently Callum and Martha are going away for a couple of days and she doesn’t want to be there alone.”
Joely had to swallow as she struggled with the concept of her husband and ex–best friend on a romantic break together. For a moment she felt oddly panicked by it, as though she had to stop them, but how on earth she was supposed to do that she had no idea.
“I shouldn’t have told you,” her mother said ruefully.
Though Joely wished she hadn’t, she said, “It’s OK, I’d probably have found out anyway.” She wouldn’t ask where they were going, there was no point doing that to herself, because if it turned out to be somewhere she and Callum had been together, or had always wanted to go, she didn’t think she could bear it.
“ . . . are you going to do until your client gets back?”
Joely started to answer but a strange sound suddenly clanged out of nowhere and she froze in shock.
“Joely? What is it?”
Joely turned to the servants’ bells. There was a light above one and as it rang again she stepped back as though it might spring from its base to attack her.
Realizing it was the front door, she said, “Someone’s here. Stay on the line while I go to find out who it is?”
“It’s probably the postman,” her mother assured her.
Spurred by the likelihood, Joely went back along the corridor to the front door where her bags were still parked where she’d left them. “Who’s there?” she called out, putting an ear to one of the panels.
“Florist,” came the reply. “I have a delivery for Mrs. J. Foster.”
Blinking in astonishment, Joely whispered to her mother, “Did you hear that?”
“I did. You’ll have to open the door.”
Joely did as she was told and found herself confronted by a spotty youth brandishing a fulsome bunch of bright yellow daffodils.
“No signature,” he told her, and thrusting them into her hand he sprinted back to where he’d left his van.
“Who on earth is sending me flowers?” she said, unable to stop herself thinking of Callum. Obviously they wouldn’t be from him, he didn’t even know where she was, and anyway, why would he?
“Is there a card?” her mother asked.
Finding one, Joely tugged it free, opened it, and read aloud, “‘Daffodils symbolize new beginnings, creativity, and inspiration. Freda Donahoe.’”
“Gosh, how thoughtful,” her mother commented.
“Mm,” Joely responded, thinking the same, along with something else she couldn’t quite define. “I should go and put them in water. I’ll call again later if you’re not going out.”
“I should be home by six. Speak to you then.”
An hour later Joely was curled up in one of the armchairs, snug and warm in front of a real fire and pleasantly full after a helping of Brenda’s delicious jackfruit bake. She’d have followed it with a spoonful of tiramisu if a rogue memory of sharing the dessert with Callum on holiday in Sicily hadn’t shunted her appetite into the deadening plains of her heartbreak.
She understood, she really did, why some people were driven to drink when trapped in all this pain, how the hurt and anguish of it all could send them out of their minds, because sometimes she could feel it happening to her. It had happened when her father died, although that had probably been worse, for she really had lost her mind for a while.
She closed her eyes, knowing that the best way through it was to try not to think about it, consuming though it was, and since one of the main reasons for taking this job was to refocus her mind, she turned to the pages Freda Donahoe had left for her.
By the look of them, they’d been composed on an old-fashioned typewriter that possibly wasn’t even electric. Joely found this quaint and even admirable, though she was relieved she’d brought her laptop for she couldn’t imagine trying to create a single sentence of her own without the luxury of delete, cut, and paste.
If Callum and Martha were words just think what she could do to them; certainly she wouldn’t pair them with “and” in the middle. More likely she’d put them on separate pages, probably even in separate books, or she could simply dump Martha in the trash.
Sighing, she turned to the first page of Freda Donahoe’s memoir and started to read.
Half an hour later she went back to the beginning and read through both chapters again, this time asking herself what kind of input Mrs. Donahoe might be hoping for from her.
“There’s not much of it yet,” she told Andee when she called to find out how Joely was settling in, “but what there is paints a pretty clear picture of a teenage girl on a mission to seduce her music teacher.”
“And the girl is her?”
“I think we can take that as read.”
“Is the teacher male or female?”
“Very definitely male. It’s possible he’s encouraging her to come on to him, that actually he’s the real manipulator of the piece, but at fifteen she’s not mature enough to understand that. It’ll be interesting to see where it goes.”
“Or ends? I’m thinking of the tragedies you mentioned.”
Joely nodded thoughtfully. “An affair with an underage pupil would be a crime, consensual or not, and might indeed impact the rest of the girl’s life. Anyway, I don’t actually know yet if it does develop into an affair. It’s left with some pretty powerful chemistry doing its best, or worst, during a private piano lesson, but so far no physical contact.”
There was a smile in Andee’s voice as she said, “Have you googled the music teacher yet?”
“No, but I will when I get a decent connection—although it’s possible she’s using a pseudonym.” She started as a gust of wind suddenly rattled the French doors and howled eerily around the tower. “Are you having a storm over your side of the moor?” she asked, staring out at the turbulent shadows of twilight and hoping she didn’t spot anything she’d rather not.
“We are,” Andee confirmed, “but it’s forecast to blow itself through by morning. Have you explored much of the house yet?”
“Actually, no. It’s so cozy in this kitchen that I haven’t wanted to move, but I suppose I ought to go and check out the blue bedroom where she’s put me before it gets dark. I hope she doesn’t get power cuts here, that would freak me right out.”
“Maybe you should try to find some candles or a torch in case you need them,” Andee advised.
“Good idea. I’ll do it now, but I swear, if she keeps them in the basement they’ll be staying there.”
Still smiling at Andee’s laugh as she rang off, Joely unraveled herself from the chair and keeping the warm fleece around her shoulders she began rummaging about for a form of emergency light in case she needed it. Fortunately she came across a torch that worked in a table drawer, and spotting an old photograph beside it she took it out and held it up to the light. It was of a small girl, probably no more than three or four, sandwiched between two boys, one not much older than her, perhaps six or seven, the other closer to eleven or twelve. She guessed from their similar shocks of blonde hair and round faces that they were related, probably brothers and sister, though there was nothing written on the back to identify them or the date of when it was taken.
Freda’s children when they were young? They might even be grandchildren.
Reflecting on how sorry she was that she and Callum hadn’t been able to have more children she put the photograph back in its place and closed the drawer. Time, she decided, to make her first foray up the stairs before it was completely dark outside.