2010
Natalie found it hard to focus on her work. She operated on autopilot for the most part, only giving full concentration on vital documents. The image of the look on Liam’s face appeared in front of her. Wherever she looked, he was there. Mid-way through the afternoon she gave up, said she had a migraine coming, and went home. It was close to the truth as her head was pounding.
At home Natalie took some painkillers and made a cup of tea before ringing her parents. As she expected they were horrified and upset she had not called them the previous night.
‘It was okay, Mum. Stuart kindly offered to sleep in the spare room and it was no big deal. I didn’t want to drag the pair of you out of bed as it was late by the time the police left.’
‘Mm, it seems Stuart is showing himself to be a good neighbour. Our only concern about your house was its remoteness, but with Stuart next door…’ Natalie assured her mother she felt quite safe knowing Stuart was yards away, acting as a human version of a guard dog. As she said this she realised it was true. She did see him as her protector, shielding her from harm. It gave her a warm feeling to know someone wanted to keep her safe. Her father came on the line and they talked for a few moments before he signed off, reminding her they were only a phone call away.
Natalie finished her tea and went into the garden to find Matt. He was struggling to plant a bushy – and spiky – cotoneaster. A line of the prickly, but pretty, shrubs had been chosen to provide secure border hedging.
Matt finally wrestled the shrub into place and wiped the sweat from his brow. The day was the hottest yet and Natalie didn’t envy him his job. He looked at his watch. ‘I thought the time must have passed more quickly than I thought, but it’s you who’s early. Your bank run out of money or something?’ he grinned.
‘No, nothing like that. I…I had a bad headache and called it a day.’ She shielded her eyes from the sun and gazed across the garden. ‘You’re doing wonders, Matt. It’s hard to remember this was once more like a field than a garden.’
‘It was a field for years. I doubt it was ever a garden for the farmer. From what I can tell they had a kitchen garden over that side,’ he said, pointing to the area nearest to the kitchen, ‘and the rest was left for chickens and any other animals they had.’ He leant on his spade and squinted at her. ‘How’s the head now?’
‘Better, thanks. But I think I’ll lie down for a while. Shall I see you in the morning?’
‘For sure. Hope you feel better.’
Natalie smiled and returned indoors. The sun’s glare had made her head throb again. She went upstairs and stripped to her underwear before slipping between the cool sheets. She fell asleep almost instantly.
It was still light when Natalie woke, feeling refreshed but hungry. As she swung her legs out of bed her stomach rumbled, making her laugh. It wasn’t surprising, she thought, as she’d skipped lunch.
There was little in the fridge and Natalie rummaged in the freezer to find something she could microwave back to life. Telling herself she had to start cooking properly or she would put on pounds, she pricked the film on the container and placed it in the microwave. A few minutes later the ping announced its readiness. Not even bothering to serve it on a plate, Natalie placed the carton on a tray with a glass of wine and went outside. The sun had lost its heat and intensity making it pleasant to sit on the terrace. Her head had cleared and the aroma of chicken cooked in red wine, complete with mash potatoes and green beans, was enticing. It actually tasted quite good, too. Particularly when washed down with a glass of wine. The only problem was the portion was too small and she went inside for a plate of cheese and biscuits.
By now the sun was dipping towards the horizon and the sky was illuminated by huge streaks of gold, orange and purple. Natalie was transfixed, for a moment forgetting to eat. The beauty and magnificence of the sight touched her soul. In spite of all that had happened, she was glad to be back on this gem of an island. Her roots lay here, generations of her family had breathed the same air, walked by the same sea. Some had actually sailed on it as fishermen. Perhaps others had been farmers. It was possible, even likely, for there had been little other work for islanders until the growing industry, followed by the arrival of tourism and now the finance industry. She sighed, swirling the wine in her glass, feeling a measure of peace after the events of the previous day. The only problem remaining was her unwelcome ‘ghost’. The doorbell interrupted her musings and she immediately tensed. As she neared the front door Stuart’s voice called out, ‘It’s only me, Natalie,’ and she breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Hi, sorry to be so late calling round, but I wanted to check you were okay.’ He proffered a bottle of wine.
Natalie laughed. ‘This is becoming something of a habit! I do hope you don’t think I’m an alcoholic.’ She let him in and led the way to the kitchen. ‘I’ve got a bottle open if you’d like a glass? Or there’s lager.’
‘Wine’s fine, thanks. It’s been a long day.’ He pulled out a stool. ‘So, have you recovered from your ordeal?’ He looked serious as she poured the wine.
‘I guess, but it’s been a strange old day. I couldn’t get Liam out of my head at work and left early and ended up sleeping for a couple of hours. Feeling better now. What about you?’ She sat down.
‘It was a struggle for me, too. I felt as if I’d had a really bad dream. It was only when I called in at the police station that it became real.’ He sipped his wine. ‘Even though I knew I’d done nothing wrong, I felt like a criminal reporting in.’
‘They’re not my favourite places, either. But that should be it now. And to thank you for the trouble I’ve caused you, I’d like to invite you to supper one evening. Whenever it suits.’
His eyes widened.
‘That’s kind of you, but it’s not necessary. I was only too happy to be of use.’
‘Be that as it may, I owe you. What night would suit you best?’
‘Well, Friday would. I’m working late every other night this week.’
Natalie was surprised at how pleased she was.
‘Great. Let’s say seven thirty and we’ll eat outside, weather permitting.’
Stuart drained his glass and stood. ‘I look forward to it. I’ll leave you in peace now, but do shout if you need anything. I’ve still got the shining armour ready burnished if needed.’ His lips twitched, and she laughed as she escorted him to the door. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and left.
Back in the kitchen she topped up her wine. As she raised it to her lips, a voice behind her hissed, ‘Go away’ and Stuart’s empty glass fell off the worktop onto the floor and shattered. Holding her breath, she turned her head. No-one. But a cold draught on her shoulders made her shiver. And there was an odd smell. Of farm. Animals and manure.
‘Go away yourself! Whoever you are, leave me alone. This is my home now, not yours.’ She gulped her wine, wishing Stuart had been there as witness. Natalie was tempted to ring him but what would be the point? Something more concrete than a broken glass would be needed to show him something was amiss. As she swept up the broken pieces she realised she’d learnt something new about the ‘ghost’. It had definitely been a man’s voice.
Natalie woke reluctantly to the alarm the next morning after a restless night. Her dreams had been disturbing but not as ‘real’ as before. She had vague memories of angry voices and slamming doors. It was becoming clear to her the previous occupants had had a stormy relationship and assumed they must have been Stuart’s grandparents. What a pity he had no way of knowing how they fared as a couple. Natalie dragged herself out of bed, determined not to give in to whoever didn’t like her presence. With all the trauma of Liam’s unexpected arrival, she had forgotten to phone Andy, and made a note to do so later.
Matt arrived as she was leaving and they exchanged brief greetings. Judging by the amount of shrubs in the pickup, he was in for another back-breaking day. Once in the office Natalie phoned Andy and he offered to call in after work on Wednesday. Switching off her phone, she concentrated on catching up with her work.
Later in the afternoon the sergeant phoned to say Liam was being escorted to England on the next flight to Gatwick with a recommendation from the medic he be subjected to a psychiatrist’s evaluation before standing trial.
‘I’m afraid you will need to attend the trial unless he pleads guilty, which he might do if there’s a psychiatrist’s report in his favour. But nothing’s likely to happen for months. The wheels of justice grind much slower in the UK than here.’
Her heart sank at the thought, and prayed he’d plead guilty. After thanking the sergeant, she rushed off to a team meeting, giving her no time to dwell on it.
On Wednesday Andy arrived in a sporty little number as Natalie was unlocking the front door.
They shook hands and she led the way into the kitchen.
‘Thanks for coming, Andy. Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee or something stronger?’
‘Tea’s fine, thanks.’ He placed a folder on the dining table and gazed around. ‘Are you happy with the design? Anything you’d have liked different?’
‘Totally happy. I’ve told everyone what a brilliant job you’ve done and I’m equally impressed with Stuart’s barn.’ She smiled at him and switched on the kettle.
‘Good, I was worried there was something wrong.’ He pushed his hair back behind his ears and grinned.
‘Not with the design, no. But I do have a…a problem and I’m hoping you can help.’
‘If I can. Sounds a bit mysterious.’
Natalie joined him at the table, carrying two mugs of tea.
‘It is a bit.’ She motioned for him to sit down. ‘I’d like to know what the old farmhouse looked like when you first saw it. I know it was badly damaged but could you make out the layout?’
‘The first floor was missing but the outside walls were still standing together with the ground-floor internal walls. Plus part of the stone staircase.’ He opened the folder. ‘Here’s the photos I took and the plan I drew of what I thought it must have looked like. I needed the information when I submitted my own plans for the rebuild.’ He spread the photos on the table and opened out the plan.
Natalie picked up the photos one by one. It was both odd and fascinating to see how the house had looked. Or rather, what had been left of it after the ravages of fire. Blackened grey granite walls and burnt-out windows and missing doors. It looked much smaller than it was now. She looked at the plan.
‘You’ve changed the configuration a bit, haven’t you? The front door used to go straight into what’s now my study. And the back door was,’ she turned round to check, ‘where my fridge-freezer is now.’
‘That’s right. The old house was placed at a slightly different angle and didn’t get the most of either the view or the sun in the main rooms. Where your sitting room is now, was probably the best parlour which was little used and had only a small window. This area here,’ he waved his arm to encompass the dining area, ‘would have been a separate dining room but much smaller. As was the kitchen, which is still roughly in the same spot. Your back door,’ he nodded to the stable-door behind her, ‘didn’t exist. The original staircase was in a different place, too.’ Andy pointed to the photo showing the remains of the original stone staircase.
‘Fascinating.’ She picked up one of the photos. ‘This was the kitchen? Was that the range?’ She pointed to a blackened object.
‘Yes, it had survived more or less intact. Apparently when the fire brigade arrived they found the flames strongest in the kitchen, suggesting it was where the fire had started.’
Natalie tapped her lips. The photo showed the range in the same position as in both her dream and the misty image of the old kitchen. Any cupboards had been destroyed but she did remember a door being where the opening was in the photo. It did look as if she had ‘seen’ the original kitchen. The thought gave her goosebumps.
‘Everything okay?’
She looked up and saw Andy staring at her.
‘I think so. This is going to sound completely daft, but I dreamt about the old kitchen, as it was when Mrs Falla lived here. Or rather, I wasn’t sure it was the original one until you showed me the photos and your plan. A bit spooky, really.’ She shivered.
His eyes widened but he answered calmly. ‘I see now why you wanted us to meet. When I took on the project from Mrs Cross, Stuart’s mum, people told me the place was haunted. Rumour had it bad things had happened here, but no-one knew what, apart from the fire and the disappearance of Mrs Falla. The farm had bad vibes.’
Natalie nodded.
‘Obviously something awful did happen: the fire nearly destroyed the farm. But I thought it was considered an accident.’
‘That’s the official view, yes. But you know how superstitious Guerns are, and how they love creating mysteries out of anything.’ He laughed. ‘Some folk still believe fairies congregate at the Faerie Ring in Pleinmont!’ Andy must have seen her pensive expression as he stopped laughing and said, ‘Has something upset you?’
‘Let’s say I’m getting the impression all was not sweetness and light chez the Fallas. But I still love the house.’ She smiled brightly at him, thinking she’d said too much already.
Andy’s drawn brows showed he wasn’t convinced but tactfully, he left it at that.
Standing, he asked if she would like to keep the photos and his drawings for a bit longer, saying he’d be happy for her to make copies.
‘That’s great, thanks. I’ll get the originals back to you soon. Has Stuart seen them?’ She started gathering the photos into a pile.
‘Probably not, he wasn’t here at the time. Well, I’ll be on my way unless you’ve more questions?’
Natalie shook her head. ‘You’ve been very helpful, Andy. Thanks again for sparing me the time.’
They walked towards the front door.
‘Jeanne said you were married last December. Congratulations.’ She opened the door and he slipped outside.
‘Thank you, I’ve been very lucky.’
Natalie waved him off and returned to the kitchen. This time she poured herself a glass of wine before sitting at the table and sifting through the photos. She was unsure whether or not to be relieved the kitchen in her dream (most definitely not her dream kitchen!) was a real one. Or had been until the ’80s. Could this mean, as her mother had suggested, the stones had retained the memory of the goings on in the original house? And, if so, would they be able to ‘show’ her what had really happened to old Mrs Falla? Or would she relive it in a dream? Either way, Natalie guessed it would be an experience she’d rather avoid.