2010
Natalie moved from room to room, unable to settle. She picked up photos and objects in a half-hearted attempt at rearrangement, stared at the paintings on the walls and finally escaped to the garden. For the first time she felt stifled in the cottage – needed air. It was still light and Natalie wandered around the nearly finished garden, frowning at the pile of soil where the pond would eventually be dug. It seemed to be taking forever for the new liner to arrive and she vented her annoyance by stamping up and down on the earth. Something like an electric shock shot through her and she jumped back onto the grass. Shaking her head in puzzlement, Natalie wondered what could have caused it. She had experienced static electricity on touching objects in the past, but not through her feet. Another mystery to add to the others.
The rest of the garden glowed golden under the rays of the setting sun and Natalie allowed herself to enjoy the moment. She stood at the bottom of the garden, taking deep breaths as she gazed out to sea. She had been tested by what was happening in her home and been deeply moved by Tabby’s story. Turning her head to look at the cottage, Natalie wondered what more there was to learn. It seemed it had been an unhappy home for Tabby and her mother and Natalie faced the awful possibility that the memories of the past had been stirred up by the rebuilding work – and Tabby’s return.
Natalie woke on Monday morning feeling exhausted. Not only was her mind fogged from lack of sleep, but her limbs felt heavy and achy. With a groan she recalled fleeting images from her dreams. A woman and a man arguing, the woman cowering from his raised fists. The sound of loud voices and of blows being struck. And once more it appeared to take place in what had been the kitchen. The one she and Tabby had seen the previous evening. The woman was definitely Olive.
Standing under the hot shower did little to help Natalie shake off the heaviness in her mind and body. And the two mugs of double-strength coffee she downed at breakfast only resulted in a small boost of energy. As she opened the car door, Stuart ran over, an apologetic look on his face.
‘Hi, Natalie, I won’t keep you, but I wanted to say sorry about my behaviour yesterday.’ He ran his fingers through his hair and went on, ‘Can I pop round this evening for a quick chat?’
‘I guess. After seven would be best.’ She wasn’t really in the mood for raking over things, but Stuart’s eyes were pleading.
‘Great, thanks. Have a good day.’ He gave a quick wave and she started the engine and swung the car round. Huh! Natalie hardly expected to have a good day after the sleepless night and knew it was likely to be a tough one. She would be refuelling on caffeine all day at the office.
***
Stuart had listened to his mother with a sense of disbelief. What had happened to drive his grandmother into poverty? And why had his mother never admitted how bad things had been during her childhood? The word ‘shame’ was mentioned and he began to understand. Although his own upbringing had been comfortable, some of his pupils in Coventry hailed from poor backgrounds and the more aware ones bore a badge of shame along with their tattered uniforms. Stuart found it hard to reconcile the proud, always-in-control woman who had raised him, with the image of a poor, badly fed girl who had longed to escape the run-down farm.
Alan sat by Tabby while she recounted the sorry story of her past and Stuart saw him squeeze her hand when she became tearful. He was pleased Alan – soon to be his stepfather – didn’t seem fazed by Tabby’s revelations. It confirmed his opinion of him as a genuine guy.
‘Did…did you tell Dad what you’ve just told us?’
His mother bit her lip. ‘No, I was too ashamed. I only ever said Mum and I didn’t get on and he seemed to accept that.’ She twisted her hands together in her lap. ‘I’ve been so wrong, Stuart, all these years I convinced myself I was right and Mum was wrong and barely gave her a second thought once I was at university. I wrote to tell her when we got married and again when you were born and she did write back. She didn’t say much, your gran was a woman of few words, but she did wish me – us – well.’
Stuart barely slept that night, visions of life on the old farm swirling through his mind. And he felt guilt. Guilt for now living in the beautiful old barn and enjoying a decent standard of living whereas…he also thought of Natalie, in her equally stunning cottage, living her dream. Except her enjoyment of her home was marred by the intrusion of the past. His family’s past. He owed her an apology and on Monday evening called round as agreed.
Natalie opened the door, the dark circles under her eyes telling him she hadn’t slept well either.
‘I was about to make a cup of tea. Want one?’ she asked, leading the way to the kitchen. Stuart followed gingerly, not wanting a repeat performance of the previous day. But the kitchen was the modern version and his grandmother was nowhere in sight.
‘Looks like neither of us slept well last night.’ He perched on a stool while Natalie switched on the kettle and put teabags in the mugs.
She ruffled her hair, causing it to fluff up in different directions. For a moment, she looked like a vulnerable child and Stuart had to force himself to sit still and not grab her in his arms.
Natalie sighed. ‘I keep experiencing these weird dreams about a man and a woman arguing here, in this kitchen. Or rather, the one it used to be. It’s all a bit exhausting.’ She made the tea and handed him a mug. ‘Shall we sit outside?’
He was glad to agree and they went through to the terrace.
‘How’s your mother?’ Natalie cradled her mug, her eyes not meeting his.
‘Pretty upset, as you’d expect. She told us everything last night and that’s why…why I came round. I owe you an apology, Natalie. I can see now why you kept quiet about, about what’s been happening. And I want you to know I’ll do everything I can to help. I hate to think of you coping alone with these…ghosts or whatever they are.’ Stuart patted the back of her hand, feeling inadequate. What on earth could he really do about ghosts? He hadn’t the faintest idea how to deal with them. He wasn’t even sure he believed in them except…
She looked at him then and smiled. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was a smile, nevertheless.
‘Thanks. For the apology and the offer of help. I guess you’ve had a bit of a shock, too. Family secrets, and all that. Where’s Tabby and Alan? They haven’t left yet, have they?’
‘No, but they’ve gone out for a bite and a drink. I think Mum sensed I needed my own space a bit this evening and wanted to show Alan one of the local watering holes. They go back to France on Friday and Mum would like to see you before they leave. Perhaps you could come round for supper one evening? Mum’s a great cook.’
‘Okay, thanks. I’m free any evening.’
‘Great, I’ll check with Mum and get back to you.’ He stood up and Natalie joined him, saying she’d walk him to the door. As they stood on the threshold Stuart again had the strong urge to grab her and kiss her. But he sensed it would be too soon and settled for a peck on her cheek.
***
Natalie poured a glass of wine before returning to the terrace, regretting saying yes to supper. Although not the family’s fault, she was being invaded in her own home by their ancestors and it was stressing her out. And it was worse since Tabby’s arrival. She liked the woman, but would be glad when she left on Friday. Sipping her wine, Natalie admitted to herself she was losing patience and wanted to be rid of her ‘visitors’. Should she enlist the help of the Church? A part of her fought against the idea, but it was beginning to look as if she might have no choice. Either that or lose her sanity.