Chapter 21

George Cooper sits on the bottom stair, his head bowed so I only see the top of it. I stop just in front of him and touch his shoulder. He looks up at me, his face ashen, his brow beaded with perspiration.

‘Are you okay, George?’

Mark hovers beside me not sure what to do with himself.

‘I had a bit of a turn in that bedroom I’m working in. I feel such a fool now. Bloody door slammed and I couldn’t open it. I came over all panicky.’ His eyes are full of fear and confusion.

‘Can I get you something, George? Water? A cup of tea? You look dreadfully pale,’ I say.

He shakes his head. ‘I’ll be alright in a minute. I don’t know what I’ll say to Shirley about it.’

I crouch beside him and put my hand on his arm. ‘I think she might understand perfectly well, don’t you?’ I say, my voice low, aware of Mark and Jennifer behind me.

He glances up, then back to staring at the floor tiles.

‘Where’s Tom?’ I say, a cold wave of panic washing over me as I get to my feet. No plink plink of the iPad. I stare at Mark, at Jennifer, they stare back. I rush across the hall to the morning room.

Tom hasn’t moved, still in the middle of Mum’s sofa, his pale face stares up at me, the tablet in his lap.

‘Are you okay?’

He flings the iPad aside, jumps from the sofa and rushes at me. ‘I heard some noises upstairs, but they’ve stopped now.’

‘It’s okay.’ I take his hand and turn back to the hall. Mark stands in the doorway. ‘It was only George Cooper putting the bed together for Nanna Jen, okay?’

Tom nods, Mark goes back into the hall. I exchange a glance with my son and we follow my husband to where George still sits, head in hands.

I look up to the empty landing. Nothing but shadows and dust.

‘I was trying to get the door open.’ He looks at Mark, then at me. ‘From the landing side, it was. A banging – not a random thing. It sounded angry like . . . like someone trying to get in.’

I hold George’s stare, words fail to come. I know exactly what he means, a shiver gooses my skin.

‘No one else is here, unless you think it’s Tom playing tricks,’ says Mark.

Tom gasps, I squeeze his hand to stay silent. George has no chance of explaining this to Mark in a way my husband will find credible.

‘It weren’t your boy, I’m sure.’

‘Well, what, then?’ says Mark, frustration clear in his voice.

George Cooper looks at me and I know he’s struggling to explain what’s happened. I can’t help him. I’ve no words to express it either. I don’t know whether to feel relieved it’s not just me, or sorry for George.

‘I’ll make some tea,’ says Jennifer, taking Mark by the elbow and heading towards the kitchen. ‘Something hot and sweet, isn’t it, for shock.’

‘Have you had a shock?’ says Tom, sitting next to George.

‘I’m not right sure what I’ve had, Tom. I’m feeling a bit more myself now. That door’s open up there though, Kate. Can’t say I fancy going back right now to bolt it.’

‘Don’t worry, George. Can I call anyone for you? Your wife?’

‘I’ll be alright, just give me a minute and some of that tea.’ George smiles, his face has some of its colour back. ‘You and me, hey Tom. Been in a bit of bother, I’d say.’

Tom nods, smiles at George.

‘Sophie!’ says Tom, leaping to his feet at the sound of crunching gravel. He runs outside, down the front steps. Sophie tugs Riley along, Shirley a few metres behind. No sign of Mr Whittle.

‘Here comes the cavalry,’ says George, relief clear in his voice.

‘I’ll be intrigued to hear you explain all this to Shirley,’ I say with a flat smile.

 

George Cooper’s van turns out of the drive towards the village, Shirley’s promised to call later to confirm he’s okay.

‘Well, it’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?’ Jennifer walks down the front steps buttoning a camel coat to her neck. She has a black beret over her short grey hair, black bag and leather gloves. ‘There’s no food in, so Mark’s taking the twins and me shopping.’

‘I hadn’t expected you both to be here. I thought it was just going to be me and the children.’

Mark’s at the front door yelling for the twins. The lights on the Audi bleep as he jogs down the front steps.

‘Are you taking Tom?’ I say as Mark approaches me.

‘He wants to come and says he feels fine.’

‘He’s only just home . . .’

‘Mother can sit with him in the car or the kids can have something in the supermarket cafe with her if he feels wobbly. We won’t be long.’

I want to argue for Tom to stay home, but then I want the kids out of the house . . . Mark waves a scrap of paper towards me.

‘Is there anything else we need?’

I take the list, cast my eye down a long, scribbled column all in Jennifer’s slanting handwriting. Broccoli is underlined. I look up at Mark.

‘It’s not great to find the fridge empty. What the hell do you do with your time, Kate?’

I’m aware of Jennifer hovering beside the car, tucking her gloves into her bag. I smile at Mark.

‘You should have let me know you and Jennifer were coming, Mark. Had I known, I would have had food in and asked Mrs Cooper to bake us some of her wonderful cakes.’ I hold Mark’s gaze. ‘While I’m not working, I don’t spend money when we don’t need to, as you know.’

The twins stand shoulder to shoulder looking entirely fed up. Tom has his feet jammed into his trainers, the backs flattened from not unlacing them, Sophie’s hair is wild, windblown strands lose from their clips from her walk with Shirley.

‘We’d planned a trip into town today, the cinema and the supermarket. But our son nearly drowning rather disrupted things.’ I smile so pleasantly I know it will piss Mark off.

He says nothing, snatches the list from my hand and heads towards the car.

‘Have some time to yourself, Kate. It would be nice if the fire’s going by the time we’re back. We’ll probably be a couple of hours.’

Sophie has Tom’s coat tucked under one arm.

‘Have you got your inhaler, Tom?’ I ask, taking his coat from his sister and holding it out for him. He pushes one arm then the other into the sleeves.

‘It’s in Dad’s pocket.’

‘You’re sure you want to go? We can find something to do if you’re not feeling up to it.’

‘Stop fussing, Kate, I tell you he’s fine.’ Mark is herding the twins towards the car. ‘Would you lock the spare room before you go, Mark?’

As the words leave my mouth I watch his expression alter from irritated annoyance to disbelief.

‘For God’s sake, Kate, get a grip. Do you honestly think I’d let mother sleep in there if I had any concerns?’

He gets in the car, Jennifer in the front passenger seat. The Audi heads down the drive, the twins’ faces peering anxiously from the rear window.

I can’t be here alone, even with Riley for company, not with that door unlocked. I can’t bother poor Shirley, not again today, she’s seen far too much of us lately as it is. But I can find Richard Denning and thank him for all his help yesterday. And it would be useful to speak to Alan Wynn.

 

The boathouse is in darkness, the cabin doors closed with brass cabin hooks. Fog is seeping back, clinging to the riverbank, creeping through the reeds.

‘Come on Riley, let’s try the church on our way back.’

I’d never thought I’d talk to a dog the way I’ve started to chatter to Riley. I like to think he understands and agrees with me most of the time. At least he doesn’t argue back. It’s barely three in the afternoon and already the light is fading, the brightness, what little there is of it, dull and flat. It’ll be dusk by four, dark by five. We reach the lych gate and I’m relieved to see the tall leaded church windows illuminated from within, the heavy front door open.

 

‘Kate, how are you? How’s Tom?’

Alan Wynn sits at the crowded desk in the vestry.

‘He’s doing okay, thanks. We’re all bit shocked, but thankfully there’s no permanent damage. But I imagine,’ I say, smiling, ‘you’ve heard that already?’

‘I confess all,’ he says, throwing up his hands in feigned horror.

‘I was looking for Richard Denning. I didn’t get a chance to thank him before we were whisked off in the ambulance yesterday.’

‘He’s on the annual Horticultural Society trip to a local nursery. He stocks up on all sorts for next season. I’ll see him tomorrow and can let him know you wanted a word.’

‘Thanks, that would be great.’

I stand in the vestry doorway not knowing how to broach the subject, the idea that was building in my head on the walk over here.

‘Was there something else? Something I can help out with?’

Alan’s eyes never leave my face.

‘Last time we spoke, about the house, Haverscroft, you mentioned you might be able to do something.’

‘I’ve had a bit of a look into it all since then,’ he says, turning back to the desk and rummaging through piles of papers. He pulls out a single sheet. He looks down the page and then back at me. ‘Two things came up. The first, a simple blessing can be done quite easily; anything more would need permission from the bishop. I see no reason why I can’t ask about it if you wanted to pursue that avenue.’

‘We could try a blessing first, see how it goes?’

He pauses, still watches me. ‘I understand Mrs Havers may have tried something similar some years ago. My predecessor carried out the service for her.’

I’m amazed. I must look surprised as Alan raises his eyebrows and smiles.

‘She must believe, or at least she did then, there’s something at Haverscroft,’ I say.

“Presumably she did.’

‘Then why did she flatly deny it when I asked her?’

 

Haverscroft is in darkness as we dash up the front steps, it was silly to have rushed out without leaving some lights on. For once I get the front door open and closed again without too much of a battle. I switch on the hall lights as Riley happily scampers off to the kitchen. It’ll be dark within twenty minutes or so, Mark can’t be long coming back. Time enough to ramp up the stove and light the fire in the morning room. There’s no way I can light the fire in that upstairs room, not until Mark is back. I can’t shake off my unease about it being unlocked, I won’t feel happy until it is. I head for the stairs.

Halfway up the flight I glance back down the stairwell. Riley sits quietly waiting, his tail wags as I look at him. I’m gripping the banister, can smell only a hint of stale cigarettes. Mark, most likely. There’s no rancid, sweet smell. And no sign of our torch, Mark presumably has moved it. The landing is dark, but the room isn’t. Light filters through from the south-facing French windows, the last room to lose the daylight, what little we’ve had today.

I let go of the banister, my knuckles ache from the force I’ve been gripping it with. I run towards the door, my focus on the doorknob. I reach out my right hand as something brushes my cheek, cold, icy, a stench of stale nicotine. I don’t move, I’m shivering, my breath frozen in my throat and still a metre or so from the door.

A punch, a terrific bang between my shoulder blades shoves me forward, my hand misses the door entirely, my feet tripping over themselves as I try to keep my balance, my shoulder cracks against the door, an outline of the bed-frame, the mattress half-on, half-off the bed. My boot catches on something, I throw out my hands into darkness.

 

A sound, a yowling, distant and far away.

‘Mummy? Hello?’

Pain in my head, worse as I move, try to open my eyes.

‘Kate, where the hell are you?’

The yowling is Riley, I’ve not heard him sound that way, not since the storm.

I’m cold, my shoulder aching, something touches my arm, I jolt upright and stare at the room. Harsh light, a bare bulb overhead, the dark dressing table, a half-made bed.

‘Whatever happened, Katherine?’

I raise my hand to my forehead, feel it swollen and tender where my hairline starts. Coffee-coloured trousers.

‘Wait right there, don’t try and get up, you’ve a great lump on your head.’

Quick footsteps, heels click, click, click on the floorboards. Soft thuds along the landing.

‘Mark! Mark, darling! She’s up here.’

There’s urgency in her tone, an old woman not sure what to do. My fingers gently explore the lump, hard, extremely tender, but I guess I’ll live. My left leg feels heavy and dead, blood rushing in, pins and needles. I rub my thigh, keep my eyes from the dressing table. Mark’s heavy tread on the stairs.

‘Mummy!’

Tom, Sophie? I can’t tell, the shriek so high pitched. Riley’s barking, claws scratching, scampering up the stairs.

‘Go into the kitchen, Kids. Stay right there.’ Mark, more worried than annoyed.

Riley’s here, pushing his wet nose into my hand. I scruff his soft head, pull his warm fluffy body to mine. Jennifer here too, she’s speaking, her voice concerned, softer than usual.

‘Kate, can you move? What the hell happened?’ Mark’s kneeling beside me, his hand pushing back my hair, his fingertips brush the sore patch. I wince. ‘That’s quite a lump you’ve got there, Kate.’

‘It was dark in here.’ Jennifer’s speaking, has hold of my hand, is rubbing the back of it with hot thin fingers. ‘This room’s such a state. I nearly caught my foot on some old junk when I came in. I know he was taken ill, but your builder shouldn’t be leaving the room this way.’

‘You probably tripped and banged your head on the fender as you fell,’ says Mark. I almost certainly did. I’m right by the fireplace, somehow. ‘What the hell were you doing up here in the dark? Come on, let’s see if we can get you into the kitchen. You’re freezing.’