Beneath the Shadows Read online

  ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t be if you took out that nose stud,’ Meredith cut in. Claire rolled her eyes at Grace and Annabel, and Grace warmed to her further.

  ‘Take these plates, will you, Claire,’ Meredith said, ‘and you can help me bring the roast through.’

  Claire stood up, and the two of them disappeared. While they were gone, Grace glanced across at the other photos. There were a few of Meredith’s husband, including a faded one of their wedding day. She noticed photographs set on a smaller side table too, and got up to have a closer look. They were mostly babies and toddlers, presumably Meredith’s grandchildren.

  Soon after she sat down again, Claire and Meredith returned – Meredith bearing a platter of meat and a dish of steaming roast potatoes, while Claire carried two more bowls of assorted winter vegetables.

  ‘This looks magnificent.’ Grace only wished she could cook like this. She waited while everything was laid out, then Meredith began ladling potatoes onto her plate. ‘Meredith, I owe you an enormous thank you for looking after the cottage so beautifully. I was expecting to return to a place that felt unlived in – but you’ve kept it so homely. I am so appreciative, I can’t begin to tell you…’ She stopped as Meredith began waving her words away.

  ‘It wasn’t a problem. I was glad I could be of use. It helped me to keep busy after Ted died.’ Before Grace had time to express her sympathies, Meredith added, ‘So what are your plans now, Grace?’

  Everyone fell silent, waiting for Grace’s answer. She felt her face growing warm under their collective gaze. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘I can’t decide whether to give it a go here, or head back to London. I keep thinking that perhaps neither is right – maybe Millie and I need a fresh start somewhere else.’ She knew Annabel was listening closely. ‘But before I can do anything, there’s a lot to sort out in the cottage. So first of all I need to get stuck in to that.’

  As she finished, she tried her best to ignore the little voice that kept hounding her, yearning for a return to her former life. It doesn’t exist any more, she reminded herself. You can’t jump into your own shadow. Besides, she had come back for another reason, one she was keeping to herself. While she was going through the cottage, inch by inch, she would be keeping an eye out for clues. Anything that might shed light on what had happened to Adam. If there was nothing to discover, she would leave and move on. But if there was anything, she had to find it. She was desperate to understand. She had told every one she had accepted it, and she had. Almost.

  ‘I can assure you she’s quite civilised to have around,’ Annabel said, a sparkle in her eye. ‘She was always the one trying to talk me out of holding wild parties while our parents were away.’

  Claire smiled, but Meredith didn’t as she looked across at her daughter. Claire briefly raised her eyebrows and returned her attention to her meal.

  Meredith observed Grace thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Well, you have done a brave thing coming back here. I didn’t think you would. It’s not an easy place to be with a small baby, especially in winter, what with the snow causing all sorts of chaos.’ She took another bite of her lunch, leaving the comment hanging, so that Grace felt obliged to reply.

  ‘I wanted to sort through the cottage myself, not leave it to a stranger. Whatever else, I feel I owe Adam that much, for Millie’s sake.’

  ‘Besides, Mum, you raised a family out here,’ Claire added.

  ‘Yes, Claire,’ Meredith replied. ‘But I’ve lived here all my life. It’s different.’

  Grace wondered what she meant by that. Was Meredith implying that Grace might have problems adapting to life in the sleepy village? Or was there something troubling about the area itself? Because Grace was already finding the unbroken silence unnerving, the way nothing moved except at the will of the wind – but she kept telling herself that she would get used to it.

  Now Claire was speaking to her. ‘So there’s been no word then – about Adam?’

  His name hung heavily in the space between them all. Claire’s face was filled with concern, and Grace noticed out of the corner of her eye that Annabel was casting her sister a worried glance.

  ‘No,’ Grace said, breathing deeply. ‘The police have filed him away as a missing person… but, I don’t know… I can’t believe that he just walked out… Oh, I’m sorry, do you mind if we don’t talk about it?’ She could feel her breath tightening in her chest.

  Annabel cut in. ‘So, Meredith… when you say you’ve lived here all your life, you surely don’t mean in this house?’

  ‘I do indeed,’ Meredith replied. ‘All my life. My grandfather built the original house, and my parents added various extensions to make it what you see today. When my father was a young man, Roseby was very different. There was a brickworks operating a few hundred yards from here, and there were more small tenements. Most have fallen down – there are only three left, ramshackle now, you’ve probably seen them from the road. When the brickworks closed, everyone left. There weren’t enough children to need a school, so the area went wild again. Just a few families stuck it out.’

  ‘Don’t you find it isolated?’ Annabel asked.

  Meredith shrugged. ‘This house contains so many memories, it’s never occurred to me to leave. I belong here.’

  Annabel glanced at Grace.

  ‘Don’t judge us too hastily, Annabel,’ Meredith said, laying her knife and fork slowly to rest on the edges of her plate. She interlaced her fingers and propped her chin on her hands, looking from Annabel to Grace. ‘I can honestly say I have never seen anywhere as beautiful as it is here. Desolate, yes, particularly in winter, but watch it come alive in spring when the lambs are born and all the birds return from their migration. And it’s glorious when the heather crowns it in the autumn. This place has more life to it in one square metre than there is in a square mile of the concrete sprawl so many of you are keen to call home nowadays.’

  Annabel raised her hands. ‘I think you’ve misunderstood. I’m a journalist. I’m instinctively curious, that’s all.’ But Grace knew what Annabel had been trying to convey with her eyes. She belongs here, Grace. You don’t.

  There was an uncomfortable pause, then Claire said, ‘Our dad was a farmer. My sisters and I grew up playing in the ruins of the workers’ houses and the remains of the brickworks. It was fantastic – like having our own little make-believe village to run around in.’

  ‘Then they used them to hide in while they drank and smoked their way through their teenage years,’ Meredith added, a glimmer in her eye as she glanced at her daughter.

  ‘If you say so.’ Claire laughed. ‘Did Adam never tell you about them, Grace? He joined in for a while, in the few months he was here. He was a big hit with us all, I can tell you – new blood around here is extremely rare…’

  Meredith’s eyes lingered on her daughter for a moment, then she looked down at her plate. ‘Remember that he was only here for a short time, Claire. It might not have felt like a big part of his life, not in the same way you remember it.’

  Claire considered that. ‘You’re probably right. At the time I thought we were great friends, but when he left for university I don’t think I ever heard from him again. He didn’t even come back for a visit – did he, Mum?’

  Meredith didn’t reply, but Claire’s comments were making Grace think back. When she’d first known Adam he had kept in touch with his grandparents by phone, but he’d never seemed keen to make the journey up from London to see them. ‘It’s a hell of a way,’ he’d told her, ‘and there’s nothing to do up there. They’re lovely people but we’re not all that close – I only saw them now and again before Mum died, and I didn’t stay with them for long before I went off to university.’ But she recalled how deeply touched he had been when his grandparents made the long trip south to see him get married. So after their wedding, he’d taken Grace to visit. There hadn’t been room to stay in the small cottage, so they’d booked bed and breakfast at a local farm. She remembered how much he’d enjoyed showi
ng her around. It must have been then that his love for the area had been rekindled.

  While caught up in her distraction, she had missed the change of topic. She began to listen again as Meredith said, ‘Emma and Carl… they live next door to Grace. Didn’t think they’d last when they first came – but they appear to have settled in. Their son prowls around the area, doesn’t say a word to anyone. Jack lives next door to them…’

  ‘Uncle Jack,’ Claire cut in.

  ‘My late husband’s older brother,’ Meredith explained. ‘Ted and Jack were originally from Skeldale, but Ted took over the farm from my dad after we were married, and Jack moved here a few years later to help out. So he’s lived here for over thirty years. Never married. Keeps himself to himself now. You’ll be lucky if you catch sight of him.’

  ‘And the house at the top?’ Annabel asked.

  ‘Another relative,’ Claire chuckled. ‘It’s so incestuous here.’

  Meredith cast her a withering glance. ‘Hardly. They’re a couple about your age, perhaps a bit older. Distant cousins in the family, yes, but a few times removed. When they heard the house was vacant they snapped it up. It seems to suit them. They have also taken on one of Pippa’s siblings. Our dog Rosie had pups a few years ago, so we kept Pippa, and Holly and Bess went up the road. Rosie died last year, so now we’ve only got Pippa.’

  ‘That’s why I keep seeing black dogs everywhere!’ Grace said. ‘I was worried it was some kind of omen. I even dreamed about one the other night – with bared teeth and slavering gums – horrible.’

  ‘Well now, that could have been a barghest,’ Claire said. ‘There’s a legend of a black dog around here. Some say it’s Dracula’s dog – though I think it was actually Dracula himself who turned into the black beast that jumped off a ship in Whitby and raced away into the night.’

  ‘Whitby is only ten miles or so over the moors,’ Meredith added.

  ‘However,’ Claire continued, warming to her subject, ‘others will tell you that the barghest appears to people just before the death of a local.’ On seeing Grace’s horrified face, she laughed. ‘Don’t worry, Grace – I’ve lived here on and off for the best part of thirty-two years and I’ve never seen one shred of evidence to support the stories. They’re folk tales. You had a nightmare, that’s all.’

  Grace looked at Meredith for confirmation, but Meredith only gave her a stiff smile. ‘The moors are full of ghostly apparitions, Grace. Surely Adam told you that? We even have one of our own.’ She glanced from Grace to Annabel. ‘In here.’ She waved her hand around the room.

  ‘His name is Tiny Tim,’ Claire added, nodding to show her mother was telling the truth.

  ‘Are you joking?’ Annabel was gaping at them like they’d announced that the house was a spaceship and lift-off was imminent.

  ‘No, not at all.’ Meredith’s face was solemn. ‘Though Tiny Tim is the girls’ nickname for him. He’s a little child. He’s only been spotted a few times, but he gets up to mischief now and again, banging things around during the night. We’ve learned to live with it, and it doesn’t happen all that often – hardly ever since the kids grew up.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ Annabel’s eyes were ablaze with curiosity. ‘Who’s seen him?’

  ‘My eldest, Veronica, once said she’d seen him watching her from the end of the bed. Our youngest, Jenny, used to talk about playing with Timmy upstairs, when we moved her into Liza’s old bedroom. Neither girl was scared. He’s pretty harmless. I think he only appears to children – as far as I know, no grown-ups have ever seen him, we just hear him now and again.’

  ‘I can’t tell if you’re winding me up,’ Annabel said after a beat.

  Meredith looked slightly offended. ‘I can assure you we’re not. I’ve researched it. An eight-year-old boy called Timothy was killed on the road near here, back in the twenties. We’re pretty sure he’s the one who lives with us.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Annabel looked at Grace. ‘You don’t have any ghosts in the cottage, do you?’

  ‘I… I don’t think so,’ Grace replied. She didn’t think she believed in ghosts, but she was momentarily very aware that Adam’s grandmother had died there – probably in the bedroom Grace was sleeping in.

  ‘Hawthorn Cottage is one of the older dwellings, been here since before the brickworks,’ Meredith told them. ‘But I’ve heard most of the local tales and I don’t remember a ghost ever being mentioned there. I think you can both rest easy.’ She picked up a napkin and gave her lips a dab.

  ‘Ghosts wandering everywhere out there, though.’ Claire gestured at the moors beyond the picture window. Grace saw that the corners of her mouth were turned up, and there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

  ‘Really?’ Annabel sounded excited, and Claire’s enjoyment seemed to wane a little. Grace smiled to herself – they didn’t know Annabel yet. While she complained and squealed a lot, her fascination with ghoulish tales overrode any fears she might have. Annabel was more likely to organise an exorcism and then clutch at everyone throughout the event rather than run away.

  ‘There’s plenty of folklore, that’s for certain.’ Meredith got up from her seat and held her hand out for Grace’s plate. ‘Now, would you like some dessert?’

  Once Meredith had left the room, Grace stared out of the picture window, only dimly aware of Claire and Annabel’s conversation. There was nothing out there, she reassured herself, except a bare expanse of nature. Ghosts made good stories, that was all.

  Meredith returned bearing an apple pie, which she deftly sliced up, placing portions into bowls. She offered around a jug of cream, and they all tucked in again. Grace’s stomach was uncomfortably full, but the pie was too delicious to resist. As they ate, the only sounds were the scraping of their spoons against the bowls and the whining of Pippa, hoping to be let into the room to join them.

  ‘So how long are you staying, Annabel?’ Meredith asked when she’d finished eating.

  ‘A couple of days,’ Annabel said, a spoonful of dessert halfway towards her mouth. ‘Then back next week for Christmas. I’ve been helping Grace pull down boxes from the attic all morning,’ she told them, making a face at her sister.

  Claire rested her wine glass against the tip of her chin. ‘I hope we never have to sort this place out. Nightmare.’

  ‘You will when I die,’ Meredith replied.

  Grace didn’t know how to react to that, and neither did Annabel by the look of her, but Claire laughed. ‘I think we’ll probably all die before you do, Mum.’ She pushed her empty bowl away with a sigh of satisfaction and rubbed her stomach. ‘She’s made of extremely tough Northern stuff, my mother,’ she explained to the others.

  Meredith smiled, and Grace thought it was perhaps the most genuine response she’d seen from the woman all afternoon. Then Millie began to wriggle in the pushchair. Without even a query to Grace, Meredith walked across and unbuckled the child, lifting her up. Millie stiffened, then stared around the room at them all. Grace smiled at her, and Millie held her arms out to her mother, her little face crumpling as she began to cry.

  ‘There, there,’ Meredith said, jiggling her up and down as she walked across to Grace. ‘No need for that.’ She handed Millie over. ‘They’re so clingy at this age, aren’t they? I much preferred mine as they got a bit older.’

  Grace felt defensive but didn’t reply. Meanwhile, Millie leaned into the hollow of Grace’s arm and looked around at them all from her place of safety.

  ‘Can we help you clear up? Grace asked, as she rocked Millie gently.

  ‘Not at all.’ Meredith began collecting plates. ‘You have your hands full there. Claire and I are more than capable.’

  Annabel got up to help anyway, and Grace went to sit in one of the armchairs with Millie. The little girl had woken up irritable, and squirmed to be free. As the women filed back in from the kitchen, Grace stood up. ‘I might have to take her home, Meredith. I’m sorry to rush off after such a lovely lunch.’

  �
��I understand,’ Meredith replied. She went across to a tall dresser, rummaged in a drawer, then strode over to Grace. ‘Here’s your spare key back. Now, why don’t you come again during the week – I have a portable cot I keep for the grandchildren that Millie can use. Or why don’t you come at five, when she’s up? I’ll make you another meal and we can get to know one another better.’

  Grace took the key as she considered the offer. She was unsure whether she and Meredith would find much more to talk about, but she didn’t want to be rude – especially not after Meredith had done her such a huge favour by taking care of the cottage.

  Claire added, ‘Yes, come and eat here, Grace, don’t sit in that cottage by yourself.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Grace said. ‘I’d love to.’ But as she said it, she sincerely hoped that Tiny Tim wouldn’t be making one of his rare appearances that night.

  7

  It had been dark for hours by the time they finished emptying the attic. There were now seventeen boxes of various sizes stacked precariously against the banister on the upstairs landing. Grace had to squeeze round them to get to the bathroom and Millie’s room, but she was pleased to have the job finished – at least she wouldn’t have to venture up into the roof space again. She had prised open a couple of lids to discover a real mishmash of items, so decided that was a job for another day. Besides, she didn’t want to push her luck with Annabel.

  Instead, they got ready for their trip to the pub. Grace put on some jeans and a jumper, while Annabel emerged in a short black dress, smart jacket and heels. Grace thought of where they were heading and tried not to giggle. When Adam had taken her into the pub a year ago, the predominant fashion had been flat caps and pipes.