Claire drove back to Manchester on Saturday morning, her car stacked with paintings, clearly keen to see Gulliver but protesting that she would miss Selena and she couldn’t wait for her to come back to the flat at the end of June. By the evening, Selena had tidied the house, started a new painting of a view of the sea from the cliffs on Exmoor and aired the spare bedroom, which currently smelled of fresh sage from Joely’s candle. Now, early on Sunday morning, she was feeling cheerful and positive, laying the table for breakfast. Nick would arrive at any moment and they would make plans to find out more about the house’s history.
Selena set the table carefully: pretty cups and a china teapot for the Earl Grey tea, a basket for the croissants, a pot of jam with a small spoon. She was looking forward to spending time with him. Again, she thought about their relationship: he was unlike any man she had known before. He had never tried to persuade or cajole her to do what he wanted, as David would always do, and David would invariably sulk if he didn’t have his way. Even Flynn, who had been with her for the longest time, had taken the lead in most decisions, including being the one to end the relationship. But Nick consulted her on everything: they decided together where they would go, what they would do. She liked his easy confidence; he was intelligent without arrogance, unlike David, who could be pompous; he was warm, kind-hearted, and he had a wonderful sense of fun: David was often stubborn and aloof.
Selena smiled: perhaps she was ready for a relationship. It was clear that Nick was very different to David; there was mutual trust and affection in his relationship with her, an equality, and he was prepared to take things at Selena’s pace whereas David had been assertive, elusive, non-committal, supercilious. It occurred to Selena in a flash of light that she was over David. The hurt he had caused her was in the past now and she could move on. She knew that the memory of the miscarriage would be with her forever; it still kept her awake at night and haunted her dreams when she slept, but she was learning to live with the constant hollow ache. She told herself that she was healing; at least tears didn’t flow so readily now.
There was a knock at the door and she rushed towards it eagerly. Nick was pleased to see her; despite the bags he carried, he enveloped her in a warm hug and she led the way to the kitchen. After a leisurely breakfast, they moved to the sitting room, lounging on the sofa in front of the fire, and Nick handed her a book wrapped in tissue. Selena eagerly tore away the paper and clapped her hands.
‘Turbulent Exmoor, what a great title,’ she said, leafing through the pages. ‘Look at the pictures – paintings, landscapes, beautiful watercolours. Oh, and there’s poetry too – I didn’t know Coleridge was from Somerset.’
‘He rented a cottage just like you do now, to work on his poems. He stayed in Nether Stowey for a few years at the end of the eighteenth century – he wrote “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” there.’
Selena hugged the book. ‘Thanks Nick – I’ll treasure this.’ She was about to add that it would help her remember her time in Somerset when she returned to Manchester, but the words wouldn’t come.
His eyes sparkled. ‘And I’ve brought something else – my mother sent this.’ He indicated a box file that he’d placed on the table. ‘She found these papers in the attic. There are all sorts of old documents that go way back, apparently. They might give us some clues about the cottage, and the people who lived here.’
Selena took the box file over to the sofa, her face was flushed with excitement. ‘I can’t wait to delve in. This is so exciting. Do say thanks to Lesley for me.’
‘I will.’ Nick gave an apologetic grin. ‘She’s fond of you – I think she sees herself as a matchmaker too…’
‘I have noticed…’ Selena’s smile was almost flirtatious. ‘Well, we’re both single…’
He smiled broadly. ‘And we’re enjoying spending time together…’
Nick’s words hung in the air.
Selena deliberately turned her attention to the box file. ‘Right – what are we looking for?’
Nick watched her flip the lid as she gazed with fascination at aged documents, crinkled handwritten parchments. ‘Mum thinks the farmhouse was built in the mid-1600s, and the cottage too, so we’re looking for anything from the seventeenth century. We could do with some family names to follow up…’
‘Cotter.’ Selena’s eyes flashed. ‘Jonathan Shears, the chimney sweep, said that the cottage was…’ She lowered her voice. ‘The ghost was called Mother Cotter. So, if we can find the family name, we might be able to discover what happened to her.’ She lifted a pile of documents and placed them on her knee, passing the file to Nick.
For the next two hours, they were quiet, leafing through bills of sale, copies of Land Registry documents, letters to relatives.
Nick said, ‘I’ve found an old birth certificate in here, dated 1892. It’s for someone called Marion Tucker – Tucker was my mother’s maiden name – and this baby was the child of Cornelius and Mary Tucker: she died at the age of three weeks, of scarlet fever.’ He met Selena’s eyes. ‘It’s quite incredible – this box contains the lives of so many people who are connected with me and I know nothing about them. Their stories are just paper in this box now.’
Selena nodded, her face serious. ‘And as we go further back in time, what remains of those people, of the Cotter woman and her family? It makes you realise how transient we all are.’
‘Hopkins says it perfectly, that life isn’t for long.’ Nick was thoughtful, his voice soft;
‘Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder.’
Selena sighed. ‘That’s so moving.’
Nick placed his hand over hers. ‘We have to touch the earth lightly and maybe try to be kind to others and enjoy life to the full while we’re here.’
‘We do…’
Nick grinned. ‘Right, let’s see if we can find our Ms Cotter and I’m sure we’ll discover that she was a sweet old lady who lived in Sloe Cottage until a ripe old age…’
‘I hope so.’ Selena said. ‘If she’s the ghost of the woman standing in the moonlight, I feel I know her a little bit already.’
Selena and Nick pored over their paperwork again.
Then Selena said, ‘I’ve found something here… it’s very faded, but it looks like a letter, dated 1706, and it’s about the cottage, but it’s spelled differently – Hill Top Farm, not Hilltop as it is now, and Slaugh Cottage not Sloe, and Ashcomb has no letter e.’
Nick looked up. ‘What is it about?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Selena said. ‘A hand-written letter from someone called G Harper who lived at Hill Top. It doesn’t make much sense… “Yet that I could very well have disposed with to serve soe good a freinde as I allwayes esteemed you to be, & had that summe of money I am in disburse for you been 4 times as much more to have sent you 2 or 3 yeares with a farthinge interest…” It might be some sort of business letter.’
‘Well, G Harper must have owned the farm and the cottage, I suppose, so we can add the name Harper to our search list. Maybe we’re getting closer to our ghost—’
‘I’ve got something else,’ Selena exclaimed excitedly. ‘It’s a really old document about a Joseph Harper of Hill Top Farm, naming the residents in Slaugh Cottage as William Cotter, Anne Cotter and Grace Cotter. It’s dated 1672 and – oh, this is interesting. It says that Anne Cotter has just died of something described as the King’s Evil…’
‘Scrofula. It’s mentioned in Samuel Pepys’ diary. I use Pepys a lot in teaching because he’s a primary source about life in London in the seventeenth century. People once believed that the king could cure it just by touching the person. I think the practice started in the time of Edward the Confessor, well before 1066. Apparently, King Charles the Second restarted the ceremony – I read somewhere that during his reign he touched almost 100,000 people.’
Selena smiled. ‘It’s a wonder he didn’t catch it himself.’
‘He died of a stroke,’ Nick said. ‘Samuel Pepys writes in his diary about watching the king touch someone with dignity and the person recovered. People really believed he could heal.’
‘People had faith in all sorts of healing in those days.’ Selena held out the letter she had found to Nick. ‘But I think we’ve found her. Anne Cotter. That must be the woman Jonathan was talking about, the ghost.’
Nick examined the letter. ‘Yes, especially if she died in this cottage – we certainly have a clue of her dates and her first name.’
Selena frowned. ‘Do you think she was really a witch?’
‘So many women were accused of witchcraft, and for no reason. Usually, it started with jealousy or superstition from the local people.’
‘I wonder what Anne Cotter’s story was? She had a husband, William, and a child, Grace. Just saying their names makes me feel a little bit uncomfortable.’ Selena gazed towards the ceiling. ‘Do you think she’s still here with us?’
Nick shrugged. ‘We’ll find out all we can about her from here on. But it’s a lovely day, and we’ve worked hard this morning – why don’t we take a stroll to The Royal Oak and get some lunch?’
‘I’d love to.’ A smile spread across Selena’s face. ‘I’m developing a taste for Badger Spit.’
‘We’ll turn you into a Somerset maid yet,’ Nick teased. ‘Right. We’ll come back to Anne Cotter and her hazy past later.’
There was a loud knock at the front door.
Nick glanced at Selena and said, ‘Shall I get it?’
‘Please – I’ll grab a jacket and we’ll go…’
Selena reached for her bag, shrugged on a jacket and froze. She could hear Nick’s calm voice and another, more persistent tone. She recognised it immediately. Her eyes were already wide with shock as Nick returned, accompanied by a tall, slim man wearing an expensive jacket and black-framed glasses. She caught her breath.
‘David.’
‘I left Manchester early this morning – we have things we need to discuss.’
‘How did you find out where I was?’
‘I went round to your flat a few days ago. Claire wasn’t there. There was a man flat-sitting and I saw your name and an address on a piece of paper pinned to a noticeboard.’
Nick looked enquiringly at Selena. ‘Do you want to do lunch another day?’
Selena noticed David glance furtively at Nick, his chin thrust out aggressively. She nodded, then shook her head, unsure what to say. In truth, she wanted Nick to stay and David to leave.
David pretended to have just noticed Nick. ‘I think it might be a good idea if you left. Selena and I have a lot to talk about.’
Nick ignored him, talking to Selena. ‘We can catch up next week, if you like.’
‘Look,’ David’s voice was deliberately assertive. ‘Selena and I need to discuss our relationship. It’s been very difficult for us both, especially since she lost our baby.’
Selena put her palm to her face as if she’d been slapped.
Nick’s expression was one of both surprise and sadness. He placed a hand on her arm. ‘Message me.’ She felt him press her shoulder tenderly. ‘Thanks for this morning. Stay in touch.’
‘I’ll come to the door…’
‘No, I’ll see myself out.’
Selena watched him leave and wished she was going with him. The news of the baby had certainly shocked him. She whirled back to David, noticing the arrogant set of his jaw, and she saw him for the cold, selfish man that he was.
David’s eyes were intense, his expression accusing, then he raised an eyebrow. ‘Who was that?’
‘A friend.’
‘A boyfriend?’ David grasped her shoulder and Selena immediately noticed the difference between his possessive grip and Nick’s affectionate touch. She ignored his question. Then he said, ‘You blocked my calls.’
‘I did,’ Selena said.
He didn’t wait for her to say anything more. ‘Selena, I miss you. I want us to start again. We can find a place, move in together.’ He still held her shoulders. ‘We are good, you and me.’
Selena closed her eyes. She waited for the familiar sense of weakness to flood over her, the compliance that would seep into her bones whenever he held her in his arms. But nothing happened: she felt nothing at all.
Her lids flickered open and she said, ‘Please go, David.’
The pressure on her shoulders increased and he smiled, playing his trump card. ‘I’ve left Veronica. It’s you I need, not her.’
‘I think you should go, David. There’s nothing here for you.’
‘Come back to Manchester with me now. It’s where you belong, not here in some tumbledown place in the middle of nowhere.’ His voice was wheedling. ‘You’re an artist, a talented woman. You must be stifled here in this backwater…’
‘I love it here.’
‘Selena, you’re not being sensible,’ he said.
‘I am,’ she replied calmly. ‘I want you to go.’
He bristled, suddenly irritated. ‘I came all the way down here to bring you back.’
‘I don’t want to go back.’
‘Have you lost your senses?’
‘No, I’ve found them. Please, can you leave?’
‘And what about us? What about the baby?’
Again, Selena recoiled. ‘I lost the baby. I was alone, and it was the hardest time of my life…’
‘We can have another…’ He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him, his lips pressing against her ear. ‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’
‘David, no.’
His expression was one of surprise. ‘Why don’t I take you to lunch? I can drive us somewhere…’
Selena shook her head.
‘All right then, we’ll have lunch here and you can show me around.’
‘I want you to leave.’
David took a step back. ‘I’ve come here all the way from Manchester, for God’s sake…’
Selena said, ‘Please, just go.’
‘Not even a coffee and a chat?’
‘No.’
‘Selena…?’
‘No.’ Although her voice was hushed, Selena felt confident now, in control, and it was liberating. She met his eyes. ‘There’s nothing more to discuss.’
David pushed a hand through his hair, as if adjusting his thought process. ‘Right. Well, before I go, may I use the – facilities?’
Selena pointed towards the lobby. ‘Go through into the kitchen and upstairs. The bathroom is at the top, before you get to the bedrooms.’
He nodded curtly. ‘Thank you.’
Selena turned to the ancient documents on the sofa and began to collect them, aware that David was still watching her. Then he seemed to lose patience and he left; she was alone in the room. She needed to concentrate on something, to be methodical in order to stay calm, so she arranged the papers that she and Nick had been examining and put them back into the box file, closing the lid. Then she picked up the book Nick had given her, Turbulent Exmoor, and sank onto the sofa by the glow of the fire. She opened the pages randomly, looking at a watercolour painting, pale skies and hedgerows, greens and yellows. She read some lines by Coleridge.
‘All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.’
Selena wanted to go out into the garden, into the fresh sunlight. She wanted to be away from David; his presence in the house made her uncomfortable, and she wanted him to leave; she wanted to breathe again. She was free of him now.
Then he was back, standing in the doorway, watching her, his face composed.
‘I suppose there’s no point in trying to persuade you.’
‘No.’
David shook his head. ‘I think you’re making a mistake.’
Selena stood up. ‘I’ll live with it.’ She indicated the door. ‘I’ll see you out.’
‘It’s a long drive back…’
Selena shrugged. She was not going to apologise. She opened the door; bright sunlight flooded in, illuminating the cold hallway. Selena felt calm: there would be no more weakness and dependence. She was stronger now, level-headed. She noticed David’s Audi parked by the gate.
‘Well, this is goodbye, Selena.’
‘Yes.’
‘By the way…’ He met her eyes. ‘Who’s your house guest?’
Selena frowned. ‘House guest?’
‘A slim girl in a cap and a long frock. I passed her on the landing and she walked into one of the bedrooms without even speaking. A strange young woman.’
‘Oh…’ Selena held her breath for a moment, then she met his gaze deliberately and replied, ‘That’s the resident ghost.’
David gaped at her in confusion; his eyes widened, a moment of panic gripped him and he turned, striding rapidly towards his car.
Selena touched the malachite necklace around her neck and recalled the words of the woman who had sold it to her. ‘May it bring you joy and keep all negative energy from you.’ She smiled; she was sure she’d never see David again.