Monday the thirtieth of May was a bright, glorious day. Selena threw open the windows of the second bedroom, gazing out at the clustered flowers in the garden, the newly growing herbs, the well. Cool fresh air and sunlight thick as honey flooded into every corner. In the centre of the room, the bed was freshly made; the bedcovers were crisp and white, newly washed and spotless, arranged over plump pillows. A fragrant candle flickered on the bedside table. Joely had recommended one in a jar, scented with sage: she said it was an uplifting aroma promoting wisdom, and sage was apparently the perfect way to cleanse the house of any negative energy. Selena was delighted; in the daylight, the second bedroom was pretty and welcoming. With its clean white walls, curtains billowing like sails in the breeze, a clear glass vase of bluebells in the window, it looked perfect. Selena was sure Claire would be both comfortable and relaxed there during her stay. It was hard to imagine, she decided, that the bedroom had once been two small rooms, which, coupled with the living room, had been home to an entire family centuries ago.
Selena wandered downstairs, taking a cup of tea into the conservatory with the intention of organising her paintings into some kind of chronological order. She’d enjoy showing them to Claire, who would take them back to Manchester to display in the gallery. Selena was pleased with the number of paintings she had finished; Sloe Cottage was very conducive to creativity.
She gazed again at the picture of the red sunset over Wychanger Lane and decided that she would tell Claire about how the painting had come to be, how it was whispered in her ear during a strange dream. In fact, she was going to speak openly about the eerie atmosphere in the cottage from now onwards. She hoped it would make her feel less on edge; she wanted to find out everything she could about the people who had lived here when it had been a simple dwelling. She was mystified by so many things: the strange witch’s marks over the door at Hilltop Farm, Ian’s tales of other people who had rented the cottage having had bizarre experiences, and the little tousle-haired girl at Ashcombe Primary who had declared in front of the class that Sloe Cottage was haunted. Nick had appeared similarly fascinated by the history of Sloe Cottage, and she was looking forward to seeing him on Sunday, when they’d plan a strategy for uncovering the cottage’s secret past. The idea made her skin tingle with excitement.
Selena sorted through her paintings, gazing again at the picture of the garden in moonlight, and had to admit the garden held an almost magical atmosphere at night. She felt the impulse to go there in darkness, to look up at the moon, to listen to the bubbling water at the bottom of the well and to breathe in cool air.
She was tugged from her thoughts by a distant knocking on the front door and she rushed to open it. Then she was hugging Claire and grinning.
Claire held Selena at arm’s-length, smiling at her. ‘Wow, you’re looking so good. How fresh-faced and healthy are you? I must look awful. The drive was horrendous – all congestion and queues and traffic cones. I left at six in the morning and it’s taken me until now – what time is it? Well past lunchtime.’ She indicated her luggage, two bulging cases. ‘And I’ve brought all of this. You’d think I was going out on the town for a week, not enjoying a rural retreat. But you know I’ve never mastered the art of packing light.’
‘Let’s take lunch into the back garden. It’s a perfect little suntrap out there,’ Selena said. She lifted one of Claire’s cases and they both stepped through into the hall. The door slammed behind them with a bang, as if an unseen hand had closed it.
Claire shivered. ‘Oh, I’d forgotten how chilly it is once you step inside. It was nice and sunny in the front garden, but it’s like a freezer in here.’ They were in the living room and she pointed at the wood-burning stove. ‘I can see why you keep a fire on all the time. It does take the chill off the air.’
Selena was already in front of her, calling over her shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s put these cases in your bedroom and then we’ll sit in the garden and have lunch.’
Claire pulled a face. ‘I had to leave the light on all night last time I slept in that room. And I drank half a bottle of brandy so that I’d forget where I was. It gets incredibly dark in there and everything creaks.’
Selena’s voice was light. ‘I’ve aired the whole room and made it smell gorgeous. You’ll sleep like a log this time.’
They sat in the back garden, bowls of salad on their knees. Claire was still chattering, her voice excited. ‘The gallery is doing so well. Three of my paintings have sold this week, and four of yours. And Gulliver has even sold one of his. Selena, he’s amazing. People who come in to the gallery flock to talk to him – he’s like a magnet, and such a persuasive salesman.’
‘I can’t wait to meet him,’ Selena said, enjoying Claire’s excitement.
‘I’m sure you’ll remember him from uni. I knew who he was as soon as I saw him.’
Selena shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I would. I was a bit self-absorbed in those days. Flynn and I were, you know, wrapped up in ourselves.’
‘I remember. Like an old married couple.’ Claire leaned forward. ‘To be honest, I need to talk to you about Gulliver. I think there’s a chance that he, well, how can I put it? I think he likes me. There’s an attraction there and I’m not sure whether to go for it…’
‘Oh?’ Selena raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, you could wait and see what happens…’
‘The thing is,’ Claire said. ‘I had all those years with Ross and I was completely disastrous as a wife. He was really only interested in his music and I was only interested in my art, and once we were married, I knew it was a mistake for both of us. We tried, but, you know the rest, we failed miserably. And I always saw myself as a good-time girl after that, parties and fun and no commitments. And focusing on painting and our gallery.’
Selena examined Claire’s face: there was something different, something calm about her friend’s expression, a new warmth in her voice when she mentioned Gulliver. She couldn’t stop herself from asking, ‘So why is Gulliver special?’
Claire didn’t hesitate. ‘He’s genuinely interested in me. He’s thoughtful, considerate. We talk, we understand each other. We sort of gel.’ She laughed, a short sudden sound of triumph. ‘And besides, he’s gorgeous.’
‘I do understand.’ Selena was delighted. She was thinking of Nick. She wondered whether to confide in Claire, to tell her that she’d met someone who was similarly caring and unselfish, the opposite of David. But she decided to say nothing, not yet; she was unsure if Nick would ever be more than a friend. She exhaled. ‘Gulliver sounds perfect. And just play it by ear – if it’s going to happen, then it will.’
‘Oh, I hope so.’ Claire agreed. ‘He’s so nice. And brilliant to work with. He’s in the gallery right now.’
‘It’s a bank holiday today,’ Selena said, surprised.
‘I know – but he’s keen. He’s setting up some of his new paintings and ours: he’s changing the window display. He is marvellous. Oh, and he’s looking after the flat, too.’
‘That’s great.’ Selena realised that she had forgotten all about the flat: she had begun to think of Sloe Cottage as home. Memories of her old life in Manchester surfaced for a moment and with them, the dull ache of sadness.
Claire smiled. ‘He’s currently living in a poky terrace with his sister, her husband and two kids in Moss Side, until he can find a place of his own. I’ve told him he can flat-sit while I’m away. Don’t worry, Selena, he’s absolutely trustworthy.’ Claire patted her friend’s hand, noting her troubled expression. ‘He’s staying in my room. Your stuff is all locked away.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean…’
‘It’s a perfect arrangement.’ Claire fished a slice of tomato from her salad bowl and pushed it into her mouth. ‘Even the food tastes better out in the countryside. And I can’t wait to meet all your new friends. Aren’t we having a dinner party one night?’
‘Thursday. I’m borrowing Matty’s barbecue – he’s going to set it up in the front garden. I’ve invited lots of people.’ Selena wondered for a moment if she should invite Nick. But he’d be in Exeter, probably working late at the university, and she had the distinct feeling that Claire would become very protective of Selena if she mentioned the possibility of a new man in her life: there would be a great deal of questions. She decided she’d save telling Claire about him until later, until she was sure about the status of their relationship. She added, ‘I’m so looking forward to spending some time with you this week. So, once we’ve had lunch, how would you like to look at all the work I’ve done? Then maybe we can do a bit of painting ourselves. I have some wonderful photos of Exmoor to show you.’
Late that evening, after supper, Selena and Claire sat on the sofa in front of the wood burner, their toes stretched out. Claire cradled a large glass of brandy in her hand and Selena was sipping tea.
Claire yawned. ‘The drive has taken it out of me – I’m exhausted. I think I’ll turn in soon.’ She heard a sudden slapping at the window, a crack of knuckles, and she sat up abruptly. ‘What’s that?’
‘The blackthorn branch.’ Selena returned the yawn. ‘It’s always doing it.’
‘It sounds like someone’s knocking…’ Claire was clearly unsettled.
‘It keeps me company,’ Selena said calmly.
‘Oh, that’s so creepy.’ Claire shook her head as if pushing a thought away. ‘But being here has clearly helped you flourish as an artist. I can’t get over your new paintings. They are so vivid. The landscape just jumps out at you.’ Claire sipped her brandy. ‘What’s happened? Your style has changed, shifted a bit – it’s more surreal.’
‘It’s definitely the effect of living here, you’re right,’ Selena admitted. ‘The house seems to affect my paintings. I feel isolated and a bit edgy; sometimes it’s as if someone is watching me when I paint. And my work is becoming influenced by that.’
‘You’re making me shiver.’ Claire stared at Selena. ‘And there was that incredibly moody painting you did of the hills in the sunset…’
‘Wychanger Lane?’ Selena began. Then she sat absolutely still: there was a dull thud from above, a single crashing noise as if something had fallen in the bedroom.
Claire couldn’t speak.
Selena frowned. ‘I’ve no idea what that was.’
Claire shook her head. Then she found her voice. ‘It was in my bedroom, wasn’t it?’
‘Did you leave your case on the bed? Could it have dropped off?’
‘No… I packed everything away and put the case underneath the bed.’ Claire shook visibly. ‘You were there with me. It was like ice in that room too.’
‘I left the windows open to air the room… but I know I shut them before we had supper.’ Selena stood up. ‘Right, let’s go and check.’
‘Really?’ Claire gasped.
Selena held out a hand and Claire gripped it. They walked slowly through the lobby and the kitchen, treading quietly up the stairs. Then Selena heard another thud and stopped, holding her breath, listening.
‘What is it?’ Claire whispered.
Selena climbed two more steps, heaving Claire with her; they were almost at the top. Then she put a finger to her lips.
The muffled sound came from beyond the landing, from inside Claire’s bedroom. It was a woman’s voice, just audible, singing the tender notes of a lullaby.
‘Cares you know not, therefore sleep,
While mother here a watch will keep…’
Selena tugged Claire’s hand; Claire held back, terrified, as they moved from the top step onto the landing. The door to the second bedroom was ajar.
The song continued, the voice now hollow and desolate, the tenderness replaced by sadness and loss.
‘Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.’
Selena knew she had shut the door. She recalled being there with Claire, closing the windows, pulling the door to with a crisp click. But the door was open, and the voice was murmuring from inside the room, almost a whisper.
Claire froze where she was, shaking her head frantically. She couldn’t move forward.
Selena took two steps, then another. She was almost level with the door. A sound came from inside the room, a hushed voice, words flat and toneless, the incantation of a spell. Selena put out a hand and touched the door latch, staring into the room. The windows had been flung open and a draught blew cold air in her face. The pale ceiling was gone; there was darkness, emptiness, rafters, straw and a high roof space. Then, in the corner of the room, something moved, a hazy shifting of light in the gritty darkness, a huddled shape. The silhouette was still for a moment, then it loosened, became mist and was no more.
Selena blinked, staring into the gloom; she could see the bed, the windows open, the corners cluttered with shadows. On the floor, bluebells were strewn; the vase must have toppled from the windowsill. She closed the door with a soft clunk and turned to Claire, who was cowering a distance away, a hand to her mouth. She would not go in.