Chapter thirty-one

2010

N

atalie swept up anything broken and replaced the rest on the worktops, brushing away the threatening tears. Opening a bottle of wine, she grabbed a glass and carried both outside. Somewhere safe. Settled in a chair, she poured a full glass and took a gulp. A rich, deep red Rioja, its warmth settled her belly, easing the knots of tension. What on earth was she to do? Call in the God squad? Perhaps it was time…Taking another gulp of wine, Natalie focused on the gorgeous view spread out before her. White vapour trails criss-crossed the soft blue sky, like a game of noughts and crosses. For a peaceful moment her eyes followed the patterns before being drawn towards the golden aura of the waning sun. It was difficult to believe anything malevolent could exist under such a sky. As if in corroboration, a mistle thrush in a nearby tree burst into song, shortly joined by a second. Natalie sat entranced, felt the tug of a smile at her lips. Was this an omen? Was the little bird telling her it would be okay to stay? She hadn’t heard it here before and the sound was eminently preferable to the shriek of the seagull.

Her garden appeared lusher, greener since she had left only days before. There must have been some rain to spur on the nascent plants. A rose peeped out from amongst the green and Natalie’s heart lifted some more. She had to stay here, she had to win against whatever, whoever wanted her gone. Buoyed with resolve, she phoned her parents. Not to tell them about what had happened, but to tell them about France and the wedding. She knew her mother would want all the details.

The following night Natalie returned home to find a message on her answerphone from Matt. The replacement pool liner had finally arrived and he could fit it the following week. Relieved the garden would soon be finished she returned the call and arranged for him to come on Monday. After a supper of crab salad, Natalie phoned Jeanne. After the usual greetings, she asked if they could meet for a walk and talk.

‘Sounds serious! Are you okay? Has something happened?’ Jeanne’s concern echoed down the line.

‘Yes, but I’m all right. Can you escape from your brood for an hour or two one evening? It’s a lovely walk down at Rocquaine.’

‘Sure. Nick can put the children to bed and I’m in dire need of a change of scene. How about tomorrow, say seven?’

Natalie agreed and replaced the phone with a sigh of relief. Jeanne would know what to do.

Jeanne and Natalie walked down the lanes, arm in arm, towards the sea. A soft breeze stirred the hedges and whispered along their bare arms. The day had been hot and Natalie, still catching up at work, was sorely in need of a stroll on the beach. On the way she told Jeanne about the weekend in France and what Stuart had said at the airport.

‘Mm, the usual mixed messages men tend to give us, eh?’ Jeanne said, squeezing Natalie’s hand. ‘I can’t imagine anything he’s held back could be too awful. He’s an honourable guy, so I doubt he’s done something terrible. The good news is, he wants to share it with you before embarking on a relationship. Which means he’s pretty keen. What about you?’ She cocked her head at Natalie, who tugged at her hair.

‘I am attracted to him, for sure. But I’m still scared about getting involved with a man after what happened with Liam. Not that I think Stuart’s anything like him, he isn’t, but it’s this business of trust. Of losing control. Letting someone else take charge–’

Jeanne stopped in her tracks and took both her arms.

‘Hey, what’s this about losing control? Stuart won’t be your gaoler! You’d be equals, like any woman these days. Where did that idea come from?’ Her eyes were wide in surprise.

Natalie was shaken.

‘I…I don’t know. The words just came out. I hadn’t meant to say what I did. I’m as surprised as you.’ She searched here mind, trying to grab at an elusive thought. A vague idea of another voice in her head…Oh, God, she really was losing it!

Jeanne hugged her. ‘Don’t worry. We can all say something odd at times. So, what do you really think about a relationship with Stuart?’

‘I guess I’d like to give it a go, assuming he doesn’t admit to being an axe murderer!’ She managed a grin, in spite of feeling unnerved.

‘Great! Now, what else do you want to talk about? You have that look about you…’

By now they had arrived at the main road, Route de Rocquaine, and needed to cross to the beach.

‘I’ll tell you once we’re on the beach. It’s a bit…complicated.’

The ebbing tide had left an expanse of damp, golden sand scattered with rocks. Unusually, they were the only ones on the beach as they stood facing the white tower of Fort Grey. Natalie drew in a deep breath of the ozone-rich air in an effort to clear her head. It helped. Still walking arm in arm, she told Jeanne what she had found in her kitchen on her return. Her friend’s mouth fell open.

‘My God! This is getting worse! You’re absolutely sure it wasn’t a burglar?’

She shook her head.

‘Definitely. The house was securely locked and, and anyway, I had this strange feeling before I opened the door that something was wrong. To do with this…this ghost who’s haunting me. Whatever it – who – is, they focus on the kitchen, for some reason. And, to be honest,’ she said, feeling incipient tears gathering, ‘I’m finding it hard to take.’ Her voice wobbled and Jeanne threw her arms around her as the tears fell.

Jeanne didn’t say a word, just stroked her back while she let it out. Fishing for a tissue in her pocket, Natalie pulled back to blow her nose and wipe her eyes.

‘There’s more. When Tabby was here, we both saw a vision of a woman in an old kitchen and Tabby recognised her as her mother, Olive.’

Jeanne was shocked into silence, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she had heard. Natalie turned to face the sea, drawing strength from the ebb and flow of the waves, the soft whoosh as they licked the sand. The idea popped into her head that Olive would probably have stood here at some time, watching the same sea, hearing the same sound. She shivered.

Jeanne rubbed her arms.

‘Are you cold? We can go back–’

‘No. I’m not cold, I was thinking of…of Olive. I’m sure she’s trying to connect with me, to tell me something. In my dreams. And it’s not her being hostile, throwing stuff around. That’s a man. And he’s angry about something.’

‘Natalie, you can’t go on like this. You need to get help. Mr Ayres, perhaps, or someone else who understands these…these hauntings.’ Jeanne’s voice was urgent, concerned.

‘I know; it’s why I needed to talk to you. I had to tell someone and didn’t want to worry my parents. They’d only fuss and insist I moved in with them for a while and I don’t want to do that. It would be giving in, letting him win. And I won’t be forced out of my home!’ She clenched her fists.

‘Right, tell you what. I’ll ring Mr Ayres and ask if he can help or at least suggest someone who can. In the meantime, please promise me you’ll phone if something happens or you feel you can’t cope. Agreed?’

Natalie nodded. ‘Agreed. Shall we walk some more? I need the exercise, if nothing else.’

I’m busy in the field, pulling up carrots when I hear the sound of a jeep bumping down the track to the farm. My heart starts thumping against my ribcage as I guess who it is and, throwing down the carrots, I run to the farmyard where the jeep is parked. It’s empty. Pushing open the kitchen door, I find Bill and Wolfgang confronting each other. Bill’s eyes swivel to me as I enter.

‘Here she is, the Jerrybag. I’ve heard rumours about you two. If I find out they’re true, you’re as good as dead!’ He glares at Wolfgang and I feel sick. Who’s spreading such stories?

Wolfgang keeps his cool.

‘Herr Falla, I assure you there is no truth in such tales. I am only here to check on your animals. Would you prefer if I came another time? When perhaps it would be more…convenient?’ He gave a curt bow.

I hold my breath.

Bill seems unsure how to respond. If he refuses Wolfgang access he’d be arrested.

‘Tomorrow would be better,’ he mutters, glaring at me and then Wolfgang.

‘Tomorrow it will be, Herr Falla.’ Wolfgang clicks his heels and leaves, not looking at me.

Before I can escape, Bill grabs my arm, twisting it behind my back until I yelp in pain.

‘I’ve heard you two been seen together. You keep away from him, d’yer hear? Or you’ll regret it.’ He pushes me away and I stagger and hit my head. Hot, burning pain snakes up and down my arm…

Natalie woke, disorientated. Relief washed over her when she realised it was another ‘real’ dream and she was safe in her own bed. Squinting at the clock she groaned. Four o’clock! She shuffled, bleary-eyed, to the bathroom for a glass of water and returned to bed. How would she get back to sleep with this swirling through her brain!

Sipping the water, she tried to unravel the meaning of the dream. Firstly, was it a true replay of something which had happened during the war? Or was it her own imagination getting the better of her? The key point in favour of it being true was Olive. Tabby had confirmed the woman they both ‘saw’ as her mother. And she’d been an older version of the woman who appeared in her dreams. Although she hadn’t seen Olive in this dream, she had seen Bill, which seemed to prove something, but what? Try as she might, Natalie couldn’t accept it was all her imagination. She had seen and experienced people and events before anyone had told her anything. There was a pattern here. Not logical, not believable. But a pattern.

She slipped to the bathroom to refill her glass and continued her analysis. So, if it was true, what had been happening seventy years ago? An unhappily married Olive – and who could blame her, married to that brute of a man, Bill? – meets a handsome German officer and falls for him. Natalie couldn’t be certain they’d been lovers but she sure got the feeling Olive had the hots for him. And there was something familiar about ‘Wolfgang’…she choked on the water as realisation struck. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Stuart! Same hair, same eyes. And, of course, Tabby shared the same features!

Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, Natalie noted down everything she could remember about the dream, including the appearance of the men. And the blasted kitchen which continued to haunt her. It began to make sense, but there were more questions left unanswered. What was Olive trying so desperately to tell her? Surely not just about an illicit affair? Fairly commonplace, she’d heard. Although Jerrybags were not condoned by their fellow locals, they weren’t as maltreated as they were in France.

Natalie’s tiredness fled and any thoughts of further sleep vanished. There remained a couple of mysteries. Did Wolfgang know he had fathered a child with Olive? And what had happened to Olive when the farm burned down? Was that what was she trying to tell her? And, if so, how the hell was she going to find out more than twenty years later?