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The House Keeper, another addictive psychological thriller from Valerie Keogh, is available to buy now by clicking on the image below. Or read on for an exclusive extract…
Prologue
The wrought-iron gates, set several feet back from the narrow country road, had seen better days, their once lustrous black corroded in places as if the gate was edged in rot. Ivy and bramble crawled from the hedgerow on both sides, slithering and twisting around the upright and cross bars. The vicious tangle of greenery filled the gaps and hid what lay behind from curious eyes.
The gates were locked. A chain, far heavier than was surely necessary, bound them together, winding around and around as if to be sure, as if to be absolutely certain, they’d hold it tight. The ends were secured with an incongruously large padlock. It was oddly shiny and, at first glance, seeing it nestled among the ivy, a passer-by might be reminded of a long-forgotten Christmas decoration on an abandoned tree. It was only on a second glance, when they’d reached for it and had their skin pierced by bramble thorns, when they’d pulled their hand back to suck the bubble of blood, that they’d look again and see that the metal didn’t shine as much as glint with almost malevolent intent.
If they weren’t warned away, if they were still consumed with curiosity to know what lay behind, they’d look up and shake their heads. The gates may have seen better days, but the finials that edged the concave curve at the top of each still appeared pointed as if they’d been honed razor sharp.
They were enough to deter the adventurous, the curious, or the merely stupid from climbing over.
Nobody was getting into the grounds of the old house.
But perhaps that wasn’t the idea.
Maybe it was to stop anything – all the secrets – from getting out.
Chapter One
Cassie Macreddin had left her London home early to make her nine o’clock appointment with the estate agent in Hindon. She’d made allowances for rush-hour traffic and added extra time to negotiate the unknown winding country roads in Wiltshire. The journey had gone without mishap, and as a result, she’d arrived far too early.
Passing a small garage on the outskirts of the village, a sign advertising takeaway coffee caught her eye and she hurriedly indicated and pulled in. Inside, she resisted the sad selection of pastries and ordered a large cappuccino. She sat in her car to sip it and watch the time click by.
When the disposable cup was empty, she got out and tossed it into a nearby bin. It was still too early but there was no point in hanging around the garage when she could be investigating the village she might soon be calling home. Feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement, she drove on. She’d looked at Street View on Google Maps. The reality, as was often the way, was prettier. Honey-coloured houses, pollarded lime trees, a church steeple. All picture-book perfect.
There was a parking space directly outside the estate agent’s office. She pulled into it, turned off the engine and sat for a moment looking around before climbing out. Shivering a little in the early morning breeze that drifted along the wide street, she glanced at the back seat where she’d thrown her jacket a few hours earlier. Instead of reaching for it, she wrapped her arms across her chest and crossed to the window to examine the property photographs on display. It was a relief to see that the house she was interested in wasn’t among them. Since she’d found it on the internet two weeks previously, she’d been terrified in case someone else might see it, fall in love with it as she had done, and outbid her.
It was the one. She’d looked at the details of so many properties over the previous two months and was beginning to think she’d never find what she was looking for, and then, there it was. An old house – tick. Detached – tick. In need of extensive repair and redecoration – tick, tick. She’d pored over the photographs, enlarged the floor plans, pored over them, imagined knocking down walls, extending the kitchen. She’d almost been tempted to put in an offer based on the extensive details she’d read on the website. Almost tempted, but although Cassie was a lot of things, she wasn’t stupid. Or at least, she qualified with a smile, not about property.
Her appointment with the agent was for nine. At five to, she looked up the street and saw a besuited thin man hurrying towards her.
‘Cassie Macreddin?’ he said, extending his hand as he reached her side.
‘Yes, good morning,’ she said, shuffling the bag and the papers she held, to take the hand that was hovering between them. ‘Sorry, I wanted to make sure I was bringing everything I needed.’
‘I’m not who you were expecting to meet,’ he said, surprising her. He pulled a huge bunch of keys from his jacket pocket, inserted one into the office door and pushed it open. Immediately there was the beep beep of a security alarm. ‘Hang on a sec.’ Two long strides took him to the control panel. He tapped in a series of numbers, turning to wave her in as the beeping stopped. ‘Come in, please.’ He indicated a chair for her to take and took the one on the other side of the desk. ‘I’m Chris Baker. You were expecting my partner, Joe Major. Unfortunately, he won’t be in today.’
Disappointment hit Cassie like a physical blow. She could feel her hopes and dreams bounce away.
‘I should explain,’ Baker said, running a hand over his face. ‘You’ll have to excuse me; it’s been a bit of a shock. Joe had a heart attack. Early this morning. He’s in hospital in Bath. His wife says he’s going to be okay.’
‘Good, that’s good.’ Cassie tried to sound sympathetic. It was hard. She didn’t know the man. She was glad he was doing well, obviously, but she was more concerned with how his condition was going to impact on her plans. She wasn’t a selfish woman, but she had her heart set on getting this house, and any delay might capsize that dream. All she wanted was for one thing, one damn thing to go her way. Was it too much to ask for?
‘Unfortunately, by the time I’d gathered my thoughts, it was too late to contact you to let you know,’ Baker said. ‘I knew you were coming from London, so I thought it was best to meet you here.’
Cassie relaxed a little. Maybe the day wasn’t going to be a disaster after all. ‘Okay, so you’re going to show me around the property, yes?’
Baker huffed a frustrated sigh. ‘I wish I could, I really do. Unfortunately, I’m tied up all morning. If you could wait, I do have time late afternoon.’
Late afternoon? She only had the one day off work so she needed to get home, but leaving Hindon that late would bring her back to London in the thick of rush hour. Always a nervous driver, after the accident she’d been worse. That morning, a crippling fear had her clenching the steering wheel with such painful intensity that her fingers had been cramped by the time she’d arrived. This had been her first long journey in months. Maybe it would get easier.
‘That’s not going to work for me, I’m afraid. I need to get back to the city this afternoon.’ A ripple of annoyance slid over her when she saw his lips narrow. She knew before he spoke that he was going to apologise and ask her to come another day. She held up a hand to stop him. ‘I really need to see the property today. I have another few that I’m looking at and I’ve promised to let the other vendors know before the end of the week.’ It was a lie, but he wouldn’t know that.
‘I’m really sorry,’ he said, and did manage to look suitably apologetic. ‘There is nothing I can do, I’m afraid.’
Cassie wanted to reach across the desk, grab his shiny blue tie, and strangle him with it. ‘It’s been on the market for a long time, I’m sure the vendors would like to get it sold.’
He shrugged off her comment. ‘It’s a repossession. The previous owners bought it almost two years ago. They did some work on it, then went bust before finishing. The bank isn’t in any great rush to sell.’
But she was in a rush to buy. ‘I’ve come all this way; I really don’t want to leave without seeing it. Could I go on my own? I’ve seen all the details on your website; I just need to get a feel for the place to see if it would suit.’
‘You told Joe you were thinking of starting up a B&B. Is that right?’
‘Yes. The property is in the right location; it’d be ideal.’ It had been a dream for a long time. Chuck the stultifyingly boring job in the civil service. Get out of London. Start afresh. It was ironic how the circumstances that had almost ended her life were responsible for making the dream possible.
‘We don’t usually allow clients to go alone,’ he said.
His expression was giving nothing away, but Cassie took heart from the usually and held her breath.
‘The last owners left it in a bit of a mess,’ he said. One of his thin hands was resting flat on the desk – he tapped the middle finger rhythmically as he stared at her.
Perhaps it helped his thought processes. She tried to portray herself as the solid dependable type. The kind of person you could trust to look around a house unescorted.
‘There are floorboards up in some of the rooms.’
She sensed he was giving way, but she wasn’t there yet. ‘I’ll be very careful, I promise. I don’t need to go into the rooms really. It’s the outside of the house that I’m keen to see. The condition and size of the gardens, where the outhouses sit, etcetera.’
Baker nodded. ‘It is difficult to see how extensive it is from the photos.’
It seemed best to say nothing, let the pros and cons tick in the estate agent’s head. Cassie’s hand was resting on her lap, she crossed her middle and first fingers, making a wish like a child.
‘It’s an exceptional circumstance,’ Baker said. Abruptly, almost as if he was afraid he’d change his mind, he got to his feet and crossed to a desk on the other side of the office. He pulled open a drawer and fumbled in it, pulling out various bunches of keys to peer at the labels attached. Finally, he gave a grunt of satisfaction and returned to his desk. He held the bunch out, then hesitated as it dangled over Cassie’s outstretched hand. ‘It’s just unfortunate that you can’t wait till this afternoon. I’d be happy to show you around then.’
Cassie’s fingers closed around the cold metal and tugged slightly till he had no option but to release them. ‘I’ll be fine, honestly.’
Baker didn’t appear convinced. He nodded towards the keys. ‘They’re all labelled. The smaller one is for the padlock on the main gate. I haven’t been out for a while; it might need a bit of jigging to get it to open.
‘The road to Hindon House is straightforward.’ He pointed to where her car was parked outside. ‘You’re facing the right direction. Follow the High Street from the village. I will warn you,’ he said with his first smile, ‘that it’s quite narrow. When you pass the national speed limit sign, take the next turn right. The property is about half a mile down that narrow road. Keep an eye for the gate. It’ll be on your left. You can’t miss it.’
Cassie hated when people said that. Invariably she did miss whatever it was, and it made her feel twice as stupid, as if everyone but her wouldn’t have done. Her fingers closed over the keys. It didn’t matter. She would find it, and it’d be perfect, and everything would go to plan.
And everything that had happened. Everything she’d done. None of it would matter any more. Her fingers tightened painfully on the keys. She had to believe that.
We hope you enjoyed this exclusive extract. The Housekeeper is available to buy now by clicking on the image below: