Chapter Eleven

Early May, Present Day

Aidan pulled up at the gates, an odd sort of feeling in his stomach that he recognised as excitement. It had been nearly two weeks since the last time he’d been to Hartsford; two weeks that for some reason had felt like two years.

The time had dragged, and one particular client, a lady called Kim Barrett, hadn’t helped matters. Kim was trying desperately to monopolise his time. And as she wasn’t Cassie, he, equally desperately, didn’t want her to monopolise his time. Kim’s latest trick had been to decide she wanted a water feature behind the barn she was converting into a shabby-chic boutique and tea room.

‘Can you come and sort my little problem out please?’ she had asked. ‘It won’t take long.’ Aidan established she’d hired some suspect brothers who owned a small JCB and asked them to dig a deep hole until they found water. They hadn’t found water and had vanished into the sunset, leaving something that resembled a small, badly designed quarry behind.

‘While you’re here,’ she told Aidan, as if she had just thought of it, ‘would you draw me some plans so I can make a little interpretation centre by my new lake please? And maybe a country walk plan for the area around it? Just while you’re here, yes?’

But, at last, Aidan had fended her off, given her the plans, arranged some damage-limitation and was free to concentrate on Hartsford Hall … and Cassie. He rang the mobile number he had called yesterday, when he had arranged his visit, and smiled as she answered it. ‘Hey. Can I interest anyone in a quote for a blue-tiled swimming pool and some squash courts?’

‘Only if you throw in some tennis courts. Are you here?’

‘I’m here. And I’ve brought the sketch book back as well.’

‘Oh, thank you. I’ll come to the gates.’

‘I’ll be waiting.’

It didn’t take her long to appear around the corner and wave a greeting to him.

He jumped off the bike and walked up to the gates, smiling. ‘Reasonable rates. I promise.’

‘Excellent.’ She pressed the buttons and the gates opened. ‘Come on, then. Bring the bike in while I watch jealously.’

‘No. You can bring the bike in. If you can ride it, of course,’ he teased.

Cassie looked at him, then a grin to match his spread across her face. ‘Of course I can ride it. What do you take me for?’

Aidan laughed and handed the keys over. Cassie took them and walked over to the T5. She ran her fingers delicately across the shiny, black paintwork, then mounted it. She started the bike, her eyes widening at the roooooar the machine greeted her with. Then she lifted her other foot off the ground, kicked the stand away expertly and sped off through the gates, her dark hair flying out behind her like a raven’s wing.

‘Nice,’ murmured Aidan. And he wasn’t talking about the T5 either.

Cassie laughed out loud as she stopped the bike and dismounted. ‘Woah. That was something a bit more intense than I’m used to. Very nice. I’d watch that, if I was you. It might easily go missing if you’re distracted enough.’

‘I could easily get distracted.’ Aidan didn’t necessarily mean by his work, but he didn’t tell Cassie that. By the way her cheeks flushed suddenly, he had a feeling she’d read his thoughts anyway. ‘Shall we make a start?’

But before she could answer, a voice interrupted them. ‘Cassie? Is that you trading the Yamaha up?’ A man appeared from behind the building and grinned cheerfully at Aidan. He had brown eyes and messy, strawberry-blonde hair, teamed with a beard. ‘I never thought I’d see the day.’

Cassie smiled back. ‘Oh, Tom! You know me too well. No, I’m just borrowing it. Very briefly.’

‘Oh, that’s all right then. I can’t imagine you ever not riding the Yamaha. Okay, I shall love you and leave you if you’re entertaining.’ He flashed another smile at Aidan. ‘I’m just popping back to the museum, and then I’ll have to head back to Hever. Anne Boleyn waits for no man, not even me. Although Blickling Hall was rather spectacular. And you were right. Framlingham was worth a visit.’ He came up to Cassie and hugged her, then kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’ll catch you soon, darling.’

‘Okay, Tom, see you.’

The man, Tom, blew another kiss and sauntered off, letting himself out of the gates.

Cassie laughed and shook her head, then turned her attention back to Aidan. ‘That’s Tom. He’s mad keen on the Tudors and does this endless research on them for his PhD. I haven’t seen him for a few weeks, so he called in on his way to the next destination in case, and I quote, I’d missed him. He offered to help out for the weekend, but to be truthful I don’t think Henry VIII belongs in our Country House Party. Anyway – you said you wanted to make a start.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Come on. This way.’ Cassie began to walk over to the pool.

It wasn’t exactly how Aidan had envisaged this day panning out. Yes, he would have been here in a professional capacity anyway, but he had harboured a hope that he could maybe make more of their budding relationship. There had, undeniably, been a connection there. He was sure of it.

But he hadn’t factored Tom in. He frowned as he recalled him hugging and kissing Cassie. Oh, well. That was it, then. Over before it had started. Damn and blast it. Maybe he’d read the signals all wrong this whole time. Shit.

‘Here you go.’ Cassie’s voice broke into his thoughts. When they reached the Spa area, it did look pretty bad, now he had a proper professional eye on it. And yes, it was professional. Thanks to bloody Tom.

Taking a notebook and a tape-measure out of one pocket, and the stub of a pencil out of another, Aidan tried to forget his ideas of what might have happened today, and began jotting measurements and plans down instead. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to imagine the pool fully restored and walked around the perimeter of it. Then he stopped outside something that looked like an old brick shed. The changing rooms, of course.

The windows were grimy and cracked, the glass plastered with spiderwebs and their residents. And also, he noted distastefully, with the carcasses of their lunch.

‘We had a wasps’ nest here a couple of years ago.’ Cassie was standing next to him with her arms folded and almost reading his mind. ‘Nasty little buggers. The nest was a work of art though. Alex insisted we keep it and display it in the cabinets in the Long Gallery with the stuffed monstrosities so beloved of our ancestors.’

‘Stuffed monstrosities? What, like animals? Or maiden aunts?’

‘Maybe a few of both.’ Cassie laughed. ‘I expect I’ll be a maiden aunt one day. I hope they have a cabinet big enough for me. My brother and his wife are expecting twins.’ She smiled suddenly, her whole face brightening. ‘I’m not at the taxidermy stage yet though. They’ll have me bothering them for a while, I’m sure.’

‘I’m sure they will. Look, I’ve been assessing this area and I think I need to tell you that you need to do a—’

‘—risk assessment? Yes, thanks. It’s in hand. In fact, it’s done.’

‘Great.’ Aidan nodded. ‘Because the state of this place is pretty hazardous if—’

‘—if I want visitors here.’ She unfolded her arms and put her hands on her hips. ‘I don’t want them suing us. That would just make things a hundred times worse than they are at the moment.’ Her face shadowed for a second, her mind obviously somewhere else. ‘Anyway. I do have a risk assessment.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. You understand I have to advise you from my perspective?’

‘Yes, of course. As well as giving me a quote. It makes perfect sense.’

‘Yes. Because my staff will have to come onto your land and work. I’ve got a right to ensure their safety, but some clients don’t see it that way unfortunately.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Cassie blushed, a pretty pink colour that matched the flowers on the rosebay willow herbs that waved chest deep out of the cracks in the paving stones in front of the changing rooms. ‘I do.’

‘And thank you for doing so.’ Aidan made as if he was studying his notebook, but it was more to hide his smile. Despite the fact he was determined to remain professional, she was just beyond charming. ‘Anyway. Is there a chance of me getting inside this building at all? I think it’s worth seeing what the interior is like. You might want to open the changing rooms up at some point, so the visitors can get changed. Or at least smarten the building up a bit. Unless that’s not on your project chart?’

‘Oh, it most certainly is! Yes. I’ve got the keys with me. I had a feeling you’d need to be in here.’

‘Okay.’ Aidan stepped to one side. He indicated the door with a little bow and a smile, and pointed to the rusted padlock. ‘If you would be so kind as to get us in here that would be wonderful.’

Cassie fiddled with the padlock for the longest time, aware that Aidan was watching her. She could practically feel the waves of amusement coming off him.

Of course she’d never thought of opening this bit of the estate up. It wasn’t in her plan at all. But, she conceded as she finally managed to wrench the key around in the padlock and heard it click satisfactorily, it was a jolly good plan. And of course she did have a project chart sorted out, as well as having had a risk assessment done. Thank goodness none of that was a lie.

The mere fact she hadn’t really done anything else with them was incidental. She still hadn’t read the risk assessment, although she was willing to bet that was where Elodie got that information for the squash court steps from. She obviously knew more than Cassie had given her credit for. Cassie blushed again, then thanked the Lord her sister-in-law was kind of watching out for her quietly.

‘That’s it. It’s open. In you go.’ She stood back. Aidan grinned and walked past her. And good grief, this place was even worse than the squash courts. She didn’t think it had been properly opened and aired in the last twenty years, apart from when they had the wasps’ nest.

Cassie could only remember coming into this building once or twice before that – it was just somewhere they didn’t venture. Plus, her father always had it locked up so they knew it was pointless even trying to get inside. Alex had worked at the window putty at the front for a little while one summer, then given up, and they hadn’t tried again.

There were piles of broken, wooden furniture stacked up and the floor was pretty dodgy in places. Rotten curtains hung from some of the cubicles and Cassie felt rather sick as they crunched through a layer of dead insects and desiccated leaves that must have blown in under the door.

‘It’s got potential.’ Aidan tugged at one of the curtains and the whole thing came down in a cloud of dust.

He swore loudly. Then: ‘Sorry about that!’ after they had finished coughing and wafting the stuff away from their faces.

‘That’s fine. They need to come down anyway. It’s in my project plan.’

Aidan looked at her quickly and she looked at him, and she must have looked as guilty as she felt – and then for some reason, they both started laughing.

‘Really. It’s okay.’ Cassie grabbed hold of another curtain and yanked it down. Then he did one, and so they went on until all the cubicles were exposed and they stood looking at six cupboard-sized spaces, three on one side of a big carved urn that maybe once was a drinking fountain of sorts, and three on the other.

‘Ladies and Gents. And a water fountain that probably didn’t deliver much in the way of water. There’s a family story that they filled the bowl with punch and had some very jolly japes here.’

‘Really?’ Aidan looked intrigued. He walked over and ran his fingertips over the carved stone. Cassie wondered if he was imagining Robert filling a glass from the punch bowl, knocking the alcohol back and running, semi-clad, into the pool. Robert running out there, straight onto the diving board and then bouncing and dive-bombing into the pool, a cry of triumph on his lips as the water splashed up and swallowed him. Robert being pursued by the girl in the sketch, her long hair flying behind her and a forest-green tinted swimsuit perfectly sculpting her curves …

Cassie blinked. She knew that she wasn’t imagining the next scene. Just as if someone had switched an old projector on and pointed it at the wall, she saw them, clear as day. It was almost as though they had been hiding in the cubicles, ready to come out and play.

The silent film ran through its reels – the man, young, good-looking and possibly quite drunk – was darting around, playing tag in the changing rooms with a copper-haired girl. Her legs, long and tanned, covered the distance between them easily as they danced around each other, choreographed perfectly, as if it was a dance they had done a thousand times.

Cassie didn’t get a close look at the girl’s face. She wouldn’t stay still long enough, but she knew she was laughing and she knew it was Stella. The young man rounded on her and suddenly ducked down beneath her arms. Stella tried to move, but her ankle turned slightly and she stumbled. The man scooped her up into his arms and ran outside, with her flailing and wriggling in his grip.

Fascinated, Cassie rushed to the window, in time to see the man take a flying leap off the poolside, still clutching the girl. They landed in the pool and the water rose up in a great tidal wave, soaking a group of other people by the poolside. One young man sat placidly and simply raised his glass, trying to protect it from the water. One young woman buried her head in the chest of another young man. There were others there too; hazy shapes that Cassie didn’t concentrate on, but an impression of fun and joy exuded from them all.

Then the images faded and she found she was staring at a disused swimming pool and a weedy mess and crumbling steps that led down into nothing.

‘Can you feel it too?’ Aidan’s soft voice broke into her thoughts and dragged her back to the present. ‘The echoes of the past? It would have been wonderful, wouldn’t it?’ He was still staring around him. He could have no idea of what Cassie had just seen, but his eyes lighted on Cassie and he smiled.

In the warm, enveloping silence of the musty old changing rooms Cassie simply nodded, her mind somewhere else. The mould and the blueish-green coloured rusty deposits on the drain covers didn’t exist. The place was full of bright young things shouting and laughing; the ladies tipsy, the men roaring drunk.

They deserved their fun – the Second World War would have stripped all that away from them. How many of them had lost their lives in the conflict? How many of them had lost their lovers? Had any of these people she’d just seen suffered?

‘It’s rather sad,’ Cassie said eventually, ‘that we don’t really know if he ever came back here afterwards.’

‘I know.’ Aidan looked out of the window, his eyes focussing on something for a moment as his brows drew together. Then he turned away, his attention back on his notebook.

Although he was here in a professional capacity now – as he had to keep reminding himself every time he glanced at Cassie – and should have moved on from Robert’s lost youth, he still had the feeling that Hartsford hadn’t really let go of Robert Edwards.

He’d almost certainly heard a shriek of laughter, a cry of ‘Rob!’ from outside just now and there were prickles of unease on the back of his neck. All the hairs on his forearms stood on end and there was an icy draught swirling past him. Then everything settled and went back to normal.

He’d worked in strange places before – abandoned buildings that people swore were haunted – although he’d never experienced anything first hand. But Hartsford was different, somehow. There definitely seemed to be something of his great-great-uncle left here, even if it was just a memory seared into the old bricks.

Robert was a little too late to be classed as part of Hemmingway’s so-called “Lost Generation” – the young men who had come of age during World War 1 and the early twenties – but Aidan thought the term was equally applicable to the people who would have partied here in the years in between the wars. The idea that he was standing in perhaps the same building that Robert had stood in all those years ago – with a girl from that very same family, if indeed Robert’s nameless, faceless muse had been a daughter of Hartsford Hall – was a little bit surreal.

He shook the thoughts away and reminded himself again that he was here on business, in good faith, to assist a client in a renovation project – even though he suspected the actual project chart was probably more mythical than realistic. But still, he owed it to Cassie to be professional, and he owed it to Robert to bring the place back to life. Robert. Or Rob, as he understood he’d been called by his close friends and family. Yes. Rob. He felt a sense of closeness now to this intriguing relative of his, and hoped he wouldn’t mind it if he referred to him by his nickname.

Aidan cleared his throat and wrote something that meant nothing in his notebook. ‘Right. I need to get some more measurements.’ He was glad to hear the words coming out firmly. ‘Then we can sort out an action plan for here as well.’ He looked up and cast a skilled eye over the interior of the changing rooms and made a few more notes. Then he frowned. ‘Is there anything behind the fountain?’ Aidan walked over towards it, peered at it and pointed out a pile of bricks that had tumbled into what looked like a void behind it.

There was a strange, brackish, cloudy light coming from the gap, and as Aidan leaned in towards it to move some bricks out of the void, he felt a breath of wind on his face. A smell of damp earth and another small draught wove around him and he stood up. ‘This is odd. Come over here.’ At least that breeze might have explained the weird draught earlier.

Cassie, who had been staring at the cubicles, apparently in a little world of her own, started and looked at him. ‘Sorry? I was miles away. Or perhaps years away. Just thinking, you know?’

‘I know. But look at this!’ He indicated the hole in the wall and Cassie came over to stand next to him.

She bent down and peered in. ‘It doesn’t smell very nice.’ She wrinkled her nose.

‘No, but I’m wondering if we’ve got a window behind there. Do you know? There’s no other explanation for the light coming through.’

‘Holes in the brickwork outside?’ Cassie turned to him. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever noticed anything. It’s a place I rarely visit. Shall we pop out the back and see? It’s a bit overgrown – you might get scratched or nettled.’ She glanced at his bare forearms. ‘Are you all right with that?’

Aidan, in his turn, allowed his gaze to travel down to her cropped trousers and the elegant lower calves that appeared below the fabric. She had, he noticed, a tiny tattoo of a dragonfly on her ankle. ‘I don’t have bare ankles, so I’m willing if you’re willing.’

‘I do love a good family mystery.’ A smile suddenly broke across Cassie’s face. ‘Let’s see if we’ve got one here. A mysterious window in an old building. Brilliant!’

‘It might be a hole in the brickwork though. I wouldn’t get too excited yet.’

‘Oh, you don’t know this family and this house.’ Cassie unhooked an elastic band from her wrist, then reached up and dragged her hair back into a ponytail, twisting it up into a complicated knot system at the nape of her neck. She shook her head as if to make sure the hair wouldn’t come loose, then smiled. ‘Let’s go. I’ll lead the way.’

1940

Stella didn’t think she’d ever forget the hysterical phone call from Helen.

‘They’ve done it. They’ve bloody done it!’ Helen sounded drunk, which wasn’t at all like her. She could knock champagne back like the best of them, but she was always sensible until at least lunchtime. ‘Oh, God, I feel sick to my stomach, I do, I feel sick.’

‘What? Who’s done what?’ Stella thought she knew the answer, but she crossed her fingers and her legs and attempted to cross her toes inside her tennis shoes in the hope that she was wrong. Rob was waiting on the front lawn, all dressed in his tennis whites and looking divine, but a maid had come hurrying to find her before she’d even descended the stairs.

‘Anthony. And Stephen. And Oscar. Oh, God, they’ll die. They will. They’ll die! They’ve joined up. The three of them. The army.’ Helen took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘They did it together. Pulled strings. God knows what. They’re going to go through the whole thing in the same battalion or whatever the hell they call it. Officers. They say they’ll be officers soon, like they wanted to be. They’ve gone for a drink to celebrate. I can’t believe it! If I didn’t love Anthony so much, I’d hate him for this. I would. I do. I do hate him. God, Stella!’ Her voice rose to a feverish crescendo, then, almost more frighteningly, it dropped so her next words were no more than a pathetic little whisper. ‘I love him. What am I going to do, Stella? What the hell will I do?’

Stella’s eyes filled with tears and she clutched the receiver tightly to stop herself from shaking or dropping the phone or collapsing or something. She looked over her shoulder to the window where Rob was practising his swing. He must have sensed her looking at him as he turned and waved confidently at her, then went back to his practising. Her silk scarf was tied around his neck like a cravat and looked incongruous against his white clothes, but she knew what they’d done with that scarf and it made her giggle when he flaunted it at the most embarrassing moments.

‘I don’t know Helen. I don’t know.’ Her gaze followed Rob as he lifted the racquet and looked for all the world like a Wimbledon champion. She could see the strength in his arms, sense the muscles in his back contracting as he drew back and followed through the swing. What if it was her? What if Rob joined up?

Stella shook her head helplessly. ‘I simply don’t know.’

When Stella eventually came out of the Hall, her face was tear-stained and white.

Rob took one look and raced over to her. ‘Stella! My love, what’s the matter?’

‘Oh, Rob. It’s the boys. Helen just telephoned me. They’ve all decided to join the army.’

‘What?’ Rob’s heart flipped. ‘That’s sheer madness. Why the hell did they do that?’

‘To be heroes? To be noble and courageous? Because they think they’re bloody immortal?’

Rob pushed his fingers through his hair and shook his head. ‘We’re none of us immortal. Do they even understand what they’re getting themselves into?’ He had a horrible image of the three of them marching off to an unknown destination, laughing and roistering and looking dashing. However, as hard as he tried, he couldn’t imagine the three of them coming back as a trio. ‘God.’

‘Rob, don’t ever join the army.’

‘I won’t. I promised you that.’ He tried a laugh but it came out strangled. ‘I told you I’d prefer to fly a plane. Much more exciting and civilised.’

‘Oh, don’t even joke about it.’ She squashed herself right up to his body and he could smell the lingering scent of lavender on her clothes. ‘Hold me. Please.’

‘Marry me, Stella.’ The words surprised even him, although they did, admittedly, come out quite flippantly. ‘Then when I do go, I’ll go as the happiest pilot in the world.’

‘Rob, no!’ She pulled away. Looking up at him, she half-smiled through her tears. ‘Not yet. You certainly shouldn’t ask me under these circumstances. I believe it’s what they call a knee-jerk reaction.’

‘Knee-jerk. Yes. Perhaps.’ He smiled down at her. ‘One day you’ll say yes, won’t you?’

‘I will. One day.’