2010
Natalie returned home, her mind buzzing with what she had learnt about Stuart’s family. To say she was intrigued was putting it mildly. She couldn’t help wondering if the mystery of Olive’s disappearance had anything to do with her dreams and the odd happenings in the house. It was strange Olive had vanished without a trace. As she switched on the lights Natalie looked around to make sure all was as she had left it. To her relief everything looked normal and she put the kettle on for a cup of tea. Perched on a kitchen stool she allowed herself to dwell on Stuart, the man, rather than his family mystery.
She could tell he’d been nervous. A muscle twitched under his left eye when he handed her the glass of wine. It was quite sweet, she thought, even though she couldn’t imagine why anyone should be nervous of her. Except for those who had been her underlings in the London office. She was not one to suffer fools gladly. But Stuart was a schoolteacher in charge of hormonal teenagers and thus, in her opinion, not likely to have survived this far if he’d been of a nervous disposition. Perhaps he’d had a bad experience with a woman – or women – and been scarred for life. Natalie grinned at the thought. A bit melodramatic for this day and age. No, it must be her. After all, she had been a tad cool towards him at first and he was only being a good neighbour. She yawned. It had been a busy day, what with Jeanne’s family round for lunch and then drinks with Stuart, no wonder she was tired. Thank God it was Sunday the next day. She could enjoy a lazy lie-in before Sunday lunch with her parents. Bliss.
The blows rain down thick on my back and the pain’s so bad I can’t stop myself crying out. He’s so mad – and drunk – I’m not sure he knows what he’s doing. I can’t stand it much more…think I’m going to pass out.
Natalie woke with a start, her heart racing, convinced she was being beaten with a belt. But the terrible, burning pain had gone. It took a moment to realise it had been a dream. What on earth? It had been so real, as if she was the woman, in her head, not her own, experiencing the agony of the beating.
Hugging her knees to her chest, Natalie tried to make sense of it. It was possible the dream had been triggered by Stuart’s talk of his family and the mystery surrounding his grandmother, but Natalie sensed something deeper was happening. It was if the woman was taking over. Was it someone who’d lived there? Someone who had left a trace of themselves within the stones of the original farmhouse? Natalie sat up and gripped her head. She didn’t want to believe in ghosts, even though her mother – and even her father – seemed to think they might exist. A pragmatist, she liked dealing with facts and figures, needing the security of believing what she saw was real. But surely someone who must be long-dead couldn’t recreate a scene from the past? It was too much to accept and Natalie flung the duvet aside in despair. In spite of the early hour – the bedside clock proclaimed it to be seven – she wanted fresh air. A shower, breakfast and she would go for a long walk. That should sort her head out.
Half an hour later Natalie shut the door behind her and set off towards the lanes leading to the shores of Rocquaine Bay. An early morning mist swirled around the nearby fields, muffling the faint birdsong and creating an eeriness reflecting her own mood. Taking a deep breath, she strode along, determined to shake off the feeling of being out of control induced by the all-too-real dream. Minutes later Natalie arrived at the main road running along the coast and the mist cleared, enabling her to take in the reassuring sight of the beach and the white tower of Fort Grey to her left. There was little traffic so early on a Sunday morning but she noticed keen fishermen loading rods and nets into their boats ready for a day’s fishing. Natalie watched as the men called greetings to each other before switching on their engines and heading out to sea. Seagulls formed a cavalcade behind them, swooping down in a synchronised routine.
Natalie clambered down over rocks to walk on the small spit of sand not swallowed by the high tide. The strong ozone smell mingled with the pungent scent of the seaweed glistening on the rocks and her head cleared. She smiled and exchanged greetings with a fellow walker, a woman attempting to power-walk on the limited strip of sand available. Natalie headed up towards L’Eree, keen to stretch her legs as she attempted to understand the meaning of the dream. Shaking her head, Natalie gave up. For now she wanted to breathe the invigorating air and walk off the effects of yesterday’s long lunch. Before she enjoyed another one at her parents’ today.
‘How did it go yesterday? Did the children wear you out?’ Peter asked as he gave Natalie a hug.
‘It was great, and no, the children were fine. Jeanne and Nick had them pretty much under control.’ She smiled at her father before giving Molly a kiss. Their kitchen was the usual hub of activity for a Sunday and Natalie lent a hand with the final touches to the meal of roast lamb and all the trimmings. The smell of the rosemary and garlic infused lamb filled the room and set her stomach rumbling. In deference to a cool northerly breeze they decided to eat in the adjoining dining room and shortly after her arrival they took their places around the table. Peter filled their glasses with Rioja.
Molly wanted to know how the garden was progressing and Natalie brought her up to date. The meal passed pleasantly enough and Natalie savoured her mother’s cooking, wondering if she would ever be as good a cook. She had just eaten the last bite when her father interrupted her thoughts.
‘Any more signs of your “ghost”,’ he asked, with a chuckle.
She choked on her wine and Peter had to pat her back.
‘Sorry, did I touch on a sore subject?’
‘Well, yes.’ She went on to tell them about the vision of the old kitchen and her latest dream, feeling herself tensing as she recalled the vividness of it. By the time she had finished both her parents looked shocked.
‘Oh dear! How horrible for you, darling. Do you feel threatened?’ Her mother squeezed her hand.
‘Nooo, but it’s a bit unnerving. And I’m beginning to think it has something to do with Stuart’s missing grandmother.’ She told them what Stuart had said about his family and the mystery of his grandmother’s whereabouts.
‘I’d heard rumours to that effect, but hadn’t thought too much about it until now. Guernsey has always had its fair share of eccentrics and recluses and old Mrs Falla was one of them, apparently. Some of the older members of the Societé Guernesiaise have mentioned her.’ Peter frowned, apparently lost in thought.
‘Mum, do you think it’s possible for a…a ghost to get inside my head and make me think I’m her when I’m asleep?’ Natalie felt sick suddenly. Saying it out loud had made it seem more real, not something she had imagined.
‘I really don’t know. It’s outside my experience, darling. Although I occasionally had a client who’d had some kind of ghostly encounter, no-one had such vivid dreams.’ Molly paused. ‘You’re sure you weren’t having a bad dream based on what Stuart told you?’
Natalie sighed. ‘It’s what I hoped had happened but I’m beginning to doubt it. It felt so real. As if I was there, in her bed. I felt the blows of the belt on my back, heard the man shouting.’ She paused. ‘And I think it was her husband.’
‘Dear God! Bill was violent? Poor Olive,’ Molly said.
‘Yes, poor Olive. But why is she getting into my head like this? Oh, it’s too weird! I can’t be reliving this woman’s life, surely?’ she cried, jumping up from the table.
Molly gave her a hug.
‘I don’t think that’s what’s happening. For some reason, you may be picking up the memories of what happened in the farmhouse and it seems real, even though it happened so long ago. It must be Stuart’s grandmother, as she was the only woman living there during the Occupation. Are you going to tell him?’
‘I don’t know. It sounds so off the wall, doesn’t it? He’s bound to think I’ve lost my marbles and I’m still not convinced I haven’t!’ She slumped back down on the chair, her head in her hands. Her father patted her arm and her mother dropped a kiss on her head.
‘You’re not going mad, darling. But something strange is happening and it might be we should seek the right help. Perhaps Mr Ayres.’
Natalie lifted up her head and looked from one parent to another. She hated seeing them so worried about her. She was supposed to be the strong, independent woman who could cope with anything. It was her brother Phil who had always been the one to cause them anxiety. Making a determined effort, she smiled.
‘It’s a thought, Mum, but I don’t feel the need to bring in the Church yet. It could settle down of its own accord and, as I said, I don’t feel in danger. But I think I’ll get in touch with Andy and see if he can tell me anything about the farmhouse before it was rebuilt. Particularly the kitchen. Assuming there was anything left of it.’
Once home Natalie phoned Jeanne and asked for Andy’s telephone number, mentioning how she’d ‘seen’ the old kitchen. Jeanne expressed shock and again suggested she contact Mr Ayres. But although Natalie refused to believe whatever had triggered the events of the past few weeks couldn’t be undone, she wasn’t yet ready for an exorcism or whatever the Church decreed was appropriate.
Her home emanated peace, as if nothing had ruffled the serenity Natalie had experienced when she had first viewed it. In spite of this she felt happier outside and made herself comfortable on a lounger on the terrace, and the warmth of the sun lulled her into a dreamless sleep. A few hours later Natalie woke up and stretched. The sun hung low on the horizon and, glancing at her watch, she was shocked to find it was after eight o’clock. She went to the kitchen for a drink and debated whether or not she was hungry enough to make some supper. Deciding she could make do with cheese and biscuits, it wasn’t long before she was loading a tray with the snack and a glass of chilled wine.
Once settled in the sitting room she switched on the television to watch the latest Sunday night drama. The sky began to darken as she became absorbed in the action on the screen. A sound outside broke her concentration and, looking towards the sliding panel of glass she glimpsed a shadowy figure on the terrace. Her heart raced as panic gripped her. What to do? Ring the police? They would take too long. Stuart? She wasn’t sure if he was in, his car was missing when she arrived home earlier. Natalie’s mind skidded with the options as she looked around for a defensive weapon. The kitchen. Knives. She stood up and edged towards the hall, glancing at the window to see if the figure was still there. It wasn’t. Natalie was about to enter the kitchen when the doorbell rang. She froze. Would someone who meant her harm ring the bell? Perhaps it was Stuart! It could have been him on the terrace, after all she only caught a glimpse of whoever it was.
Reassured she flung open the door and came face to face with Liam.