2010
Weird dreams filled Natalie’s sleep that night. She appeared to be a farmer’s wife, living in an old bleak farmhouse and at odds with her husband. At one time they were having a blazing row in the kitchen and he struck her around the head. At that point she woke up, instinctively putting her hand to her head where she had been ‘hit’. But there was no pain and Natalie, covered in sweat, realised she was in her own bed and it must have been a bad dream. Or was it? As she staggered to the bathroom, part of her still seemed to be in that kitchen, cowering from the big, angry man. With a shock, she realised the kitchen in the dream was the one she had imagined the previous night. The range was the same. Shaking, she stood under the shower until she felt calmer. It must have been her overactive imagination, she told herself as she dried her hair. Or a touch of the sun – or both. Either way, she was in dire need of strong coffee and threw her clothes on before running downstairs.
Natalie hesitated outside the kitchen door. Taking a deep breath she turned the handle and pushed. Relief flooded her body as she saw her own kitchen looking undisturbed. She took her coffee and toast into the garden. An early morning mist hovered over the fields and obscured the sea, but she caught a glimpse of the sun burning through in the east. She took a swallow of coffee and immediately felt better. More in control. Bad dreams had started after Liam turned violent, and she wondered if this latest dream was actually a rehash of what had happened between them. Not entirely sure why the dreams would have followed her here, where she was free of him, nevertheless the thought helped. But that didn’t explain the kitchen…As Natalie nibbled her toast the mist slowly lifted and she once more drank in the view which had seduced her into buying the cottage. Perhaps she’d made a mistake…
A glance at her watch told her Matt would be arriving any minute. Brushing the crumbs off her skirt she took her plate and mug to the kitchen. Through the window she watched him pull into the drive and went out to say how pleased she was with the progress so far.
‘Glad to hear it. We both worked like crazy yesterday to get the pergola finished and the shrubs planted so you could have something nice to look at instead of heaps of earth,’ Matt said, grinning.
Natalie smiled. Was he trying to impress her or genuinely wanting to get the job done as soon as possible? She again detected a glimmer of interest in his gaze but that didn’t mean anything. It was okay men finding her attractive, but she didn’t want them coming on to her. When she was ready to hook up with someone, it would be on her own terms.
‘Thanks, please tell Trev I’m grateful. What’s on the agenda today?’
Matt pointed to the back of the pickup, full of plants and pots which he said would be in place by the end of the day and Natalie left him to unload while she returned inside to collect her bag and keys. Work beckoned.
Natalie returned home later than usual that evening having shopped for groceries. Once the food – mainly ready-prepared meals – was safely stored, she poured a glass of wine and went into the garden. Matt had definitely been busy again. She was excited to see the miniature palms, so beloved in Guernsey, waving gently in the soft breeze. What had once been grassy mounds and heaps of soil now looked an inviting place to walk around and unwind. A colourful mix of blue, green and terracotta pots, brim-full of herbs, stood dotted around the terrace. The scents of lavender, thyme and rosemary clung to her fingers as she gently brushed through them. Natalie had also chosen other culinary herbs, including basil and coriander, in case she felt inspired to cook properly. The combination of the herbs and the cook’s delight of a kitchen gave the illusion of her being a competent chef, she thought, grinning.
Lost in thought, Natalie drifted down to the end of the garden in order to look back towards the cottage. The soft grey tones of the old granite shone in the reflection of the sun and, together with the emerging garden, gave the cottage an appearance of establishment, as if it had been there for years. Which in a way it had. Sipping her wine, Natalie allowed the utter silence to embrace her. It really was the most fantastic spot. As she took her time walking back to the terrace, Natalie wondered what it was like for Stuart living in a place once owned by his forefathers. She was intrigued to see the inside of his home. Could she find an excuse to pop round? His car wasn’t in the drive so it would need to be another time, but that was okay. There was no rush.
The next few days passed without any unusual disturbances or dreams and each day Natalie arrived home keen to see what was new in her garden. Matt had lain a small turf lawn in the middle and it transformed the whole area. Pleased with the progress she invited Jeanne, Nick and the children to come round for lunch on Saturday. Natalie not only wished to show off her home and garden but wanted to talk to Jeanne about the odd ‘happenings’. Still unsure about Stuart’s possible part in events, she had put off popping round to the barn. He was hardly ever at home, anyway. Her mother phoned to see how she was and Natalie assured her all was well. Time to say what was really happening later…
On Saturday morning Natalie rushed around making sure the house was immaculate, not that it was ever in a mess. But she wanted to impress even though two small children were about to invade her space. Anything breakable was moved out of harm’s way before she concentrated on preparing lunch. Natalie did not possess a barbecue and would not have been keen to be in charge of one, and had bought a selection of ready-prepared meats which she popped in the oven with jacket potatoes, and then prepared accompanying salads. June was continuing to be hot and dry, perfect for al fresco dining.
A crunch of tyres on the gravel announced the arrival of the Maugers and Natalie went to greet them.
‘Hi! Good to see you all.’ Natalie hugged Jeanne and Nick before picking up Harry and giving him a kiss. He looked at her solemnly, his dark blue eyes the image of Nick’s. Seemingly satisfied he did know this woman who had kissed him, Harry’s face split into a grin and he planted a wet kiss on her lips.
‘’Ello, Aunty ’Atalie. We’ve come to see your new house and Mummy says I’m not to touch anything. And I have to make sure Freya doesn’t. She’s only little but I’m big. I’m three!’ He wriggled in her arms and Natalie let him go.
She smiled and ruffled his curly dark hair before turning to Jeanne, now holding Freya in her arms. At ten months, Freya was at the crawling stage but showing signs of wanting to walk. She reached out her arms to Natalie who lifted her up and kissed her. She favoured Jeanne, with her straight, dark hair and sparkling blue eyes. Natalie reckoned she would be a stunner one day.
Nick stood holding Harry’s hand, taking in the front of the cottage. ‘I’m impressed, Natalie. From the outside it looks so old. I think Andy’s done a great job, don’t you, Jeanne?’
Her friend agreed, saying to Natalie, ‘Andy’s a good friend of ours, and Nick told me on the way over that he was the architect of the project. I hadn’t realised when I came round before. Andy told Nick what a problem he had with the planning department.’
‘That’s interesting to know. I might want to speak to Andy sometime.’ She waved a hand towards the front door. ‘Let’s go in and you can have a good look round before lunch.’ Still carrying Freya she led the way. They started downstairs, progressing upstairs and back down again before going through the sitting room and onto the terrace.
‘Well, what do you think?’ Natalie handed a restless Freya back to Jeanne.
‘It’s even better now you’ve unpacked everything and hung the pictures. And you have a garden!’ Jeanne nodded towards the new greenery.
‘It’s fantastic, Natalie. Not only has Andy surpassed himself with the design, but you’ve furnished it beautifully.’ Nick grinned, struggling to hold onto Harry’s hand. ‘Is this it now? Your final move?’
‘I guess. I have no desire to return to London, for sure. Let me show you round the garden and I can tell you what the plans are for the rest of it. And it’s okay to let Harry loose, it’s quite safe.’
Harry beamed his delight and set off ahead of them, peering behind bushes and stroking leaves. Once Natalie had shown them round Nick strapped Freya into the chair he had brought along and the women fetched the food.
Natalie asked them to help themselves and poured white wine for Jeanne and herself. Nick settled for lager. The meal was messy, noisy and fun. Natalie warmed to the role of hostess and being able to spend time with her friends, in spite of the lack of uninterrupted adult conversation. When Freya began to nod off Jeanne took her inside and settled her in the buggy and Natalie cleared away the dregs of the meal. Once again sat outside, the women watched as Nick played with Harry on the grass.
Natalie cradled her glass of wine, summoning up the right words.
‘I…I think this place may be haunted. I’ve had odd dreams and seen things–’
Jeanne’s head spun round, her eyes wide with shock.
‘No! Tell me more.’
Natalie explained what had been happening and Jeanne listened intently, her brows creased.
‘You don’t think I’m going crazy do you? I told Mum and Dad about the voice and it was Mum who said perhaps there’s a ghost, but they don’t know about the other things that have occurred since.’ She bit her lip as she recalled the shock of seeing the old kitchen.
Her friend shook her head.
‘No, I don’t think you’re crazy. Andy told us there were strange rumours about the farm after the old lady, Stuart’s grandmother, went missing after a fire. No-one would go near it.’ Jeanne looked thoughtful for a moment, adding, ‘You remember what happened in Gran’s cottage?’
Natalie nodded.
‘Well, for years I had sensed there was something odd about the small bedroom. It always felt freezing to me, but no-one else. After…what was found I realised I’d picked up the vibes, if you like, of what had happened. Perhaps because I had suffered a tragedy, like Gran had.’ She leant forward and touched Natalie’s arm. ‘You’ve experienced an abusive relationship so maybe you’re sensitive to what happened here. The couple fighting.’
‘Suppose I could be. But I wish I wasn’t! I’m not keen on the idea of sharing my home with a ghost and having such vivid dreams.’ Involuntarily, she touched her head.
‘No, of course not. We need to find out what really happened here and enlist the appropriate help.’ Jeanne smiled brightly. ‘Reverend Ayres was very understanding.’
For a moment they were both diverted by the sight of Nick running up and down with Harry on his back screaming his delight at playing ‘horsey’. It looked a world away from ghosts and all-too-real dreams. Natalie took a sip of wine, willing herself to stay anchored in the present moment and not relive the horrible dream.
‘Try not to let it bother you. Remember, if there is a ghost, it can’t hurt you and you’re perfectly safe here. What about Stuart? Have you told him anything about this?’
‘God, no! He’d think he had a looney next door! And, to be honest, I’ve wondered if he was behind the voices and the moving of the photo.’
Jeanne frowned.
‘But why would he do that? It’s not like you’re a nuisance tenant he wants rid of. You paid a small fortune for this place.’
She sighed. ‘I know; it’s daft to even think about it. Guess I’d like to think someone was playing tricks on me rather than it was real. If you can call ghostly voices and teleporting objects real!’
‘Hey, you two! What’s making you look so serious on such a lovely day?’ Nick panted as he trotted up with a laughing Harry on his shoulders. Helping his son down, he flopped in a chair and grabbed his lager.
‘Oh, nothing much, darling. Just girl talk.’ Jeanne lifted Harry onto her lap and offered him his beaker of juice.
Natalie turned the conversation towards the work her friends were undertaking on their house and allowed herself to be carried away with their enthusiasm for the latest project. Leaning back in her chair she observed the way Jeanne and Nick smiled at each other, clearly still in love after five years together. Inwardly she felt a spark of envy and was immediately annoyed with herself. Her friends deserved all the happiness they could get, particularly Jeanne. She would never forget the sight of her unconscious friend lying in that hospital bed, wired up to machines, after the terrible boating accident. At the time it wasn’t clear if Jeanne would pull through…By the time her guests had departed, carrying a fractious Harry and a newly awake Freya, Natalie was ready to reclaim the peace of her home. All she wanted to do was clear away the mess, pour a glass of wine and settle in front of the television for some escapism. She had got as far as pouring the wine when the doorbell rang. Swearing under her breath she went to the front door.
‘Stuart! Hi, how are you? I’ve been meaning to call round, but you’re never in.’ She forced a smile.
He stood on the step, a half-smile on his lips.
‘It’s been manic at work, what with the GCSEs and A levels in full swing and a couple of teachers are off sick, so…’ he shrugged. ‘I wondered if you’d like to come round for a drink this evening? If you haven’t got anything better planned, that is.’ He pushed his hands in the pockets of his chinos, shifting from foot to foot.
Then it hit her. Stuart was shy! Or possibly nervous around women. So used was she to the alpha male, always taking the lead and acting full-on macho, that it hadn’t occurred to her he might be different. She relaxed. Even though she was tired, it was a great chance to see inside Stuart’s place and perhaps learn a bit more about his family.
‘I’d love to. What time?’
‘Say about eight?’ His incredible blue eyes lit up.
‘Perfect, I’ll see you later.’ Natalie watched him retrace his steps back towards The Old Barn, all her tiredness washed away. The evening promised to be somewhat livelier than the planned slump in front of the television.
***
Stuart stood in the kitchen area of the open-plan living space, setting out glasses and crisps. He had opened a bottle of white wine and filled his glass. A tiny tic under his left eye hinted at his state of mind. Much as he was looking forward to spending time with Natalie, he was also nervous. A bit in awe of her. A woman who, he’d heard, had been a successful hedge fund manager before the financial crash. And was now reclaiming her roots in Guernsey. Add to this the fact he found her incredibly sexy and his nerves went into overdrive. It’s not as if it’s a date, he reminded himself, taking a sip of wine. He only wanted to be a good neighbour, as he had shown by taking round a bottle of wine the previous week. If he had known beforehand what a stunner Natalie was – elfin face with huge blue eyes, short fair hair and a petite curvy figure – he might have chickened out. Another slurp of Dutch courage. Out of the corner of an eye, he saw Natalie walking towards the front door. He could hardly miss her; the end gable of the barn was now a wall of glass the size of the original barn doors, with a hinged glass panel acting as the front door.
Stuart saw Natalie’s eyes widen as she took in the mass of glass and enjoyed her surprise; the gable wasn’t visible from her own cottage. The softly tinted glass allowed him to see out but she couldn’t see in. As he strode to open the door, Natalie stood with her back to him facing Rocquaine Bay.
‘Hi and welcome to The Old Barn.’
She swung round, smiling.
‘This wall is brilliant! I had no idea your place was so, so futuristic. You can’t tell from the other sides.’
He stood back to let her in, saying, ‘That was the idea. It’s why the architect had one hell of a fight with the planners, but he wanted to make the most of the view. And he was right.’
Stuart led the way past the living area containing enormous sofas towards the kitchen, sited American-style between the living and dining area.
‘What can I get you to drink? Red, white or a G & T?’
‘White would be lovely, please.’
He topped up his own glass and filled a new one for her.
‘Cheers!’
Holding her glass, Natalie stood and gazed at the barn.
‘This is some fantastic place you have here, Stuart. Did you have a say in the design?’
‘No, it was all but finished by the time I arrived on the island, although I did choose the kitchen and bathroom fittings and the décor. I hadn’t even considered moving here when Mum had the cottages built. Her aim had been to sell them for profit. Then my circumstances changed and Mum suggested I move here.’ He felt the usual pang at the memory of what had changed.
‘May I look around?’
‘Of course.’ He showed her the dining area the other side of the central kitchen and led the way towards the back door and the adjoining utility cum store room. Adjacent to this he pointed out the two bedrooms and a shower-room.
‘Andy told me he wanted to keep the focus mainly on the living space and the master suite, upstairs on the mezzanine, making the most of the great views through the front window-wall.’ He pointed to the cantilevered floor floating above their heads.
‘It’s beautiful! I love that it still has the look of a barn, with all the exposed beams and granite,’ Natalie remarked, waving her arm around. ‘And there’s so much light. You wouldn’t expect that from an old barn.’
‘True. Andy compensated for the lack of windows along the other sides by fitting Velux windows in the roof.’
‘It’s absolutely stunning, Stuart. And for such a big open space, it feels so cosy.’ She looked around. ‘Does it have underfloor heating like mine?’
‘Yes and the wood burner feeds extra heat up to the master bedroom above,’ he said, pointing to the stove under the mezzanine. ‘Obviously, I’ve yet to see what it’s like in the winter, but Andy assured me it’s well insulated and more than adequately heated.’
Natalie nodded, seeming transfixed by what she saw. Stuart, who’d been slouched against a wall, pulled himself up straight, buoyed by her admiration of his home. It was good to be proud of something, even if the kudos belonged to someone else.
‘Shall we sit down? I’ve got some nibbles to go with the wine.’
She sat in a corner of one of the sofas. Stuart placed bowls of crisps and nuts on the coffee table nearby before joining her, leaving a respectable space between them. The sofa was placed to catch the best of the view and Natalie’s gaze focused on the seascape laid out before them. He caught the faint whiff of her perfume, a hint of musk and exotic flowers, and took a gulp of wine, unsure what to say. It had been so long since he had indulged in much more than small talk with a woman and he wanted to make a good impression. Natalie had been somewhat cool when they first met, but he’d sensed a thaw since. Stuart forced himself to relax. Before he could say anything, however, Natalie asked how he liked living in Guernsey.
‘I’m adjusting to the slower pace of life. Apart from when everyone’s in a hurry driving to work, people seem to take their time. Which is quite refreshing unless you’re waiting for a tradesman to turn up.’ He grinned.
Natalie pushed her fingers through her hair and smiled.
‘Oh, you can’t rush anyone here, but that’s part of the island’s charm, don’t you think? When I was younger I didn’t see that as a positive thing, I wanted excitement and the buzz of a city. That’s why I stayed in England after graduating. Guernsey was much too sleepy for my taste then.’ She frowned, looking down at her glass, and then looked at him with a hint of what Stuart thought was pain in her eyes.
For a moment there was an uncomfortable silence. Stuart didn’t want to intrude, knowing what it was like to have come out of a long-term relationship.
Natalie sipped her wine and said, ‘Why did you never visit Guernsey as a child? You had grandparents here, surely?’
‘Ah, my family’s a bit odd. My paternal grandparents died before the war and my mother had a falling out with my maternal grandmother and stayed in England after leaving for uni. It’s where she met my father and they married a few years later, settled in the south-east and started a property development business together. I think Mum did write to my grandmother occasionally, but rarely spoke about her. As for my grandfather, he died in a Nazi prison during the war.’
‘That’s awful! How did that happen?’ Natalie’s eyes widened.
‘I only know what Mum was told as she wasn’t born until after my grandfather, Bill, was sent away. He was arrested for hitting a German officer and sent to a prison, along with a number of other local men, in France. He never returned, having apparently died in a prison fire.’ It felt strange telling someone else the story. His mother had made it clear she did not want to discuss her parents, and Stuart had always wondered why. It wasn’t as if his grandfather had done anything bad, in fact the opposite. Anyone living under the German rule would have wanted to punch a soldier, given the chance.
‘How sad for your mother not to have met her father. But you would have thought she would have been even closer to her mother to compensate. Do you know why they fell out?’
He shook his head.
‘No, Mum never said and if I mentioned my grandmother she got cross with me. I’d have liked to meet her. I had this image of a wild-haired woman living in a remote farmhouse, surrounded by cows and chickens, and cut off from the world.’ He smiled.
Natalie laughed.
‘That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it? Is that how your mother described her?’
‘Not exactly, I think I picked up odd bits from Mum and made up my own picture of Olive, my grandmother. I always did have a fertile imagination.’ Stuart chuckled.
‘I don’t suppose you have any photos of your grandparents, then? It would have been interesting to see who used to run this place as a farm,’ Natalie said, leaning forward, her big eyes shining.
Stuart cleared his throat. She really was so sexy…
‘No, none. At least, if Mum had any photos, she never showed them to me. Like you, I’d like to know more about the people who lived here, especially as they were my family.’
‘What happened to Olive? I heard there was a fire here.’
‘Yes, in the late ’80s, though we didn’t find out until years later. Mum tried to contact Olive when my father died suddenly fifteen years ago. When she got no reply she came over and found the farm had been virtually destroyed by fire and Olive was missing. But no-one had seen her for weeks before the fire and as there was no sign of her body, it was assumed she’d left and gone to England to visit my mother.’
‘Oh! So what did happen to Olive?’
Stuart shrugged.
‘No idea. But after all this time with no sight of her, it was assumed she was dead and Mum was declared her heir. And now I’m here,’ he said, arms outstretched. ‘And the fate of my grandmother remains an unsolved mystery.’